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monstersdownthepath · 1 year

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Scourge Spotlight: Inkariax, the White Death

CR 26

Lawful Evil Colossal Outsider

Adventure Path: Return of the Runelords: The City Outside of Time, pg. 86-87

Surprise! Happy Holidays, everyone! I wasn’t going to wait until the end of the month to talk about this tall drink of ice water. The season of giving prompts me to give you something special, and what’s more special than a unique gift? Inkariax here is the first and, sadly, only Velstrac Demagogue to get stats, something that will likely remain true for the foreseeable future. I, for one, wish that he didn’t look like... well, just a Blue Dude with some added bits.

A 70-foot tall Blue Dude, mind, but a Blue Dude nonetheless. Yes, the ‘Colossal’ wasn’t a typo; this guy stands taller than most houses. The average human would be lucky to stand past his ankles. It’s easy for Inkariax to treat most other creatures as below him because, in a very literal sense, it’s true. It’s also true metaphorically, if you believe his origin story: it’s said than when the velstrac were first freed from Hell and migrated to the Plane of Shadow, their essence mingled with the frigid expanse of the plane to birth Inkariax, fully-formed. While other velstrac strive for perfection, he believes himself to already be perfect, and is so secure in his belief that he doesn’t even bother speaking to correct anyone else. There are few creatures in existence that can claim to have ever heard the White Death say even a single word, the titan usually communicating entirely through minor gestures or changes in his facial expression. Though he can understand any language and use telepathy if needed, he never does so except to give vague orders to his greatest minions. The most straightforward communion one can hope to get from him are the extremely rare occasions where he writes something down, which is why anyone at all knows why his desolate domain is called the Frozen Tears, and his personal frigid fortress the White Death’s Diadem.

Due to the lack of need he feels in communicating anything, his goals and desires are an utter mystery, perfectly moldable into any existing campaign a DM feels like having him show up in. However, his primary desire is easy enough to use without changing much: Inkariax desires perfection. Absolute perfection and absolute order. As a perfect being himself, the White Death is uniquely qualified to judge what is and isn’t perfect, and if there’s one thing he despises more than anything else, it’s time’s tendency to ruin perfection. He gets around time’s grinding wheel by capturing moments in amber, arranging the targets of his admiration into exact poses, then freezing them in unbreakable, glass-clear ice so he may admire their magnificence until existence itself comes to an end.

Inkariax embodies the absolute worst, most hostile form of Law there is, the dislike of even casual forms of chaos. Not moral or conceptual chaos, but physical chaos; entropy itself grates against his aesthetic, time spoiling all he deems beautiful. Were it not for his strange fondness for the Lady of Pain, Doloras, inspiring him to attempt to impress her with an ever-growing macabre gallery, Inkariax may be moved to freeze the entirety of creation in a single, exquisite moment, eradicating the possibility of imperfection altogether.

What chance does a party have of stopping him from his strange goals, whatever they may be? Let’s find out...

Well, let’s get something out of the way first: 70ft tall. This gives the mountainous Demagogue a space and reach of 30ft, and with the power to conjure Walls of Ice 3/day, there is likely little the party can do to stay out of his reach, giving him Full-Attack after Full-Attack. Perhaps fitting for such a refined being, his Bloody Icicles can be drawn from his flesh and wielded as elegant rapiers. +5 Wounding Rapiers, to be exact, sized for his massive form and thus capable of dealing 4d6+17 damage (+1 stacking bleed) up to four times each round. Worse still, his specific weapon selection means he critically hits on a 15-20, giving him a 1/4 chance to double his output for the attack... or, to put it in a worse way, it’s likely he may critically strike once a round, possibly even twice a round!

Those Bloody Icicles make for powerful ranged attacks as well, as he’s able to fling up to four a round as if they were +3 Daggers, each dealing 3d6+15 damage and critically striking on a still-high-but-more-reasonable 17-20. Unlike his servitors, who specialize in attacking from afar, Inkariax’s sheer size makes attacking from a range for him less than useful; he can pretty easily be fired on in retaliation because, unless he wants to take increasingly ridiculous penalties due to a dagger’s pitiful 10ft range increment, he has to stay relatively close anyway, and he’s a huge target. Also like the Libitinarii, he has both Point-Black Shot and Precise Shot, but PBS only works if the target is within 30ft... and if he’s within 30ft, then why not simply stab them with his significantly more dangerous rapier? It feels like his threat could be vastly ramped up if his ranged attack feats were traded out with Two-Weapon Fighting and its offshoots to let him dual-wield his icy rapiers without penalty.

While his skill with a rapier is usually enough to carry him, this is only if the White Death’s attention has been sufficiently stirred enough by the attacks of insects. His Unnerving Gaze completely stuns anyone who meets it for 1d4+1 rounds unless they succeed a DC 32 Will save, and unlike most velstrac, it has an effective range of 120ft, letting his dispassionate gaze take enemies out of the fight before he needs to bother drawing a weapon. For those who power through his gaze, his Regeneration 30 can only be shut down by a deific or Mythic source, and his DR 20 can only be penetrated by a weapon that’s Epic, Good, and silver. Rather notably, while he maintains immunity to charms, compulsions, fear, poison, and petrification, he is not immune to ability score damage, drain, energy drain, or death effects, making him one of the rare campaign final bosses that can potentially be weakened with Energy Drain or Enervation, harmed by Destruction, Finger of Death, or Slay Living, or even outright killed with Power Word Kill or even the humble Death Knell if the party has no other way to bypass his Regeneration... you know, if you can get past his 37 SR, but still. It’s interesting that such an angle of attack is left open. The party may not even realize it’s an option, given how death protection is so pervasive at high levels, especially with divine targets! It certainly takes a lot of bite away from the Demagogue.

Also interesting, Inkariax has no protection against Fire damage. Not even any Resistance! He’s got a hell of a lot of protection from Cold, though; not only is he immune to Cold damage, but he’s utterly immune to the effects of ANY spell with the [Cold] descriptor, no matter what it may be. He can move through snow and ice without difficulty, and use his Icy Logic to immediately and unavoidably end ANY ongoing effect with the [Cold] descriptor whether it be a spell, item effect, or even an alchemical item, with nothing more than a standard action. Why are you even wasting your time trying to use cold magic against him, though?! You fool!

The only master of cold here is him! Though he lacks the penetrating Hellfrost of fellow snow enthusiast Baalzebul, he often doesn’t need it, his spells damaging enough to surpass most Cold Resistance anyway. Like I mentioned before he has Cone of Cold and Wall of Ice 5/day, but he ALSO has Freezing Sphere and Ice Storm at 5/day as well, the inconvenient Chill Metal available at will, and the Dex-draining Polar Ray at 3/day. With so much AoE available to him, he’ll probably hit someone who isn’t fully protected from his cold, provided he’s not using his turn to disassemble nearby targets with his icy rapiers (which average out to considerably more damage to single targets than even Polar Ray). If you ARE immune to Cold damage, or perhaps you seem like something he may wish to add to his collection, he has Imprisonment 3/day as a terrifyingly powerful Save-Or-Suck, a single Will save standing between you and being sealed in his collection for eternity.

In a similar vein to that, though, there is one last gimmick he has: As he’s mostly a larger and more powerful Libitinarii, and they’re known to freeze targets they touch in ice to preserve them forever, you’d expect Inkariax to be able to do the same, right? Wrong! He actually freezes everything around him at once in a single go to save time. Upwards to five times a day, he can force all creatures within 30ft of him to make a DC 28 Fortitude save or take 6d6 Cold damage and 6d6 evil piercing damage... and anyone who fails must make a second, DC 29 Will save or be turned into deathless ice. Any victim who isn’t subject to Break Enchantment or similar within 1 hour per HD they have? They’re gone. Permanently. The book plainly and simply states that only the will of a deity can release someone frozen by Inkariax’s magic, making this one of the few abilities in existence that can’t be undone by Wish or Miracle, something that off the top of my head only the incarnates of Abaddon’s will have been able to do before.

Two failed saves standing between you and losing half your party to an ability from which there is no recovering, which you may have to succeed five separate times against. Between that and his Imprisonment, you may begin to WISH he’d stick to his damaging spells.

You can read more about him here.

#Scourge Season Month #Monster Spotlight #CR 26 and up #blood #body horror #pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 2 years

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Orphan of Shadows Chapter 2

Kaz Brekker x ShadowSummoner!Reader

Word Count: 1369

Summary: Getting across the Fold is . . . eventful.

You were several days into your journey, and you had long since realized that you were woefully underprepared for the trip when you snuck out of the orphanage. Frankly, you were lucky to have gotten as far as you had. Between a few kind Suli caravans, loads of walking, and sneaking your way onto a few farmers’ carts, you’d made it all the way to Kribirsk. Thanks to the Suli, you hadn’t even had to trade your stolen valuables for food, so you at least had something to barter your way across the Fold with, but you’d still rather avoid it if you could.

“What’s a lass like you want with West Ravka?” the squaller with the skiff’s register asked, arms crossed as she looked skeptically down at you.

Thinking quickly, you made tears well in your eyes by thinking about the mother that you’d watched killed for stealing dinner for you; adults always took pity on crying kids, right? “My mother was killed in a Fjerdan raid, and my only family is across the Fold.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Why have they not come for you themselves?”

You sniffled. “It’s been days, and I haven’t heard from them. I don’t even know if my letter reached them . . .”

The grisha’s gaze softened a little, just like you hoped it would. Communication with West Ravka was spotty at best, something you’d realized when helping sort the orphanage’s mail, “You will be able to reach them if you cross?”

Your eyes widened. Con or not, you never thought you’d get this far without offering anything in return. It was a struggle to keep your shadow from squirming excitedly under your feet. “Yes, miss! Once, when I was really little, my uncle sent me a map with their village marked special! ‘X’ marks the spot!”

A little laugh left the squaller. “No promises, little lady, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. Thank you!”

The woman had been successful in convincing . . . whoever needed convincing to let you ride along with the skiff as it crossed the Fold later in the day. “Children don’t take up much room, anyway,” she’d said.

You were to stay in the cargo hold, no matter what happened, because you would only get in the way if you set foot on the deck. Still, you’d managed to find a grate in the deck where you could see a portion of what was happening up top; dangerous journey or not, this was exciting for someone who’d never travelled before the last few days.

Things were loud in preparation for the voyage. Grisha in various colored keftas rushed about, but it was the flash of black that you saw that made your heart stop for a moment.

The Darkling was here.

Your shadows curled around you defensively in an attempt to keep you hidden in your little corner. You prayed to the saints for the first time since you left home to make the stories of him sensing every shadow’s movement or teleporting through darkness fake.

He didn’t seem to notice you, but then fear lanced through you for an entirely different reason. The ship was moving. Between those two things, you were sure your heart was going to beat directly out of your chest.

As the voyage started, you kept yourself wrapped in shadows as best you could while staring with wide eyes locked firmly on the Darkling’s form. You watched him so closely that you didn’t blink until your eyes started burning. So you had a perfect view of the first volcra that dared venture close enough that it strayed into the ship’s dim ring of light. For the first time in your life, you felt a spike of terror at the darkness that surrounded you.

You cowered further into the pile of burlap blankets someone had crammed into the hold. Screams split the air, but you had no desire to see why those people were screaming. Unfortunately for you, fate seemed determined to make you see why they sounded so frightened because the ship abruptly jerked to a halt. When you were older, you’d realize that was likely the moment that the ship’s last squaller was killed.

A loud crash split through the eternal night.

“Every man for himself!” someone called.

“The mast is gone!” the Black General barked; you only knew it was him because you saw him speak from the ring of light on the deck. “We’re close to the edge. Pair up and walk! Fight your way across, and meet me on the other side!”

“Sir!” you heard another grisha cry. “The child in the hold!”

His eyes turned and landed directly on yours through the grate you’d been peering through.

You once again prayed to the saints, this time that he’d think the darkness you were shrouded in was just the Fold.

“I’ve got her! Coe up here,” he cooed, holding down a hand for you to grab once he’d tossed aside the grate.

Tentatively, you accepted his help. Not like there were many other options, anyway. He hadn’t noticed anything thusfar, after all; maybe he never would? There was a strange rush of power that went through you when his skin touched yours, but any extra, writhing shadows went unnoticed between his own abilities and the Fold itself.

Then you were airborn.

It took a few moments for the pain to register, but soon you were crying out in agony from where the volcra’s claws were digging into your shoulders to lift you. Later, you’d realize that you were screaming bloody murder based off nothing more than the way your throat hurt, but in the moment, you only heard a voice shout “No you don’t!” and felt the splash of hot liquid on your face before you started falling.

The next thing you knew was the sun’s warmth on your face paired with the gentle sway of someone’s walking as they carried you. Your eyes snapped open. Covering your arm, you saw the black kefta he’d been wearing before and you remembered. You jerked back away from him so far that the general dropped you.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly.

You scrambled to your feet, shoving your hair out of your face regardless of the way it stung your eyebrow when it dragged across it. Your hair was sticky, why was it sticky? Much like the rest of this encounter, later you’d realize the truth of the situation: you’d landed on your face and the flesh around your eye split open during your struggle with the volcra, leaving a permanent scar through the brow and around your eye for the rest of your life.

“I’m fine! Thanks for saving me! I’ve gotta find my uncle now!” you babbled before taking off as quickly as you could, black, bulletproof flapping around you as you went.

Like the last time you ran, you didn’t look back. Because of that you’d never learn that he’d realized you were grisha when he touched you back on that skiff or that he’d sent ment after you as soon as he was reunited with the Second Army. But you not looking back made you fast enough to escape and hide.

In Novokribirsk, you managed to stow away on another Suli caravan. Upon finding you that night, bleeding sluggishly and shaking as you were, they patched you up and promised to give you passage all the way to the coast the second they realized you were grisha. “Go to Ketterdam,” they advised. “They’re neutral to your kind. You’ll find work.”

It would have been decent enough advice if you were any other type of grisha (a type that you didn’t have to be quite as secretive about), but you were smart enough to know that by correcting them with the particulars of your abilities would be ill advised at best.

Still, Ketterdam sounded promising, and having a final destination at all was better than the mindless running you’d been doing so far. Maybe you could trade the stolen Kefta for passage. Or maybe you could keep it . . . It was really warm, after all . . . and despite it being too large, it felt right to have it.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #reader insert #shadow summoner!au #shadow and bone imagine #sab imagine #six of crows imagine #soc imagine #10k

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cherryhanji · 4 years

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tears and smudges

oneshot. bang chan x reader

genre: drama, angst, fluffy tones at the end

words: 4.3k

warning(s): foul language, super slight mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of degradation, themes of prostitution and sex, themes of violence, suggestive themes, mentions of drinking, lots of kissing at the end (lol)

alexa's note:

hello! this is my first time writing a scenario with those themes mentioned above. again, i'm not used with these kinds of themes but I tried my best to write this one. (But really, I can't write some scenes with explicit sex, graphic sexual content, as I've mentioned on my request guidelines)

If you're not comfortable with these kinds of stories, I do suggest to you that I have other works listed on my masterlist and most of them are fluffs (if it's your thing)

Sex work is the one that makes you stand on your own feet for almost five years. In this kind of living situation, you already met different kinds of people, and one of them is the person you really trust the most, the person that never judged you in all aspects. You met Chan at the bar you're currently working at, he is the kind of regular that never asks for sex unlike those grumpy old horny businessmen and horny college dudes in exchange of money.

Chan is a drunkard, tho. You'll never know about him if you didn't insist him to take you, a challenge you accepted from your coworkers who didn't charm their way into the man's heart. his looks are breathtaking, one thing that made your coworkers drool for him. But he didn't budge, saying that it's not his thing. This scenario continued until you gave up and decided to offer to be friends with him which he gladly accepted. That's when you knew he has respect for every woman, including you. That's why he always refuses to have sex either with you or your coworkers. That's when you knew he's the only guy you'll put your trusts into. And he never failed you. Always taking care of you after work. Listens to your rants about different clients you've encountered every work. He's the one who can bring out the inner you, the vulnerability that you always hide whenever you're at work. Showing him all the frustrations and judgments that you always, but despite that, he never, ever judged you. And you're beyond grateful for that.

"Hey, y/n. Is baby boy not coming tonight?" Your coworker asked when she didn't saw any traces of Chan on the bar stool.

"hey! Don't call him that! He has a name!" You said and chuckled.

"I think he's busy at work. It's not like he'll always spend the night here and drink until he becomes wasted as fuck." You said while putting on heavy makeup on your face. It's always been your routine before the clients went into the bar. Putting on those thick eyeliner and brick red lipstick that your regular clients like.

"Ladies! Listen up!" You're manager called all your attentions.

"This night is our biggest break! One of our biggest clients is here and you y/n" she pointed at you and you listened intently.

"You're the one he suggested tonight. Accept it, you'll have your big paycheck tomorrow after." She said and winked at you. You nod slowly as the thought sink in. Having a big paycheck means to you. But it also means that the client you're assigned tonight is quite tough, it's been five years since you started this kind of job but you still feel nervous about it. Shaking it off from your head, you prepare yourself as the bar finally opened its working hours now.

before you head out from the staff room, you checked first your phone if there are any messages on it, you smiled as you saw Chan's name on the notifications.

you chuckled as you read his message.

from: Chan

are there lots of people tonight? sorry I didn't go early. Work, you know.

to: Chan

yep. A lot, as usual, I got assigned to this biggest client of our bar. Good luck to me! Anyways, it's okay if u didn't come early tho, just focus on your work so you can have lots of money to spend on our booze.

your heart skips a beat as you read the familiar pet name he always calls you with, his princess. you shrugged and put back your phone inside your bag before starting to work.

from: Chan

I will princess, and I'll stop by later, I'll walk you home okay? Keep yourself from any harm. see you :>

_____

as usual, the bar is now stuffed with people who don't do anything but to have some fun, drink with friends, people who are brushing off their stress and frustrations away with the help of alcohol. You were used to these kinds of scenarios. And you once experienced them. Being an orphan made you lonely, in and out of foster homes to find your own kind of "home", you were once adopted by a couple who can't have their own child. You decided to leave the couple when your foster father always hit you whenever you do something that isn't to his likings. Growing up without someone guiding you made you face all the struggles that a person will always encounter without any knowledge on how to properly deal with it. That's why alcohol is your only escape. Brushing it off with alcohol that you always throw on your system. Temporarily forgetting all the problems that you will still face when you're sober.

You met someone who you thought will never leave you and betray you. But it turns out he just used you for his own sexual needs. Leaving you wasted and a crying mess for believing his shit. That's when you started having trust issues. Struggling to trust someone for not wanting to be abandoned again. But ever since Chan came to your life, you never once contemplated bringing back your trust to a person again. And you're glad that you did the right thing.

"Hey! Y/N!" Your coworker called you as soon as you went out of the staff room

"Oh, what is it?" You asked as you wander your eyes on the bar.

"Your client is now waiting for you." Your coworker said and pointed out the man who you assumed is in his late 20's. he looks so young for a millionaire, you thought.

"He's hot, isn't he? Go now! If I were you, I would love to have him as my client, lucky you, he picked you." She said and winked before she pushed you towards the client. You glared at her before fixing yourself and went to your client.

The man can't hide his desires as soon as you approached him on his seat.

"You're y/n if I'm not mistaken," the man said and you nodded confirming him.

"I've never made a mistake in choosing you. Come, join me here beautiful lady," he said and tapped the side of the couch signaling you to sit beside him which you accepted.

"Being your new client, I guess you know already who am I." He said. you gasped slightly, completely forgetting to ask your manager the name of your client. Stupid you.

The man chuckled at your sudden silence. "Oh I guess Ms. Jang didn't tell you, I'm Lee Minho, you can just call me Minho." He said and offered his hands to you asking for a handshake. You accepted it and smiled shyly at him.

"I, I'm sorry M-minho, I forgot to ask Ms. Jang about you." You said and smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay, dear. As long as you came here, I'm beyond okay with it. Want some drinks?" He offered you the glass containing expensive booze from your bar and gladly took it. Looks like with his oozing expensive looks and wealth, you think he can also buy the entire bar you're working at.

After a couple of drinks and talks with Minho, you can now sense that he is nearly intoxicated with the alcohol he's been drinking. You decided not to drink too much so you can still be aware of what was happening to your surroundings. While your eyes wander at the people who were having fun, a hand slowly nestled on your thighs, which made your breath hitched at the cold feeling. Looking at the owner of the hand, you saw Minho cocked his head at the side while smiling at you, a hint of desire in his eyes.

"Uh, Minho... Is there anything you need?" You're already used to these kinds of scenes so you just brush it off by asking him. You surely saw that his eyes darken for a second. His jaw clenched, hands now near at your inner thighs before he pulled it off and fixed his tie.

"Is there any room we can occupy?" He asked you. You stand up from your seat and ask him to wait for you while you asked your manager about it.

You went straight to the staff room and quickly check your phone first. You saw a message from Chan and you opened it.

you decided not to reply to him and went straight to your manager to ask what room did Minho purchase.

from: Chan

10 minutes more and I'll be there. I'll wait for you later, princess.

You went back to Minho who is calmly drinking while waiting for you. He immediately stands up as soon as you went near him. Grabbing your hand, he lets you guide him to where the room is.

As soon as you closed the door, Minho's hands wander to the different parts of your body, satisfying himself by touching your smooth skin.

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that?" Minho said as you just nodded at him.

"You don't know how much I want to wreck you now," Minho grunted, hands still exploring your lower part.

Minutes later, the touches were slowly getting rougher, one that made you winced because of the aggressive touches Minho giving you.

Hearing your whimpers that he thought came from the pleasure he gives you, he aggressively grabbed your chin with his big hands forcing you to look at him.

"I knew it. You love it when someone's being hard on you, huh? You like it, slut?" He said making your eyes widen and shook your head.

"No? Isn't this enough for you? You want it a harsh way? Okay. I'd love to do it then." He said and pulled you towards the bed, hands still on your chin. He pushed you harshly on the bed. Removing his top, he climbed on the bed giving himself space between your legs and harshly dive into your neck. You cried because of the harsh bites he gave you, with zero pleasure, pure pain. You try to wriggle out from his hard grip but it's no help.

Annoyed by your actions, he stopped what his assaults to you and slapped your face hard. Making you cry out because of the pain.

"What do you think you're doing, slut? Do you think you can deny me? I already bought you, remember? I paid a high amount to have you as my property now. You can't do anything but to obey me, because you're just a little slut, hungry for money." He said and put his hands on your throat with such force making tears slowly flow out from your eyes because of the lack of air. Did your manager just sell you out to this man?

He removed his hands from your throat making you choke, gasping for some air to breathe in, while he continues doing all his assaults to you. This is one of the things you really hate in this job, giving them the pleasure they want is okay not until they lay off their abusive hands to you. And because of this kind of abuse you mostly encounter because of your job, you learned how to properly defend yourself from it. Adrenaline rushed into you as you kick his crotch very hard making him fall to the side of the bed.

"Fuck you slut! What do you think you're doing?!" Minho blurted out while wincing from the pain on his crotch. You quickly get up from the bed and ran out of the room. Rushing to the staff room looking for your manager. You've had enough.

"Y/N?! W-what are you— where is Mr. Lee?" Your manager asked you as soon as you enter the staff room. Shaking with anger, you question your manager, "How could you—" you stopped trying not to cry out of anger. besides Chan, Ms. Jang is the second person you gave your trust into, taking care of you like a real mother. You just can't believe that she will sell you out in exchange for a big fucking amount of money.

Trying to ask you again, you interrupted her, "Did you just let that man bought me for a big amount of money? how could you do that to me, I thought you care for me?" You said, not wanting to cry in front of her. You stopped her when she tried to go near you.

"No, please don't go near me." You said

"I'm, I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't plan to do that. It's just that he threatened me, he said that he will report our bar to the police if I didn't give him what he wants, he wants you, Y/N. I, I can't risk our business. That's--"

"So you decided to sacrifice me?" You nodded and continued. "I understand... Who am I to refuse, I'm just a wasted orphan you adopted, a new girl you added to your collection. You know what, Ms. Jang, thank you for taking care of me for the last five years, I felt the love that I thought was real. Thanks for letting me experience how to have a real mother. It's been a nice journey. But I've had enough, it's like I've ever wanted this kind of life anyway. Thank you, and please tell the others, I'm thankful for them, too. I need to go. I can't stand this place anymore." You said and grabbed all your things. Ms. Jang tried to stop you but you didn't budge, you want to get out of this life for so long, maybe now is the time. As soon as you stormed out of the room, you saw Chan peacefully sitting on the barstool, assuming that he's waiting for you. He smiled as soon as he saw you but quickly withdrew it as he saw your expression. He immediately went to you and held your arms gently, softly caressing it.

"Hey, what happened?" He asked, eyes glassed with worry. You faintly smiled at him and grabbed his hands in your arms and squeezed it.

"Let's get out of here?" You asked and he just nodded, still clueless with what was happening.

"Where do you want to go?" Chan asked you as soon as you went out of the bar. Because of the situation, you can't go straight to your home as it was also Ms. Jang's home.

"Can I stay at your place for a while?" You faced him. Examining your face first, he sensed that something's definitely wrong. So he just nodded and hailed for a cab.

_____

"Wait for me here, I'll just get some water." You just nodded and hummed in response. You just fiddled with your fingers as you recall the happenings a while ago. Your trust had shattered again, making you feel devastated. Ms. Jang sacrificed you? Maybe Minho was right, you're just a worthless slut. You were never loved by anyone because you're just one of those existing trash here on earth. No one dared to love you, words are just words. People who say that they love you were never real. They meant nothing. People loathed sluts like you. You are a failure, a total failure. Thinking those thoughts, you didn't notice the tears that are now falling from your eyes, eyeliner mixing with your tears making it smudged on your face.

"Y/N! Shit! Why are you crying?" Chan immediately placed the glasses of water to the coffee table and sit beside you. Feeling his presence beside you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his shirt asking him for a hug which he immediately gave you. Chan shushed you, swaying your bodies side to side as he let you cry your heart out. You felt him kissed the top of your head and caressed it after, making you calm.

"What happened back there at the bar?" Chan asked when you finally calmed down. Grabbing the tissue box and wiped your face gently, also removing the smudges of eyeliner on your eyes.

"Ms. Jang just sold me to our biggest client. I... I trusted her, Chan. I thought that she'll take care of me. I just can't believe she betrayed me for a big amount of money." You told him what happened at the bar. Chan stayed silent before attempted to speak.

"What are you going to do now?" Chan asked you. Tucking in stray hair at the back of your ear.

"I'll stop working there. I want to change, Chan. I can't be stuck there forever. I need to improve myself." You said, tears slowly falling to your cheeks again. Thinking how will you start to change your life for the better. You're afraid, you're afraid of the changes. But you wanted this. And you know Chan will always be there for you. Chan smiled at you dearly. Hearing it from you makes his heart clenched. He never judged you because of your way of living. But he's glad that you wanted to change your life for the better. And he's willing to help you and guide you.

"Sssh... Don't cry, princess. I'll stay with you. You know that, right? You know you can rely on me." He said and you nodded at him.

"Thank you, Chan. For not judging me, for always taking care of me, for everything that you did for me. Thank you for coming into my life. You're my angel, Chan." You said and smiled at him. Hearing those words from you, his happiness jolted up. He's also beyond thankful to you coming into his life. And he'll never stop taking care of you, never stop protecting you, and will never stop giving you the love that you deserved.

Chan held your cheeks, which you leaned in. He slowly lowered his head, and kissed you. Your eyes opened out of shock, but quickly melted in as soon you felt his soft lips on yours. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly breaks the kiss. You opened your eyes, looking at his face mirroring regret. Also realizing what happened, you stayed silent. You always have a soft spot for Chan. But after he kissed you, it's like there's a place inside your heart you didn't know you that had only for him.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to kiss you. Fuck." Chan said and cursed himself making you chuckle. He looked at you confused as to why you're laughing.

"It's okay. You like me, do you?" You teased him making his eyes widen at you, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"H-how did you know?" He asked, confirming that he does likes you.

You shrugged and shift from your seat. "Dunno, I just guessed." You said. He just facepalmed. Completely cursing himself for being stupid.

"Yes, Honestly speaking, I've been in love with you ever since we met." He continued.

"You caught my eye, and that made worse when we grew close with each other. I just learned each day that you're so special to me. I, I love you, Y/N." Chan said making you shut in silence. Slowly sinking in all the words that he confessed. You're never used to these kinds of things. You don't know the feeling of being truly loved by someone, and hearing this from Chan, made you realize that you've been truly loved for a long time, you've been truly loved by Chan. The moment is too much for you making you cry again. Chan saw you making him baffled and held your face slowly.

"Hey, don't cry. It hurts me." Chan said, wiping your tears away.

"It's just that, I've never been so loved before. I've been a failure, Chan. No one ever loved me the way you do Hearing this all from you, it's too much, making me cry." You said trying to stop from crying.

"Don't say that. you're not a failure, y/n. You're the best thing that happened to me."

"But I don't know how to love again. I mean, I don't know how to start loving again." You said.

"You don't have to, princess, Just let the time. Just let me love you, okay?" Chan said and kissed you once again. The feelings, the atmosphere is too much for you to handle, making you burst out again into tears as you felt the love Chan is giving you. You don't know what did you do to deserve this. But you just let the moment pass by and relish all the love this man was giving you.

You were the one to break the kiss because of a lack of air. Chan leaned his forehead on yours and chuckled. You felt his thumb on the corner of your lips. You looked at his thumb that obtained red stains from your lipstick.

You also looked at his lips, chuckling as you saw the visible lipstick stains, courtesy of you.

"Your lipstick made a mess, princess." He said and chuckled.

"You look sexy, Chan." You blurted out, grabbing a tissue to wipe the smudge of lipstick on his lips.

"Don't say that, princess. I know I am." Chan said, combing your hair gently. You finally wiped the smudges on his lips and yours.

"Promise me you'll never cry again, princess, I just saw how much of a crybaby you are." He said and you just smacked his chest lightly.

"It's because you made me cry." You said and pouted.

"But not because I hurt you. And don't do that, please. It makes me want to kiss you again." Chan said and pointed out your pouty lips.

"Then do it." You teased him making him grunt.

"We all have the time in the world princess, so take a shower first so we can have our dinner and we can do all the kissings later." He said and chuckled making you blush at his playful banter. He just pinched your cheeks and stand up.

"Take a shower, I'll prepare your clothes for now." He said.

"Shower with me?" You asked making him gasped with your suggestion

"W-what? Hell no!" Chan completely refused to make you chuckle

"Why? We're already dating." You teased making him rolled his eyes dramatically.

"That doesn't mean I will accept your offer." He said and slowly pushed you towards the bathroom.

"Okay, okay. Fine." You laughed and stuck your tongue out before closing the door of the bathroom. You just love how to make him blush on the spot, looking so cute.

____

You and Chan's bodies were comfortably slumped on the sofa while watching some movies after you ate dinner. You snuggled on his broad chest, while his arms encircled around you making you warm and comfortable.

"Y/N..." Chan called you softly. You hummed and lift your gaze to him.

"Now that you left the bar, when will you gather your things from Ms. Jang's house? You know I can help you with it." He said and combed your hair.

"I'll gather my courage to face them first. I need to clear my mind. I don't think I can face them for now. And I need to think of a place to live now I already left the bar." You said

"Live here with me?" Chan suggested making you look back at him.

"I might be a burden-"

"No. You'll never be, princess. At least you'll only have to think about looking for a job. Living here with me can lessen your problems. Besides, I love you being here." Chan said and smiled at you. Chan never failed to make you smile even at the smallest things he did and said to you

"Fine. But let me contribute to it. Let me have a share in paying other bills. I am also now living here. And I am consuming the things that you consume." You said.

"You sound like my future wife." He chuckled and pinched your nose.

"Do you want me to be?" You asked and he nodded.

"I'd love to. Mrs. Bang." He said making you both laughed at the thought.

"You're tired, Chan. You need to rest." You said pushing his face against you.

"But I'm serious!" He whined and you just nodded.

"Yes, I know. But that's not our priority for now. I know that you love me, I'll just be here with you." You said and give him a peck on his lips. You were about to move back when he grabbed your face and made you stay still, catching your lips with his. You smiled against his lips and soon gave in with the kiss.

"You're too much of a kisser huh? Maybe you waited for this time to come, did you?" You asked, gasping again for air after the breathtaking kiss

"Maybe yes, maybe no. You guess." He said and hugged you.

"I love you, princess. I love you." Chan said. Wanting to say those words to him, you contemplate as you still not yet completely have the confidence and assurance of those words. You still need to find the real meaning before you finally tell him. Sensing your uneasiness, Chan sighed and cupped your cheeks.

"You don't have to say it now, princess. Just what I've told you a while ago, just let the time, don't worry about me. Just let me love you. I won't force you tell to me." Chan said and smiled. Maybe what he said isn't that hard to do. Because you can see how much he loves you, you'll soon learn how to love him back. You know how much he also deserves the love that he always gives you. You just need to let the time do its thing.

#inkidz #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids bang chan #straykids imagines #straykids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bangchan scenarios #bangchan imagines #skz chan #chan x reader #chan scenarios #straykids oneshots

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jkoo-njoo · 3 years

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omg y’all are literally so so sweet. I cannot be grateful enough for all of you that reads my stories and appreciate them. even if you’ve never had the courage to comment or to send a message, I’m forever grateful I made an impact positive enough on you that it made u like or reblog.

Thank you so so much for supporting me y’all seriously 😭😭 I have more stories coming up, I’ll try to accelerate the pace. I have so many drafts to finish at once, [ I started to write fics with Namjoon in them yaaay ] but once it’ll be done I’ll be very proud to share them with you (◠ ◡ ◠)

[thank you dear for spamming, you really really made my day 🥺🥺🥺🤍 ily @guk-cr ]

#lufy talk! ☆#so grateful for the support #i love yall #bts writer #black writers

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calenheniel · 4 years

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Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part III

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They met as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths meet again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Part I | Part II | Updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Author’s Note: In this chapter, a young woman is coronated, and the true intentions of an expected guest are revealed. (As you can tell, I’m terrible at chapter summaries, so... just read it.) The conversation towards the end of this part is just a preview of many more intense, and perhaps even slightly saucy encounters to come.

»»————-　❈　————-««

III.

While the fires did eventually cease, the stories and theories surrounding them continued right up until a few months before the young woman’s twenty-first birthday, amidst preparations for her coronation.

Finding her bedroom too confining for all that she had to accomplish before the ceremony, she gradually reacclimated herself to other – albeit still private – areas of the castle where she could prepare. From time to time, she would run into her sister in the halls when migrating from one place to the next, and they would awkwardly greet each other with hello’s and polite conversation. These exchanges never lasted longer than a few minutes, as she found the deep longing in her younger sister’s eyes difficult to bear.

One of her rediscovered haunts was the library, where she took to completing all official business. On an afternoon two weeks before the coronation, she nervously paced in the room, her gloved hands fidgeting with a letter her servant had delivered to her a few hours earlier. It had been the only letter he had brought to her that morning – an unusual occurrence – and she had recognized the seal of Westergard Royal Family upon it immediately.

The sight of the seal unnerved and distressed her as much – if not more – than the daily lectures she had received from her tutors on proper attire and conduct for the ceremony. A familiar dread filled her senses at the thought of what new horrors it might report to her, but upon seeing a trail of ice on the ground following her steps, she finally stopped pacing.

After exhaling, she stared at the coronation portrait of her father which hung on the wall opposite from her.

We are counting on you to be strong, the young woman heard her father say to her again.

She swallowed, her chin rising to meet his faraway gaze. “I’ll try, Papa,” she replied to the air, and with a deep breath, she finally broke the seal on the letter, opening it with steady hands.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she read its contents.

Dear Elsa—

I hope you will forgive the belated nature of this correspondence. I read and received all of your previous letters of condolence and support to my family with joy over the last few years, and they have brought me, my brothers, and my brothers’ families much comfort in these dark times.

The losses have been too great and too terrible to describe here, though I know from your own experiences that you can appreciate what we have endured. I have been remiss to a degree that is inexcusable in not having reached out to you and Anna during your most desperate hour and after, and for this, you both have my deepest regrets and apologies. By contrast, you have been so gracious to my homeland, and I am eternally grateful and in your service for your good deeds, which far exceed anything that I could provide in return.

This being said, I have wanted for a long time to try and make things up to you and Anna, and I wanted to let you know first that it is my intent to travel to Arendelle to attend your coronation in one month’s time. With the rest of my family and the councilmembers preoccupied with settling affairs of state in the Isles, I will serve as my country’s sole representative. I hope this arrangement is agreeable to you both, as well as to your council.

Again, I apologize for the lateness and suddenness of this letter, and for any surprise or displeasure it might cause you in reading it. I look forward to being reunited with you and your sister under better auspices, and to see you crowned as the rightful queen of Arendelle.

Yours sincerely,

Hans

She scanned over the lines once, twice, three times—and then noticed a small crease at the very bottom of the paper, which she carefully unfolded to reveal a final note.

P.S. I promise not to be such a sullen brat this time around.

»» —— ««

Despite her determination to be annoyed with the letter’s obsequious and flowery language, its informal address of her and her sister, and the presumptiveness of its sender in postmarking it so close to the date of her coronation – thus leaving her no time to respond – the young woman found herself reading that last note over and over again to herself, a smile forcing its way to her lips every time.

Once she had extracted as much enjoyment and irritation as possible out of the letter, she asked for its contents to be relayed to her council, as well as to her sister. The former echoed her annoyance at the late notice and suspicion of the sender’s true intentions, given the events in the Isles, while the latter bubbled with excitement at the prospect of seeing the mysterious prince again. While the younger princess’s memories of her childhood encounters with him were faded, they still provoked a feeling of warmth upon recall.

She was glad to give her sister something to look forward to amidst all the hustle and bustle around the castle, both sisters being pulled to and from one engagement to the other. Since being cut down in size during her childhood, the staff had adapted to the new challenges of managing the castle’s daily duties, though even the hardiest among them seemed to struggle with how much was being asked of them for this specific occasion. The security personnel required for reopening the gates and managing the guests alone was much greater than anything that had been needed in the previous thirteen years, and she watched them try to organize and rehearse in the courtyard from her window, their disorganization making her hands twitch with unease.

She did her best to accommodate their needs, understanding their difficulties, but she likewise struggled to maintain a calm, even temper with all of their requests, and to tamp down any stray desires that crossed her mind involving magic. The most challenging times were those in which she had to be in a room with her sister for her own rehearsals, finding herself ill-equipped to hold even the most basic chats. Eventually, her answers would become shorter and more elusive until the her sister would sigh, and stop trying to push the discussion any further. Though these moments were painful for the young woman, she would silently repeat her father’s mantra to herself, and the feeling would pass.

On most days, this routine and her father’s words were enough to placate her agitated mind. But as the date of the coronation drew nearer, she found that their pacifying effect had grown weaker to the point that she sometimes questioned if she had control over herself enough to go through with the ceremony at all.

When the day arrived, she came to the library to be alone, watching as the many unnamed, unknown guests from lands near and far filtered in from the docks, waiting impatiently for the gates to open. She wondered if the young prince was among them, and searched for a while to see if she could find him. When this effort proved futile, she finally turned away from the window, her gaze drawn to the portrait of her father.

Fittingly, it was his coronation portrait – she supposed she was due to have one as well, in the coming weeks – and in an effort to calm herself, she removed her gloves and picked up a candlestick and ornament from a nearby table, holding them in the same manner as her father held the royal orb and scepter in the painting.

Conceal. Don’t feel.

Her father’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she swallowed in surprise, starting to perspire.

Put on a show.

Looking down at her hands, she saw that the candlestick and ornament had iced over. The sight caused her to gasp and slam them back down on the table, and she quickly slid her gloves back over her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed.

“It’s only for today,” she told herself, exhaling deeply.

A knock on the library door roused her from her brief meditation. “Come in,” she called, standing in front of the table so that the visitor would not see her handiwork.

Her servant entered. “Is it time, Your Majesty?” he asked, studying her pinked expression.

She nodded, and her cheeks cooled. “Yes, Kai. Tell the guards to open up the gates.”

He bowed, exiting the room, and she turned around, catching her breath. When she looked down again at the table, she gulped.

The candlestick and the ornament were still frozen.

»» —— ««

She did not see her sister for most of the rest of the morning and early afternoon; she supposed the younger woman had rushed out of the gates as soon as they were opened, having spoken of nothing else in the weeks prior. Though she felt her sister’s absence, she was relieved to have her own space for a while, and by the time of the ceremony in the castle’s chapel, she felt more or less prepared to go through with it.

Her servant stood at her side before she entered through the church’s thick wooden doors, a warm smile alighting his features.

“You are ready,” he reassured her. “You’ve been ready, for a long time. This is just a formality.”

She raised her chin at the thought, her back straightening. “Thank you, Kai,” she said, and with a nod from him turned back towards the doors. He retreated behind her with the other servants as the guards took their places. After a pause, she knocked on the doors as tradition dictated, and they opened for her.

The young woman tried not to peer around too much as she walked down the aisle, though from the little she did see, there were not many faces she recognized in the crowd. This unsettled her until she caught sight of her sister, standing to the side of the altar, and the girl’s positive, proud look encouraged her to go on.

She reached the altar after the long procession, and then stood for what seemed an equally interminable amount of time as the Bishop of Arendelle gave an esoteric and dull speech in a mix of the standard tongue and Old Norse. With nowhere to look except forward, she practiced slow, steady breathing to keep herself calm through the proceedings.

At length, the bishop placed a crown atop her head, and then his assistant presented the royal scepter and orb to her on a silk pillow. She suppressed a swallow as she reached for them.

“Your Majesty,” the bishop whispered to her, “the gloves.”

Her lips and nose twitched at the reminder, and with hesitation she removed the articles of clothing, one by one, laying them on the pillow. Then, she took up the objects in her hands, trembling all the while.

Once in her hands, she finally turned around to face the crowd, though she kept her gaze fixed on the doors. The bishop concluded the ceremony in Old Norse, and the strange language – along with the discomfort of being forced to hold the equally strange objects in her bare hands – disturbed her to the point that, as in the morning, the orb and scepter began to freeze over.

Conceal.

“… Queen Elsa of Arendelle,” the bishop finished in the standard tongue.

Don’t feel.

“Queen Elsa of Arendelle,” the crowd echoed, and she exhaled, quickly placing the objects back on the pillow and pulling her gloves back on with a nervous smile.

Don’t let it show.

The crowd rose as she walked back down the steps and towards the door, and though she told herself not to look at them as she passed, she thought she saw someone familiar smiling at her from the corner of her eye.

»» —— ««

The reception in the Great Hall following the ceremony was more tolerable than she expected it to be, in spite of the inconvenient duties she was obligated to perform – namely, greeting and pretending to take an interest in foreign dignitaries – and she found the atmosphere warm and welcoming, the music and food lifting her spirits.

She was even able to hold pleasant, albeit short, conversations with her sister, discovering that they still had some things in common, like their mutual love of chocolate. Of course, this brief peace did not last as long as she would have hoped, as she had quickly quashed her sister’s expressed desire to keep the gates open for longer; the princess had trudged off despondently in response.

The rift did not end her responsibility to engage in diplomatic exchanges, though her gaze often drifted towards the rest of the crowd, seeking out any sign of the prince. She thought she had caught a glimpse of him in the church, but she had been too nervous at the time to confirm his presence. Without any further evidence of him, she wondered if his letter had been a lie, and he had decided not to come after all.

The idea planted a permanent frown on her lips for at least an hour, and she was able to think of little else until her sister came barreling through the guests in the hall, an absurdly large smile stuck to her face. She pulled a young man behind her by the hand towards the front of the hall, approaching her older sister with cheeks red from running.

“Elsa,” she breathed out, panting with excitement, “look who I found!”

The queen exhaled as if for the first time that evening.

“Hans.”

He bowed. “Your Majesty.”

She paused, unsure of what to say next; the whole room had fallen quiet save for the musicians, watching and murmuring amongst themselves.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d made it,” she said uneasily, trying to ignore the stares. Her servants had, by that time, motioned for people to continue their conversations and dancing, and she added: “I didn’t see you in the church.”

“I was—”

“He was sitting in the back,” her sister interjected. “We actually ran into each other earlier at the docks, so I spotted him as soon as I got to the church.” She grinned, poking his shoulder. “He looks pretty much the same as when we were kids, right, Elsa?”

“Just a little taller,” he joked, and smoothed his hair back with a smile.

She noticed with a raised brow that the hand in his hair was uncovered, and when she looked down to see his other hand – now out of her sister’s grip – she confirmed to herself that the other was bare as well. She saw him catch her look, but he said nothing.

Her gaze narrowed for a moment. “Yes, he does,” she agreed at last, and plastered on a smile. “How was your voyage here? Smooth, I hope?”

“Yes, thank you for asking,” he said. “Arrived just on time. And – as the Princess mentioned – I was fortunate enough to bump into her shortly after docking, and we were able to catch up for a little bit.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the queen said, her stare intensifying. “Will you be staying in Arendelle long?”

“For two weeks,” her sister cut in again, and the prince grinned a little. “I thought it would be wonderful if he could join us for breakfast tomorrow. What do you think, Elsa?”

Her older sister’s eyes tightened as she kept them trained on the prince. “I think that’s a fine idea,” she replied, though her smile began to slip.

In the pause that followed, the princess stepped forward, her voice bright. “Do you mind if I take him around the castle? There’s just so much to show him – the gardens, the gallery… oh, I can introduce him to Joan! And—”

“Fine,” she said, unable to keep some distaste out of her tone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—I unfortunately have duties to attend to with some of the other guests.” She stepped down until she was at eye level with him, a warning in her gaze, and then turned to her sister with a softer look. “Don’t be gone too long, please.”

“Okay,” her sister replied with an eyeroll, taking their guest by the arm. “We’ll be back soon, I promise!”

They quickly curtsied to each other before she found her way to a another throng of new faces clamoring for her attention, her eyes following her sister and the prince until they left the room.

“Your Majesty,” an elder statesman answered, bowing deeply. From the colors on their sashes and their fashionable outfits, she realized that he and the others surrounding him were all representatives of France, and she nodded to them in turn.

“Ambassador,” she acknowledged, her pasted-on smile ever present. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all,” the older man shook his head. “Actually, your timing couldn’t be better: we were just discussing how our courtiers have taken a liking to aquavit recently, and since it’s one of your top exports…”

His voice faded into the background as she wondered about where the prince was then, in that moment: perhaps her sister had spirited him away directly to the gallery, or to the kitchen to complain about their thousands of unused salad plates.

The thought of how quickly her sister had taken to him – and of how quickly she had left her alone with him – put her ill-at-ease. She imagined the winding conversations between them, and to which unpleasant memories they might lead… and her stomach turned, wishing more than ever that she had been more vigilant of her sister and the company she kept.

As the hour grew late and the festivities continued unabated, she finally excused herself to the wide balcony of the hall for fresh air, pressing her hand against her forehead.

Don’t feel.

“Your Majesty.”

She stiffened, recognizing the voice, and then sighed. “You may as well call me Elsa,” she drawled, “since that’s how you addressed me in your letter.”

“I’m sorry for that. I guess I got a little… caught up in writing it, and forgot myself,” he replied, and she knew without seeing him that he was bowing. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“I take it that Anna took you on an insider’s tour of the grounds,” she replied, ignoring his apology, and motioned for him to sit down opposite her. “You two were gone for quite a while. Where is she?”

The prince obliged, pushing his tails out from under him as he sat, and smiled. “I’m afraid she spent a little too much time at the fondue fountain, and excused herself to clean up some chocolate that had gotten on her dress.”

At that, she could not help but match his smile a little, though this quickly passed. “I can imagine,” she said. Her look grew more pointed. “And now you’re here. With me.”

His smile twitched. “Actually, I’ve wanted to talk to you all night, but the princess kept me rather occupied until now.” His gaze was fixated on her. “I would’ve come to find you much sooner, otherwise.”

Her face flushed. “Is that so?” she asked, though there was little curiosity in her question. “I should think you would’ve been equally eager to see both of us again.”

He leaned back, his expression relaxing. “Naturally, yes,” he said, “it’s been wonderful to see you and Anna again in person. It’s been a long time, after all.” He glanced down at her gloved hands, and then back at her. “Too long, really.”

She held his stare for a time, studying his face, and frowned. “Why are you here, Hans?”

He blinked in surprise. “Why? Well, for your coronation, of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Her frown deepened. “After everything you’ve been through in the last few years? No one would blame you for not coming, least of all me,” she countered, her cheeks pinking as her brow furrowed. “In fact, I think everyone finds your presence here rather baffling, given the circumstances.”

He looked displeased by her tone. “Am I expected to sit home and grieve when the queen who has given my kingdom so much finally takes her rightful place on the throne?” He sighed. “I know what the others think and say about me. But I’m not here for them.”

“Then why send notice of your coming so late?” she snapped. “After not seeing you in God knows how many years, for you to write me out of the blue like that was just…” She shook her head. “I don’t understand, Hans.”

“If I could explain myself better, I would,” he replied. “Like I said in the letter: there’s no excuse for not writing before. Life was… difficult, to say the least,” he told her. “Both before and after the fires started. I wasn’t keeping up regular correspondences with anyone, including you.”

“That’s not good enough,” she judged, eyeing him with suspicion. “Just like the reports from the Isles weren’t good enough.” Her arms crossed, she stood, looking down at him. “There are things that happened that I—I want to know the truth about,” she continued, trying her best to maintain her regal composure. “I can’t even begin to trust your intentions, otherwise.”

He bowed his head, still seated. “Whatever Her Majesty wishes to know, I will do my best to provide answers.”

Seeing his open bearing, she sat down again, though her arms remained crossed. “Why weren’t you crowned King, instead of your uncle?” she probed. “I could never make sense of that decision by the council.”

A half-smile played on his lips for a second, and then was gone. “Oh, they did ask me to take the throne—I can assure you of that,” he began, “begged me, in fact, after Karl died—the last one of my older brothers fit enough to take over.” His brow lifted as he looked at her. “But I refused it outright. I had no interest in being king of the ashes.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Refused it? But… didn’t you see it as an opportunity to rebuild, to heal your country after it had suffered such great losses?”

“And ‘win the hearts of the people’ along with all those good deeds?” He asked. “No. Not after the horrors that had passed, and all the vicious rumors and lies surrounding them.” His look was stern, but not cold. “I was considered as a suspect early on in the investigations, and even after I was cleared following each incident, my reputation has never recovered with the public.” He leaned back, looking at the sky. “Can you imagine what they’d say if I were coronated, after all that? It would’ve given my father’s council exactly the victory they wanted, in asking me to be king in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Even though no reliable evidence for arson turned up in all these years,” he explained, “they were desperate to explain it as such, and to find a scapegoat to blame for everything. I would have been very convenient, in that sense: the controversy around my coronation alone would have completely politically destabilized the Isles.” He leveled a knowing look at her. “Amidst the chaos, the council would likely accuse me of whatever crime they saw fit, and rule in my stead. And I didn’t want to give them the opportunity to do so.”

His answer was somewhat plausible, and she found the tension in her body easing without even realizing it.

Don’t let it show.

Her face hardened. “And where were you, during the fires?”

His expression fell, making her almost regret asking. “In the first fire, I was out on a naval exercise in the Baltic Sea,” he said. “During the second, I was unfortunately at home, but on the other side of the palace in my bedchambers. It was a terrible night.” He paused, the memory causing him to wince. “And on the third and fourth, I was visiting relatives – including my uncle, actually – some miles away from home.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I can’t describe to you what it was like to come home and find that everything – and everyone – as you remembered them so completely changed, or gone.”

She was silent for a while, and then looked down. “I can understand it a little bit,” she said.

He looked at her, reddening with embarrassment. “Of course—I’m sorry, Elsa.”

Her lips pursed as she tried to keep her emotions in check, inhaling slowly.

Conceal.

When she felt mostly in control again, her gaze returned to his. “Then if there is nothing left for you at home,” she said, “what’s next?”

He leaned back as if a weight had been lifted with the change of topic. “Anything,” he replied, resting his hands against the railing, and added: “Within reason. I don’t think the hermit life that my brother Erik chose is for me, though I can see why it might be appealing to some.” He eyed her with a smile. “Coming back here was on the top of my list.”

She did not smile back. “Right. For my coronation,” she echoed his earlier comment, before suggesting: “Or perhaps for something else?”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

She frowned. “Come now, Hans: running into Anna just ‘by coincidence’ at the docks, catching her eye in the chapel, running into her again in the hall, disappearing with her on a long tour of the castle grounds, unsupervised?” She scoffed. “I know a pretender when I see one.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Elsa, I—that really isn’t my intention,” he defended himself, looking at her in disbelief. “I can understand why you might have gotten the wrong idea, but Anna… she’s like a younger sister to me, if anything. We just talked and caught up, that’s all.”

She felt her face grow hot. “How can you expect me to believe that?” she asked him, incredulous. “The last time I saw you, you were just a child—a moody little boy who wore gloves even during playtime, and who hardly spoke except to snidely comment on what my sister and I were doing.” She scowled down at his hands. “Now, you’re a grown man—friendly, talkative to a fault, who doesn’t wear gloves at all, even to a queen’s coronation.” She considered him with indignant skepticism. “How am I supposed to make sense of any of that? How is she supposed to, when she hardly even remembers what you were like before?” Her head shook. “No, Hans. I can’t, because it doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s not as if you’re the girl I remember either, Elsa,” he rejoined. “But you’re right. I haven’t told you the truth about everything that’s happened to me over the last thirteen years. But how can I, in one night?” His challenge made her posture straighten. “Even if I’d written to you before, I still wouldn’t have been able to tell you everything.” He stopped for a beat. “But I can promise you that it’s not Anna I’m after. It never was.”

“Oh? Then what is it you’re after, Hans?” She glowered at him. “And don’t tell me that it’s me.”

The silence that followed made the heat spread from the queen’s face to her toes.

She nearly choked. “You can’t be serious.”

His voice was quiet. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

“You—I hardly even know you, and yet you’d presume to…” She laughed to herself, stunned. “Honestly, I’d be angrier if it weren’t so absurd.”

He was quiet for a while, and then remarked: “I wanted to be honest with you, Elsa. You deserved that.”

“What I deserve is none of your concern,” she snapped, “and you wouldn’t know the first thing about it, anyway.” Her fists clenched until a tiny spell of ice began trickling out along her dress, and she sucked in a breath.

Don’t feel.

“I’m going to forget that this conversation ever happened,” she said, “and I suggest you do the same.” At his concerned look, she added: “And don’t bother showing up at breakfast tomorrow; I’ll make up something to tell Anna. Just be on the first ship back to the Isles in the morning.”

He frowned, but bowed his head.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

And with that, she returned to the hall, the din of the crowd swallowing her whole.

#helsa #frozen #frozen fanfiction #QueenoftheAshesFrozen #iceburns

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fragilefears · 4 years

Text

Cheers to 5 years of Critical Role!

I want to say something about what this game, this show, these people mean to me - but I don’t really know what, or how, to say it. So I’m tempted not to. But I don’t want to bail on this because I feel some very strong things and I need to get better at expressing that.

It hasn’t even been a year since I began listening to the first episode of Vox Machina, downloading it on my phone while I waited for my very delayed flight to take me to see my family for Easter.

A friend of mine at work was (is)a huge fan and had been playing D&D for about a year before this - I was interested but also very busy and unable to take on any new commitments. But in the new year I joined a weekly D&D game with them and some other friends, a few who watched CR. It was a lot to get used to, but so much fun. I intended to try to watch CR, but sometimes I’m weird about trying to consume new content if it’s unfamiliar... It was a few months later - sitting in the plane, realising that my flight was delayed hours later than scheduled, further prolonging the long 10 months I’d been away from my family, and quietly sobbing with homesickness for my sister - that I thought what the heck, I’ll give it a go. And it was so much fun! It was slow going at first... but within weeks it all but consumed me. (Oh also i eventually got to spent Easter with my family and it was very good)

When I got home, it wasn’t long before every waking hour that I wasn’t required to speak to someone, I was listening to Critical Role podcasts on my headphones (I only really watched the live shows, and watched more of C2 as I caught up - these days I watch the new episodes each week.) It was crazy, and fun, and dramatic, and interesting, and my ADHD hyperfocus had never found something so engaging and utterly expansive to latch onto before. Everything else is so limited - movies run for a few hours and then you’re rewatching the same thing again... books can be re-read (but also you can’t read when you’re grocery shopping or crafting or paying bills....) tv shows are ok but not many are long enough to keep you going before you have to make another decision of What To Watch Next, then I’m left with a space where that world, those characters, are absent.

Not so with Critical Role! The sheer wealth of content is breathtaking and it’s wonderful.

However the volume of content is such a small aspect of my love for this show. There’s also:

THE STORIES

THE CHARACTERS

THE IMPROV

THE BEAUTY

THE COMMITMENT

THE FANTASY

THE DANGER

THE COMEDY

THE EVER-EVOLVING DYNAMICS

THE REAL LIFE FAMILY OF FRIENDS who demonstrate love and acceptance and community and joy and pain and commitment to each other and to empathy... that’s where I became hooked.

I’m not one to have or keep very close friends. And for a long time I thought that was a Horrible Thing about me as a person, but the harder I tried to force myself to Be A Better Friend the more neurotic I became, I let down others, I felt fake and pushed myself to be something I’m not.

At the time I started listening to Vox Machina I was about... 2 years after a mental breakdown, 2 years into understanding and managing my adult adhd diagnosis and monthly therapy to learn how to not hate my entire being. Which had improved over the 2 years, but just months before Easter last year, things were Very Bad and all the work I’d been trying to do to manage my shitty brain felt all for nought, and so I had just begun anti-depressants - which I swear, changed my life.

But I also attribute that life-altering shift to becoming someone who actually wanted to live; who discovered who she was at the age of 31; who stopped hating herself and stopped trying to be everything to everyone... I attribute who I am today to the influence and inspiration of the love and creativity demonstrated by a bunch of nerdy voice actors playing dungeons and dragons.

I now understand that you can say dumb things and not be rejected by the people who love you. I realise that making mistakes actually IS the best way to learn. I discovered that it’s absolutely ok to not do everything, and if you need to become obsessed with a podcast about dungeons and dragons to actually start saying no to things, that’s ok too.

Thanks to these guys - Matt, Marisha, Liam, Sam, Taliesin, Laura, Travis, Ashley, Brian and the whole team - for the first time in my life, in this past year since I began watching Critical Role... I learned that I kinda like who I am and that as long as I stay true to that, and love others in whatever ways I can, that I can actually relax and there’s a lot of fun to be had (and in a shocking turn of events, I no longer believe that I would be better off not existing! So that’s good!)

The stories they have created, the community they have grown, the love and affection they have for each other and the absolutely joy they have for their game and all the crazy risks they’ve taken and meaningful statements they’ve made - Critical Role is... I just don’t think I’ll ever have the right words to express what I’m trying to say. They just speak to my heart and soul - not just the two campaigns, but so much extra content - namely Talks Machina & Between The Sheets & All Work No Play - that have branched out from the original game (to be fair, Critical Role technically spun off from All Work No Play...) seeing and hearing and being inspired by the Actual Human Beings is such a beautiful thing.

So. Anyway. This got out of hand, but it was either this or giving up and not saying anything at all. And i think maybe they’d prefer we shared things we are grateful for, the things that inspire and change us.

There’s still so much I could say, but instead I’ll just say this: my very first memory of Critical Role is @assuredgrave turning to me at work, in fits of laughter, telling me about how a certain gnome bard ran alone into a house full of enemies, transformed into a triceratops up against a household of crossbow-armed guards and a Goliath, gets stuck in a door turns back into a gnome, slides across a table, dimension doors onto the roof, turns invisible, drinks a fire-breathing potion, and spewed fire from off the roof, before using a giant magic hand to swat the bad guy away, then falling into it to carry himself away from the burning house. What utter chaos and hilarity and adventure to be discovered.

Thank you Critical Role.

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thedailyimagines · 4 years

Text

Imagine Serana finding you during a full moon.

Anon requested: “May I request a Serana (Skyrim) x Werewolf Male Reader? Reader is perhaps this lone wolf that lives out in the deep forests and knows how to defend himself without constantly having to rely on his form. Reader stumbles across Serana one night and they instantly click and become great friends. When a full moon comes out, reader goes crazy and afterwards is afraid she will judge him but she doesn’t and she slips her feelings for him and they get together, eventually they have a kid and happy life.”

This is a long fix.

The reader is NOT the Dragonborn. They are, however, acquainted with the DB.

D/b/n = Dragonborn’s name

~~~~~~~~

It was the sound of y/n’s woodpile falling over and quiet cursing that brought you outside. If he had lived in one of the cities he wouldn’t have bothered looking, but living in the wilderness outside Windhelm had taught y/n to be wary of strangers.

Y/n wasn’t an official resident, he just lived in the shambles of an old hut that had long since been abandoned. Sneaking out the back door (really just a hole in the wall covered by a bear fur), he found a person in a hood and cloak trying to be sneaky. The woodpile was scattered across the ground.

“Who in Shor’s bones are you?” The hooded figure looked up, and instantly y/n could tell what she was.

Vampire, the wolf inside him snarled. Y/n calmed it down and tightened the grip on his sword. The vampire held her hands up in a pacifying manner.

“My name is Serana. I’m looking for a vampire coven and was told that I could find help from a man named y/n.” Not good. Very few people knew y/n’s name, and even less knew his location.

“And who gave you that name?”

“D/b/n. Said they were cashing in on a favor to get you to help me.”

“Asshole.” Y/n sighed and ran a hand through his messy y/h/c locks. “Look, I do owe the soul sucker a favor. If they thought you needed my help, it’s probably serious.”

“It is. This coven stole an extremely powerful artifact from me and I need to get it back. Can you help me?” Y/n weighed the options in his head. On one hand, he could say no and go back to sleep. On the other hand, vampires with powerful magic things usually weren’t good news. A loud sigh escaped his mouth.

“...Fine. But it’s a one time deal, got it?”

“Thank you.” Little did y/n know that meeting Serana would set him on a whirlwind of an adventure, leading to the destruction of his shack and moving to Breezehome at d/b/n’s insistence.

<—>

A red full moon was a rare occurrence. And one that caused y/n much stress. Not because he was superstitious, but because (if legends were true) y/n would lose control of his werewolf and become feral for the night.

Which led him to his current problem: finding a suitable place to hide for the night. Or rather, getting away to find a hiding place.

“Serana, I’m serious. You need to stay here.” Y/n was gathering the last of his supplies he would need for the transformation tonight. Food, a spare set of clothes, his sword and armor, healing potions, and a small pouch of coins.

He wasn’t sure if he needed anything else for a Blood Moon transformation, but he was in a hurry. Y/n could already feel the sharp pains in his abdomen, warning him he would be turning soon. He hadn’t felt them since he was a child, and he certainly didn’t miss them. Maybe they were back because he hadn’t shifted into his werewolf form in almost three months.

“And what if you get hurt? This ‘task’ the Jarl gave you is bullshit.” If only she knew how right she was. There was no mission. It was the best excuse that y/n could come up with to leave Breezehome without Serana.

“Serana. If I felt like I couldn’t handle it, I would being you along. This is just a quick trip out of Whiterun and back. I’ll be home tomorrow.” Home and not a possible danger to you, y/n thought inside his mind. Serana just threw her hands up in frustration.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll stay here while you get your ass kicked. Just remember this when you say I was right.” Serana stormed off to her bedroom in the small home, and y/n set off to find a cave or the like to hide in.

Y/n passed out of the gates of the city, unaware he was followed by more than one set of eyes when he left the safety of Whiterun and traveled into the wilderness beyond.

<—>

“Die damn you!” The silver axe aimed at his head missed by a hair. Y/n rolled to the side and stabbed with his sword, cutting deep into the flesh of the Silver Hand member. Five others surrounded him, all carrying silver weapons and ready to put him down.

A sharp pain coursed through y/n, and he fell to one knee. The Silver Hand who had stabbed him retreated back, their sword bloodied and shining in the torchlight. Shit. Y/n tried to stand but one of the werewolf hunters slammed the hilt of their sword into the back of his head, causing his vision to swim.

Y/n dropped back to the ground and tried to crawl away. A leather boot connected with his ribs, sending y/n tumbling to his side. He was struggling to breath at this point, and the stab wound and his pounding head weren’t helping.

“Shit.” Y/n coughed up blood, out of healing potions and having no skill in Restoration magicks. The leader of the werewolf hunters raised their sword above y/n’s head.

Normally the Silver Hand (or any enemy) wasn’t a problem for y/n. He could avoid them easily enough. Of course, y/n wasn’t usually struggling to contain the beast within. And he usually had a certain vampire companion to watch his back.

Not that she knew he was a werewolf. Just like she wouldn’t know where to find his body. Just like she wouldn’t know y/n loved her.

The thought sent a cold chill down y/n’s spine with a grim realization. He was going to die. He’d die alone in a small dark hole without telling Serana how he felt.

“Time to die, beast!” Y/n closed his eyes and waited for cold silver to separate his head from his neck.

CR-AC-K. The sound of lightning cut through the air life a hot knife through butter. The leader toppled over, the life literally shocked out of him. Y/n spared a glance through his blurry vision, and a small smile appeared on his face.

Serana was terrifying in her fury. She wielded her magic like the master she was, sending the Silver Hand flying with lightning while slashing with the ebony dagger y/n had gifted her.

The fight was over in moments. The Silver Hand might be ready for werewolves, but vampires were a completely different story. All six hunters laid dead upon the floor, Serana surrounded by their corpses. Y/n was relieved that Serana was alright.

The relief quickly left y/n when he realized what Serana has done. She had followed him here with the intention of spying on him. She hadn’t believed y/n’s story for a second. And y/n was going to be turning to his beast form very soon.

“You followed me.” Y/n’s voice broke the silence, pain and a bit of disbelief laced in his voiced. Serana walked over to y/n and helped him to sit up.

“Does it bother you that I’m here?” Serana cupped y/n’s face in her hands, and y/n was grateful for the cool contact against his pounding head.

“No, I—” A sharp pain seized through y/n, and an inhuman growl left his throat. Was he already turning this quickly? “Serana, you need to leave.”

“While you lay here bleeding out? Not a chance.” Another growl escaped y/n, louder than the first. Serana’s face knit together in confusion, but she didn’t leave.

“Serana, go.” The desperation was clear as day in y/n’s voice, but the vampire refused to leave.

“No.”

“I...said...GO!” The last word left y/n’s mouth in a roar, and he was unable to hold the transformation back any longer. A howl ripped through the air and darkness overtook y/n’s vision.

‘I’m sorry, Serana.’

<—>

“...y/n...”

“...get up...guards...”

The y/h/c haired werewolf opened his eyes, the wooden timbers above him unfamiliar. Sitting up slowly, y/n winced as a dull ache ran through his bones. Then everything came rushing back to him.

The Blood Moon. Silver Hand. Transforming. Serana.

Was she okay? Y/n didn’t remember hurting her, but then again he didn’t remember anything from after his transformation last night. Just the sight of the moon hanging low and heavy in the sky like a pool of blood and the wolf side of himself howling at its freedom.

There was the sound of someone moving around in the adjoining room. Could it be...?

“Serana?” Y/n winced at how rough and scratchy his voice was. The sounds from the next room paused.

“Y/n?” The vampire came into the small room, and y/n reached for her. Serana pulled back, anger written on her face.

“You’re a werewolf.” The sharpness of her voice caused y/n to wince.

“...Surprise?”

“Surprise? Really y/n! You lied to me, nearly died, and all you say is surprise?”

“I didn’t think—” Serana cur y/n off before he could continue.

“No, of course you didn’t! I’m a vampire y/n. I’ve lived for well over 4,000 years old! You could have told me you were leaving because of the Blood Moon! I would have understood! Instead I follow you and find you half dead, barely conscious, and then you turn into a werewolf!” Serana threw her hands up in the air, walking over to the window and resting her hands on the sill.

“Do you know how I would have felt if you died? It would have destroyed me. I love you, you hard-headed idiot.” The proclamation was quiet, as if meant only for Serana. Y/n heard it all the same and his heart raced.

“Serana, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you’d react if you knew and I—I never expected you to stay for as long as you did.” Y/n took a deep breath, then stood up and with unsteady steps walked to join Serana by the window. He took her hand in his. “I love you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be alone again after meeting you.”

“Y/n, you are possibly the most impossible man I have ever met.” Her hand tightened around his, cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you ever pull something like that again I’m going to find you and beat you senseless myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

<—>

“So you’re telling me this child asked you to kill an orphanage matron, and you did it?” Serana followed her husband through the winding streets of Windhelm, watching for patches of ice. It had been four years since the events of the Blood Moon, and a few months ago she and y/n had finally gotten married.

“Yes.” Y/n slid on a small patch of ice, but caught himself before he fell.

“And you want to...adopt him?”

“Yes.” A large gust of wind caused the couple to tighten their cloaks about them.

“May I ask why exactly? I know we’ve talked about adopting a child, but...” Y/n turned to face Serana and took her hand.

“Serana, he’s all alone in an abandoned house. He needs somebody to take care of him.”

“Fine. But if he says no then we listen to him. I don’t want him to send the Dark Brotherhood our way.”

“Here we are.” Serana has to admit, the small house above the river was rather dreary. Everything in this city was, but there was something about this house.

Y/n opened the door, quiet as a mouse, and walked up the stairs to the second floor. There was a shivering child curled up in a makeshift bed, and the sight gnawed at Serana’s heart.

“Aventus Aretino.” Y/n’s voice was loud in the cold room. The child shot up like lightning with a knife in his hand, calming down a little when he saw y/n.

“It’s you! But I didn’t contact the Brotherhood...why are you back? And who’s she?” Y/n kept his expression neutral, Serana following suit as the child glanced at her.

“You said you’d go back to Honorhall. It’s been three months since that time.” Aventus fidgeted in his spot, drawing the threadbare blanket closer around his shoulders.

“I know I said I’d go back, but...it doesn’t feel right! I can’t go back. Nobody would want me anyway.” It was now that Serana felt her heart break a little more. She could relate to being alone. All those years in the dark...

“You don’t have to, Aventus.” Serana’s voice held a tenderness that was rare to her. The boy turned to the vampire, confusion on his face.

“Then why are you here?” Y/n took a step forward and knelt down in front of Aventus. The boy seemed paler, and a bit too much on the skinny side for his age.

“This is my wife, Serana. We wanted to ask you—if you were comfortable with it—if you wanted to come with us.” Serana went to stand next to y/n, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But we would be happy if you did.”

“You’re—you’re serious?” Y/n smiled and held out a hand to Aventus.

“I swear it on the Night Mother.” Aventus suddenly lunged forward and hugged y/n’s neck tightly. Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes! Yes! When can we go?” Y/n laughed and wrapped his arms around Aventus. The sight warmed Serana’s heart.

“Right now if you like. Here, take my cloak. It’s cold out.” The three departed from the house and left the city, headed back towards the warmer climate of Whiterun.

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

#thedailyimagines #imagine #long fic #male reader #werewolf!reader #lone wolf!reader #skyrim the elder scrolls #skyrim the elder scrolls imagine #skyrim #skyrim imagine #serana #serana skyrim #serana imagine #serana x reader #serana x reader imagine #aventus aretino #the silver hand

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impossibletruths · 4 years

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Year In Review + Author’s Picks

In all honesty I wasn’t planning on doing one of these––this year didn’t quite seem to merit it, for some reason––but here I am anyway, because the longer I look back at 2019 the more meaningful things become. Funny that.

Usually I do one of these for Critical Role, but as the year has worn on I’ve really fallen away from the show and the fan base. And yet, this was the year I made it to multiple live shows and finally met a bunch of fellow Critters, which have been some of the best experiences of my year and also my life. It’s incredible that strangers I met via a nerdy D&D show have become some of my dearest friends, and it’s even wilder that I got the opportunity to meet so so many of them face to face, even internationally. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined it and I’m so unspeakably grateful for each and every opportunity I’ve had. I’ve said before that I wouldn’t be who I am today without CR, but looking at it now I simply can’t imagine my life without the Critters, even if half the people I know hardly watch the show these days.

The other thing that colored this past year was, of course, That Show. It’s been a weird, not entirely pleasant time, and I can honestly say it impacted my mental health in some really shitty ways, but eight months on I feel like I can appreciate the people I’ve met and the fan content I’ve consumed––seriously, the Magicians fandom is so talented––regardless of the source material. My heart hurts a little less these days. I don’t know what the future will hold, but I’m glad I’ve had the chance to make good art and share good art and enjoy good art no matter what canon has thrown at us.

And I wrote. I wrote a lot; I wrote longer, bigger, more plotty stuff than I’ve ever written before and it has been a wild, wacky, generally unexpected experience. I did nano twice, sort of, accidentally. I worked (am working?) on a secret project with someone I’ve looked up to for years and I get to call a friend. I just feel really deeply lucky about, well, everything, in spite of the circumstances. Taking things that hurt and making them into stories I’m eager to share has been an important lesson and a big part of 2019, and I hope to carry some of that hope (and spite!) forward with me into the next year.

So as per tradition, it’s time for my top five.

forty days to land –– It's a long road back to okay, but they're managing it as best they can, and they're managing it together, and that's the part that matters. (I’ve always loved the tone of this one. It was one of the first things I wrote after The Finale, and writing it was a good way to work through a couple of things, personally.)

the second hand unwinds –– After the Monster, Quentin writes to Eliot. Eliot writes back. (Writing this helped me find closure, finally. Obviously I haven’t stopped writing about the boys, but finishing this felt a lot like closing a chapter and finding some modicum of peace. Not all of it––not nearly enough––but it was good for me. Plus stylistically it was way different from what I usually do, and I had fun with that.)

to help and to hold –– Eliot needs a date. Quentin’s a good friend. Like, a really good friend. Like–– what’s the step that comes after really good friend who goes on fake dates with the guy who flirts with you around the clock and really kind of only opens up to two people and one of them is his platonic soulmate and the other is you? Quentin’s that sort of friend. (This was a lovely break, tonally, from all the bleak post-s4 stuff, and I had so much fun writing in Quentin’s voice. Love that nerd.)

testimony of autumn nights –– Eliot Waugh's Foolproof Guide To Wedding-Crashing. (This one was just so much fun. I had such a great time writing it, and it came together really quickly which was also, y’know, nice.)

flour water salt yeast (and rosemary) –– After they release him from the hospital, he bakes bread. (So it turns out Eliot Waugh Does Something And Heals (And So Does Everyone Else) is my favorite fanfiction niche. But really, this was deeply indulgent in the sort of way I’m trying to be less knee-jerk-y about, and I’m fond of it for that reason. Plus, like, Eliot + baking = love.)

Thanks so much to everyone who’s supported me in any and every way. The community I’ve found here over the past year and the past decade has been absolutely wonderful and I don’t have words to adequately express my gratitude. Happy New Year! 💖

#year in review #herdy blerg #fic rec #does it count if it's my own fic rec? whatever #anyway the tl;dr is THANK YOU to everyone around me I'm so grateful for each and every one of you #I hope you have the most wonderful new year #sorry it's all magicians fic I ain't written anything else in eight months except D&D shit

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atmilliways · 5 years

Text

((fic)) Hello, How Are You

One devastating turn deserves another, so this fic is brought to you by @calliopinot‘s Noon On A Tuesday (which you have to read in order for this to make the right amount of sense), plus these headcanons and also this one (thanks @spaceviking), and Hello by Adele but with a nicer ending.

Oh, and an all day wine and food event with 40 participating wineries. Don’t worry, I only made it to 8. That’s not even my record, and I actually remember the end of the day. That’s a serious accomplishment in Zinfandel country.

Anyway, the end of this fic is sappy as hell and I’m not sorry at all about that.

Hello, How Are You

It had taken him years to come here because, really, he wasn’t a dumb kid anymore. With time and therapy, he’d outgrown the idea that his love and existence was so flawed that it destroyed anyone he cared for.

Ironically, he now stood on the doorstep of the man who had first made him believe that, simply by being the first to be left standing.

Toki checked the paper in his hand for probably the tenth time, wondering if he had misread Pickles’ messy scrawl — the house was just so ordinary. He had lived this way himself for decades now, of course, but somehow hadn’t expected it in connection with today, with the man he was hoping to see. It was only one story and modestly sized, with a bay window looking into a sparse but cozy living room. The yard was filled with ornamental grasses instead of a classic lawn and had a winding stone path through blooming roses and perennials. Real colors, when he tended to remember the place’s owner exclusively in grayscale and blond, as so much of their life had been back then. A part of him regretted ringing the doorbell as soon as he did it, but the sound of guitar arpeggios echoing through the house made the corner of his mouth twitch.

Little touches, like that and the miniature wolf statue peering watchfully out from amidst the bushes by the door, assured him yes, Skwisgaar did live here.

As Toki waited for someone to come to the door, absently twisting the wedding band he still wore, he heard the thumps and whines of various dogs jostling around inside. A muffled voice scolded them briefly and then the door swung open to reveal the same Skwisgaar that he remembered, black shirt and faded jeans and all, except for the silver at his temples and the lines that had crept into his face around the eyes.

“Oh. Uh,” Skwisgaar said, staring.

That was as far as he got before three huskies swarmed out from behind his legs. They milled around Toki’s legs, nosing at his hands and crotch inquisitively — so unruly compared to the golden lab mixes Abby’d had over the years, but those had all been well-trained service dogs. At least no one was trying to jump up and lick his face.

“Nej, gets back heres you dumb goofballs...” Skwisgaar shooed the dogs back inside before shooting him a look that was both sheepish and curious. “Sorry. They gets, uh, pretty exciteds when people comes by. Don’t gets a lot of visitors here, you knows.”

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to find.” His mouth felt so dry. Why was his mouth so dry? He also felt unaccountably stupid showing up in a button down shirt and khakis like this was some sort of job interview or something. Toki rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, wondering if this was how Skwisgaar had felt during that one visit years ago, so... thrown, by memories versus reality.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment until Skwisgaar cleared his throat, still trying to hold back the tide of dogs. “So, you wants to come ins or something? I could meet you arounds on the back porch if you don’ts want to deals with these dildoes.”

“Oh, it’s fines,” Toki said, then felt his face redden at the slip. All those years of Leah helping him with his English, the kids playfully teasing and correcting him on the occasional misplaced a plural or mispronunciation, apparently didn’t hold up to facing this fragment of his past. “I mean, I don’t mind dogs, as long as they don’t try to hump my leg or anything.”

“That... Well.” Skwisgaar shuffled backwards, grabbing onto the collar of one of the huskies. “I just puts him in the music room for yous. The others am okays, come on ins.”

Toki followed him inside, pulling the door shut behind himself and looking around. The entryway was fairly bare, just white walls and dark wood floors, about what he would have expected. “So you still play? I wasn’t sure, after you stopped doing that masterclass thing.”

“Oh, you watched that?” Skwisgaar called back distractedly from deeper inside the house.

“Luke did, when he was learning guitar.” Toki couldn’t help smiling a little, with no one there to see. “He got into metal for a while after he saw some pictures of me from the old days. I think it was the long hair. He never did want to cut his short.”

There was the sound of a door slamming, and then the lanky blond reappeared with the remaining two dogs crowding at his heels. “Wasn’ts all you had was girls, last time I heards?”

“Oh... Sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t know.” Toki shrugged. “He changed his name from Leah Jr. to Luke before college. It’s not a big deal. The hormone therapy is going really well, he’s starting to grow a beard now. It’s coming in the way mine did though, remember that time I tried growing it out? And it came in all patchy? I told him he might be better off with just a mustache, but who knows if he’ll listen to me, I’m just his dad or whatevers.”

It occurred to him that he was rambling and that Skwisgaar was giving him a weird look — not one of the looks that meant Toki would have to punch him in the face in defense of his son, just one that wanted to point out they hadn’t spoken in almost fifteen years but, like, didn’t at the same time. It was an unexpectedly hopeful look, shuttered away after an instant as though it hadn’t been meant to be seen, and the implications tugged unpleasantly on Toki's insides. His mouth snapped shut and he followed the other man down the hall into a spacious and, again, mostly white living room. He could see a river winding past through the sliding glass door on the other side of the room. It was nice.

“Have a seats, huuueeeeuuugghhhh, anywheres,” Skwisgaar said into the awkward silence, gesturing to the white couch. Or, the mostly white couch with a liberal dusting of husky hair on it, even in places where Toki wouldn’t have thought a dog that size could or would climb. It was probably also the reason there weren’t any of the plush fur throw rugs Toki remembered him preferring. “You want some coffee or anythings?”

“No, I’m fine thanks.”

“Okay. Uhhhhh... Anyways, ja, I plays,” he continued while Toki made himself comfortable. “Don’t really does much with its now, but sometimes Nathan wants a thing written for ones of those shows he ams working ons, he gives me a calls, Charles sends the checks in the mails, all thats. But it ams, you knows. A goods hobby.” Once his guest sat down in a tall but well-padded easy chair, he took the couch and immediately had two dogs happily vying for control of his lap. “What abouts you?”

Toki looked down at his hands. “I still play sometimes. More since the kids all left home, but less than... since Leah.”

Skwisgaar sighed. “I heards about that. Thoughts about going to pays my respects, but...” He gave a pained grimace that was, maybe, intended to be an apologetic smile. “Didn’ts really knows her, and Pickle tolds me it was probablies not the best ideas.”

“Oh,” Toki said blankly. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Pickles had never mentioned Skwisgaar wanting to come to the funeral. But would he have remembered if he had? That had been, to put it mildly, a bad time. Juggling all the funeral arrangements, hospital bills, and suddenly being a single parent to a teenager and two preteens — it had been a lot. He’d barely kept it together for the first few years, and still felt bad that Juliette had taken it upon herself to help look after her siblings and grown up so much so quickly.

“...You lets your hair grows out somes,” Skwisgaar blurted out.

“I did,” Toki agreed, grateful for the change of subject. He swished his fingers through it, a fall of brown that came down to around his chin, just like when they’d first met. “Two girls and a gender fluid kid in the house, we used to have some wild hairdo parties, let me tell you.” He laughed. Kind of forced, but close enough to real. “And it worked out. Juliette is doing really well in cosmetology school.”

“That’s greats, Toki.”

The smile on Toki’s face was a brittle one. He was proud of his kids — hell, proud of himself for producing three non-fucked up human beings, considering his own bleak childhood, homeless adolescence, and raucous early adulthood. Things really had turned out for the best.

Mostly. Because while he’d had a loving, supportive partner to help lay the groundwork for his wonderfully normal new life, it hadn’t turned anything like what he’d imagined. She’d died and he’d found out that there were even worse things than having his heart broken, like having to decide whether to keep all of her old things around as a constant, heart-stabbing reminder or carrying overflowing boxes out to the curb past his crying children, pleading to hold onto the memories of their mother. Impossible choices.

The conversation had hit another lull, both of them just looking at each other over a canyon of decades.

“So,” Skwisgaar said awkwardly, “why... ams you decided to visit todays? Nots that I minds the companies,” he added quickly, unwilling to drop the strained pretense of gracious host. Clearly he didn’t want to be as blunt as Toki had been when he’d visited, all those years ago. No attempt had been made to flaunt his carefree, unattached lifestyle out here in the countryside, with no neighbors for miles and no real obligations to speak of save for occasional songwriting favors. He hadn’t gone for the jugular with, to name an example completely at random, a #1 Guitarist mug.

Toki’s smile cracked. On the couch, the two dogs raised their heads and looked at him inquisitively, approximately one second before he sucked in a breath like a man afraid of drowning and sank his face into both hands. For a long time he’d been able to keep his old life and live locked up tight, separate from his newly constructed family. He’d stopped discussing it in therapy years ago, long enough that his therapist never thought to bring it up anymore. Long enough that he hadn’t realized the parallels for a long time.

And it all came pouring out a torrent of word vomit that tasted all the more bitter for how long he’d been holding it in. A family of five? The way Leah had died, carving a chunk of his life big enough to leave him broken — what was he supposed to do, let it? And then the kids moving out. Little Abby had been the first to go and the last he had expected to lose so soon, a blow out of nowhere just like Murderface lapsing without warning into a coma. Luke had developed new interests, decided on a far more ambitious musical ambitions than his old man, and gone off to school at a fabulous conservatory half way across the globe, echoing Nathan’s departure for new and interestingly brutal pursuits. Juliette, like Pickles, had stuck around the longest, but now she was finally getting into cosmetology full time and living with her girlfriend, fostering an endless stream of troubled kids that the system had failed because her heart was just that goddamned big. There were visits, and phone calls, and occasionally even meeting up for lunches or dinners, but they had their own separate lives to get back to. Toki had... nothing. Just like after Dethklok.

Nothing but this ghost from his past who, before he realized what was happening, was kneeling in front of his chair and pulling him into a rough hug. Toki let himself be pulled. The dogs crowded around him and licked helpfully at the tears and snot boiling out of him before it could land on Skwisgaar’s shirt, though it caught its fair share of slobber and stray fur instead. Thumps and distressed dog noises from elsewhere in the house suggested that the third had some idea of what he was missing out on and resented being excluded from it, but oh well. Special persons invite club cry-a-thon, no leg humpers allowed.

Because Skwisgaar was crying too. First it registered as a growing dampness on his shoulder. Then Toki realized that the other man’s hands were gripped onto his shirt in big handfuls, and what had seemed like a comforting rocking motion was the Swede shaking with the effort of keeping his own tears silent and unobtrusive.

“Skwisgaar, what’s…” More alarmed than he would have expected given his own simmering breakdown, Toki managed to disentangle himself enough to pull back and get a look at his face. There was no hope of passing it off as ‘just gettings high’ today — not that it had ever been very effective ruse, Skwisgaar was an ugly crier and always had been. “What’s wrong?”

“Because,” came the choked up reply. “You saids you was happy. I s-stayed aways because you was happy. You didn'ts…” Skwisgaar was squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to not totally lose it, but his grip was clearly slipping. “You didn’ts deserve for it to all falls so much to shits that you comes to see me."

“Oh…” Toki slid to the floor as though his bones had been removed and replaced with cooked spaghetti, because that was exactly it. Skwisgaar had dumped him and it had been devastating, but he’d reinvented himself, met a girl, made a new life for himself without him.

It had taken so long to decide to come here precisely because he had been happy. Ecstatically so, and in the new life he’d made, even after Leah, there had been no room for Skwisgaar in it. But to see that Skwisgaar had known that — hell, actually respected that enough to leave him be for all these years — made him realize.

“Skwisgaar,” Toki said, sniffling and reaching to smooth some of the other man’s tears away. Skwisgaar startled at the touch, blue eyes flying open.

“Whats?”

“I don’t regrets anything about my family,” Toki told him earnestly, “but it was always supposed to be you.” And kissed him.

They were both still crying so it was wet and clumsy and messy, but their lips fit together just as perfectly as Toki remembered. Sure, he’d repressed that memory for a long time, but he’d had to.

For so long they’d been spun around in a dance of wanting different things, never on the same page, perfectly compatible but just off somehow. Then there had been Leah and it had felt impossible to reconcile those dual loves, so Toki had always told himself that his first choice had never been right or good for him. And maybe that instinct had been spot on, maybe Skwisgaar back then had been all wrong, a pentagonal peg that Toki had desperately fit into a round hole — but things had changed. So much was different now, about both of them. Here in this modest house, sitting on the floor with dogs trying their best to cheer up two idiot humans with even more slobbery kisses than the one they were currently sharing with amazed enthusiasm, they fit together in ways that was far more than just physical. It finally felt like they were on the same page, older and wiser but still head over fucking heels for each other.

A third furry body crashed into them and Skwisgaar broke away with a cry of, “Fucksdammit Morderface, if you brokes another door you ams sleeping outskied tonights I swear to fucking Odin!”

Toki laughed and rubbed his face on his sleeve and stood, despite the (pudgier, more blunt-nosed) husky immediately going for his leg as he did so, offering Skwisgaar a hand up that he accepted without hesitation. “You named him Murderface?”

“Ja,” Skwisgaar said sheepishly. He didn’t let go of Toki’s hand once he was up, instead threading their fingers together. “Uh, ands the other two ams Nathan and Pickles. Makes me feel less, eughhh, lonely out heres, you knows.”

“Huh.” Toki looked down at their entwined fingers. Smiled. Squeezed. “Just those three?”

“There ams only one Toki Wartooth,” Skwisgaar told him seriously, then pulled him into another kiss that lasted much, much longer.

#metalocalypse #my fanfic #my fanfiction #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #postklok #idiots in midlife crisis love #skwistok

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kimabutch · 5 years

Note

*crawls out of An Hole* some songs by Jon Bellion songs for The List: ‘Conversations with my Wife’ for Percy, ‘Cautionary Tales’ for VM n ‘Hand Of God: outro’ for ScanMan...

*watches you crawl out of the hole, confused but mostly impressed*

Conversations with my Wife is SO good for Perc’ahlia, goddamn. Percy just being so grateful for Vex and all the times she’s helped him through:

“I dreamt I slept on a sidewalk, but you still laid with me/ I dreamt I fell in a lion's den, and you still came for me/ I dreamt I lost all of my faith, and you still prayed for me”

And learning to care more about love than his achievements/intelligence:

Who the fuck cares about these plaques on my wall?/ You're still the only thing I've done right.”

(Actually, this could work both for Perc’ahlia and with his relationship with VM in general.)

I think Cautionary Tales is about people becoming legends, and the real story behind them — which works super well for Vox Machina. Particularly this verse:

“He struck down gods and he killed an army/ Stood up on top of a hill of bodies/ It was never enough, he just needed saving from himself”

Because some of the most difficult moments in campaign 1 came from characters “saving” themselves — not just from their huge battles.

And Hand of God... “I am just a man, I am just a man who lusts, gives, tries/ Sometimes, I lose my way” is SUCH a good summary of Scanlan.

Come yell at me about songs that remind you of Critical Role! (Playlist | song masterlist & spreadsheet by disasterhumans | CR music tag)

#critical role #cr music #Anonymous

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jlhynde-insanitybrilliance · 5 years

Text

Free! Headcannon: ‘Rin’s American Friend’ (a.k.a don’t give a paintball gun to an american.)

A/N: This is what it’s like to play paintball w/ a trigger-happy-gun-loving-American. Style 5 + Ai, Momo, & Sousuke.

(Note: I’m using Jane Doe instead of s/o b/c I feel like the use of s/o takes readers out of the story & also it’s what unidentified bodies are called in the morgue.)

Rin Matsuoka:

Rin is 1000% done w/ this sh*t. (=_=)

He knew this was a bad idea. He knew it! But that didn’t stop the others from plowing right on ahead.

The second one of the guys suggested paintball her eyes started to sparkle & a scary smile stretched across her face. It was the kind of smile Rin had only seen when she was about to deliver a well-deserved-can-of-whoop-a**. & he just knew this was a bad idea.

But no one listened to him. Not a single one of his friends headed his suggestion “like hey maybe it’s not the best idea to give a paintball gun to a gun-loving American...” & now they were all reaping the consequences.

(more under the cut...)

Jane Doe was a monster on the course. It wouldn’t have been half as bad if Jane was just a trigger-happy-moron who had never fired a gun in her life & had terrible aim. But no. Rin knew that Jane used to shoot skeet w/ her dad on the weekends (probably still does.) & that meant that her aim was on point.

That didn’t make her any less of a doofus, though. She was just a idiot w/ excellent aim. Throughout the game she kept laughing maniacally like one of those old James Bond Villains & shouting out lines from American action flicks. But she kept mixing them up so none of it made any sense.

“Say hello to...THE CHIMICHANGAS!!!” “YIPPIE KAY-YAY...YA FILTHY ANIMALS!!!” “Who ordered the whoop-ass fajitas?!” “Merry Christmas MOTHERF***!!!”

“IT’S NOT CHRISTMAS, JANE!”

~Oh, lord give him patience. How did he get such an idiot for a friend?~

It was fortunate for him that he had wound up on the same team as Jane b/c he sure as hell didn’t want to trade places w/ Sousuke right now.

(Sousuke had been pinned down for the last 5 min while Jane fired like a ba-sh*t-llion of paint balls at the tree he was shielding himself w/.)

But just b/c Rin was on the same team didn’t mean he wasn’t the victim of friendly-fire.

“F*ck. Jane, I’m on your team!”

“Sorry, Rin!”

He was basically trying to stay out of her way & not get hit w/ anymore stray paint balls. But that didn’t stop him from shouting out at her when she did or said something particularly moronic.

“Look north, Makoto!”

“You’re standing east, Dumba**!”

Haruka Nanase:

Worst.teammate.ever. He was like zero help in this situation.

Like Rin, he had been lucky w/ the odd number of players & got stuck on the same team as Jane. But he hadn’t lifted a finger to help Rin take down the other teams.

You know how you have those people who just sit on the sidelines w/ a lawn chair & a bowl of popcorn & watch the world burn? Well that’s Haru in this mess. Except he’s not sitting on a lawn chair, he’s crouching behind a wooden wall, & he’s not eating popcorn, he’s munching on dried pineapple slices that Jane had given him.

He probably just didn’t want to get slaughtered when he stepped out from behind that wall. So he stays back & guards the fort.

~“What fort? That’s a wall, Haru! Get out here and help me!!!” Rin yells at him from the other side of the course.~

He spends the majority of the game watching Jane. Images of that kiss still running through his mind. He may have started to develop a little bit of a crush...

BUT SHE’S TOTALLY INSANE!!!!

Haru is a little scared of her to be honest. & w/ good reason as she just eliminated Rei while taking a flying leap off a 9 foot wall.

But then she stops & blows him a kiss... ~ <3

~“Gross! Jane, stop flirting with my friends!”~

(Rin is beyond disgusted by her PDA towards Haru.)

Sousuke Yamazaki:

~“Someone help me!!!! F*ck!!!”~

He’s in some serious trouble. Like he is 100 miles up sh*t creek without a canoe. Where the hell is Makoto?!

Sousuke was on the team w/ Iwatobi’s swim captain, but he couldn’t find the other boy after the first wave of paint balls. Which means he’s on his own trying to pull a John McClane & not get shot. But he’s battling against the freaking Terminator.

If he wasn’t so panicked right now, he’d probably be impressed by how accurate Jane’s aim was. B/c dang does that girl knows how to shoot! She’d be totally boss at the shooter games at the summer festivals.

But right now Sousuke’s huddled behind a tree after Jane got the upper hand in their standoff. Maybe he should just surrender...

~“I’ll take no survivors! Mhuhahahahaha!!!”~

Or not. (-_-)

Rei Ryugazaki:

He was taken out within the first minute of the game. He had wanted to devise a plan that would take into account the physical terrain of the course along w/ the wind speed & wind’s direction...

But while he was calculating all the math. Jane had been able to sneak up on him.

He still didn’t know where Ai-chan-san went though. Maybe if he had been there Rei would’ve been able to put the plan into motion, however the white-haired boy was strangely missing (hiding).

Later Rei was beyond grateful that he was the first to be eliminated b/c it was after that that Jane became this force to be reckoned w/. & like everyone else she scared him sh*tless.

He spent the rest of the game sitting w/ Haru-sempai & eating dried pineapple.

Makoto Tachibana & Aiichirou Nitori:

(o-o) !

(O_O) !!

\(>u<)/ !!! “SAVE US FROM THE SCARY AMERICAN!!!!!”

These two guys were immediately regretting every life decision that led to this moment. Had they known this is what Rin was talking about when he said it was a bad idea, they would’ve never had agreed to play.

The second the paint balls started flying they both hit the the ground & army-crawled to where they thought would be safest.

It just so happened that they both thought the safest place was behind a monstrous old tire. But the tire wasn’t big enough to hide them both.

“I was here first. You move.”

They played a round of rock-paper-scissors to who decide who would get to keep the spot. ~they both played paper~

Then a paint ball came whizzing past & Makoto barely managed to tackle Nitori out of the way before hit him. It was then decided that safest option would be to get to where Rei and Haru were at.

(That spot seemed to have become the designated safety zone.)

~“Look north, Makoto!”~

OH SH*T!!!

“Nitori-kun run, I’ll distract her while you make a break for it!”

“Sempai...”

“Go now! Hurry!”

~“I won’t forget your sacrifice, Sempai!!!” Nitori cried as he made a mad dash across the open field.~

Nitori ran like his life depended on it & ducked behind some barrels. Heavy footsteps started to approach from his right. This was it --he adjusted the gun in his hands & took a deep breath. 1. 2. 3...

“Wait, Nitori-kun...!”

Makoto tried to stop him before the younger boy unleashed a wave of paint balls. But Nitori had already pressed his fingers down on the trigger & was firing paint balls every which way as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

(This was the end to Makoto & Rin. The latter of which got hit by one of the stray paint balls.)

Jane shot Nitori seconds later.

Nagisa Hazuki & Momotarou Mikoshiba:

These two idiots had started this mess.

It was their idea to go to a paintball arena. It was them who convinced the others not to listen to Rin. They were to blame.

Not that they honestly cared, though. These two were having the time of their lives as they reenacted the last stand of Alamo. If they were going to go down they were going to go down fighting.

Amazingly enough they weren’t picked off within the first 10 minutes like everyone else. But instead retreated to tower-like structure to wait while Jane picked off everyone else on the field.

What ensues is pure chaos & hilarity for the others watching from the safety zone. Nagisa & Momo are just as trigger happy as Jane. But their aim wasn’t nearly as good.

So their brilliant idea? That’s to charge out at the same time & fire a cr*pload of paint balls in her general direction while yelling at the top of their lungs.

Jane of course fires two shots & hits both of them, but not before Momo trips on his shoelace, thus knocking down Nagisa & Nagisa’s gun accidentally discharges & that last paint ball hits Jane square in the chest.

The way things worked out all three were eliminated at the same time leaving only Haru the only one unscathed.

~“But he didn’t even do anything!” Rin sulks.~

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rosymaplemoth · 5 years

Text

Girls’ Night

I wrote this drabble last night at a write-in, so it sort of tapers off rather quickly, but I had fun. This is an CR OC-only story, with canon characters only being mentioned.

!Modern AU! (Not to be mistaken with Idol AU, which is different.)

Wordcount: 1734 Pairing: (mention of) Nemonnax and Avice (yeah, they have ship names. Nice.) Rating: PG-13, I guess? Warnings: Language, mentions of sex toys (thanks, Alice), bad “The Godfather” jokes

Miss Irene Adler belongs to @thebluestmage and I love her so much ioi

---

“Hey! Hurry up and open the door, my hands are full!”

She wasn’t supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes, and she’s kicking instead of knocking.

“Could you not kick the door, Alice?” I say, turning turning the page of my book.

“You should be grateful I brought dinner! The gnocchi will get cold if you don’t hurry, and if the gnocchi gets cold I will never forgive you because the Boss made it himself and he always makes THE BEST stuff!!”

As much as I hate to admit my own selfishness, free food does change things. I set my book aside and stand up, quickly hopping over to the door to open it.

Miss Alice Liddell comes bursting in, still in her work uniform. Even her little bow tie is still on, sparkling and white with a cleanliness that doesn’t match its owner.

“It’s hot, grab it grab it grab it!”

Alice shoves a dish into my arms and, oh, she was not kidding about it being hot. I stumble over to the kitchen counter and set it down on a towel, rubbing my hands to lessen the sting.

“So, made by the Boss himself, huh?” I look over my shoulder at Alice, who’s still poking around my door. “How many people did you have to off to get this?”

“Don’t be tacky, Polly, it doesn’t suit you. Ooooh, what’s this?” Alice picks up a rather large box and grins. “Hey, what’cha order? Wait, let me guess… a full-sized model of some nerdy-ass prehistoric fish.”

“I haven’t ordered anything,” I say, walking over to where she’s standing. “And we usually have to pick up our packages downstairs, anyway.”

Alice’s eyes light up. “Maybe it’s a bomb! Or a severed head!”

I glance slowly over at her.

“If it was a bomb, you probably would’ve set it off with all the shaking. And, uh… do severed heads get delivered often?”

“Oh, honey, don’t ask me.” Alice tilts her head. “Copying the movies is tacky, and this box isn’t big enough for a horse head, anyway.”

“You’re the one who was talking about severed heads in the first place…” I take the box from Alice and look down at it. There are stamps on it, but the label’s been changed. When I see the return address, I let out a sigh and let a small smile cross my lips.

“A bomb’s more likely than a head in this case,” I say. “But he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave one on my doorstep.”

“Oh?” Alice crosses her arms as I set the package down on the coffee table and walk back over to the gnocchi. “Hey, hold on, aren’t you going to open it?”

“Oh, probably later,” I reply, pulling the lid off the food. “God, he could make an honest living off of this stuff.”

“Yeah, but he’s so much more fun as a dangerous guy, you know?” Alice pops the cork on a bottle of wine—where had she been hiding that?—and grins. “You understand me, right? With that weird Matrix boyfriend of yours! Open the box, I wanna see what he sent you! Do you have any ideas?”

“Well, um…”

I think back to the last few e-mails I had exchanged with him. He was going to be going abroad for work and had said:

‘OH! I’ll be sending something your way too. Something that can give you lots of love while I’m gone, okay? ^o^ ^o^ ^o^ Just don’t love too much on it, or I’ll get jealous! : ( : ( : ( : ( I miss you already, please keep me updated on those saltwater filters you’ve been researching! O_O I want to hear all about the effects they’ll have on the transportation of…‘

Etcetera etcetera.

“Oh. My. God.” an awful grin splits Alice’s face when I tell her the gist of it. “Polly, honey, he totally sent you a dildo!”

“What?!” I swing my head over to glare at her.

“Oh, that’s so cute! Something to use while you think of him!” Alice dances from foot to foot, twirling like she’s talking about lollipops and rainbows instead of silicone penises. “Mr. Avido did something similar for me, once. He got me the cutest pair of panties and a remote-controlled vibrator and—”

Alice is only stopped when I fling a throw pillow her way.

Any further discussion on Alice’s part is interrupted by another knock at the door.

“Oh thank god,” I mutter. “Irene.” I quickly walk over to the door and open it up, looking at the taller woman gratefully.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” she asks. “Alice bullying you already?”

“Weirdo-Man got her a dildo!” Alice shrieks with laughter.

“Well, that’s the first I’ve heard about that…” Irene smiles sympathetically at me.

“I’m so sorry. He doesn’t talk your ear off, does he?” I murmur, but she waves it off.

“Yes, but he did that even before he met you,” she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “Nemo’s loud, but he’s a sweetheart most of the time.”

Irene walks over to the box and looks down at it with a smile. “He has talked to me about this, though. It’s not a dildo, Alice, sorry.”

“Aw, Miss Adler, don’t crush my dreams!”

“If I don’t crush your dreams you’ll get spoiled,” Irene takes a deep breath, smiling at the aroma of good food. “Your boyfriend’s going to be hard to beat, though.”

“Ew, come on,” Alice shakes her head. “He isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my Boss. He’s my ‘capo’, my ‘padrone’, my ‘signore’—”

“If I open the box, will you stop butchering Italian?” I ask.

Alice sits down cross-legged and silently hands Irene the bottle of wine.

I drum my fingers on the box before looking up at the two girls, a blush beginning to spread across my cheeks. “Look, it’s kind of embarrassing when the two of you are staring at me like that. Go grab some plates or something.”

“Go get some plates, Alice,” says Irene.

“Oh, come on!” Alice pouts up at her, but stands up without further complaint and goes to dish out her boyfriend’s, um, Boss’ cooking.

Once Alice has her back turned, Irene nods at me and I tear into the box with glee.

It opens rather easily, and there’s a ‘pop’ as a cloud of confetti bursts into the air, making me gasp.

“Cute…” Irene says with a slow smile. “He initially wanted to put fireworks in it, but I told him that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“My face thanks you,” I reply. I move the confetti container inside and am faced with a wall of pink. “What is this…?”

It’s soft and plush, and squishes when I reach in to grab it.

“It’s a…”

“He knows how much you love them,” Irene’s looking on proudly.

I feel tears brimming at the edges of my eyes already.

“It’s so cute!” I hug the squid to my chest and hug it. It’s so large that I can wrap both my legs and arms around it as I bury my face in the soft fabric. It smells like him, too, like leather and oil and circuits and science.

“ACK I missed it!” Alice runs over, but her expression drops when she sees me nuzzling my face into a cushiony cephalopod. “What the fuck.”

“Isn’t it sweet?” Irene rests her elbow on Alice’s head. “He made it himself. He actually dragged the poor thing with him to a bunch of meetings while he was sewing it. Finis was thrilled about that…”

“He went to all that trouble?” my voice is muffled, but I don’t want them to see me crying. He hasn’t even left the country yet and I’m already getting emotional. It’s just two weeks… just two weeks. “It’s warm, too… just like he is…”

I sniff, and I feel a gentle hand on my head.

“Aw, kitten, he made it so you wouldn’t be lonely,” says Irene.

“I don’t get it,” says Alice as she pauses to shovel a spoonful of gnocchi in her mouth.

“You don’t understand making someone a present to show someone you love them?”

“Nope,” another shovelful. “Why not just buy it?”

“… Why not just buy it, indeed,” Irene stares pointedly at Alice’s plate.

I wipe my eyes and stand up to fix myself a plate of Avido’s gnocchi.

“Hey, Irene,” I say. “I know you can’t go into details, but…”

I turn around and hand her the serving spoon. “This stuff isn’t… I mean, will he be safe?”

“If he can resist pushing Finis’ buttons, he’ll be fine,” Irene replies.

“Oh no…”

‘Pushing buttons’ is a rather bad habit of Nemo’s. Despite looking, well, not innocent, but… perhaps unobservant is the better word? Despite looking unobservant, Nemo’s always noticing things about the people he talks to. His mind’s like a computer, I swear he has a mental registry of every single insecurity of every single person that he has ever interacted with, ever. And sometimes, just for the meanness of it, he’ll make the most innocuous of comments that absolutely drip with malice. And he’ll do it all with a clueless expression or sometimes even an impish smile. But if you call him out on it, he’ll just stare at you as though you have no idea what he’s talking about. He’s just making an observation, it’s just an opinion, why are you making such a big deal out of it?

As I rub my temples, I thank my luck that I haven’t been on the receiving end of one of his “observations”. My self-esteem is withered enough as it is.

No, instead I glance over at the happy-looking squid sitting on my couch and smile.

“Y’know,” Alice takes a sip of wine. “It’s kind of funny to think about, but really… Polly’s the only one with a job she can freely talk about.”

“There’s confidential stuff, too,” I say.

“What, do you have a secret stash of octopi or something?” Alice laughs.

“Octopuses, and no. It’s mostly things like donor lists and the like,” I say.

“Wow,” Alice’s voice is deadpan. “How scandalous. Donor lists.”

The exchanges go on like this as we eat, and I can’t help but think about how strange it is that the three of us are here with each other.

Strange, but nice.

#cr modern au

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chellyfishing · 6 years

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Ok so I’m in a bad place mentally atm and last night’s Cr was kinda the last thing I needed so I’m going to calm myself down by being analytical about it. Spoilers obvi

Like I legit don’t know what I’m feeling rn besides “bad,” I was feeling bad anyway and this was one of those things that didn’t help. I’m glad I didn’t finish the episode last night—my stream is always super choppy bc no WiFi and I was too fucking tired and frustrated so I cut out a bit after about 10:30 and went straight to sleep. I finished up almost first thing this morning as Jenna rightly pointed out I would definitely be spoiled otherwise.

And... don’t ask me to analyze my feelings beyond that. I don’t think it would bother me if I wasn’t pmsing.

Narratively however I don’t mind sharing some thoughts. The unfortunate thing about this is we the viewers know the whole endeavor was pointless, because the three missing actors aren’t coming back any time soon. That means even if things had gone perfectly, they wouldn’t have found them anyway, and things were never going to go perfectly. So we knew it was a big gamble for nothing. Personally I would have preferred they been unable to find Lorenzo so quickly. But of course the characters knew none of this and the stakes are certainly high enough that yes absolutely they would have had to take the chance no matter what; they’d accidentally put themselves on a deadline knowing things will only get much worse for their friends if they don’t find them fast, but they also, from a meta perspective, cannot find them quickly.

Ashly was great. I honestly love her so much and I’m grateful for her existence. For most of the episode I was loling a lot. Is she going to be around for more than the one episode? it would be a bit awk otherwise if not impossible. Anyway idk. Guest stars. If it was just the one episode I see the importance of pushing for a confrontation ASAP, but if not that just goes back to the fact that they could have postponed it for a minute. However idk at all, I’m not privy to what has to be done to keep things going at a good and plausible pace/schedule.

Truthfully I don’t have a problem with any decisions that were made in character or out of it, at the end of the day, because it’s not like anybody knew how things would play out and they’re just trying to play a good game and tell a good story. And the thing is, Matt has the ability for takebacks. I mean, didn’t several people die in c1 and they all made it... at least to the final boss fight? And I could see Matt and Tal having a vested interest in bringing Molly back, because this potentially opens up some interesting possibilities, given that it’s specifically Molly. i mean, Matt absolutely has the power to decide within a few days they get a windfall money-wise then trip over a skilled cleric or something, which is sort of what I’m assuming will happen. The only reason I’m having doubts at all is that I’m not very well-versed in how all this works in a gaming context and like....... most people just seem to be acting like it’s already a done deal? So it makes me unsure about how likely any of that is? But. I am pretty sure that’s a thing they can do. And I’m pretty sure at least Matt and Tal are already discussing what to do next. I don’t think it would be a problem if they agreed they wanted him back, and it just feels way too early for Molly to be done. So, this is a lot of words to say that as far as logic brain knows, this really isn’t a big deal in a meta context, and it’s annoying that feels brain is treating it like it is.

Basically other than feeling unnecessarily bad, I take a zen approach to all of this and am not worried. A lot depends on the roll of the die but Matt has the power to pull his punches when he wants to and we all know that his main goal is “is this fun?” He’s stated as much himsef after all; rules are less important to him than making sure everyone has a good time.

The one thing I am worried about is things taking a turn for the grimdark. I know c1 could get intense sometimes. But for this I’m like, they have enough trauma already? I want a story about friends helping friends through all that, more than a story about piling more of it on. But that’s me and what I want. I don’t know where everyone else stands! I know the fandom loves angst, to the point that sometimes it’s just like 🙄. Idk from my perspective finding joy in wallowing in secondhand misery is kind of a privilege which I lack. Things are already going to be heavy as it is and what a drag it would be for 100 more episodes where BEAU is the happiest party member.

Anyway I’m tired and on benzos but I guess my point is. I want to have fun too and I hope I can continue to do that. And I don’t see that road being barred, only that it is in danger of collapse, but also I trust Matt with my life. He clearly felt awful, and I want to give Taliesin the biggest hug. And I just wanted to extract words so they were doing something besides rattling around in my head. That’s all 🖖

#deep thoughts

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holbyconfessional · 6 years

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Holby City S20 E25 - Primum Non Nocere - Part 2

Fuck me, that was a bit of a rollercoaster! I should probably start with Jac, but let’s face it, most thoughts (and feels) I’ve had around this episode are Berena related, so I’m just diving straight in.

I’ve been prepared for the worst. And it’s pretty horrific watching them fight and pick at each other for the first large part of the episode. I’m still very much of the opinion that we were cheated out of a great deal of happiness in the first days of their relationship, by their new romance taking so much of a backseat before being so quickly derailed by Elinor’s death. So, whilst it has been beyond wonderful to have Bernie back on our screens for a couple of episodes, to not really see much happiness for the majority of those eps was still tough to take. BUT, there were really pure and wonderful moments in the painful angst. From the moment that Bernie walked into Greta’s cubicle, after her chat with Fleur, just the way she only had eyes for Serena was just beautiful. Followed, of course, by the chat on the corridor floor, the reminiscences about Elinor (yes, I shed a tear, because CR’s acting was just sublimely good), and even the break up scene, which I actually legitimately sobbed through. Because JR’s acting after Serena went in to meet her grand-niece was just that sublimely good.

And of course, who could fault the post-Fleur and Donna Serena intervention scenes, when Serena chases after Bernie? Somebody had to talk sense into Serena, because who in their right mind would let Bernie go??!! And as for asking Bernie to wait, let’s face it - Bernie is ex-army, she is used to being separated from loved ones for extended periods of time, and whilst I’m not suggesting it’s easy for her, nor her choice at this point in her life, she would hardly say no to something she’s learned emotionally to deal with, right? And THANK YOU, HOLBY FOLKS - because, she’ll be back, soon enough... (I’m not sure I’ve ever been quite so grateful to be proved so wrong!)

The thing with Berena is, that whilst it has been heralded as this hitherto unrepresented older lesbian relationship without death (if you choose to overlook the death of Serena’s daughter), it’s actually much more than that. It’s been pigeonholed, but I actually think it stands it’s place in the grander scheme, and whilst it means so much to so many, it’s much more than just a ‘lesbian’ relationship. It deserves to be up there amongst any relationship, regardless of gender/identity of the participants. I literally can’t remember a time in Holby history where any relationship has been treated with such care and attention - and I think we do have the representation aspect to thank for that, but (and I may be waxing lyrical, and not making that much sense), to me, it is ‘all that’.

Anyway, and loathe as I am to admit it - there were other storylines in tonight’s show. And other aspects to Serena’s story! So, here we go.

Gaskell’s monologue to an unconscious patient which kicked off the show, and was shown throughout. I had initially thought it was Jac, and was most glad at the end of the ep to be shown that it wasn’t. I think it was that first patient, the one that I’d initially thought was a loved one, who has been in the coma for years, although still not sure.

I have to admit, I still feel like I don’t quite get all of Gaskell’s storylines. It might have something to do with not catching some of what he mutters, but it feels like it’s one of the least coherent stories that they’ve run, and it’s all done almost in subtext. I’m not a stupid person, but I do constantly find myself wondering what the hell is happening within that story. So, he’s acknowledged that Meena is right, that patients are dying from encephalitis, but he lied to Meena and Roxanna by telling them that his latest patient is responding to treatment, when in fact he isn’t, and won’t. But none of that really matters, because Jac realises that she’s got a 50/50 of dying, but wants to go ahead anyway, because death is better than a life with neurological deficits, or pain, despite the fact she has a daughter. And Gaskell pretends to laud Meena for her actions, but is secretly looking for a way to get rid of her for derailing his maniacal need to trailblaze, which of course yap-flapper Meena gives him by not managing to keep her idiot mouth shut to the random researcher (who happens to tell Gaskell that they’ve been running basically the same trial in mice with the same 50/50 outcome). Incidentally, in my opinion, Gaskell was quite right to boot Meena. He just did it for totally the wrong reasons. Fwiw.

Aaaand, Jac has had the surgery, it has ostensibly worked, so now we just get to wait and see if she dies. And let’s face it, she’s gonna get a fever and high CRP etc, regardless of the final outcome, coz otherwise, where would the drama be??!!

Good to see Henrik, and so lovely to see him worried about Jac. I like to think if he’d remained CEO, Gaskell’s shadiness would have been uncovered by now. And continuing with Jac, I simply love that Sacha knows her so well - as he showed when speaking to Fletch about how she deals with things, and the anniversary of Jasmine’s death.

The meeting room was quite fun, with Sacha inadvertently spilling Fletch’s romantic dilemma to Abigail, although yet again, Sacha being used as the buffoon was a shame. But I can’t deny that it was mildly comedic. Sadly, yet again, it seems to have only drawn Fletch and Abby closer together. I find myself wondering, am I the only anti-Flabby campaigner out there? RM has all but confirmed that Flac will never happen because neither she nor AW want it to, and I’m ok with that, because I was massively anti-Flac when those rumours first surfaced, but I just can’t get behind Flabby either, and the worse part is, I just don’t know why!

I think my final thoughts of tonight are regarding Fleur Fanshawe (which actually also brings me nicely full circle back to Berena!). Fleur was always quite a pushy character, but tonight, she was downright offensive intially in her flirting over Serena. I felt quite awful for Bernie for a bit there. I’m really glad we got a bit of backstory/filler to explain how Fleur is suddenly Obs&Gynae after being General Surgical, because that was flummoxing me a little. Shame the backstory didn’t extend to what happened to Sophia. Although why should it, I suppose. Relationships come and go, and I guess Serena has all the low down considering how often she goes for drinks with Fleur - as suggested by Fleur to Bernie. So, after starting the episode as quite a thorn in the side, I guess she finally came through, first with her chat to Bernie whilst Bernie was outside having a fag (and looking unbelievably glorious), then later with her remonstration of Serena for letting Bernie go, thereby precipitating their reconciliation, albeit for 48 hours and then long distance. So, I say, go Fleur. And if you do what you promised Bernie and stop chasing Serena, and just be your gloriously bolshy, gay self, chasing after your own unattached ladies, then please stay on our screens and brighten these grey days until Bernie’s next return!!

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