#the first is technically for All Souls Day and the second is just winter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mothwingwritings · 26 days

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Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face.

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head. You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often. And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond? If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now.

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process. Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential. How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him. “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

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kingofangst · 1 year

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wow, u have so many! it's hard to choose! but, um, okay. here's some (if u don't mind)

4. Good for wolves, bad for trauma (Isaac/Theo au)

10. Holes of sorrow (Lydia Martin time travel au)

21. Redeeming the villains of teen wolf

22. An electrifying kind of love (Josh/Brett)

30. That is a firm handshake you got there (Stiles/Brett slow burn)

i still want to know about the good theo one, but since u told me a lot already (same for THG thiam au one too) i'm cutting these off of this :)

Oh Wow! I wasn't expecting this but I don't mind at all😁💯 I will be debriefing them

4) This was started off by an idea of a rarepair. Which was then crafted with moodboards of these two. (Credits to you @thiamsxbitch) Basically this is an AU where Isaac doesn't leave to France with Chris. Instead he stays with Scott and Melissa as he battles against the Deadpool while being a mentor and beta to Liam. When he is a senior and someone from Scott's and Stiles's childhood crosses path, Isaac is skeptical but intrigued. He finds it mysterious that Theo wants to join Scott's pack out of nowhere which makes him hold the chimera at arms length. But Theo is interested in the tall beta werewolf who is not just one of Scott's best friends but is also the former lover of Allison. As these two cross, they find out more about themselves and are drawn to each other, not realizing the severity of the situation or Theo's deception before it's too late.

10) Holes of Sorrow became a huge creation of mines since I have seen a few time travel fanfics of Scott, Derek, Chris, and one from Allison. But Lydia (who happens to be one of my favorite characters too) goes from being a Queen Bee to becoming of the most trusted friends and allies in the series by season 6 and her banshee and intelligence is what makes her into a sophisticated badass.

But I decided to have this idea where the war is over but at the cost of her life and a majority of the pack. Rather than her soul passing on to the afterlife she is sent back in time to season 1 on the first day of school back from winter break. Which will not only confuse Lydia and give her a second chance, but also change the outcomes now that she has developed and become mature within herself and her banshee powers.

21) This fanfic or sets of one shots/mini series will be dedicated to the villains of Teen Wolf had their traumas played differently, had they made a different decision, or had they been saved by someone. (excluding Gerard and Kate because those two are psychotic murderers, Corinne because she is a cold blooded assassin, the Dread Doctors because technically they are corpses and the Nogitsune who is an entity of pure evil).

It would comprise the tragic villains of Peter Hale, Matt Dahler, Victoria Argent, Jennifer Blake, Kali, Ennis, Decaulion (even if he became a pacifist in season 6), Garrett, Violet, Sean Walcott (he wasn't a villain really but he went rogue as a Wendigo), Halwyn, Gabe Valet and Tamora Monroe. Each of them in a one shot or mini series to what if scenarios or how would it impact them and the story differently. I may add in Theo as an AU too. Mr. Douglass I will not add because he is a Nazi and he wanted to take the power of the Wild Hunt. Dr. Valek I am uncertain about due to his agenda for the supernatural and what he did to Lydia.

22) This one I am actually still brainstorming but I am actually planning out their dialogue and how they meet. These two are seen paired in fanfics I have read with this pairing and I decided to pair them up in this fanfic. From Strangers to Lovers, and while I do intend to add fluff (and adult content so rated E🔞🔞) I also intend to not make it easy and allow angst and darkness into his fanfic considering what Josh goes through and what he becomes.

They both will meet at Sinema and drawn to each other by their looks and their appeals. Of course while Josh can act carefree and edgy, he would be having a hard time to keep up with the smug, charming, and daring Brett who will be the cause of Josh's racing heart. While at the same time Brett's feelings for Josh will be claiming his own heart as he acquires the fuzzy feelings around the cute Latino teenager.

30) So how did this come into play? Well I got into Stiles/Brett ship (known as Briles) due to a fanfic called Summer Daze by emsittens which intrigued this spark. Then I went into a Briles brain rot which I still ship completely and began reading some Briles fanfics. There are many Briles fanfics on AO3 but my favorites aside from Summer Daze are the ones written by my dear friend @amatchinwater who has many fanfics of Briles. (I applaud you💙💙💙😎😎😎)

But in this WIP, Stiles meets the 8-pack Devenford Prep Lacrosse captain after getting Liam away from him but after trying to play "polite" and use his wits, Brett tells him something that is a mixture of an insult and a flirtatious compliment. "You really are a talkative mouthy one. A hot, talkative mouthy one at that😏"

#teen wolf #teen wolf asks #answered asks #asks #teen wolf fanfics #theo x isaac #Briles #brett x stiles #isaac lahey #theo raeken #lydia martin #brett talbot #stiles stilinski #josh diaz #teen wolf josh diaz #teen wolf villains

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turtlemagnum · 11 months

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long vent post, don't click the thing unless you want to read that shit

god, i feel perpetually like someone's second choice. perpetually the one that gets forgotten. the one who yearns and isn't yearned for. i want to be loved, not even necessarily in a romantic sense, but as a friend, as someone people genuinely care about. as someone that people message first, as someone people actually care about as a person and someone to listen to, whose ideas people think are interesting, as someone who's actually fucking engaging to talk to.

i'm genuinely not sure if i'm the problem or if the people around me are. most of the time, it feels like the people around me couldn't care less about what i say, how i feel, what i'm thinking. maybe this wouldn't be such a problem if i didn't care so much about what they have to say. i'm always the one to check in on somebody if it seems like they're not doing ok. i try to be there for people, because i care, but even when i try to be there for people i'm never their first choice for help. i know i shouldn't tie my self worth to what other people think of me, but i know we all need somebody sometime. recognition of the self through the other is a hell of a drug, i guess

i have to care, i have to keep caring, because that's one of the only good things about me. i have to keep caring, because i know eventually, some day, somebody'll care back. i know it can happen, because it's happened before, and then we pushed each other away until i couldn't take it anymore and broke it off. i just hope i'll find another person that cares the way i do, one that won't change to be uncaring towards me, before i die.

it feels like i'm drowning, perpetually, i feel the weight and pressure of the ocean above me and can feel my lungs crushing me. but i won't die. i can't die. because for now, it's my choice to die, and i care too much to make that choice. i have too damn well developed of a self preservation instinct to make that choice. so i keep going. i keep floating, crushed ounce by ounce, but i hang on, because that's what i've always done, and that's what i'll always do. i survive, despite it all. my soul is like a cockroach surviving a nuclear winter, my fighting spirit is just strong enough to keep me alive, so here i am. lonesome, without someone to love, without someone to love me, without someone to know, without someone to know me, without anybody to support or be supported by.

anyone i have that could be remotely described as a friend or family barely seems to care. at best, it's generally a passing acknowledgement fueled by a mutual interest in something. at worst, it feels like an obligation. just checking in, not caring about anything i have to say, if they do want "conversation" if it can even be called that, they just want to talk past me about their job or something else deeply inane, and back when i had a job all they wanted to talk to me about is my fucking job, because that's all there is to life for some people.

probably doesn't help that i can't fucking sleep lately. a few hours at a time at most, never restful, just technically enough to keep me alive. it feels like i can hardly do anything without becoming too exhausted to keep going. it feels like im dying. at least i've finally managed to get into a semi consistent routine of brushing my teeth.

i always have a hard time deciding what to end these on. not sure there's much of a point to anything, much less this post. at least, i do have hope that it'll get better. i have to, i just have to

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you-are-so-much-better-than-that · 2 years

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Y'know what gets me about the shameless timeline??? THEIR FUCKING WEDDING.

We claim it's March 21st 2020. That's when the episode aired, that's when the wedding supposedly happened, fine, great.

HERES THE THING!!

When Debbie suggests having the wedding at the park, Ian says "it's gonna be 40 degrees with a chance of snow"

AND YET in the days before his anniversary, Ian is swimming in the pool and sitting outside with his sunbathing neighbors.

Also, in the days before their wedding (meaning EARLY MARCH in CHICAGO in the MIDWEST UNITED STATES) they're walking around in light jackets, it's sunny and there's no snow or even hint that it's winter.

My personal theory is that the wedding actually happened on OCTOBET 21st 2019, before COVID starts.

This also makes sense because when season 11 starts (~6+ months later) they're still pretty closely following quarantine procedures. Anyway, thoughts??

Oh Alicia you sweet soul boy do I have thoughts!! 😂😂 They jist of them is 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️. I'm not there yet at all, but somewhere around season four, John Wells really forgets how time works/stops giving a fuck about continuity. So by the time seasons 10/11 come around, time has no meaning. All common sense is gone.

What actually happens is the first three seasons, I think Wells preferred keeping time compact. So the first three seasons technically happened within like a year and a half, not the three years it was filmed over. What Wells didn't consider is that the children he hired will go through puberty, and the 10 year old Debbie that filmed season 1 won't look 11/12 in season 4 since she's now 14. So major unexplained time jump. It went from 2012 to 2014 in three weeks (we'll get there. This is the thing thay drives me the most crazy).

As for the wedding, the episode aired in January of 2020 and I assume filmed around then too, so therefore snow! Cold! Etc! Then the anniversary episode aired in April 2021 and filmed in March. I don't know if covid delayed things and they expected to film earlier and couldn't but the script was written and they didn't wanna rewrite. Or maybe I'm giving them too much credit and they're just lazy as fuck. I don't know. But it really wouldn't have been hard to just have them wear puffy jackets..

Unfortunately, at the very last second, they show Frank's date of death and it says March 21, so it's pretty canonically definitive that day. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I just tell myself the year of the wedding was a freakishly cold winter and the following year was a freakishly warm spring? I don't know 🙄 I have a friend here in Canada who has a heated pool and she gets it going in April 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

But you know what? John Wells did say time makes no sense, so that's canon too 😂 you are free to think anything you'd like! Time doesn't exist in Shameless!

Thanks for coming along this wild ride as we try to make sense of something that makes absolutely no sense!

#Shameless timeline

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thenexusofsouls · 2 years

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What would the circumstances have to be for Freya to fall in love again? What type of person would she be interested in?

{i am the caretaker of souls} Alright, I promise I will not turn this into a rant about Freya's psychology too much because we'll be here all night if I do that, heh. I'll just try to get to the heart of your questions, because honestly I could rant for days about everything involving Freya and love, haha. Under the cut because LONG.

What would the circumstances have to be for Freya to fall in love again?

Well... I'm not sure how this would happen since she was fatally wounded, but she would be most receptive to love after the events of Winter’s War. This is for two reasons. First, she learned that Ravenna, and not her lover, killed her daughter. Now granted, her lover technically did kill her daughter but it was made clear that Ravenna used some kind of magic on him to compel him to do so and that he otherwise wouldn't have done it. So that would shake her entire trauma-coping axiom of "love always ends in betrayal" enough for her to question if it really might be possible to have a successful loving relationship.

Second, Eric and Sara pretty much proved to her that yeah, sometimes love does manage to get through everything unscathed. They both survived the first time she tried to keep them apart, ended up back together despite everything, and were still together at the end of the movie. I think Freya was a bit biased against Eric specifically, since she tried to kill him initially but only chose to imprison and punish Sara. Maybe she sees women as victims and men as abusers or aggressors because of what she had thought her lover had done to their child. And then when she meets them outside of Sanctuary to acquire the mirror, she makes a comment to Eric something to the effect of, "You knew, didn't you? You knew she would betray you and you spared her still." And correct me if I'm wrong, but I see a bit of confusion and/or surprise on her face and hear it in her voice as well. She genuinely doesn't understand why someone would allow a betrayal like that. At the end, just before Freya dies, she says to them as they hold each other, "How lucky you are." It mirrors the beginning of the movie when she said it to all the children in Eric and Sara's original group when she first stole them from their village. Except back then, she meant that they were lucky to have been saved from all of love's evils, whereas at the end of the movie, she means that they are lucky to apparently have a love that is unbreakable. The fact that Freya thinks they're lucky for that reason is her indirectly admitting that she wishes she had a love like that too.

So after she learns her lover didn't actually betray her, and after she sees through Eric and Sara that true, loyal, unselfish love is actually possible, I think a lot of Freya's trauma coping mechanisms would be placed in question. Namely, leaning hard into the fact that love essentially must have been an evil force to hurt her so much and that others should be saved from its destructive powers. The events of the movie throw a wrench into that which would crack the façade she'd built around herself for years and given that she obviously wants to love and be loved, and still has the capacity to love (no one will ever tell me she didn't love her "children"), I think it would be most possible for her at that time. If she'd managed to survive her wounds, of course.

I think before that time, she would have been a much harder nut to crack, but no impossible. I think more of the circumstances of how Freya might love again have to do with the types of men who might pursue her...

What type of person would she be interested in?

Someone very confident as a person and in their own skin, most definitely, but as far as personality... I think there are two types of people who could win her over with the right amount of persistence.

I actually have written Freya in a ship with one of my friends OCs, Talyc ( @bloodwontwashout ), who pretty much wins her over in ever thread with what I think boils down to two things: persistence and not letting her get away with her own bullshit. Talyc is an alpha male type personality, he's very confident, he doesn't back down from something - or someone - that he wants, and he isn't afraid to call people out on their bullshit. Freya is used to being in charge and having no one challenge her, so when Talyc does, they clash in a way that usually ends up in a ship, heh. I've written threads with Freya and Talyc during the events of the Winter's War, before it, and in a crossover verse where we kindof threw Freya's world and Talyc's world together and they were vying for territory, and every time, he ends up winning her over eventually. Sometimes it's by calling her out on how much her "do not love" law makes no sense, or how easily he can see that she either doesn't believe it or doesn't want to believe it.

Sometimes I've written Eric and Sara as well to have their whole deal in the background while Talyc is watching Freya dealing with them and being like... okay but why? Heh. He challenges her supposed beliefs that she hides behind to cope with her trauma and gets her to admit to him and to herself that she doesn't really want to believe that love is a lie. Freya's fragile mental state depends on no one questioning her, and when Talyc does, she eventually crumbles and he's there to pick up the pieces. In every type of thread, Talyc doesn't give up. He's persistent. That's essential for anyone who wants to win Freya over because she's her own best obstacle, and she will avoid the issue, deflect to something else, or shut down her potential ship until he goes away. Well, Talyc doesn't go away, he tries harder, heh, and the result is that Freya is pushed past the point of what her glass house (or ice house, haha) of carefully constructed lies she tells herself can withstand, and when that breakthrough happens and she's forced to process and deal with her trauma in a better way, Talyc is there to help her through it.

Something else Talyc uses in his arguments as to why Freya should be with him is having more children. His background and situation usually revolves around the importance of legacy and having children is a big part of Talyc's personal legacy. In many verses he had a wife and son who were killed, so especially in verses where he's lost his family, Freya can relate to that pain, and I think that gives Talyc a special kind of automatic in with her on some level. Him suggesting that they would both want to have more children after losing their own... That goes a long way with her. Because she does want to have more children. She misses her daughter. You can’t tell me she doesn’t with the way she sits by that empty cradle and just... broods. She's hard-pressed to admit that to anyone, or even to herself, but she does.

So yeah, I think someone who could meet her on her own level, possibly also royalty, but also meet her on her own trauma and confidence levels... that's who's going to win her own. Freya is a very strong personality, so you have to be able to be strong along with her and be willing to be patience and persistent enough to not put off by her first ten rejections, heh. Because she will look right in the eye of someone she has feelings for and is attracted to and tell him to leave and never come back if you let her. So it takes some who can get through the walls she builds around herself.

I will say... that Talyc is a very intense personality. There are a lot of hardcore aspects to his way of thinking and his background. I think the opposite type of personality might also have a chance with Freya. Someone like Eric, for example. I am NOT suggesting Eric himself, that would not work, heh, but I more mean someone with Eric's personality, specifically either before he and Sara are separated or after he finds out she's still alive. In between that time, with the first movie, he got very dark and combative, but let's just look at his happier times. He was very easy going, comfortable with who he was, and he really didn't care what anyone thought of him or if they agreed with him, how stupid or silly he looked, etc. When Mrs. Bronwyn tries to get through to Eric that Sara has betrayed them, he replies very casually with a cheerful smile, "I don't need you to believe what I believe," because he has decided that Sara is still on their side and no one's going to tell him otherwise. He’s stubborn, but in a very endearing sort of way. Someone like that... I think might eventually get through to Freya. He's fine with being the only one in the room who believes something, and once he believes in something or someone, there's no shaking it.

I'm not sure why someone as goodhearted as an Eric type personality would want to be with an "evil" queen, but assuming they did, I think her coldness (no pun intended lol) and attempt at being emotionless up against someone who wears their heart on their sleeve and who is very openly and warmly emotional might lead to something eventually. Whereas someone like Talyc will chip away at Freya's ice until he's made a hole big enough to get through, someone with Eric's personality would melt it slowly over time to where she becomes emotionally attached gradually because he just doesn't go away, haha. Eric was very persistent with Sara and wasn't going to give up on their marriage, and again, I think Freya needs that same kind of stubbornness in a potential ship because she's not going to let her guard down easily.

So I think it's going to take someone very confident and persistent, for sure, but then beyond that it'd take someone who's going to actively and directly push through her mental defenses and coping mechanisms, OR, it'd take someone who is just so genuinely warm and kindhearted to remind her of who she used to be and what she wanted years ago and be able to get her back at least partway to being that woman again.

AND THAT WAS LONG, I'M SO SORRY, heh. I have a lot to say about Freya, so be warned... any future questions might lead to similar rants, haha.

#muse: freya #{ i am the caretaker of souls } ᵒᵒᶜ

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friendofhayley · 3 years

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Sorry for the wait! I feel like I fell into a pit last month...a Marvel pit, that is. Sorry y'all, but in August all I read and rec was Tony-centric stories! Thank you to all the Team Iron Man writers out there! This fic rec includes 17 fics starring WinterIron, IronStrange, FrostIron, and Misc.

WinterIron

1. Still Waters by @tsuki-chibi | i love this author so much - Tony is a silver fox - why do people stand up for Wanda again? - AU of Ultron - 12k

James didn't know what to think when he stumbled across an older version of Tony Stark who claimed to be from the future. He had no idea that agreeing to help Stark to stop the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver would change everything.

2. Classic Sci-Fi by @notdoingsohot | Steve is a bad friend, but we knew this - Loki's a bro but not at all - '40's Bucky is cute af - all the feels - 18k

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

3. Changing Fate by Wix | time travel - it's technically pre-slash but it's gay - everyone needs a hug - tried but true trope - 27k

Tony dies in Siberia under the hands of Captain America, but fate doesn't leave it there. He opens his eyes several years earlier amidst the threat of Loki's invasion and the first assembling of the 'Avengers'. Tony may not understand why he got this second chance, but he's going to do better with it - and he's decided that he's going to share it. With a Winter Soldier who could really use a different hand than he was dealt.

Never let it be said that fate doesn't have a sense of humor.

WinterStrange

4. List of Questions (Civil War Team Iron Man) series by izumi2 | this series is so fucking good - there are so many things that did not make sense in any universe that this fic fixes - listen, I wouldn't trust Team Captain America with anything - 28+ parts

Unrelated (or not) one shots. You can read separetely or as part of the same 'universe'.

'What if' situations where questions are raised and answered in an AU.

5. Another Way by @respect-tony-stark | this is literally such a slow burn and it's fucking great - this fic is a balm to my soul that never stops giving - Tony has mental illnesses that needs to be treated!! - #teamironman - 85k+

Everyone assumed things started to fall apart during their Civil War, but Tony could tell dynamics were off way before then. It started after Ultron. Tony was trying to hold onto the pieces just as much as everyone else, but maybe the team didn't want to as much as they thought they did. Tony just hoped that Steve and everyone else would get over Ultron.

Then Tony found out about a certain Winter Soldier and December of 1991. Tony wasn't irrational. He'd give Steve a chance to confess, but there were a lot more things wrong with their team than secrets. It was time for Tony to realize that.

6. A Second Chance (To Get It Right) by DobbyRocksSocks | this is what I wish Endgame had been - hindsight is 20/20 and it's delicious - the Steve & Tony interactions hurt - just crying about Aunt Peggy - 22k

Stephen knows there's only one way to win the war against Thanos. Tony wishes he knew what the hell was happening, and just how he's waking up in 2010 with JARVIS telling him the time and date.

7. Poison in My Veins by ArcticVulpix | listen, watching the What If...? episode right after this made me feel justified - JARVIS loves Sir so much - not SHIELD friendly because fuck them - also the reason why I went on a tangent while showing my partner Iron Man 2 - 2k

What if injecting Tony with an unknown chemical during the Palladium poisoning incident had more realistic consequences? After all, they couldn't know what medication Tony was on. And how it would react to their 'cure'.

JARVIS is not happy.

8. ironstrange vs. the rogues series by imposterhuman | feat. some juicy past-Stony - it's just great to see peeps take Tony's side - Rogues didn't realize how much shit Tony put up with to help them not fail as a team - #teamironman - 13+ parts

the rogue avengers return, only, tony isnt alone this time

9. Tony and the Neurosurgeon by ArcticVulpix | part of a great series [Anyone But Steve Rogers] - cw: mind control and sexual harassment - Clint is a bro - protective JARVIS - 10k

JARVIS would only accept the best for sir. So a doctor who can keep up with Tony's banter and with a high enough intelligence to understand him was pretty high up on the list.

FrostIron

10. Tears by Arabesqueangel | dying after getting rejected from soulmate AU - enemies to lovers - Thor: Ragnarok canon-divergent - Jotunn Loki is best Loki - 11k

Thor says they are headed to Earth. Loki is understandably dreading their arrival. It's not just his own actions on Earth the last time that are causing him pause. It's the knowledge that Tony Stark is his soulmate and he can never know... no matter how much it hurts.

11. Things That Are Never Meant by katling | Civil War canon-divergent - Pepper is a BAMF - Wanda is straight-up evil in this one - some people are OOC - 28k

When Tony Stark disappears from Siberia, the aftershocks shatter some people and rebuild others. And when Tony returns, nothing will ever be the same again.

12. Tony and the Trickster by ArcitcVulpix | bless this author for their fics - I just love the way Loki *clenches fist* tricks people - one-sided Stony - people stand up for Tony! - 6k

As usual, it started because Loki was bored.

Is there really any more else to say?

13. The Power of Faith series by Draysmeria | this series! is an epic amazing story - AU from Avengers to Endgame - FrostIron vs. the world - I love the pagan representation - 5 parts

Loki has been Tony's God for a long time and there was nothing Loki could do that would turn Tony away from him, even if he attempted to invade earth. Stronger together than apart they embark on a journey to rid the universe once and for all of their ultimate enemy Thanos. It is not always easy navigating heroes, villains and interpersonal relationships, but with the power of their faith in each other, everything is possible.

14. Proof That DUM-E Knows Exactly What He's Doing (And Why JARVIS Should Stop Bossing Him Around) by NamelesslyNightlock | this is mostly told from the POV of DUM-E - the bots care and love for Tony so much - enemies to strangers to lovers - idiots in love - 14k

When DUM-E touches something he shouldn’t and it makes someone new appear in the workshop, DUM-E doesn’t know why JARVIS gets so worried. Clearly, he and Loki are going to be the best of friends.

Misc.

15. you want a war? (you don't know what you're asking for) by graveltotempo | Pepper and Rhodey are salty - Tony isn't in this story - I love a #teamironman story about consequences - Aunt Peggy - 12k

“And now? Now you’ve all betrayed,” Steve flinched at the choice of words, “Stark, and Potts and Rhodes are not going to sit and take it.”

Natasha frowned at the phone. “What does this mean for us?”

Fury laughed - an ugly laugh with no myrth in it. “It means that Potts or Rhodes are the ones who sent me this phone because they wanted me to contact you. They wanted me - and you - to know that they are with Stark, that they are the line of defence between him and us.”

16. Tony Stark Defense Squad series by ArcticVulpix - Pepper/Tony - I love seeing the Defenders and Fantastic Four interact with the Avengers! - Carol and Jessica Jones putting Steve back in his place - Aunt Peggy - 20+ parts

Tony has recovered in the year following the Civil War, with his friends' and new team's help. With the Rogues coming back though, those friends aren't going to let them hurt Tony again.

17. From Little Things Big Things Grow by katling | Iron Husbands - this story is super amazing and makes me angry at Steve - Defenders and Fantastic Four are in this too! - hey, Team Cap are assholes - non-canon character death - 32k

In a harsher universe, Tony Stark lets Clint Barton's comment in the Raft slide off him but what would happen if he didn't? What would happen if that comment was the straw that broke the camel's back? What would happen if Tony didn't go to Siberia? If he turned his attention away from the Rogue Avengers and looked towards others to help him protect the world and the universe, even if those others come in strange packages?

#winteriron #ironstrange #frostiron #iron husbands #tony-centric #team iron man #tony stark defense squad #marvel fic rec #iron man #not team cap friendly #not steve rogers friendly

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

#geraskier #lambden #eskhir #geralt/jaskier #lambert/aiden #eskel/cahir #unhappy vesemir/guxart #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #vesemir #daemon au #tldr: witchers' daemons are humans when the connection between them is severed

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liannelara-dracula · 3 years

Note

* soft whispers * request for a translation of everyone's names? as Ayato means Colorful Winter and Ruki means Beautiful water flow. I love the meanings of the names and the Sakamaki Brothers are so interesting with the way they do it!

Hi Love,

Aww thank you I'm glad you like my headcanon translations and I promise to do more in the future. Now be translations I assume you mean their Japanese or their given names translated to English? That's what I stuck with so let me know if it's not what you meant. Anyways here are the translations I found for the boys.

I included all the other characters for fun.

Also here are links to other name translations I've done.

English/Anglo Saxion names

Spanish/Latino names

Real names/eastern European/ Romanian

I should add to those posts for the other characters, what do you think?

-Jade

----------------------------------

Sakamaki

The last name has to do with farming and "rolling hills" is another translation for it. So tbh I see no connection to them being farmers but maybe their ancestors were but the name can also mean "taking care of" which reminds me of how they always take in brides. So they provide from them but of course only for their own advantage.

Shu:

So I actually found out it is derived from Egyptian and Japanese origin. In Japanese, it means "Lap or Circuit" and for Egypt, it means "air" (sky).

Personally, I think the meaning of Sky or Air has more significance considering that his eyes are blue just like the sky so this may have been a reason they named him Shu.

Reiji:

It can mean a lot of different things depending on how it's written but to keep it short it means "Proper, Govern, and Child."

Obviously the first to adjectives match him perfectly but the second one has to do with the fact he was a proper child and that he strived to be what he is.

Laito:

A submission from India says the name Laito means "Gift of god" and is of Indian (Sanskrit) origin. Kinda Ironic because he doesn't believe in God so the creators could have been inspired from this.

In Japanese origin, it means "light."

He doesn't see himself as anything bright or whatever and yet that's what he should represent. Light and God's gift correspond so I would say if Laito had a good family he'd probably have a kind heart according to these meanings of his name (I am just theorizing).

Kanato:

It sarcastically enough means "sweet dreams." This really matches him and I think all of you know why. The sweet is his facade about him being cute at first glance or whatever and the dream part kinda relates to Lolita concepts and in general because his name means sweet dreams I think the irony is that his name may mean that but he's one hell of a nightmare when you're his target.

Ayato:

"Colorful winter"

Colorful may imply that he is lively, and winter means he's cold. There really isn't much to this one.

Subaru:

There wasn't much info but some say it means "united" in Japanese.

I think it shows how he wants to be united with his mom in some way since he did care for her.

Kino:

"Wandering soul"

Well, he was disowned by Karl and he grew up on his own so there may be a reason for this translation.

Karlheinz:

It's of German origin, and both Karl and Heinz are too separate names but put together. So his name is hyphenated, technically speaking. But it does not cause it just isn't so his name has two meanings, (I have the same issue with my first name).

So again Karl means "free man" and Heinz means "home ruler" (from Germanic "hagan" = enclosure or "heim" = home + "rihhi" = powerful/rich/mighty/ruler).

The name honestly suits him cause he is free since he's basically the vampire king, and home-ruler means he rules the kingdom or demon world. And I think you get the point.

Richter:

It's usually a surname but it is of German origin (Richter is German for "judge"). Which makes since he seemed to give his opinion on things.

Cordelia:

Welsh origin: Jewel of the Sea

Celtic origin: "heart; daughter of the sea" -- maybe cause of the mermaid hair and green eyes and for the heart part well that was a big deal with her and Yui and the power. If you know what I mean.

Beatrix:

Dutch origin meaning "she who brings happiness; blessed".

Well if we get rid of what she did to her kids and what Karl did to her she probably wasn't so bad so she could have brought happened. But in reverse when I think about it rather than bringing happiness she brought despondency, dejection, and gloom. Reiji surprisingly enough brought her happiness in the end though.

Christa:

"anointed" or "chosen one". I guess this cause she thought Karl chose her out of his heart.

Said to be of Greek origin but its use is rare and can be mostly found in Sweden, Finland, Norway, Denmark and Germany.

Mukami

Mukami is of Bantu origin and means "One who milks" Believe or not this last name is common in Denmark and Norway.

Ruki:

Beautiful flow of water

Name in Japanese : 琉希 Meaning : 琉 meaning precious stone, gem, lapis lazuli. / 希 meaning hope, beg, request, pray, beseech, Greece, dilute (acid), rare, few, phenomenal.

Beg/hope --- kinda reminds me of how he used to tourtue people so they used to beg to not be hurt and I also think he hates it when people hope or request. I mean he doesn't like to pitty people soooo.

I think it relates to the idea of his eye color. Like his eyes really are the color of the stone lapis lazuli.

Yuma:

evening + horse/pony

Evening--his eye color reminds me of the sunset.

Horse/pony---he gives me cottagecore vibes, so I mean the village he lived in and he gardens so he's like a farmer in a way.

Kou:

1) "happiness," 2) "light," or "peace."

(1-幸, 2-光, 3-康)

Well, it describes what an idol is like in a way.

Azusa:

Depending on how it is spelled it can mean trees/sand or peaceful/quiet.

I think the peaceful and quiet depicts his personality.

Tsukinami

So it varies on how it's spelled but "Tsuki" can mean month/moon and "Nami" can mean common, average, ordinary, medium, rank with." In this case moon could mean who they are creatures of the night or obviously full moons are a big thing for them. Month and moon, probably leaning towards the idea of every month on a full moon. "Rank with" probably is the best translation in meaning since they feel superior to other vampire races as they are first bloods/founders.

Carla:

So funny as it is this actually comes from German Origin and it is an old name. And it basically just means "free woman."

Karl is the masculine form of this which means "free man" but because Carla is Femmine it is "free woman."

Ironically tho, he was trapped for a thousand years in the demon world and so he was definitely not free but he obviously wanted to be.

Shin:

Real, True

This may tie into the fact that he seems to be a blunt person, so he doesn't sugarcoat things for anyone.

Extra:

Yui:

It can be written using different kanji characters and can mean: 唯, "only, alone, sole" 由, "reason" 維, "supportive"

These all kinda describe that she all in this on her own and she wants to find the reason this happening and she is positive and supportive of certain things. Like in general Yui is not a difficult person.

————————-

♤ ˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ♤

♤ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~present day ♤

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billsfangearring · 3 years

Text

[Rec List] The Wolfstar Yearbook: 2003

Happy Monday! Today I have my reviews of six fics from 2003 for you. In my opinion, these are the best, most memorable Wolfstar fics completed that year.

Fics Reviewed:

A Fearsome Business by Canis M.

all souls' day by phineas

House by kestrelsan

How Bitter a Thing by victoria_p (musesfool)

Inhabited By Winter by yahtzee

Three Days by kestrelsan

Reviews after the cut.

Context: Order of the Phoenix published in 2003, both bringing lots of Wolfstar content for those who read between the lines and believed and canonically dooming the ship with Sirius’s death.

Disclaimers:

My selections are based on my based on my subjective taste and what I personally have read. YMMV.

I have done my best to flag potential triggers. Please let me know if I missed something.

I know one of these fics has a different year listed on AO3. I used the earliest posting date I could find on any site but provided an AO3 link for convenience.

I did not consider non-magical/modern AUs for this post, though I do read and enjoy them.

A Fearsome Business by Canis M.

Note: This fic is technically unfinished, but the final chapter ties up enough threads for me to feel comfortable making an exception to my “completed” rule. Love that I'm breaking a rule with the first fic.

Length: 31,609 words

Era: Second War

Trope: Lie Low at Lupin’s

POV: Multiple

Summary: Take one patient werewolf and one twitchy ex-convict: mix well. Add monsters, villagers, and small children. Shake and stir.

My Review: “A Fearsome Business” is a well-paced pre-OotP fic with a more layered, suspenseful plot than most on this list. It’s very atmospheric, with gorgeous imagery and an evocative writing style as well as plenty of well-timed comedic interludes. It opens from the perspective of the kelpie that lives in the tarn by Remus’s house—a fascinating, sinister character in its own right—and the addition of outsider POVs is very effective at further establishing the setting and conveying the mix of uncertainty and familiarity in Remus and Sirius's interactions as they slowly let each other in.

Vibe: Tentative relearning with a hopeful ending.

Illustrative Quote: There comes a point, he had discovered, in the exercise of true patience, when the yearning for resolution must at last dissolve. In the end there was nothing for him to do but relinquish hope—not to push it aside entirely, just to release his grip on it, to let go of the thing that was searing his palms. He had done that, or tried to. He would be hard put not to grasp at it again, now that Padfoot had come to his door.

all souls' day by phineas

Length: 2,007 words

Era: Second War

Trope: Lie Low at Lupin’s

POV: Remus

Summary: Remus waits. Sirius returns.

My Review: Written pre-OotP, “all soul’s day" is quietly expressive in the best way. Every interaction during their awkward reunion feels fragile and suffused with uncertainty. Remus’s confusion about Sirius’s actions and his own reactions makes him retreat into near-detachment as a defense mechanism, and it’s up to Sirius to bridge the gap. The raw emotion is understated but tangible, and phineas has some lovely turns of phrase in this one.

Vibe: Uncertain longing with a happy ending.

Illustrative Quote: Sirius is watching, sitting still but his fingers are twitching around his cup. Remus watches his fingers. Maybe this is it. Sirius will torture him with kind gestures and two feet of distance and beautifully long fingers around untasted tea. If this were the best offer—or the worst—Remus would take it.

House by kestrelsan

Length: 4,113 words

Era: Second War

Trope: Lie Low at Lupin’s

POV: Sirius

Summary: Sirius, Remus, a house.

My Review: This is another one with minimalist writing that gently grabs you and doesn’t let go. There’s a lot going on here, but it’s mostly beneath the surface. (Cue SNL’s Weekend Update segment on the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.) “House” was written pre-OotP, and it’s a comforting AU in which Sirius is pardoned by the Ministry before moving in with Remus. Remus and Sirius do a lot of gardening and slowly come back together. This fic has a sweet and wistful tone, and it’s definitely the lightest one in this list.

Vibe: Quiet recovery with a happy ending.

Illustrative Quote: Stacks of flower pots lined the back of the house. The morning smelled young. Sirius wasn't used to the sun, to the way the air felt this time of the day, before the grittiness of afternoon and the cold dampness of night; to the way the light and shadows made everything seem like it was created just that morning. Just for that moment.

How Bitter a Thing by victoria_p (musesfool)

Content Warning(s): rough (but non-graphic) sex

Length: 1,289 words

Era: Second War

POV: Remus

Summary: They fuck like other people make war.

My Review: The shortest fic on this list, “How Bitter a Thing” is a post-OotP story that’s written in an almost stream-of-consciousness style that makes heavy use of metaphors. It takes place during their year living together at 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus and Sirius have complex feelings about themselves and each other and don’t really know how to move forward at this point. Their relationship is one of suppressed conflict and explosive passion, with something like love hidden underneath the guilt and anger.

Vibe: Resentful need with a hopeful ending.

Illustrative Quote: Sirius is deep and changeable—and treacherous—as the sea, but the sea forever breaks upon the shore, and Remus is a rock, stolid and unyielding over the short-term, even as he's shaped by the relentless drive of Sirius’s personality.

Inhabited By Winter by yahtzee

(Edit - Note: This fic has been hidden on AO3; here is an FFN link.)

Content Warning(s): brief violence and injury

Length: 9,062 words

Era: Second War

POV: Remus

Summary: Remus wishes to be anywhere else; he wishes to be home, wherever that is. Number 12 Grimmauld Place isn't it. It could be, if he were free to choose. But he is not.

My Review: “Inhabited by Winter” amps up anti-werewolf sentiment in a way that feels more realistic to me than Harry’s perspective in canon. Remus’s martyr complex is on full display as he tries to accept that the Order won’t let him be with Sirius, and the tone of this post-OotP fic is bitter but sensual as the two of them balance on a knife-edge of desire. There’s a good mix of Order missions and Remus and Sirius’s quiet circling of one another that they’re powerless to stop.

Vibe: Repressed yearning with a bittersweet ending.

Illustrative Quote: This happens more and more often, now: They walk right to the edge, then step back. Unfortunately, seduction works much the same way.

Three Days by kestrelsan

Length: 11,370 words

Era: Second War

POV: Remus

Summary: Three days at 12 Grimmauld Place.

My Review: Kestrelsan’s understated writing style is also on display in this post-OotP fic. “Three days” is a subdued coming together, with a subtle blend of love and melancholy and “what if.” I particularly like the tangible and vivid descriptions of magic. Grimmauld Place feels three-dimensional and almost sentient, and you get a real sense of Remus and Sirius’s claustrophobia even as they try to make the house into something like a home together.

Vibe: Renewed familiarity with a hopeful ending.

Illustrative Quote: They ate in silence. The space between them had shifted again, into strange uncharted places. Remus didn't know if they were friendly or just neutral. He couldn't tell by looking at Sirius.

#wolfstar yearbook #wolfstar #remus x sirius #fic recs #remus lupin #sirius black #hp #harry potter #bfe fic recs

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sleepystarsiri · 3 years

Text

NightKiller Angst

A gift for @carelesscreativity and @undertaletrashlun. ♡♡♡

————

Angst, SFW, Hurt-Comfort

————

Nightmare was always quiet. He couldn't help it... The villagers had beaten it into him. He wasn't allowed to voice his sadness, his pain, his anger, his happiness... He'd never been able to break the habit. Even after centuries... 20 years of abuse, all at the start of his life, his formative years... It left long-lasting scars.

He was ashamed of them. All of the scars, all of the abuse... He felt disgusted at himself for "letting" it happen to him... Not even caring that he was still very young and didn't know how to fight. He'd been conditioned into believing it was his fault.

Nightmare sat in his library, staring into the fire and swirling wine around in a glass. He felt melancholy, his socket half-lidded and his eyelight hazed over... His tendrils were limp and drooping, pooling around his body and cascading to the floor. He took a sip of his wine before sighing and setting the glass down.

“Boss?” Killer asked as he walked into the dark room. The only light came from the fire, silhouetting Nightmare. The King looked over, toward the smaller.

“What is it, Killer?” Night asked and Killer walked closer, careful not to run into anything.

“You've been in here all night. Ya missed dinner. H is worried.” Unsaid was the ‘so am I’. Night and Killer's relationship was complicated. They both had feelings for the other, but Night kept everyone at arm's length... He didn't want to let them close, only to be hurt.

Past scars still ached... Badly. Trauma was an infection that left Night afraid, clouding his sight.

“Just thinking. There's nothing to worry about. Tell Horror I apologize for missing dinner.” Night said and Killer shook his head, perching lightly on the arm of the chair.

“Boss... Nightmare... You're clearly not okay.” He motioned to the two empty bottles of wine and the half-full one next to the table. “What's wrong?”

Later, Night would say it was the wine consumption that made his tongue looser, his speech more free.

“As I said, nothing to worry about. Just thinking of the past.” Nightmare replied and Killer went still for a few seconds. All of them knew what Nightmare went through after Killer's discovery of the half-destroyed DreamTale book.

“...Boss...” Killer murmured, his brows furrowing, and Nightmare waved a hand.

“It's the past. I'm fine.” No, no, he wasn't. He was clearly not fine. His hands were trembling and his tendrils shivered.

This day always caused him to remember his past and fall into a dark mood. It was the day he corrupted. Only he and his brother remembered the day and it was debatable if Dream remembered— he'd heard Dream's memory of the day was scrambled from being trapped in stone.

The exact day was forgotten and the month was heavily debated... As was the season. Many thought it was summer.

It wasn't. It was the dead of winter. Ice cold snow "cushioning" his body. A puddle of lavender slowly spreading under him, staining the snow as the beating continued...

He hoped, he prayed, that Dream didn't remember the day. He may fight Dream often, but he never actually tried to kill him... He cared for Dream...

Dream may have technically been the older twin, by virtue of Dream being named first, but... Nightmare was always the one taking on the role of the older brother. He'd be devastated if his corruption ruined their birthday for Dream.

...

Killer touching his face, wiping away turquoise tears, snapped Nightmare out of his thoughts. He gave a shuddering, weak exhale, and reached up to touch his face.

Killer frowned and slid into Night's lap, pulling the King's head onto his shoulder before wrapping him in a hug.

“'s okay, boss... 'S okay... Let it all out...” Killer murmured and Nightmare wrapped his arms around Killer, clinging to him. His tendrils followed suit, coiling around Killer's body, holding him close.

Nightmare began to cry, hard. He clutched Killer's hoodie like a lifeline. He began to babble near-incoherently about everything he'd went through. It was so much worse than what the book showed... So, so, so much worse.

Killer murmured reassurances and sweet nothings to Nightmare, comforting him. Nightmare eventually cried himself out and slowly released Killer, wiping his face.

Killer gently cupped Night's face, forcing the other to look at him.

“Boss... Nightmare... None of that was your fault. They targeted ya for no reason! No reason! Fear ain't an excuse. Just look at all of the AUs. Humans attacked monsters and sealed them away out of fear. The humans were at fault then and the villagers were at fault! Not you!”

Nightmare opened his mouth to protest, but Killer pressed a finger to his teeth, shutting him up.

“Ya were a KID! Ya were still in stripes when they started!! Hell, ya were technically a newborn! Screw the fact ya looked and acted like a five or so year old when ya were created... Ya were still a bloody NEWBORN! Ya did NOTHING wrong. They targeted ya!” Killer ranted, staring into Nightmare's eye, growling low in his throat.

Nightmare squeaked and Killer took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He closed his sockets before exhaling slowly, a swirling mist of cherry-scented red magic escaping his mouth.

His sockets opened, soft white eyelights floating in the dark void. His normally target shaped Soul had wavered and shifted to the normal inverted heart shape of a monster Soul. He looked at Nightmare, clearly concerned and filled with affection.

He was about to speak, but... One of Nightmare's arms snaked around his waist, the other around his neck. Night pulled Killer in, resting his forehead against the smaller's.

“Thank you, Kills.” He whispered fiercely, his eyelight hazy around the edges.

To Killer's shock and overwhelming joy, Night then tilted his head and gently brushed his nasal cavity against Killer's. He then pressed his teeth to Killer's. The pressure was eagerly returned, Killer beginning to purr lowly.

“Mmm... You're welcome, Night...” Killer murmured into the kiss, his cheeks flushing with color.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?”

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite #bucky series #tfatws x reader

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theoldguard-recs · 3 years

Note

Hi. Do you have any fic with Joe and Nicky as parents?

Hi there! Mod: CactusDragon517 here! I got really excited the other day when I saw your ask because I LOVE AUS so much and I had one that IMMEDIATELY came to mind. As ever, please mind any and all author tags for any fic we recommend. I hope you like the ones I’ve linked here!

All on my own by TerresDeBrume

Closing his eyes, Niccolò leans his head back against the sofa and wonders how today went to shit so fast. They were supposed to have a nice day together. Celebrate their first anniversary with Sébastien by having him finally meet Andy and Quynh in person—Yusuf’s parents usually aren’t free this time of the year, but they’re coming to visit during Sébastien’s Christmas break. There was going to be Niccolò’s best risotto and an apple cake, and it was going to be great. Instead, now, they have this.

Or: the Al-Kaysani-Genovesi-Le Livre household's very harrowing day.

Tags: Alternate Universe: Modern setting, Kid fic, depression, past depression, past religious extremism, Kid Booker | Sébastien Le Livre, happy ending, found family, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt (offscreen) Pairings: Joe/Nicky, Andy/Quynh Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 20,114 Why I love it: So! I know that those tags are probably not what you expect to see on a kid fic rec post but hear me out: The way that TerresDeBrume writes kid!Booker is marvelous, especially a kid with these big heavy feelings. This AU is dense and layered and every single time I read it, I gain something new from it. Please mind the tags and the end notes, as they are relevant, but I think this fic is such a fascinating world and such a beautifully wrought snapshot of a family that’s as complicated and complex as the one we see in the movie. @terresdebrume is on tumblr as well and has written a couple of other fics for The Old Guard!

Fireproof by goldheartedsky

Nicky’s life is currently balanced like a house of cards. Sure, he’s a twenty five year old single dad, working fifty hours a week minimum wage to support his six year old son, and lives on a steady diet of coffee and day-old donuts, but he’s happy. He loves his life more than anything in the world and wouldn’t change a thing.

Until his hot new neighbor Joe moves in across the hall and it all comes crashing down.

Tags: Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, single dad Nicky, Artist Joe, friends to lovers, parental bonding, first kiss, emotional baggage, emotional hurt/comfort, found family, trust issues, happy ending Pairings: Joe/Nicky, Andy/Quynh Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 56,632 Why I Love It: OKAY, CONFESSION TIME: I haven’t finished reading this fic. I keep meaning to but real life really dealt me a sucker punch at the end of 2020 (and, y’know, a large part of winter 2021) and I lost track. HOWEVER. I read the first 5 or 6 chapters and was captivated because I cannot tell you how few times I have read and felt the struggle of being a single parent the way that goldheartedsky writes it. Nicky’s struggles are so real and so realized that it’s gorgeous. It feels...gritty, in a way. I’ve started rereading it and I love how the interplay between all the characters feels like a quilt just coming together. SO while I haven’t read the whole thing (imagine my delight to see it’s (A) finished and (B) THERE’S A SECOND ONE??!!), I do think that this is a gorgeous read, just from what I read of the beginning. @goldheartedsky is on tumblr and has written other fics for The Old Guard!

Between Us Two by mehm

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Nicky says.

“Okay, sure,” Joe says, looking like he’s ready to bang his head against the wall. “Because it looks like you just kidnapped our neighbour’s babies, Nicolò.”

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Introspection, angst, Kidfic Pairing: Joe/Nicky Rating: Gen Word Count: 4,820 Why I Love It: Okay, this isn’t strictly Joe and Nicky being parents, but I think that it counts because it shows what downtime for Joe and Nicky can look like at times. Nicky with his big heart and Joe with his vibrant soul deciding, we can make a difference here. It’s a sweet, sweet fic but it has some melancholy moments in the way that you would expect. My favorite way to think about this one, in particular, is thoughtful. It gives such care to how these men think about things and, in this instance, children. I could not find anywhere if mehm was on tumblr or not, but mehm has written more for The Old Guard on AO3!

A Matter of Choice by Fadagasaki

"Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice." - William Jennings Bryan.

When Paolo reaches out online for advice as a single father of his miraculous baby daughter, he receives a reply from a fellow single father living in the Netherlands.

Tags: Slow burn, single parents, Il Padre d’Italia, Hartenstraat Pairing: Paolo/Daan Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 46,992 (and still going!) Why I Love It: Okay, okay, okay. Hear me out: I know that TECHNICALLY, this is not Joe and Nicky. I know that it may also not be what you’re looking for, but I feel like I HAVE to rec it. This fic is WONDERFUL. It’s wonderful and so well done that you don’t have to have seen either movie to understand it - single father Paolo reaches out and gets help from single father Daan. It’s incredibly slow burn but it’s so well done and I love that it feels like a facet of Joe and Nicky, to be honest. Fadagasaki does a great job of grounding it within the fandom at large and the movies themselves. My vote is to always give a chance and I hope you do! I could not find anywhere if fadagasaki is on tumblr, but they have written more for The Old Guard on AO3!

#mod: cactusdragon517 #the old guard #joe #nicky #joe/nicky #kid fic #rec list #<5k #<25k #<50k #<60k

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nutty1005 · 3 years

Text

Multitudes of Art from Wenhui Daily

Original article: Print Media by Wenhui Daily (1) http://whb.cn/zhuzhan/xinwen/20210815/415430.html and (2) http://whb.cn/zhuzhan/xinwen/20210815/415432.html

Xiao Zhan Performs in “A Dream Like A Dream”, What Traffic has Injected into Theater

Original author: 帕帕拉佐

Preface

Whether the traffic celebrity is capable is a problem, it is also another problem when there is no traffic celebrity in the theater scene. This time, because of Xiao Zhan, another group of people who are unrelated to theater started going into it. Perhaps after the indescribable wonderful 8 hour experience, some of them would truly fall in love with theater, some may continue to fork out money for her idol’s next scheduled event. But is it really that important to separate the “I’m in the same room with him for 8 hours” crowd from the theater audiences?

Theater, which used to be a niche form of art, had been breaking through its circle these two years, and causing a lot of discussions. The most recent would be “Top Traffic Celebrity” Xiao Zhan’s participation in “A Dream Like A Dream”.

In between the midst of filming a period fantasy drama “The Longest Promise”, Xiao Zhan performed as Patient No. 5, a role which Hu Ge had once performed. After the performances in the 3 stops Wuhan, Qingdao and Chengdu, at every play’s curtain call, the theater would be filled with endless applause, there was even once even covered with rousing ovation. In the cheers of nearly a thousand people, the voices of young ladies were particularly distinct.

Actually, this is not the first time Xiao Zhan’s participation in “A Dream Like A Dream” created a revelry in his fans. Early this year in March, once the official announcement that Xiao Zhan would participate in the Tour of 9 Cities, it went onto hot search immediately, and until now, Xiao Zhan’s participation in “A Dream Like A Dream” has accumulated a staggering 4.2 billion views.

Over thousand tickets were sold out in seconds, an 80 RMB ticket was scalped to over a 1,000 RMB, the tickets of the “lotus pond seats” were scalped to more than 20,000 RMB. Although Chris Li and Hu Ge both performed in this play in 2013, but since it birth 9 years ago, this magnitude of furor only happened this year.

In the midst of anticipation and suspicion, Xiao Zhan finally walked on stage. The trials of theater revealed the sincerity in him and this sincerity is Xiao Zhan’s base color, or it could even be said to be the reason he is surrounded by so much love.

This innate sincerity is a scarcity in a stage created by glorious vocals and technical construction. Many experienced actors with strong foundations would be working hard for this, but they never had it.

No one could deny that Xiao Zhan created a unique Patient No. 5, who threaded the whole play as a core character. For the actor to be a good Patient No. 5, he would need precise acting, thorough understanding of the role, firm control of emotions, and of course the blending of both the actor’s self and the character.

That year, the tranquility that Hu Ge had after coming back from his tribulations became his key to unlocking Patient No. 5; whereas for Xiao Zhan, who had went through the growth from an “idol” to a “top traffic celebrity”, who had a “unique” experience in cyberspace, the things that happened to him these few years, became his natural advantage in portraying Patient No. 5.

Last year, Yanghua held “Cao Yu’s Special 110 Year Old Commemoration Event”. Then, Xiao Zhan was still in the eye of the storm, and he had a conversation with Cao Yu’s daughter, Wan Fang, and in this conversation, Xiao Zhan did a tremendous amount of homework, and wrote down a few dozen questions regarding Wan Fang’s script “Winter Journey” and “You and I”, his questions were simple but impressionable, it gave people the feeling that he seemed to have reached the edge of theater.

In this conversation, he dazzled Wang Keran, the producer of “A Dream Like A Dream”. He seemed to have found the common point between Xiao Zhan and Patient No. 5: the impermanence nature of fate.

And once again, it proves that instincts were very useful. The intersection between the actor and the role’s life would become the crux to whether the actor is able to infuse a soul to his character. The reason he was able to establish his character was not entirely from his ability to craft roles, but more of the source came from what happened to him. In addition, Xiao Zhan’s intelligence and hard work left a deep impression on Wang Keran during the initial stages of rehearsal – while many actors had not memorized his lines, Xiao Zhan had already memorized all of his lines, and this is especially difficult given that “A Dream Like A Dream” was an 8 hour long performance and there are about 3 to 4 times more lines than a standard play.

Whether the traffic celebrity is capable is a problem, it is also another problem when there is no traffic celebrity in the theater scene. As the theater market becomes more mature operationally, more traffic celebrities would cross over to this foreign scene. At the same time, there would be controversy as well. Can the boundaries between theater and general public be broken through by “traffic celebrities”? When will theater become a “reality TV theater”? Would the audiences be looking at celebrities instead of the play? These kinds of debates had always existed. At this, Lai Shengchuan did not care too much about it. He spoke of an incident in the past, when “A Dream Like A Dream” invited Chris Li to perform, her fans did not simply watch a show, but they watched 10. During the intermission, Lai Shengchuan spoke with her fans, and he realized that hey had been watching for 5 days straight, saying “the play was awesome”.

To him, despite the difference between how traffic celebrities shine on stage and how theater is like, or perhaps foreign to then, he just has to look at how they work to know that it took a lot of talent and hard work to come this far! “Hence, don’t be too particular about whether traffic celebrities are suitable for theater.”

No matter how loud the controversy is, it is fact that theater trains people – a performance of a few hours, there is no pause, no post production, there is only one take with no chance of a retake. Hence, there has always been a hierarchy in the artistic circle, theater actors would be above movie actors, movie actors would be above TV drama actors. No matter what the actual reasons for celebrities to join theater are, Lai Shengchuan’s story proved a point, when a top traffic celebrity joins theater, an art form with high entry requirements, it would inject more vibrancy and attention to this art.

This time, because of Xiao Zhan, another group of people who are unrelated to theater started going into it. Perhaps after the indescribable wonderful 8 hour experience, some of them would truly fall in love with theater, some may continue to fork out money for her idol’s next scheduled event. But is it really that important to separate the “I’m in the same room with him for 8 hours” crowd from the theater audiences?

Let us not think too much about it, and watch the show first!

Xiao Zhan, This “Newcomer” to Theater

Original author: 贾行家

Preface

9 years ago, Yanghua Theater placed a huge bet on “A Dream Like A Dream”, it came from Wang Keran’s observations based on the changing times – China’s industrialization and urbanization created its first “middle-class” life, and for the first time the first generation who had completed education but yet who are also stuck in the “modern conundrum” – who am I, where did I come from, where do I go from here? The old answers were no longer effective. This generation’s problem was – how to face the coming of death, and how to face the loneliness that came with the inevitable death? In the hands of Yanghua, this question became – how do you use a touching story, outside of religion or philosophy, to give its audience the love of life and a sense of comfort?

As such, there exists such a different theater group, with a producer with very “un-modern” methods: front stage and backstage, regardless of matters, as long as it could not be clearly defined to a job, it belongs to Wang Keran only. He called himself an “artist + businessman”, the nature of a businessman was to be in-charge of investments, ensure profitability, so he had to consider from the business angle – whether this play could fulfill the extreme and common spiritual requirements of the current generation, while at the same time be able to continue running for a long time; he also had to consider from the artistic angle, taking risks while ensuring profitability, and create the play from his heart. The purity of drama is as such, those who are passionate about it would stake their lives for it.

The author of “A Dream Like A Dream”, playwright Lai Shengchuan had a performance principle technique called “guide the cause, not the effect”, which meant that when the director explains the scene, he does not explain the effect he wants, but instead he would explain the reasons behind this scene clearly, that is, the character’s experience and emotional state, so as to allow the actor to create a natural performance after understanding. This was very different from the rush that is in TV dramas, which would often film out of sequence, the actors might not be clear about what he is acting as, and they could only use exaggerated actions to cover their loss of direction. Worst still, there are also actors who could only count 1, 2, 3, 4 to the camera in place of lines.

However, there are also good directors who do not like to film according to logic, and film as they wanted, while the actors did not know what they were portraying, but yet they could still create a masterpiece, Xu Haofeng’s movie review on Li An’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” spoke about this – Li An felt that Chow Yun-fat’s eyes were too sharp and alert, so he kept shouting “CUT” repeatedly, until Chow Yun-fat lost confidence and his gaze became scattered, so as to get the scene he wanted. Why did he not explain the “cause” at this point? Perhaps it was hard to explain, it was like a fisherman, he had to fish for the right gaze, to wait for the right sequence.

What we said above was to explain two simple things.

The first thing: Art can be, or even must be, done in an autocratic manner, it has to set its goal based on its audience, but how the play will be like, only one person will know, and in that creative space, there is only his method.

The other thing: The status created by an actor for the role is actually very brittle, they usually only know the outcome but they rarely know the cause. The difficult part in rehearsing “A Dream Like A Dream” came from these 31 actors who had to take on more than 100 characters, besides autocracy, there was a need to protect them from interruption and confusion. Xiao Zhan, who joined in this new version, he only had Patient No. 5 on the door of his dressing room, the other roles and burden were removed.

When we were discussing Xiao Zhan, we actually saw many versions of Xiao Zhan. Going back to basics, he is a young actor and singer. I found similarities between him and Patient No. 5: They both had the same unsettling impermanence in their fate, there were things that were not caused by them, they were merely caught in between – when you take a step back, impermanence is neither good nor bad. The problem is, which Xiao Zhan is the one standing on the stage of “A Dream Like A Dream”? If we took him as actor Xiao Zhan, then there is nothing wrong with it.

As an audience, my judging criteria is very simple: How did this new theater actor Xiao Zhan do? Based on his age and experience, Patient No. 5 is an extremely complex and hard to control character, and after 3 stops of Yanghua’s tour, the audience would probably have felt: Xiao Zhan created a brand new, intricate Patient No. 5, this character was well established onstage, this meant that his understanding and analysis was also well established.

I also prepared an observer angle, that was to see if he could blend into the strict system of theater, would be he outshone by actors who had a lot more energy, foundation and experience. The result exceeded my expectations, he not only did it, he displayed clear precision in his pace and control, and realized a complete theater experience.

I do not see the problem with Xiao Zhan’s decision to perform, just like I do not see how anyone would be damaged by this incident. If it had a specific “influence” (I do not see how that is, it is just the decision by a theater group), then to me, the influence is – it allowed more audiences to walk into theaters, and let more platforms notice theater. Chinese theater really needed more exploration in terms of content and operation. As for what influence this would have on the theater scene, audiences are very simple, as long as it was a good show onstage, they would buy tickets to watch it. As an outsider, I would also want to exclaim another statement: there were those who always said they wanted to revive the theater, but when someone really worked hard at doing it, these people would always come with their senseless controversies.

From my point of view, after I met Xiao Zhan’s “A Dream Like A Dream”, I felt that my soul had been cleansed by the waters in the lotus pond, been carefully cleaned by the fluttering spotlights and shadows akin to a bright moon, I seemed to have understood many things, there were less confusion, more courage, and a lot of gratitude to lives of those from front stage and backstage of the theater.

According to Sigmund Freud’s theory, play is a child’s unique way of gaining experience in handling matters, the function of play is to vent, venting is the purification of emotions, this is slightly different from those who take themselves as the audiences’ guide to purification. Theater has created a space to help the audience to vent what is in their hearts. After becoming an adult, it seemed like besides dreaming, there are not many methods to self-purify; besides dreaming, we could also watch “A Dream Like A Dream”.

#xiao zhan #xiaozhan #sean xiao #肖战

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apatheticanvas67482 · 3 years

Text

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 11 (25 Pages)

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Nia begins her aura training with Val and considers her rocky relationship with Tobias.

“You are too tense.”

Nia sighs and relaxes from her position on the floor of the training area, carefully untangling her legs. Who knew having dog limbs would make sitting cross-legged so difficult?

Val looks down at her with her usual unreadably blank expression, arms crossed. Nia’s just glad for her seemingly endless patience. “You are worked up. Emotionally upset. You cannot channel into your aura abilities in such a state.”

Nia nods, avoiding the medicham’s gaze and glancing over to the cause of her emotional duress. Tobias is sparring with Azami, the flowery Pokémon helping him to work on battle tactics other than “run yelling into danger.” The charmander seems frustrated, but Azami just takes a defensive stance and goads him into trying again.

“Partner problems?” Val asks, not bothering to lower her voice.

Nia winces. “Y-Yeah.”

Val nods, watching Tobias attack. “He can be difficult to work with.”

That’s an understatement. Nia thought that she’d be able to handle the charmander’s forced distance and temper, his sharp personality and cruel remarks. But they’ve only been partners for a couple of days and have only taken on a handful of low-level missions, and Nia can already feel herself wearing thin.

Clearing out an old den for a bear Pokemon and her cubs to use for the approaching winter? Nia gets snapped at for “not digging right” and taking too long to clear out the old leaves and moss. She’s still getting used to having paws for hands!

Escorting an elderly, drooling flower Pokemon across the forest? Nia gets blamed for their small reward because she “kept wrinkling her nose” at the smell. Her new nose is sensitive! She tried her best to be polite!

Bringing medicine from Fen’s office to a sickly family of plant-like turtles living in the woods? Nia gets rushed along, falls into a hole, and then has to listen to Tobias complain the whole way that she’s “slowing them down.” Slowing them down from what? They’re meeting turtles, for God’s sake! They aren’t going to outrun them!

She’s doing her best, but Tobias is just so...ugh! Impatient and angry, all the time! He doesn’t listen, and he doesn’t seem to care about her or anyone else. They’re partners! They don’t have to be best friends, but they should at least be friendly with each other, right? Every time she tries to start up a civil conversation with the charmander, tries to learn more about him as a person, he immediately shuts her down.

Even worse, Nia desperately wants to follow the lead that Hadley gave her and go to Afon’s Cap to find Hazel, the former human. But every time she’s brought it up in the past few days, he’s dismissed it without even giving her a chance. She even tries to pick missions that (according to a map in one of her geography books, at least) would lead them close to the port town, only for him to override her opinion completely and pick something else.

Nia’s a patient Pokemon (a bit too patient, according to Andyn) but she’s already getting sick of it. Is it too much to ask for her partner to treat her with a little decency and respect? She’s seen Tobias with the little kids of the guild, with Luca and Leor and Laine and the others. He’s like a completely different person with them! Patient and kind and fun, joking and gentle.

But with everyone else, he’s so...sharp. So far they’ve only been completing basic missions in the area around the Haven, but she thinks he would have her back if it came to a physical fight with another Pokemon. But that doesn’t do much to ease her hurt feelings and increasing frustration with the charmander’s temper tantrums. Now it’s even interfering with her training!

“Focus on meditation,” Val suggests. “Relax.”

Nia slumps. “Okay.”

The medicham walks over to Tobias and Azami to watch and add her own expertise. Nia focuses on crossing her legs, resting her hands on her knees, and relaxing her body. She’d already run through a few basic fighting drills with Val today, and since the medicham taught her the basics of meditation during their last session, Nia’s mission for the rest of the afternoon is to start her aura training. She tries to go back and run through her meditation notes one by one. Relax. Part by part, muscle by muscle. Deep breaths. Clear her mind. No stress. No negative emotions. No thoughts at all. Calm.

It takes a while, Nia concentrating on her breathing to block out the commotion of the room around her, but eventually, she thinks she’s getting it. Distantly, she notes the relaxed, loose state of her muscles. Her mind feels comfortably blank.

A few minutes later, Val’s quiet voice pipes up from beside her. “Good.”

Nia peeks her eye open to see the medicham sitting in a similar meditative pose. When did she get there?

“You are relaxed?”

Nia hums an affirmative.

“Close your eyes. Continue breathing. Listen to my voice.”

Nia does as told, trying to let her mind stay blank as she listens.

“Your body is a vessel for your energy. Breathe in. Feel the air flow into you. Feel it energize you. Breathe out, and let your body relax. Good. This flow of energy is constant. It allows you to move and live. Imagine that energy gathered at the center of your body. The core of your being. It may appear as…a light. It is what fuels you, pushes you, makes you who you are.”

Nia’s mind starts trying to butt in, tripped up by Val’s words. A light? Does she mean literally, or—

“Do not think,” Val reminds. “Let yourself be. Relax.”

Nia sucks another deep breath in through her nose, and then releases it, imagining her racing thoughts going along with it. Blank her mind. Calm.

“Good. Look to your light. Feel it in your heartbeat. It is your fire, your soul. Picture it.”

This all seems so…strange. The riolu is supposed to be learning aura training, but so far she’s only been learning breathing exercises and weird visual techniques. Still, Nia trusts Val’s knowledge, even if that means doing weird yoga. So she tries to listen to the medicham and let the words paint the picture of a small flame in her chest. A light.

“What color is it?”

Nia’s brow furrows. She can’t really see the light, of course, so maybe she gets to decide? Her favorite color is yellow, but for some reason that doesn’t...feel right. When she pictures this light, pictures who she is as a flame in her chest, small but steady, it’s...blue. A bright, turquoise sort of blue.

“Blue?” Nia says, hesitant.

“Good,” Val says. Nia knows she must be imagining the note of surprise in the Pokémon’s voice. She’s tempted to open her eyes and peek for an expression, but doesn’t want to lose her focus. “Can you feel it?”

Nia frowns, unsure. She thinks she can imagine what Val is talking about in a theoretical sense, but it’s nothing tangible that she actually thinks is there. She can’t literally see the flame in her chest.

“Do not overthink. Feel. Focus on it like a physical part of your body. An organ. It is your soul. Your aura. What pushes you in life. What is important to you. Who you are, what you feel.”

Nia almost opens her mouth to protest—she thought the point of meditation was to empty and calm her mind, not work it up—but thinks better of it and simply tries to follow Val’s advice.

Her fire. Her motivation. Who she is.

She is...a human. Right? But she’s in the Pokémon world. No, no, she’s definitely human, and she desperately wants to return to her old life, to her family and friends and all those she loves so much that her chest aches at the thought of losing them for good.

But for right now, she is...a Seeker? An adventurer. Sort of, at least. She has to admit that some small part of her already loves seeing this world, helping others, experiencing so many amazing things. She’s a curious sort, and there’s new things to learn every second in the Pokemon world.

Her motivation, though? Well, she supposes it’s to become a Seeker, technically, but only so she can reach her ultimate goal. She just wants to find answers, and to go home. To become human again.

What else is there? Oh! How she feels. Well at the moment she’s…frustrated. Frustrated and upset with Tobias, for not giving her a real chance and for being such a bitter person. Disappointed, after she’d been so sure he would be nicer as a teammate. But she’s also…hopeful. Hopeful and curious about the human-turned-Pokémon in Afon’s Cap, excited to meet her and maybe find someone who truly understands her predicament. Who can remind her of home.

Home. The people Nia knows she left behind coming here…they give her so many emotions. She still can’t quite place any real details about them, but she knows the heartbreak she feels is real, the longing and the warm affection in her chest ballooning so large it feels as if it’ll break her ribs.

She needs to get home. So right now, she’s determined to figure out this aura thing. She’s Nia, and she will figure this out. She feels the determination swell in her chest, imagines the blue light in her growing stronger and brighter. Can almost feel it.

“Open your eyes.”

Nia frowns but follows the direction, eyes blinking open. A faint glow catches her eye immediately, and she looks down to see her chest glowing with the faintest blue light, lining the edges of her fur in an almost ethereal way. Nia yelps, flailing out of her pose. When she looks back at her chest, heart pounding, the light surrounding her is gone. That was—her light isn’t real, she just imagined it, so how—?

Val hums a quiet sound, and Nia looks to her with wide eyes.

“That was your aura.”

“I-It’s real!” Nia says, flabbergasted. “I mean, I read about it so I knew that aura had to be real somehow, b-but it looked like how I imagined my light to be, a-and…did I make it real? How did I do that?”

Val shrugs. “It is innate to Pokémon with psychic or aura abilities. I simply guided you to it.”

Nia blinks and looks down at herself, raising a tentative paw to touch her chest. “H-How...how do I do that again?”

Val falls back into teacher mode. “You have been convinced of your power’s existence. You should be able to access it more easily now. Focus on the aura within you, on the core of your being. Imagine it moving out to other parts of your body. Try to concentrate it into your paw.”

Nia nods, sitting again. She closes her eyes, holding out a paw and trying to imagine that light back in her chest. Burning. Not painfully, but just...warm. Powerful. Bright and blue. When the light she imagines at her core seems strong and steady, she squints open her eyes, disheartened to see her hand looking as it usually does. No light. A glance down at her heart confirms the same.

“Aura stems from emotion,” Val offers. “Focus on what makes you feel strongly.”

Nia closes her eyes and nods, brow furrowing. Right. She’d been thinking of her home in the human world before. She focuses on that light, her light, thinks of her family that she can’t remember and the aching in her chest. Finally, the fire grows, flaring as if she’d thrown lighter fluid onto it. She feels herself smile. The riolu thinks of Tobias next, of how frustrated he makes her feel, how he hurts her feelings when he snaps, and she feels the light grow larger. She thinks of Maggie and Xander and Andyn, of how she wants to get to know them more, of how much she appreciates their kindness, and—

“Look down.”

The riolu does, and bites back a gasp. Her chest is glowing with a faint blue light.

“Gather it in your paw, like drops of water into a pool. Manifest it.”

Nia tries, tensing the muscles of her arm and focusing her energy, the light, into the palm of her hand as if she were pouring it down her wrist and into her palm. Slowly, the light seems to grow brighter, stronger. Then, the tiniest flicker of light, beautiful and fragile like a candle flame, shivers into existence in her hand.

She just stares at it, mesmerized, until Val says, “Return it.”

Nia swallows and focuses, trying to absorb the light back into herself. It’s a little difficult, as if the energy had become more solid outside of her body, but eventually it does dissipate. As the light fades, Nia’s surprised to note her breathing is heavy.

“Training with energy is as exhausting as training your body,” Val explains.

Nia nods, looking up at her. “S-So that was okay?”

Val nods, although she isn’t smiling. Nia is starting to learn that doesn’t mean the medicham is unhappy. “You are doing fine. You are a stranger to this body. Do not fret.”

Nia straightens up at the encouragement, beaming. Val moves to sit down right in front of the riolu, legs crossed. Nia copies her relaxed posture and waits, ready to learn more.

“Emotion is connected to aura in another way. Not just as a power source, but through detection.”

Nia blinks, surprised. She remembers reading something about this, but didn’t think it meant it literally! “L-Like...an empath? Reading other people’s emotions?”

Val nods. She must see Nia’s discomfort, because she tilts her head. “You are troubled.”

“I-It just...sort of seems like an invasion of privacy? Being able to read people like that without their consent? I mean, that’s how it works, right?”

Val’s gaze darkens. “You must control your power and use it as you see fit. With practice, you will be able to turn your emotion sensing on and off. It will be up to you to avoid reading others without their permission.”

Nia swallows. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“A responsibility that I trust you not to misuse,” Val responds, not quite a threat. “Seeing through words to feel honest emotion is an invaluable skill that could save your life. Not all Pokémon have good intentions.”

Nia frowns, recognizing the truth of that statement. It could certainly help, and she knows she wouldn’t use it for any immoral purposes. So…

“O-Okay. Please teach me.”

Val nods, seeming satisfied. “Aura sensing is different than manifesting your aura into energy for attacking. As a psychic type, I do not have the same capabilities in that sense. I can only give you the basics of aura reading.”

Nia looks back down at her hands, closing them into fists and feeling amazement rise up in her. She knew all Pokémon were different, but... “S-So...only riolu can do aura stuff? Like reading emotions?”

Val nods. “The riolu line, yes. Lucario as well.”

Nia frowns. When she’d read up on riolu, it had mentioned the lucario species a few times. Apparently riolu...became lucario somehow? They called the process “evolution”, but it clearly wasn’t the sciencey evolution Nia knew from biology class, done over generations. Maybe it’s a maturation process? But she’s already an adult, so when would this happen? The riolu considers asking Val, but decides to hold back and question Maggie about it later. Val’s already teaching her so much today.

Val shuts her eyes, so Nia follows her lead.

“Find your aura once more. Breathe, relax, and focus.”

Nia takes a deep inhale before releasing it again, relaxing her body. She imagines that little blue flame in her chest, and concentrates on it.

“Channel into that energy. Expand it outward until you come across my own aura.”

“Expand it?” Nia echoes, uncertain. She tries to flare the energy, make it burn larger, but it doesn’t even get close to the edges of her body. The flame is too weak, barely even leaving her chest in short spurts.

Val hums. “Try to relax your aura. Do not flex it. Let it flow from you like a breath. Like a limb. A veil.”

Nia furrows her brow. How in the world is she supposed to do that? It took her a full afternoon of flexing her butt muscles just to figure out how her tail worked, and that’s an actual limb! She mentally prods at her light, her aura, tries to stretch it out. It simply flickers brighter before shrinking back to normal.

“Do not use it as a blast of energy. Try to thin it out.”

Nia bites back a frustrated whine. She wants to question Val more, but knows that the medicham is doing her best to teach something she herself has never exactly experienced. So she tries, over and over, to stretch that light and make it grow.

“Stop.”

Nia does, peeking up at the medicham. She realizes she’s panting hard, heart racing and muscles tense.

“Take a rest,” Val commands, before her dark eyes slip past Nia. The riolu follows her gaze to see a steaming, out-of-breath Tobias and a cheery Azami walking over. The two sit down near them.

“How’s it going over here, ladies?”

Val nods. “Well. Nia learns quickly.”

Nia straightens up at the unexpected praise.

“Wish I could say the same for this one,” Azami teases, giving Tobias a playful nudge with her elbow. The charmander growls, looking like he wants to set the flowery Pokemon ablaze. “You’re pretty set in your ways, Spitfire!”

Tobias doesn’t answer, pointedly looking away.

Azami smiles at Nia. “So you’re getting the hang of aura, huh?”

Nia laughs. “U-Uh, sort of. Trying to figure out how to stretch out my aura right now. For aura reading? I think?”

“You’ll get it figured out in no time, I’m sure.” Azami turns her grin on Val. “You’ve got yourself a great teacher, after all!”

Val gives Azami a nod of thanks. “Having a riolu or lucario available for teaching would be ideal. Unfortunately, we must try to translate these abilities without one.”

“There aren’t any other riolu near here?” Nia asks, curious.

“Nope! You’re actually a pretty rare Pokemon to see around the Haven,” Azami says. “Riolu and lucario tend to stay in isolated packs, so we don’t usually run into any around here!”

Nia isn’t sure how to feel about that.

Val and Azami call an official stop for a snack break, so the four of them munch on the berries that Nia and Toby had picked up in the morning before arriving. As usual, the charmander doesn’t answer Nia’s attempts at conversation, so she takes to chatting with Azami about the other guild members practicing nearby.

There’s a tiny brown fox pokemon dodging bursts of water from her partner, a wooper, and a lone purple monkey-like Pokemon…juggling? With its feet and tail, nimbly cartwheeling around while managing to keep the berries it’s using in the air. Maybe some sort of agility or dexterity training? Or maybe he just really likes juggling.

The loud crack of splintering wood garners their attention, and they all turn to watch as a lime green gecko with a leaf for a tail strikes at one of the training dummies that Tobias apparently has a reputation for destroying. The gecko pauses, stance wide, and holds his hands close together, almost like he’s holding an invisible ball. A moment later a bright green energy starts to build in the gap.

“Soren’s finally starting to get the hang of energy ball,” Azami explains, fondly. “Knew he had it in him! He’s going to kick tail once he gets it under control.”

Right on cue, the energy swirling in the lizard’s hands seems to come unraveled, dissipating in a flash of green. The Pokemon—Soren—slumps in clear frustration. Azami sighs. “Poor kid’s been working on that for weeks now. He can call up the energy, but can’t seem to get it to keep its form afterwards.”

Val calm, half-lidded eyes lift with interest. “He learned to form the energy in his hand first, yes?”

Azami sits up at Val’s attention. “Uh, yeah. He can use a grassy force palm, more or less. But that’s it for now.”

Val sets her meal aside and turns her whole body to Nia. The riolu would say she almost looks eager, at least in her own stoic way. Nia puts her own berry aside, curious.

“Perhaps we are starting too ambitious. With your aura,” Val says. “Pool your aura into your paw.”

Nia swallows, nervous as she closes her eyes and finds her aura. It’s still strange and takes a few moments, but she thinks it’s getting easier the more she does it. After finding that blue flame, she once again sends it towards her hand, feeling it move slow as honey into her fingertips. She peeks open her eyes, pleased to see the now-familiar blue glow. But what now?

Val reaches out her own hand, slow enough for Nia to track what she’s doing, and then touches the riolu’s palm. Nia bites back a gasp and squeezes her eyes shut, suddenly understanding what Val’s plan is. Nia’s aura is right there, under the skin of her hand, and when she touches Val—

She can see her.

Not in the normal way, not by sight, but she can see the medicham’s…energy? Val’s is bright orange, flickering faintly throughout the shape of her entire body, not nearly as concentrated as Nia’s aura is. It’s just a stable sort of life, a pulse thrumming under the other Pokemon’s skin. Nia turns her attention to the orange color, and somehow feels like she can read what this aura represents, like she can read the very DNA of what makes Val who she is, how her soul is shaped.

She’s orange, but not orange like a mournful, bleeding sunset or the soft, hopeful orange of a flower’s petals. Instead, she is the orange of a bright, ripe, tropical fruit. Nia thinks of the sharp, sweet tang of biting into an orange, the powerful warmth of a summer sun, its confidence and sharp, stern solidity, with a soft, sweet undertone. She understands, but she doesn’t know how she does.

Val’s hand yanks away, and Nia collapses forward, suddenly all too aware of how she’s wheezing for breath and her heart is pounding in her chest, her fingers shaking as they clutch at the ground. Her aura rebounds sharply back into her chest. She takes a few moments to gasp for breath before looking up at Val. The medicham stares back, and for a moment Nia’s terrified that she did something wrong, that she went too far somehow and betrayed the trust that Val had so kindly entrusted her with. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, how could she have stopped it—

But then the medicham just leans closer, reaching out a tentative hand as if she wants to place it on her back, and asks, “Are you all right?”

Oh. Nia hasn’t seen the medicham concerned before. At least, she thinks that’s what it is. She nods, trying to reign in her trembling and her roaring pulse. She glances past Val, seeing Azami watching with her own worried expression. Tobias stares at her with something uncertain and closed off, like he doesn’t know how to react to all of this. Nia almost laughs, because that’s been her reaction to her entire life the past week.

“I-I’m…I’m fine?” Nia rasps, more question than assurance. She looks back to Val. “I saw you. I saw your aura.”

Val leans back, intrigue starting to edge out the quiet concern. “Explain.”

Nia slowly manages to sit back up, feeling herself stabilize a bit. She feels sore, and exhausted, but it doesn’t feel like she’s on the verge of shaking apart anymore. “You’re, um. Orange?”

“What does that mean?” Tobias asks, almost aggressively.

Val doesn’t answer, giving Nia an encouraging nod, so the riolu does her best to recall the sensation of Val’s soul. How does she even describe something like that in words? She’s still not even sure how to logically understand it herself.

“I…don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just like…I could see what kind of person she is?”

“Not too terrible, I hope,” Val says.

It takes a beat for Nia to realize the stoic Pokemon is joking, and she laughs, maybe a bit hysterical. “N-No, not at all! You felt, um…like, stern and strong, but warm.” And a little sweet, she adds silently, already embarrassed. It sounds so dumb when she says it aloud. She should have suspected the medicham has a sweet side—she offered to take on their team, after all, and that’s a heck of a tall order.

“Sounds dumb,” Tobias snorts. “What’s the point of being able to read aura? You could just talk to someone and know the same things about ‘em.”

Val hums. “Sensing a Pokemon’s true character could be invaluable among strangers and potential enemies. It appears you will have to use physical contact for now. But it could be a very useful ability as your aura powers grow stronger.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Azami cuts in. “And aura can be used for battles too.”

Val nods. “And for sensing emotions.”

Nia perks up at that. “Y-You seemed to think I would be able to sense emotions right away. But I don’t think I did?”

Val shakes her head. “I believe you must look at the aura differently, for that. I am not quite sure how, unfortunately.”

There’s a beat of quiet, save for Tobias going back to munching on his food and the ambient sounds of Pokemon practicing their moves around them.

“Could I try again?” Nia asks. A subtle frown pulls at Val’s face, so she hurries to add, “I’m okay! Really!” Was the medicham actually worried or just annoyed? It’s so hard to read her.

A beat more of hesitation, then Val gestures at Nia’s abandoned berry. “Eat first. We will try again. I have an exercise in mind.”

Nia nods and eagerly returns to her meal. She’s nothing if not curious, and this aura reading ability is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. She thinks so, at least. It certainly doesn’t compare to anything she remembers about her human life. Maybe some crazy technology stuff, but nothing she could do.

When they all finish their food, Azami drags a reluctant Tobias back to where they were training before. Val and Nia face each other again, and the medicham holds out her hand. “I have an idea. I will think of different memories, and you can watch my aura. See if it changes with my emotions.”

Nia nods, takes the other Pokemon’s hand, and closes her eyes to let her aura pool down into her paw. As soon as it gathers into her fingers and reaches Val’s skin, the medicham’s body lights up into a silhouette of bright orange behind her eyelids.

“Ready,” Nia says.

“Go. We must be quick so your power doesn’t drain.”

Nia frowns and focuses on the faint orange aura swirling through the medicham, and the longer she looks, the more her eye is drawn to the medicham’s chest, where the energy is brightest. Oh. Oh, of course. Just like Nia’s aura sits in her chest like a heartbeat, so does Val’s. It’s a tiny flame, like hers, but also strangely liquid. As she watches it, the aura shivers and slows, dimming, and a piece of emotion that Nia has no reason to feel sinks into her own chest.

Sadness. Melancholy, maybe. Something heavy and suffocating. Nia’s breath catches. That isn’t her. That’s not her sadness. She’s feeling it, but it doesn’t feel quite right, isn’t coming from her. It’s alien, foreign, like a mildly ill-fitting sweater borrowed from a friend, or an unfamiliar car she doesn’t know how to use by muscle memory. Something muted that she’s experiencing only through a window, not directly.

Before she can say anything, Val’s energy shifts again, spiking out fast and sharp. Nia almost winces at the feeling prickling at her own energy. Anger. Annoyance? Something along those lines, for sure.

Again, the energy morphs, calming itself into something steady, but flaring brighter, something almost playful in the way it flickers and shakes. A warm happiness washes over Nia, and a breathless giggle slips past her lips. The next moment, the aura sours and pulls itself tight, shuddering and recoiling (fear?), and Val’s hand is ripped away again.

Nia falls forward, barely catching herself on her hands before faceplanting into the ground. Oh, ow, her aura rebounds back into her chest with a snap, and those borrowed emotions evaporate like mist, leaving her with harsh, heaving breaths and a bit of nausea. Why do her muscles hurt?

This time, Val’s hand does find her back, resting there as a comforting, anchoring warmth. Nia remembers the short blip of fear she’d felt (was that for her well-being?) and lifts a shaky hand to give the medicham a thumbs-up while she catches her breath. She worries that she’s going to throw up (she hates throwing up), but after breathing for a minute or so, she feels better. Still exhausted, but at least able to sit up.

“You are okay?” Val asks, meeting her eyes.

Nia laughs. “Yeah! Yeah, I am. I...I think it worked?”

Val finally sits back, relaxing. “Tell me.”

The riolu nods, eager to explain but opening her mouth only to lose her words. How…how does she explain what she just felt? What she experienced? She can’t explain how she understood the aura, felt those emotions herself even. Somehow, she just knew. It’s like knowing how to breathe, like babies knowing laughter without understanding the idea of joy. The waves of aura spoke to her in a way she intuitively knew how to understand.

It’s incredible.

Val must pick up on her issue, because she nods. “I understand. I cannot explain my powers well, either. What emotions did you feel?”

Nia feels her ears flick back as a shyness overcomes her. It still feels so personal to talk about someone else’s aura, all of their deeply held feelings. Even more so with Val, who is always so controlled on the outside. “Uh. I think first you were…sad? And then angry. Or annoyed, maybe? Then you were happy!” Nia hesitates, and then adds, “Right before you pulled away you felt kind of…afraid? I think.”

Val nods her confirmation, and Nia feels a burst of pride. “Correct, mostly. Frustration, not anger. But practicing will better your accuracy and precision.”

Nia can’t help a happy little wiggle at her success. This is so cool!

“Reading different auras will improve your ability. Remember to ask before practicing on someone else,” Val says. “Unless they are an enemy.”

Nia nods, happiness dying away into something more serious. “Of course!”

“Did I hear a success over there?” Azami calls. Tobias is flat on his back and surrounded by scorch marks. He’s glaring up at the ceiling. Yikes, that must not be going well.

“Y-Yeah!” Nia calls back.

The tsareena walks over to them, Tobias rolling his head to watch with narrowed eyes but not rising to follow. “Would you like to try it on me?” Azami asks. “If you aren’t too worn out.”

Nia perks up, but catches Val shaking her head out of the corner of her eye. “No. No more for today. Riolu almost passed out earlier.”

Azami meets Nia’s crestfallen look with a smile. “Cheer up! We can always try it next time.” She turns to head back over to Tobias, calling a cheery “Good job, by the way!” over her shoulder.

“So you are aware,” Val says, catching Nia’s attention again. “It is obvious when you use your aura powers. Others will be able to tell, physical contact aside.”

Nia blinks. “Oh. Could you, uh, feel it?”

Val shakes her head and points to the tear-drop shaped things on either side of Nia’s head. “Your body glows with your aura, and those lift. I believe they aid in channeling and controlling aura.”

“They do?” Nia feels them, curious. Huh. She’d been wondering for days what they were for.

“With practice you should be able to hide such obvious visual tells,” Val adds, thoughtfully. “Eventually.”

Val climbs to her feet and Nia tries to do the same, only to fall back to her knees as her head suddenly spins.

“Rest for the remainder of the day,” Val says, voice distant to Nia’s ringing ears. “You are not used to the strain of aura.”

“But...” Nia glances over at Tobias, now back to slashing wildly at Azami, who neatly dodges each strike. It feels unfair for her to go back to their room and rest while he still has to train, even if she is upset with him.

“Go rest. If you must do something, practice meditating. Or read about moves. Magnolia has told me of your love of books.”

Nia sighs and nods. She has a few questions for the meganium, anyways. “Got it.”

As she carefully rises to her feet, making sure she’s steady enough to walk, the medicham nods approvingly. “Good job today.”

Nia beams as if the medicham had written her a glowing review. “Thank you! I’ll see you later!”

The medicham goes to help Azami with Tobias, and Nia slowly makes her way out of the training area. The stairs are going to be killer. Sure enough, it has to be nearly twenty minutes later that Nia finally makes it to the medical floor. She passes by Fen’s office, glancing in.

The leafy Pokemon is hard at work at her desk—wait, no. Their desk, Nia corrects. Tobias had snapped at her once already for messing that up. Fen has always been such a warm, inviting face when Nia says hi to them in passing, and for a heartbeat, Nia itches to interrupt and ask if she can use her newfound powers to see the leafeon’s aura, to see what color it is. But that would probably be rude on a number of levels, and Fen definitely wouldn’t like Nia potentially throwing up or passing out from the strain. Still, she’s curious. She bets their aura is a comforting pink, or maybe a chocolate brown, like their eyes. Can auras be brown?

Nia shakes off the urge and moves on quietly, making her way back to Maggie’s room. The meganium looks like she only recently returned from gathering herbs, intently sorting through fresh plants on her desk.

Nia hesitates at the doorway. “Hi, Maggie.”

“Hm?” The meganium seems distracted, but then lights up at the sight of Nia. “Hello, dear! Back from training?”

The riolu smiles. “Y-Yeah. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Oh, hush, you’re doing nothing of the sort. Come over here, tell me how training went. You look exhausted. Is Tobias not with you?”

“N-No. Val sent me back early. We did a lot of aura training today and it wiped me out. I-I can see people’s auras now, though! And read their emotions. Kinda.”

Maggie smiles and pulls her vines away from her work to tug Nia against her side in a hug. “That’s fantastic, dear! Would you like to show me? Or are you too tired?”

Nia’s exhausted, and she knows that Val would shoot her a disapproving look for even thinking about trying out her aura powers again so soon, but there’s no way she can turn Maggie’s enthusiasm down! Or her own curiosity, for that matter. “S-Sure! Uh. Give me a sec.”

Nia closes her eyes and puts her hand on Maggie’s leg before reaching for her aura, for that ball of energy in her chest. Despite it getting easier to find, to call to her, she immediately feels the strain put onto her body. She hurries to send her energy down to her palm, letting it reach out to brush against Maggie.

The meganium’s silhouette bursts to life behind her eyelids. Her color is a lively purple, like fresh lavender. It’s beautiful, soft and vibrant and organic. It brings to mind the comfort, the peace and protection, of lying down in a field of flowers on a warm summer day, where nothing bad can happen.

When Nia brushes her aura closer to find Maggie’s emotions, ignoring the distant screaming of her muscles, her connection almost snaps back in surprise. There’s a bit of that same fear that she’d seen in Val, right before she pulled her hand away (worry?), but more than that...Maggie’s aura is almost overwhelming in its warmth, in the genuine affection that settles over Nia like a soft blanket straight out of the dryer. It’s like a wave of fondness, a protective and nurturing feeling.

And in this context, with Maggie focused entirely on her, there’s no one else the meganium could be directing it at. This love is for her. To say that Nia is unprepared for it is an understatement, considering Maggie has only known her for a week.

Nia’s aura finally rebounds, and she falls back to reality as her legs buckle underneath her. Blinking away bright blue and purple after-images, Nia notes that she’s breathing hard again, and that the nausea is back to churning in her stomach (Oh God, not listening to Val was a bad idea). Maggie is fretting over her, near-frantic, vines hovering at the edge of Nia’s vision like the meganium is afraid that somehow she did this, that she’ll hurt the riolu with her touch.

Shoving down her nausea, Nia looks up at the meganium, meeting wide, worried eyes with something like awe. Her throat chokes up. Tears blur her vision not due to the pain, but at the familiarity of the older Pokemon’s warm aura. It reminds her of her mother.

“Nia? Please dear, tell me what’s wrong. Did you hurt yourself? Should I get Fen? Val?”

The riolu laughs, still catching her breath, her voice watery with tears. “N-No, I’m fine. It’s just...”

Some of Maggie’s panic dies out when Nia speaks, and she hesitantly pets Nia’s head with a vine, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath.

“Y-You’re so full of love,” Nia chokes out, recognizing how corny the words sound.” You just...you already care about me. Like, actually care. It caught me off guard.”

Maggie looks surprised, but then her honey-gold eyes soften. “Of course, dear. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Nia has no words, so she just laughs through her tears and hugs the meganium, burying her face in Maggie’s leg. Maggie soothingly strokes her fur with a vine.

“Your aura’s p-purple, by the way,” Nia says, words muffled. “It’s really pretty.”

Maggie laughs. “Well, that’s good to know! Too bad I can’t show it off. It sounds like a lovely color.”

Nia giggles too, feeling an overwhelming burst of happiness and fondness for the meganium. The two stay like that for a while, Nia’s harsh breathing calming down only to be replaced by sore muscles and a pounding headache. She’s never ignoring Val’s advice again.

Nia eventually manages to pull herself away, wiping at her eyes. “S-Sorry for crying all over you. Did you get a good haul today?”

“Don’t apologize for feeling, dear.” Maggie, seeing that Nia has recovered, goes back to sorting her plants. “I found most of what I need, yes, but I do miss Tobias’ help. My eyes are not what they used to be. I would hire a new hand to assist me, but I don’t want Tobias to get upset and feel like I’m replacing him.”

Nia, sitting on the ground and leaning back against the desk, sighs at the mention of the charmander. God, what is she going to do with him? They’ve only been partners for a few days, so maybe he just needs more time to open up, but…Nia’s not sure if she can manage to wait that long. She doesn’t have as thick of skin as she thought she did.

“How is everything going with him?” Maggie asks, voice carefully neutral.

For a heartbeat, Nia considers lying. Then, she rasps, “Honestly? Not great.”

“Mm. I was afraid so. Would you like to talk about it?”

“...Aren’t you busy?”

“I can talk and sort at the same time,” Maggie says.

Nia huffs a quiet laugh. There’s a few moments of silence, and then Nia groans, pressing her palms into her eyes. Her head is pounding. “He’s just...I think he hates me.”

“He doesn’t,” Maggie says, sounding sympathetic. “That’s just...how he is.”

“But that’s not fair! He shouldn’t treat people like that!” Nia says, a little sharper than she means to. Maggie is clearly taken aback by the outburst.

“Sorry,” Nia says, quieter, pulling her knees up to herself.

“It’s fine, dear,” Maggie says after a moment. “You just surprised me, is all.” There’s a moment of quiet, and then Maggie sighs. “Tobias has been...withdrawn since the day I met him. I can’t say how he was before he was found in the mountains. He wouldn’t talk much, initially, and I didn’t push him. He’s always been distant. Distrustful.”

“That’s understandable, if he went through something traumatic,” Nia murmurs. “But...”

Maggie looks sad, eyes distant and dark. “I know. I thought he would open up as time went on. Learn to trust again. Become less bitter. When I brought him back to the guild, he made...far from the best impression. Understandably, the other children did not much like the new Pokémon who was either curled up in bed crying or snapping at them for no reason. He picked fights constantly, and it didn’t help that many of them were weak to his fire. So the others ignored him and sniped at him in return. It turned into a vicious cycle, and now the poor boy’s made enemies of most of the guild. At least those his own age.”

Nia frowns, looking at her feet. Tobias’ horrible attitude is starting to make a lot more sense, but that still doesn’t make it right. But how is Nia supposed to say that to the Pokémon who has pretty much raised Tobias for years? She’d feel horrible. Plus it’s not like she would’ve known what to do instead.

“I’ve just tried to treat him with as much love as I can. I see him as my own son, and I just hope that one day he will soften up, grow from his past and make amends. I just want him to be happy.” Maggie turns to Nia with a soft smile, and Nia’s gut turns over. “That’s why I was so glad to hear that you were willing to give him a chance. He needs someone understanding like you to help him. Someone kind and patient.”

Nia nods, avoiding the meganium’s eyes and hugging herself uncomfortably. Maybe he does, but...she’s starting to wonder how kind and patient she actually is.

“However, that does not mean I wish for you to sacrifice your own feelings. If you need to disband your team with Tobias, I understand. Put your own well-being first.”

Nia sighs, feeling more mucked up than she had when this conversation started. She thought talking with the older Pokémon would make her feel more at ease, not less. The headache isn’t helping, she’s sure. “Right. Thanks, Maggie.”

“Of course, dear. Why don’t you get some sleep? You have a lot to think on and you must be exhausted.”

Nia mumbles an agreement and gets up to go into her and Tobias’ shared alcove. She plops her aching body down into her nest and looks over at her stack of books, thinking about reading to escape her thoughts. Instead, her newly-dyed attack scarf catches her eye. It’s bright red, like Tobias’ own. She still hasn’t worn it, not quite sure how to make it work with the thick collar of fluff around her neck. She scoops it up with a paw, feeling the soft material between her fingers and looking at it thoughtfully in the dying evening light.

She wants to make this work. She really does. She just doesn’t know if she can.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #pokemon #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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