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opal-inna · 2 months

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I was thinking of Megamind’s theme of heroes being made instead of born and the parallels between Megamind and Hal.

You can see how Megamind is trying his best, but Metroman is more privileged, so Megamind gives up. He had always had bad luck, compared to Metroman, so he thought it was his destiny to be a villain. So when Hal seemingly has everything delivered to his doorstep, it’s destiny that wanted this to happen. Megamind believes that it’s up to forces greater than him that make heroes or villains. And Hal had all the gifts Megamind hadn’t, and he chose to use them for evil.

But then I looked deeper into it. I compared Hal with Megamind. Both of them were social outcasts. Both of them were nerds. Both of them were in love with Roxanne. Both of them were rejected by her. And both turned to villainy when things didn’t go as they had hoped. In a dark twist of fate, one could recite the famous cliche “we’re not so different, you and I!”.

But obviously, they are so different. So what sets them apart?

Both of them wanted approval, but Megamind seeked acceptance from society and Hal sought to win love from another person. Both of them had a skewed idea of how human relationships work and both tried to follow in Metroman’s footsteps to get there.

But obviously, they failed. Because it’s not how it works. Again, they’re similar in this department.

And then it hit me.

Both of them tried to imitate Metroman to gain something- gain approval in their example. But you can’t just win someone’s approval, it’s up for them to decide whether they give it to you or not. And you may only get it by being genuinely good yourself. Even if both chose villainy, time and time again, Megamind proved himself to be good and Hal proved himself to be evil.

Here’s what I found so far.

Hard work

Megamind had worked hard and it gave him no results, so he thought it was meant to be. He put a lot of effort into creating devices that were supposed to imitate Metroman’s powers. Hal had everything given to him, which made him feel entitled to everything he desired.

Humility

Both of them had been rejected and degraded. But Megamind had enough humility to reflect on himself. He didn’t blame Roxanne for rejecting him (albeit the scene where she tells him to apologize and Megamind misunderstands and turns it around is hilarious). Rather, he blamed his status as a villain. Though he didn’t blame his choice to become a villain, but his destiny to be one- “Villains don’t get the girl”. However, Hal had an advantage of a status of a ‘hero’- one given to him, not the one he chose. He feels entitled to her love, so when she turns him down, he blames her. He played his part of being a ‘hero’, but she didn’t play her part of being a prize. She broke the rules.

Megamind had also reflected on what Roxanne told him. He corrected his mistakes, cleaned up the city and returned what he stole. He didn't have to, but he did it to make her happy and made an effort to be actually good.

And Hal has been actively gaslighting and lessening her, just to protect his ego.

Relationship with Roxanne

Obviously, I also had to include their relationship with Roxanne, and oh boy.

I know I’ve talked about it for the entire time, but I need to go in depth, because it’s a whole thing. Bcos Hal didn’t just have had his powers handed to him. He was also privileged even when it comes to their relationship with Roxanne. Hal had lots of time to form a real connection and friendship with her, but he chose to treat her like a prize he could win if he played the game right.

Megamind was doomed from the start, because he’s a villain. Yet when given a chance, he showed her his true self, became vulnerable with her and they shared each other’s nerdy passions. Though under another person’s skin, he showed her his soul and they formed a genuine bond. Megamind proved to be a better person, because he showed her true respect, valued her for her positive traits and just treated her as a person.

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smileymoth · 7 months

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For the ask thing. I wanna know your 10 headcanons about Etho. And 10 more about one of your OCs please :3

ok ok.. Etho <3

He SUCKS at expressing his emotions. He does not know what he is feeling. Ever. This leads to misunderstandings with everyone, especially Bdubs since he is very vocal about his own feelings.

He's nonbinary and gender-non-conforming in a way :333

He sometimes chases his own tail when he's in a silly mood and forgets that he in fact has a tail. He falls over and whimpers because he got dizzy. (sometimes the fault of too much redstone)

HE IS 100% A SCENE KID. Perhaps even an emo kid. He had raccoon tails as a teenager and wore heavy eyeliner and homemade tripp nyc trousers since his parents wouldn't buy him a pair

There's always something off about his construction work. When he lived in the monolith basement he sound proofed it, but somehow it only soundproofed it to him, Bdubs could still hear what he was doing down there. Etho has no idea how that is even possible.

He got his face scar as a child, but doesn't remember how he got it. All he knows is that it didn't heal properly so now he has a semi-split lip which he is very self-conscious about, hence why he wears the mask. Bdubs is most likely the one of the few people who have seen him without his mask since he trusts him the most.

You know, he could get his lip fixed via surgery, but he is afraid of doctors and needles and syringes and the idea of someone putting him under anesthesia, so he'd rather not.

Oh and also he has dust and pollen allergies. Because of course he does. :) Good luck with that Etho!!! The mask does help.

His sleep schedule is awful. He goes to sleep in the middle of the night if not the morning, sometimes he forces himself to pull allnighters which end up with him being out of commission for an entire day -- he hates it. He needs to be productive and do things.

This also means he eats redstone for extra energy. It makes his heart race and sometimes makes him shaky but he doesn't care. He thinks it tastes quite nice. But again which redstoner doesn't consume redstone for the fun of it...

HE'S SEASONAL. He sheds fur on his ears and tail in spring and grows a thicker layer on during autumn.

AS FOR MY OC.... Let's do June because I've been thinking about him a lot lately :heart:

He goes by all pronouns, he doesn't care what you call him since he doesn't know what gender is. If he was born into genZ he would ID as non binary or a trans femme, but since this is the 80s he does not know if to call him that or not. He's just June <3

June isn't his legal name, his legal name is Julian. Boys at his school would call him Julia because of how feminine he was. That same group would become his close group of friends who would drag him everywhere. He did not know if they were doing it out of malice to make fun of him and put him in weird situations or because they genuinely liked him. One of the boys 100% had a crush on him.

His dad was a college professor teaching English, his mom was a nurse. This meant that they were barely home as his dad had work quite far from home and his mom did long hours. Since his parents were quite distant, it also distanced him from them. He'd rather call his beloved Nanny his family than his actual parents.

He developed an eating disorder in middle school which has carried out throughout his life, with recovery and relapse over and over and over again. Age 40 his heart gave out and he had a cardiac arrest. Luckily he could be resuscitated but it left him with short term memory problems and other issues.

June loooves her band mates. He'd do anything for George and Lydia. He and George would share the bed if possible and cuddle together since they were both severely touch starved. This continued after they both found life partners since everyone was ok with it.

She has autism that was undiagnosed till late adulthood when his partner forced him to therapy for his eating problems.

June has insomnia, so when he finally did fall asleep during tour Lydia and George would make sure to be as quiet as possible to not wake her.

He met his life partner Lawrence on their american tour in late 80s. They met at a bar and June dragged him back to the tourbus afterward. June was instantly starstruck with him and refused to let him go so they spent a few years sending each other letters and meeting up every now and then till Lawrence moved to the UK to live with him. Law calls June his 'girlfriend' and 'wife' infront of his friends which makes June melt inside. He will never get enough of kissing Lawrence. <3 They're disgustingly cute together. George doesn't get how Lawrnece is so patient with him... George also didn't like Lawrence in the beginning bc it felt like he was stealing his best friend. Lydia couldn't stop teasing him about how ''ohhh you like your little June <333 you love himm<333" which pissed him off. Anyway. I'm getting carried away T_T

June can be very annoying and stubborn. She needs to get her way always and forever, and gets upset when she doesn't. When he's upset with someone he tends to just ignore the other person, giving them silent treatment, even if he's still cuddling up to them. Sometimes when he's very overwhelmed he does simply shut down and loses speech for a bit until he feels better.

He has always carried his childhood teddy along with him everywhere -- to tour, to new homes, on trips. It is his comfort item that is always with him, even if hidden at the bottom of the suitcase.

!!! thank you Ety!!!!!!

#ocs #june nowtzki #ethoslab #asks #ask game

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 months

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Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Frail and confused, he has to learn everything from scratch again. The more he learns, the more the world looks like a nightmare.

When he joins the Inquisition, he figures he's still not strong enough to withstand everything this world throws at him.

In the end, he made too many promises and he can't keep them all.

But who said the Din'anshiral would be easy?

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Part 1 | Chapter 1- ? | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn't.

(Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 7

For a while, nothing happened other than Rosala's happy crunching and pawing the floor with her hooves. Solas needed the moment of silence, to let all the information sink in. With a few chestnuts in his hand, he watched the halla's excited movements. Her swift legs. Suddenly, he felt the urge to get up and force his weak limbs to move as well. He was done with lying around. He was done with crawling back into that aravel and waiting for someone's help. He was sick of himself.

So he slipped off the wagon and let his feet hit the ground while his hands clasped the rim. For the blink of an eye, he stood on shaky legs. His body struggled against the pressure. As quickly as he could, he heaved one leg and the effort alone made him draw breath with a hiss. The other leg on the ground protested as colours began to dance in front of his eyes. Rosala watched him closely, fluttering one ear. With a stern grimace, he dropped the foot again and then noticed he stood rather unstable, with his legs spread, wobbling from one side to the other. Now he had to draw the other foot forward while standing on a dangerously shaky leg, but he was about to lose his grip of the wagon with his sweaty hands.

He didn't hear Rosala's squeaks, but he noticed the hands that quickly helped him out. Halven tried to put him back on the aravel, but Solas squirmed. “No, let me walk! Just a few steps! I need to...” “If you feel like it, lethal'lin”, Halven agreed calmly, even if a little amused. “Let's see how far you get.” The Healer doubted the elf would get far at all, but he didn't want to hold him back. He'd rather kindle the fire inside him and let him draw new strength from it.

With new support, Solas began the next step forward. He didn't dare to look his helper in the eyes while he tried. He needed to pay attention to the ground anyway. His cheeks felt hot and he told himself it was the struggle that pumped blood into his head. With the Healer's help, he accomplished two careful steps more, before he couldn't move his legs any longer. He just stood, shaking, clutching Halven, until he reluctantly admitted he had enough. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes in embarrassment. It didn't help that the Healer lifted him off the ground and carried him back to the aravel. Rosala happily took over and dragged him to bed, where he buried his face in his pillow, done with this cruel joke of a free life.

When he felt the animal curling up next to him, his head shot up and he growled at her: “Leave me alone!” His trust was gone. Too many open questions. He needed to think. Alone.

Rosala left immediately without a sound and Solas felt the lack of her warmth. With a deep sigh, he fell back on the pillow. His thoughts didn't give him comfort. He lay in emptiness, only recalling Halven's words over and over again. He came to terrible conclusions. First of all, if he was right, he had to deal with an enraged Evanuris thirsting for blood. Who riled up another kind to make the Elvhen People pay for their betrayal. In the second possible scenario, there was an ancient creator. An unknown enemy. One way or the other, the Evanuris still had a way of controlling their people from the beyond, because why would they still wear vallaslin and pray to them? Why would they not know the truth? What happened to his rebellion? He didn't like what this implied.

But something else brought him to the verge of tears. 100 years. They live no more than 100 years. Really all of them? Halven had made no exceptions. But did he know the truth? The terrible feeling came back. Alone in the beyond, looking for his friends. Nobody answered. Were they all...? It couldn't be. It was only 2000 years ago. Surely some of them must have... But where were they? Why didn't they answer? The prison! It was the straw he clutched at. It didn't allow him to reach them! Those “shemlen” must've punished the Elvhen People like this!

Elves. Now this word moved him. He had always overheard it. The translation had seemed simple, but it carried a horrible truth. He couldn't call them “the People” anymore. He had to clarify which. This world belonged to the shemlen now and the People were just elves. They had lost their name. Their identity. And perhaps rightfully so. Who stirred the Maker and why?

Solas wiped his wet face. His head hurt now and he still didn't know what to do. Out. He needed to get out. Get stronger. Perhaps find the answers in the beyond. He needed to sleep. But carefully. The Maker could watch. The thought made him chuckle bitterly.

Indeed, the beyond had a surprise for him. For the first time, he caught glimpses of the camp itself. Images of memories flickered in front of his eyes. A sense of it's calm and peaceful loneliness came to his mind. He saw shades of wanderers, a couple holding hands. Their words a mere unintelligible echo of the past. They stood by a tree, carved their names in the trunk. The tree still sang the words. Longing, missing, waiting. Their love was the sharp blade of a knife, sweet pain and numb scars. Solas eyed the tree, unable to read the names. But he liked their song. For a blissful moment, he just listened, let the memory carry him away. Then something gentle nudged his arm. Another thing chirped in his ear. He nearly jumped and lost the image, but smiled when he found his spirit friends surround him. They circled the tree, played with the leaves, made the branches swing. Solas realized that he had been nothing but curious.

He kept his smile and let the moment linger. It felt too good to leave it. And when he continued to wander through the camp, he did so more lightheartedly, allowed the forest to speak to him. He didn't force any answers out of it because it would only hurt. Gratefully, he let go of the Maker and the dreadful history for what felt like a merciful eternity.

Eventually, his body claimed him back. But even awake, he was thankful for the good dreams. The beyond had given him new strength and patience to focus on the only plan he had. So he crawled out of the aravel and soon put both feet on the ground again, clutching the wagon. Suddenly, something landed heavily on the wooden planks, made them crack so loud, Solas almost lost his grip. A halla stood over him. He guessed it was her, for the intense stare alone. “Rosala...I'm sorry....”, he began, but she interrupted him by bumping her forehead against his skull. Again, Solas almost fell backwards into the grass. He gasped and held himself just about, then leaned over to wipe his throbbing head. “Ouch.” Rosala folded her legs to lie down, visibly content with herself and the intense stare changed into friendly blinking.

She watched his efforts and it didn't take long until Temalas found him this time. As embarrassing as it was to be held by the Keeper's apprentice, he used the time to ask questions, wondering if Temalas had more details or a different perspective to offer. He learned that the Emerald Knights had wolves as companions, which was interesting enough. Also, he tried to study the staff, but that strained him more than walking. After a while, he fainted in the First's arms and woke up to being dragged back into the aravel. In sleep, he visited the camp again.

Since the Dalish didn't stop his efforts, he began to spend his time learning to walk and looking for signs in the beyond.

He remained careful around the elves, because a vengeful Evanuris could've ordered his slaves to look out for the Dead Wolf. Even the shemlen could look for him, to please their Maker. Why nobody found him yet remained a miracle to him. But the Dalish continued to help and his body gave up it's stubbornness step by step.

One day, as he rested awake in the aravel, he heard Temalas call for him. This was strange, because the elves had never called him before. They had always waited for him to come out by himself. Solas didn't trust this, but he had no chance than to act casually. He answered the First and Rosala climbed in, eager to drag him outside. Reluctantly, Solas complied.

It was still nighttime and that worried him, too. He tried to recall what he did wrong. Everyone had seemed to support his training. Then he realized something. It set his guts aflame. Was he ready? Would they consider him ready to be branded?

With shaking legs, now for a different reason, he climbed out of the aravel. Temalas looked unusually exited. The sight behind him made Solas' worries grow further. Between the trees, little spheres of light hung like stars above the camp, drowning it in bright colours: gold, red and blue. The elves were all up, so it seemed and he heard drumming. A steady, but inciting rhythm coming from the group.

For a second, Solas feared he knew the rhythm. But luckily, it was different.

Then a humming rose over the noise. The elves sang. Solas just wanted to turn back to the aravel, but now Rosala blocked the entrance. He gave her a stare, the sting of betrayal pounding in his chest. Temalas caught his attention again. With a solemn smile, he held him in his grip and what had been helpful in the past days now looked like a trap. Solas considered to wind himself out of it. To run. But his weak, lonely self against the whole clan? Ridiculous. The First alone would strike him down.

Temalas looked unaware of Solas' struggles. He moved towards the group with him, step after step, making sure they'd reach the destination. Solas despair must've become visible because Temalas suddenly whispered: “Ssh...it's okay. This is a night you wouldn't want to miss.” “What are you doing?” Solas didn't like how high his voice became. “Something beautiful. Just wait.” “I don't think I'm ready for this...” Temalas was surprised by the elf's fear. He thought he would've been drawn to the lights alone, like all the da'lens when they saw them for the first time. Maybe there was something terrible he recognised? “You don't have to do anything, lethal'lin. Just watch.”

Temalas words gave Solas hope. Perhaps it would be just a cozy night with lights and songs. Maybe drinking and telling jokes. No divine rituals. The group opened a spot for them as they approached and the movements looked uncomfortably coordinated, the way they threw their arms up and stepped aside in unison. As he was placed between the others, he had the feeling that all eyes were on him, even though their faces were bathed in lights and shadows alike. The humming intensified and the unknown melody rang in Solas' ears as he tensed and waited for something to happen. Then the lights went out and the music stopped. Solas could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and he feared the others heard it, too.

Without warning, a bolt crashed down from the trees and struck the earth right before his eyes, accompanied by a ear-shattering outcry of an invisible choir. A woman emerged from the blinding sparks, clad entirely in white. Solas could see her braided hair, decorated with pearls and flowers. She stood in front of the group, with her arms wide, as if she waited for something. When the elves began to sing and drum again, she winced and shuddered to their rhythm. The pearls clinked as she moved. Even the lights now flickered, matching her rhythm. Suddenly, she fell into a frantic pace, swirling and kicking her legs as the group spurred her on, clapping their hands.

Solas cowered in their midst, his ears twitching unnoticedly, eyes wide open. He wondered if she danced of her own will or if she was the puppet of the crowd. Her movements flew like water, but always in time with the music, rapid but seemingly effortless. Whenever the light illuminated her face, he saw her closed eyes and her smile. Her clothes were scarves wrapped around her body, swirling with her, creating shapes - spirals, limbs, wings. She seemed to transform in front of him.

When he asked himself if she really transformed, she straightened herself, lifted her arms over her head and went off in flames. It was a blazing white fire, like the bolt that had struck the ground. The invisible choir screamed again. Nobody was alarmed by this. The crowd continued to hum and the drums provided their steady rhythm.

Solas stared at the fire. It changed it's character, from white to orange, emitting a soft, golden light and sending out dancing sparks into the air. It cackled and roared. And then the woman stepped out of it again. No, it was someone else. He couldn't smell her vallaslin over the fire, but he recognised her face and movements. It was the Keeper. Solas unwittingly backed away a bit, eyeing her warily.

She offered her hand to the fire and it began to wander up her arm, becoming a fireball she then held between her fingers. The voices began to sing in the forgotten language. Solas' flesh crawled when he heard them. “Sylaise, arlise’amelan, ehnas ise te’elan mathem. Lanir’sha var’lin’en su mar sul’anathe...”

The Keeper's voice echoed through the camp as she began to speak: “Sylaise, Keeper of the hearth, protector of Clan Enasvaral, we pray to you! We hear you from the depths of the fade, in the howling of the winds, in the thrumming of the rain and the rushing of the trees! Tonight, your voice is loud and your healing hands are reaching out to us! Let me be your vessel and rekindle the flame that warmed us for centuries! ” In an instant, everyone was silent, all eyes fixed on her. Solas wished she was wrong and Sylaise out of reach, but then the flame in her hand exploded. Thundering, dancing, growing like tree branches along her arm. The elves cried out this time, but with joy. Solas watched in horror how the Keeper was engulfed in flames within seconds. Their beauty – glittering in all colours of the rainbow - didn't persuade him. His body was tense, ready to dodge the burning branches. The Keeper moved slowly, crossing her arms as if she hugged herself. Hugged the flame. They grew wings behind her back. Solas gasped. Did she turn into a dragon?

Nobody seemed to worry about it. They continued to hum and clap, as if they kindled the fire like this. Did they feel it too? Sylaise?

Solas felt more and more uncomfortable around them. He searched for a way out while the burning wings grew high above his head. The invisible choir reached another peak. Solas expected a disaster to happen any second. Suddenly, the voices yelled as if in pain and the lights changed from gold to red. The fire turned to ice one second to the other. Another figure walked into view, wrapped in a dark robe made of pelts. Their hood was pulled deep into their face, hiding their features. Glowing red jewels were sewed into the hood, where the figure's eyes would be. Solas' heart almost stopped. They lifted a hand and snapped their fingers. With a clashing sound, the ice broke and the Keeper straightened herself as her wings shattered on the ground.

“This stage play is really charming”, the figure quipped. “But shouldn't you be at home, spinning thread or the like?” Solas realized the voice belonged to Temalas. What was this about? “My dear Trickster, what a pleasant surprise.” The Keeper – or Sylaise? - didn't hide her disgust in her tone. “I didn't expect to see you among the People. Shouldn't you rather stay in the shadow and lick your wounds? Perhaps try to grow your tail back?” That earned laughter from the elves. Solas had no idea what they referred to. The two elves now circled each other.

“It's all but muddy water under the bridge already. The healing arts aren't as elaborate as you claim them to be.” “Are you certain? You know, I listen to every cry for help. Even yours.” “Even mine, how generous of you, dearest Sylaise. But actually, I am here to help you instead.” “How so?” “Fire is a gift and a curse, Hearthkeeper. Dirthara ma.” A fireball shot out of his hands and hit something in the distance. In the flickering light, it looked like an aravel. It's sails were quickly consumed by the fire. “May the elven people bless your fire, Hearth Keeper”, Temalas spat. “And may you curse the day you decided to play with it!”, the Keeper replied.

With a flashing of lights, they attacked each other. Fire roared against ice. The clashing elements grew shapes out of thin air, froze and shattered in a hasty flow. Sparks darted around, stopped and fell. The spellcasters moved in the midst of it all, strutting, waving their arms. The drums, the choir and the voices of the elves became one collateral noise. It was impossible to make out who spurred on who in this creative and destructive dance. Solas felt his heartbeat pound in his ears and his cheeks burn. So far, he only understood this wasn't a fight. The two elves still circled each other, swaying their arms and spinning around. Their movements were coordinated, nobody had the upper hand. Until- The Keeper released a swarm of icicles on the “Trickster”. It was the first time she used that spell. Temalas' arm was now caught in a pillar of ice and he looked at her, struggling to get free. With a wide gesture, she lunged out for another frost wave. Her voice already stung like cold wind on exposed skin when she sneered: “Undirthalan!”

Temalas disappeared in a wall of ice that shot up from the ground, so high it nearly touched the trees. The elves downright cheered, apparently abandoning their choreography for this pinnacle of joy. The Keeper strutted to the newly created sculpture with her hands on her hips, looking very content with her work. Then she spread her arms and said: “May Elgar'nan pass his judgement on you.” Solas felt like she kicked him in the guts. Let Elgar'nan be the judge? Nobody would do that. But they did it to him. He pressed his eyes shut, fighting against the memory. Her eyes. A blazing light, an endless pit of fire, deeper than the void. How could they be so cold? Her sneer froze the blood in his veins. She'd do this to him. Mythal's -

He was ripped out of his memory by multiple hands that nudged and shoved him. Sylaise had turned around and eyed him now. The crowd moved him into her direction, cheering and clapping. Solas wanted to scream in agony. And with rage. With embarrassment. They had known it all along. Of course they had. And he could only hope they made it quick.

„Bell'sulahn“, he whispered to himself as he staggered forward. „Re min ma asahngar?“

They didn't avoid any stereotypes. They made him kneel. Not that he could still stand, anyway. He faced the Keeper with a glare. She remained unimpressed and lifted her hands. Solas tensed, but forced himself not to flinch. He was puzzled when she sprinkled something over him. It felt cold and soft, nothing else. Then she held her hand over his head and said with her thundering voice: “May Sylaise always stir your fire, may she heal your wounds and lead you through the passage of despair into blessedness, as she guided our people for millennia! May the creators watch over you!” More cheers followed and Solas stared at her with a gaping mouth. The Keeper smiled and he had the impression she enjoyed his astonishment. Also, she wasn't finished. “From now on, you will be known as Revanas Enasvaral. You may stand up.”

Solas' body complied, but he didn't know why. The elves still shouted and drummed. The noise rang in his ears. He guessed standing up brought him closer to getting away from here. Halven appeared at his side and Solas clutched his tunic, hoping the Healer was a sign that he could go to bed now. The man helped him through the crowd that shouted words at him. He was too tired to listen. Halven shooed them away as good as he could.

The dancing and singing of the clan continued. Solas only managed to gulp down a drink the Healer gave him, before he sank back into his pillow.

Notes:

“Sylaise, arlise’amelan, ehnas ise te’elan mathem. Lanir’sha var’lin’en su mar sul’anathe” : Sylaise, Hearthkeeper, whose fire cannot be quenched. We give ourselves gladly to your service.” “Dirthara ma”: May you learn. “Undirthalan.”: I learned. „Bell'sulahn, re min ma asahngar?“: Song of Eternity, is this my fate? “Revanas”: spirit of freedom

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve #dalish elves

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bloobluebloo · 8 months

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Recently discovered that one of ToTK’s writers worked on skyward sword and I have a feeling that’s why the story went from “slightly darker majora’s mask” to “botw mixed with skyward sword” and in all honesty it explains why Ganondorf was written the way he was.

Bro probably saw people misunderstand the Demise curse and went “Alright, no. You see Ganondorf is the way he is, not becasuse of Demise, but because of his own upbringing, his selfish heart, and this crusty ass mfer.” Bro wanted to make a Proto-Ganondorf and tripped the finish line, and the worst part is that I conceptually understand what he was going for.

Are you speaking about Fujibayashi? If so, he directed Skyward Sword, Breath of the Wild, and Tears of the Kingdom (and I should mention he also directed Oracle of Seasons/Oracle of Ages, Four Swords, and the Minish Cap). If you look at his main titles, there is a sense that he likes to tell stories that are heavily intertwined with the idea of fated destiny, of being born into a role and having to fulfill said role. His game design philosophy is making the fundamental rule set very clear to the player, and I sense that this is also the way he approaches story telling (very clearly defining in no uncertain terms who is the hero and who is the villain). So when it comes to Ganondorf's writing, considering all this, I am not surprised, but there are other things to consider that I had pointed out even before TotK came out. Considering that TotK did start out as a BotW DLC that they eventually adapted into an entirely new game, I had already sensed that there were some core tenants they would keep (being able to retrieve story bits in any order one wanted, the freedom to tackle the final boss immediately, making the story secondary so that the player had the ultimate freedom to do whatever they wanted without any sense of urgency from the game etc). In other words, Ganondorf himself had to be at least basic enough that should you decide to rush him immediately you would get a sense of who he was without having viewed any of the story. What I didn't expect is for them to keep him that basic throughout the entire story lmao, but going back to the sort of trend I see in Fujibayashi games, I am not surprised that he made Ganondorf the way he is. TotK Ganondorf speaks as if he is not even human, as if he is destiny manifest and always meant to have been this Demon King that would destroy everything in his path with no other motivation save for bottomless ambition. There is no real acknowledgement of the fact that he had an entire life before this, a couple of decades at least, where he must have lived what would be a normal life for a Gerudo chief. If he had always been evil, you would think that the people of Hyrule would know at least something about it, especially Rauru. It feels like it does come out of nowhere for him. Zelda also falls under this issue in a different way; no matter what her interests are, what her personal priorities are, when destiny calls the noble thing for her to do is for her to answer to it and become what it demands of her. Again, it goes back to the entire idea of destiny, that you are born fated with a certain role and you will fulfill it. I'm not here to say Aonuma directed LoZ games that had more complexity, but I feel like he added a human element to his storytelling that didn't necessarily tie everything back to destiny and being forced to follow fate. At the end they still fulfilled their roles mandated by destiny, but there was a personal element to their character that sort of allowed them to fall into their roles rather than just, ya know, being put into the role because that is their role. It's funny because in some ways Demise had more personality than Ganondorf; at least he sought to have his demon tribe inhabit the surface and wipe out Hylia and her people which is at least *something*. In any case, different directors have different approaches and to be frank, so long as Fujibayashi directs LoZ games I'm going to expect more of this ahaha.

#sorry this got long I had thots #ganonthots

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cha-melodius · 1 year

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RWRB and Man from UNCLE crossover... go! (Modern or Cold War AU!)

Hello anon, and sorry for taking forever to answer this. When you sent this ask back in last October I was in the doldrums of writing Nova, Baby, a little stuck. I'd shared some snippets previously, which might have been what inspired this ask, but I didn't want to dive into this ask knowing that I was nowhere near posting the story. Then I didn't want to answer it until I'd actually finished posting the fic so that people would have a chance to read it. Because this ask is a lot easier to contemplate when you make it a crossover between Alex and Henry as spies, rather than something like canon!

Ok, bumping UNCLE up to a modern setting and having Alex & Henry tangle with them on some mission would be fun for sure. For some reason I'm picturing the UNCLE crew as older in this situation though, like in their 40s or early 50s. They've been working together for at decade or two, been around the block quite a few times, and suddenly these two young agents show up in the middle of an operation, mucking things up. Maybe Alex has even heard rumors about an art-thief-turned-CIA-agent, but he didn't really think they were true. Also I'm amusing myself thinking about Waverly having some history with the Mountchristen family, having been British Naval Intelligence but not part MI6, so when he realizes who Henry is he's like "Oh Christ, NO." 😂 This would definitely happen sometime in the middle of the events of Nova, Baby, amongst A&H's various undescribed missions together.

I'm even more intrigued by setting this during the cold war though, which I guess makes the RWRB part an AU of an AU, lol. More thoughts below the break!

Ok, Alex is CIA, right? What if he's actually part of the extraction in Berlin? Not a big part, just one of the other agents hanging around at the safehouse later. Point is, he knows Napoleon. Not well, but he's familiar. Alex has mixed feelings about Napoleon because on one hand he's a very prolific criminal who got a pretty decent deal to get out of prison, but on the other, Sanders treats him like shit and from what little they've interacted he seems like an ok guy. This also means Alex hears about Illya and the chase through East Berlin and everything. Of course he's not part of the mission in Rome, and after that he loses track of Napoleon for a while, not knowing that he's now part of this independent spy agency, working with the very man who chased him down in East Berlin.

Ok, fast forward a few years. Alex & Henry have already been forced into a partnership. Napoleon & Illya are working together (with Gaby) for UNCLE. No one is together in any way, but safe to say there's some pining going on lol. In the midst of a mission in Bolivia, A&H end up at odds with a giant Russian agent—bad news. They didn't realize the KGB was involved (spoiler alert: they're not). It's a pretty bad misunderstanding, and thing go south VERY quickly. Then, suddenly, Napoleon Solo shows up, throwing himself in the line of fire, risking his own life to protect this Russian agent. Alex is completely befuddled. He thinks maybe Napoleon isn't CIA anymore (well, it's complicated), that he defected. It takes a while to convince him otherwise.

Turns out they've been following two different threads that lead to the same baddie, so they need to work together. Easier said than done—Illya is, as always around new people, grumpy and forbidding. Maybe Alex catches glimpses of him around Napoleon when they think no one is watching, and it's shocking (because he's secretly a giant Russian lost puppy, natch). Henry is pretty skeptical about all of this but he'll do anything for Alex (though not without complaining), so he goes along with it. Meanwhile, Alex and Napoleon kinda bond during this time. Ooh, maybe they cook together, both being really into cooking, and we get a very absurd scene of Illya and Henry both being jealous (for no good reason, of course) and trying not to show it.

More random thoughts: idk how it would happen but we definitely need Nora and Gaby to meet, because they'd get along like a house on fire. What if, in this universe, instead of playing James Bond, Arthur Fox was basically Ian Fleming? Maybe Waverly even knew him during the war!

Ok, I'm going to stop now, but thank you for the ask, anon, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it!

#napollya #firstprince #tmfu #rwrb #nova baby #rwrb spy au #tmfu aus #napoleon x illya #red white and royal blue #the man from uncle #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#headcanons and aus #asks and answers

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sunset-sun-god · 1 year

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Hi! Would you consider doing another Actor/Dark fic? It's really fun when it's Dark who does a bunch of teasing and acts all innocent and smug about it, so maybe something like that? They could be at an event of some kind and Actor gets so riled up that he drags him into a private room or closet or something >:3 I don't mind who gets to top, but Actor is kind of a really cute bottom..... ;)

These rivals fuck sometimes, idk what to tell you.

Warnings: semi-public sex, twin cocks, public teasing

Being cast as the villain made it so Dark was frequently involved in various social events by Mark's side. These events often served as promotion and networking, and they really didn't enjoy it. It wasn't that they were against the idea, it was how overwhelming it could be. It was how often they felt people's eyes bore into their head. Like they knew something was off, though Dark took care to blend in.

Dark swirled wine in their glass as Mark chattered on, getting an idea on how to occupy themself while people politely ignored them.

They started off easy, passing by Mark and brushing his back. He barely noticed.

They held out a chair for him, their long, graceful fingers brushing his backside. That was more like it. Mark looked up, surprised. Dark pretended to ignore him.

They sat there and ate, perfectly mimicking humans and how they behave. Their foot drifted to Mark's leg, then to his thigh, then just barely, they pressed their knee to his crotch.

"A-ahem-" Mark sputtered, "As I was… saying… They've been a great co-star all these years."

Dark smiled into their glass as Mark shot them a pointed glare. As if demanding they don't do this in front of the others. But that's what made it fun.

After dinner, they get a little more bold. They adjust his tie for him, tightening it a little more than normal. Mark's face burned, unsure whether they were trying to kill or flirt with him.

"Mark… why don't we dance?" They purr.

"I thought you didn't like my dancing, 'Damien'…" His voice is barbed, forcing out Dark's now fake name.

"Let me lead you. It could be a good learning opportunity." Dark took his hand, pulling Mark into a close tango.

They lead him expertly, their smoky eyes full of lust. Mark stumbled, and Dark had no choice but to catch him, leaning over him so closely they could kiss.

Mark let himself go, falling to the floor. He got up, dusting off his coat and pants. "You- what are you doing?!" He hush-yelled.

"Whatever do you mean?" Dark batted their eyes. "I was only trying to help."

"Help? This is not helping! Imagine what the press would think!" He hissed.

Mark hurried off, out of the room to get some privacy. Dark trailed behind.

The two ended up in a closet together, all too close. Dark smiled, the picture of innocence.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, what would the press have to say?"

"That you- that- that I! That you!" Mark stomped his foot. "Ooooh, don't play games like that!"

Dark gently held his jaw in their hand, fading back into their comfortable gray to save some energy.

"Oh, Mark… all worked up, aren't you?" They pressed their nose to his, dropping to a whisper. "Do you need some help with that?"

Mark opened his mouth to answer, before folding his arms and smugly nodding. He figured Dark would chicken out and knock it off. Dark instead chuckled.

"Gotten bold, haven't we, dear snake?" Dark unbuttoned his suit jacket, setting it aside.

"H-hey, hey, you can't be serious! You said we wouldn't fool around where others might see!" Mark flushed again.

Dark halted. "Well, if you'd rather I not."

Mark grumbled, now frustrated he had to make his interest explicit. He folded his arms again, trying to hide the fact he had been getting aroused.

"My deepest apologies for misunderstanding." They cleared their throat, going to leave. Mark caught them by the wrist.

Dark looked back, Mark trying to piece together words. "N-no… I… do… but don't get us caught, okay? I have a reputation."

"As do I." Dark smiled softly, resuming where they left off.

They pushed his tie to hang over his shoulder and unzipped his pants, letting his cocks free. They were half hard. Dark's cold hands circled his shafts easily, lightly pumping them until they were fully erect. Mark bit back a noise.

Dark dropped to their knees, pausing before taking him. "Happy to see me, hm?" They tease.

Mark's cocks twitched, and he reluctantly nodded.

"Good. I don't know about you, but I was getting bored out there." Their hands grasped his thighs, marked with several scars.

They took one of his shafts in their mouth, sucking the tip first, then deeper. Their throat hollowed, accommodating his length easily. Their long tongue slithered out, licking his balls slowly. Mark shuddered.

"T-that's a new one-" Mark whispered.

Dark smiled internally, pulling away. They took in his other shaft next, sucking and licking him carefully. Mark clung to a shelf behind him, biting his lips.

Dark opened their mouth a little wider than anyone reasonably should, taking in both shafts. Mark let out a soft moan, knees weak from the stimulation. They swallowed around his tips.

Mark dug his hands into their hair, trying desperately not to mewl like a cat. They reached up to shove a handkerchief in his mouth and help him.

Mark gagged on the cloth, taking it out.

"W-what exactly are you getting from this?" He whispered.

Dark pulled away, wiping excess drool. "Hm… Malicious satisfaction. A reason for you to let me have my way with you at home. I think I'll bind you to the wall, hunt you for sport and fuck you. How does that sound?"

Mark whined softly. All he could do was nod. He tried to act all tough and in control, but he was putty in their hands.

Dark returned to sucking him off, the tip of their pointed tongue gracing his perineum. Mark was sweating bullets, trying not to lose control of himself.

His cocks came in tandem, shooting onto their throat. Mark fell to his knees, practically in Dark's lap as he caught his breath.

Dark swallowed thickly, using the handkerchief to dab at their mouth and his forehead.

"How was that, my Snake?" They rested their elbows on his knees.

"... T… too good." Mark panted.

"Oh, poor Hero." Dark pouted teasingly, before getting up to leave.

Mark whined, reaching out for them. They returned to their previous intimate proximity, never intending to leave him there. They just liked seeing him beg, and they knew he liked begging.

"C… can we do this next event?" Mark asked softly.

Dark nodded, grinning smugly at how successful this little encounter went.

#Smoldering Scripts.#secretmarkiplier #ego smut #Crimson serpent.#Voiden raven.#semi public sex #smut #twin cocks #nsft #teasing

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aizensamasuggestions · 2 years

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Suppose the events in Fake Kurakura Town went differently and that you'd gotten into the Royal Realm and taken over. You're a planner by nature and it didn't look like you wanted any of the Gotei 13 dead outside of Yamamoto, so you must've put some thought into how to secure the rest of their cooperation afterwards. How were you going to go about this? Most of them hated you, and even those predisposed to like you (eg. Momo) would have taken more than a gift card to a spa to reconcile with.

I think you may be laboring under a misunderstanding, anonymous. Is your assumption that my plan is not still in motion?

It is true, I will admit with some amount of chagrin, that a number of things did not exactly go According to Keikaku (tm) at the battle for Fake Kurakura Town. I had not expected to lose quite so many of my Espada quite so quickly.

That was... a disappointment.

Without the Espada, I had no ability to dethrone the so-called Soul King (as Hollows are poison to Quincy) and, as the rest of the world now knows, much of the Soul King was made of a surprising amount of Quincy stuff.

Particularly once @ulquiorraschiffersuggestionsersuggestions had fallen, I was forced to change plans. I had to shift to a longer game, one that allowed the Quincy to do much of my work for me.

You can see, during the battle for Fake Karakura Town, exactly when I made my choice to "lose." Surely, you noticed a sudden willingness on my part to strike down one of my own, @harribel-suggestions, and, of course, someone as clever as you, anonymous, caught the fact that I absorbed Kyoka Suigetsu moments before my "defeat." I believe I made up some manic lie for the sake of Kurosaki Ichigo and all whom he would tell about how I no longer needed Kyoka Suigetsu or that the hokyoku had designated me its master, but in reality I was hiding my zanpakuto within me so that their power could not be taken from me while I awaited the arrival of the Juha Bach and the Quincy in Muken.

My second plan was foiled when, unfortunately, Juha Bach did not accept my condition to his offer to free me from Muken. Had he done so, I would have been perfectly positioned to take the Empty Throne (tm). Rather than allow The Quincy with "A" power, Anthesis, whom you may know as Ishida Uryuu, to flip the fates of Haschwalth and myself, Juha Bach chose to make himself my enemy. More the fool, him, as I clearly demonstrated (*cough* Hado 99 without the chant *cough*.)

However, my futher contingency plans continue. After all, with nothing but Bach's rotting corpse on the Empty Throne (tm), the Gotei will still need me one day. Kurosaki Ichigo is a mere mortal. When he dies, the Quincy part of his soul will return to that shattered corpse and completely destabilize it with the poisonous Hollow part of his soul.

When that day comes, the Gotei will be on their knees before me begging for my help.

After all, there is no one but me with the reiatsu to hold the worlds together.

No one.

How is that hole you blew into Hell going for you, Gotei? Miss me yet?

#Aizen #bleach suggestions #not a suggestion #sosuke aizen #aizen #bleach #Soul King #Aizen answers all #And mun is apparently not yet entirely dead

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lanasdelsreys · 5 months

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seventeen fic recommendations!

below are my favourite seventeen works! they'll be separated by member. this list will be updated as frequently as possible.

♡ = smut/nsfw (mdni) | ❀ = fluff | ✰ = angst

✎ last updated: april 22, 2024

choi seungcheol [최승철]

sweet danger [@edenesth] ✰ ❀

genre: mafia boss!seungcheol x cafe waitress!reader length: 17.2k words

seungcheol's world of crime collides with your peaceful life when you meet in the cafe where you work. you grow closer, and he keeps returning for your company and delicious treats. but when you become a target, he must make the ultimate choice: protect you at all costs or let you go for your safety.

idol!seungcheol x hybeidol!reader headcanon [@hannieehaee] ❀

genre: idol!seungcheol x hybeidol!reader length: 559 words

idol!seungcheol who's been going through a romantic rut for a few years, only ever focusing on his leader duties and having no time for anything outside of seventeen. that is, until incidentally bumping into hybeidol!you in the hybe hallways, forcing himself to interact with the pretty girl he's been seeing around the building lately.

eat. play. love [@husbandhoshi] ❀ ✰

genre: romcom coworkers!seungcheol x fem!reader length: 19.4k words

being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

let me take care of you [@icyminghao] ❀

genre: husband!seungcheol x pregnant!fem!reader length: 0.7k words

seungcheol has been acting uncharacteristically nice to you, and you’re not sure why.

always only you [@honeyhotteoks] ✰

genre: non-idol!seungcheol x mingyu's little sister!reader length: 14.2k words

the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

voicemails choi seungcheol leaves you while he's on tour [@babyleostuff] ❀

genre: idol!scoups x gn!reader length: n/a

a collection of ten voicemails choi seungcheol leaves you while he's away on tour!

dad of the year [@wondernus] ❀

genre: choi seungcheol x reader length: 575 words

seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog

yoon jeonghan [윤정한]

yoon jeonghan as a boyfriend [@avianyuh] ❀

genre: jeonghan x reader length: 679 words

headcanon of jeonghan as a boyfriend!

joshua hong [홍조슈아]

isohel [@toruro] ✰ ❀

genre: prince!joshua x reader length: 26.2k words

fairytales can be rather misleading, can't they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you'd have to see again.

jeon wonwoo [전원우]

of shy smiles and misunderstandings [@icyminghao] ❀

genre: college!au wonwoo x gn!reader length: 1.8k words

wonwoo sees you at the library almost every day and falls head over heels for you. only, you seem to be avoiding him for annoyingly unknown reasons.

idol!wonwoo x idol!reader headcanon [@smileycarat] ❀

genre: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader length: n/a

small instances where both of your fanbases start to notice lingering looks between the two of you until it becomes so much more

for the books [@trblsvt] ❀

genre: teacher!au wonwoo x fem!reader length: 2.2k words

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

lee ji-hoon [이지훈]

pillow forts [@beomboomboom] ❀

genre: jihoon x reader length: n/a

your presence alone brightens up jihoon's life. even a rainy day and a ruined date can't stop you.

lee seokmin / dk [이석민]

i miss you, don't call me [@wheeboo] ✰

genre: ex!lee seokmin x gn!reader length: 2.5k words

in which a particular boy has been clouding your mind lately, and you decide to drink away the thought of him𑁋when that isn’t the right choice.

kim mingyu [김민규]

covert desires [@etherealyoungk] ✰ ❀

genre: spy!mingyu x assassin!reader length: 19.5k words

the mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

xu minghao / the8 [徐明浩]

the letter [@toruro] ❀ ✰

genre: idol!minghao x reader length: 26k words

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

chwe hansol / vernon [徐明浩]

work husband [@wondernus] ❀

genre: teacher!vernon x gn!teacher!reader length: 8.8k words

falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband

lee chan / dino [이찬]

scored! [@leejungchans] ❀

genre: university!au lee chan x fem!reader length: 12.4k words

lee chan should really stop winning so many games for your university, because as the resident writer for the sports column of the student newsletter, you’re starting to get really sick of having to cross paths with him all the time.

series & mini-series

13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen [@mingtinys] ❀

ot13 headcanons

taking care of sick s/o [@holdinbacksecrets] ❀

saying something they didn't mean in a fight (hhu) [@babyleostuff] ✰

dating seventeen - fem!reader [@kyrjnie] ❀

things they left with you before leaving for tour [@seuonji] ❀

partner privileges [@babyleostuff] ❀

when you don't say i love you back [@boosari] ❀

kissing them mid-argument [@babyleostuff] ❀

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seungcheol x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #woozi x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #vernon x reader #seungkwan x reader #lee chan x reader #dino x reader

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culttvblog · 5 months

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Special Branch: Catherine the Great (Seventies TV Season)

The introduction to this series of posts about 1970s TV shows can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/729351469162233856/seventies-tv-season-introduction

Special Branch (1969 to 1970 and 1973 to 1974) is the show that will confuse you if you're not careful because it is more like two. The two halves divided over four series were done quite differently, despite both being about the same set up, with completely different casts, sets, filming approaches, and so on. Personally I think of series 1 and 2 as being the ones with Derren Nesbitt as the unexpected sexy piece (although I see he's been married four times and has five children so perhaps it's only unexpected to me) and series 3 and 4 as the ones with Patrick Mower as the more expected sexy piece. Despite Mower being the sexy piece, George Sewell still gets all the women. The pervading theme of this post will be that Special Branch always always surprises you.

Series three and four of 1973 to 74 are also noteworthy as being the first series made by Euston Films, as part of their proposal for a new type of television drama. From the start Euston always shot on film rather than videotape, and also had a trick of using two crews filming different parts of the same show at the same time. This gave its productions a speed and quick-change action that had previously been unknown. These 1970s shows seem to bring us to so many major turning points in TV and this is another one: this is the production technique that allowed shows like The Sweeney and its imitators later in the decade.

Catherine the Great is a series 4 episode about a German assassin called Helmut Rehfuss who has arrived in the country to perform the assassination of General Yqueras, the head Domegas, a former British colony who is also in the country. And who is, incidentally, as stubborn as a mule about resisting his protection. Thus far so pedestrian, and this plot could be that of many an episode of The Professionals or any other show.

Which is why I'm absolutely howling that the show has taken this pedestrian plot and essentially done it as if it was written by John Waters. This was broadcast on 21st February 1974 and could still give Ron DeSantis a stroke in 2023. It's absolutely wild. What makes it wild is the very simple plot device of having Rehfuss the assassin escape police surveillance by coming into the country dressed in drag, and so he repeatedly literally walks past them without them clocking him at all.

It's not only that he disguised himself but he is actually a drag queen and the show devotes quite a lot of time to his actual drag act and of course the Special Branch have to go to the club to see him perform. There is also quite a lot of discussion of drag and performative and notional gender, which again would be very sophisticated on today's TV. I love the bit where Craven's boss starts reminiscing about a 'friend' who didn't realise the bird he went with in Singapore wasn't. I have to say the scenes of a drag queen going around shooting people are very effective. In an age before people began to verbalise their misunderstanding that performative femininity is automatically sexual, I think the show was just intending to show all sorts of human life and indicate the way Special Branch's work took them into all sorts of odd corners of society. There's at least one other episode with a drag queen, played by Dame Hilda Bracket.

Just to add to the wokeness of the episode one of Rehfuss's contacts is a gay antiques dealer, although nothing happens because Rehfuss murders him.

There is further human interest in the episode by the way Craven isn't working with Haggerty but with Inspector North from CID, who he previously got kicked out of Special Branch for his failure to kill a suspect when he should have done. Here, he does get it together to shoot Rehfuss with reasonable force.

If I have one criticism of the episode (and I think this can tend to go for many Special Branch episodes) it's that the plot is a bit far-ranging and ambitious. It brings in gender politics, drag, sexual politics, national security, international politics, colonialism, post-colonialism, office politics, reasonable force, you name it. That said, this might just be an indication that this is another of those shows which require attention to be paid to them, although I feel like if I'd seen it on one viewing in 1974 I would have found it difficult to keep up. My only other criticism would be that if you have an actor doing a drag act you need to shave their pits or if they won't have them shaved put them in a dress with sleeves. This one's a blunder.

As you know I do get worried that writing about old TV will attract the gammons, so to ensure they're scared off, have a snatch of a Special Branch night out in the seventies:

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#70s tv #70s tv season #special Branch

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jekacatrina · 3 years

Text

Dressed for battle

This is a small one shot I wrote to keep my mind of some fucked up things happening in my life right now. This is my take on how Bakugou managed to look like this:

Katsuki finishes buttoning up his shirt perfectly for once, and scowls at his reflection. He looks stiff and uncomfortable, and that's because he fucking is.

He sighs, bunching up the tie he holds in his hand, and marches out of his room. He glances briefly at Kirishima's door, and tosses aside the obvious option. Katsuki feels too much to deal with him at the moment.

He stomps his way to the room exactly above his, and punches the door until an inexpressive face meets his.

"Bakugou?" The only reaction he gets from Todoroki is a slight raise of eyebrows.

Katsuki checks the hallway for nosey fuckers, then plants a hand firmly on IcyHot's chest and pushes him back into the barely decorated space.

"Is there something wrong?" he asks, as Katsuki firmly closes the door behind.

Just everything about this situation, Katsuki thinks, mind traveling to a certain idiot with self sacrificial tendencies and a grip on Katsuki that he was never able to shake off. He no longer wants to, so he's glad for it, even if he wants to beat some sense into Deku's thick skull.

"Do my tie, dumbass," Katsuki holds up the red offending item in front of Todoroki's face. A direct command is the closest thing he can get to a request, to asking for a favor. Katsuki would rather avoid putting himself in any scenario where he is in a vulnerable position, but what they're about to do, ambush the Number One hero and demand help, requires him to be on his best behavior.

He's not doing this for him, this is for Deku.

Where Kirishima would have probably teared up and had a heart attack, IcyHot just gives him a slow blink.

"Oh, okay," Todoroki carefully takes the tie from him, handling it with ease, unlike Katsuki, who was holding it like it was a venomous snake. "I didn't think you owned one." His tone is even, calm, like Katsuki is not breaking some walls between them. IcyHot is so weird, he makes everything seem normal, and that's something Katsuki needs right now.

"Fuck off," he scoffs, lifting the collar of his shirt so Todoroki doesn't get any ideas of touching him more than what's strictly necessary. "It's Shitty Hair's spare one," he confesses for some reason. Katsuki scowls inwardly, but figures that he can be straight with IcyHot after all that has happened.

Again, Todoroki barely reacts and that makes Katsuki feel less on edge.

"I'm stepping closer," he warns him, acting as if Katsuki is a wild animal. He appreciates the gesture, even though he rolls his eyes.

Todoroki throws the tie behind his neck and lays the two ends across his chest. Katsuki tenses, but forces himself to relax, letting the idiot work through the process.

He's not paying attention to IcyHot, it's not like he'll start wearing his tie outside of this occasion, so Katsuki is looking at some point over his shoulder when Todoroki speaks up.

"Midoriya is going to be okay," he doesn't know whether he's trying to convince himself or Katsuki.

"I know that," he spats, frowning. "We just have to drag his stupid ass back here," he clenches his hands into fists, remembering the letter and how furious he felt as he read it. Deku has a lot of explaining to do. Katsuki hasn't stopped thinking about some parts, and that makes him get even angrier.

"He's not going to make it easy, is he?" Todoroki asks, undoing an almost finished knot, and starting over. Katsuki doesn't call him out on it, letting him say his piece is the least he can do.

"We can handle him, Half and half," Katsuki states, ignoring the bandages wrapped around his stomach, and how the shirt stretches over the ones on his left arm. With his half healed burns, Todoroki is not better than him. His evil and very not dead older brother was a second wind away from leaving him well done instead of medium rare. Still, Katsuki believes they are enough.

Deep down, he knows Deku is not someone they have to handle, he's someone they have to reach. The entire class is a good start, but Katsuki plans to finish everything himself.

Todoroki hums appeased, tightening the knot, and Katsuki bats his hands away. He can do this part alone. IcyHot steps back, lowering his mismatched eyes to his shoes.

With nothing else to say, Katsuki turns on his heels and opens the door.

"Bakugou?"

"What?" Katsuki glances at him over his shoulder.

"Thanks for rallying us," he's giving him that small smile that gets on his nerves. Though, less than before. Huh, he must be getting soft.

"Tch! Make sure to chew your old man a new one," Katsuki says, ignoring the misplaced gratitude. He has his own reasons to step in; he has never been one to stay put and let things happen. If the others want to join in, fine by him. "I'll take over when I see fit." He's about to leave, when he grips the tie and studies it. "This doesn't suck," he comments, trusting Todoroki not to be as dense as to misunderstand what he means, but can't say.

"Thank you," IcyHot says for him.

"See ya, Half and Half."

Katsuki walks back to his room, dressed for battle and prepared for victory, as usual.

----

I just have so many feelings about that tie, guys, and those two being friends? Amazing ✨

#bnha 319 #mha 319 #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bakudeku #because i say so #i love todoroki and bakugou friendship #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #my writing

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frankiekatt · 3 years

Note

Hiiii can I request maybe how would Bo (House of wax) react on his s/o "cheating" on him? He maybe walks on his s/o while they were trapped by a guy and he was kissing them, but s/o didn't actually kiss back, even tho it looked like they were kissing him back? Hope that this isn't confusing, have fun writing <3

Okay so this is set in high school, I hope you don't mind!

TW: Blood, mentions of murder

Words: 1400

Bo Walking In On His S/O Kissing Someone Else:

You were the one thing in Bo’s life that made him feel human. His mother, who was dying slowly with each passing day, always made him feel as if he was some rabid dog who could never compare to her precious Vincent, who could do no wrong in her eyes. His father, in his own words, viewed and treated him as a monster. His two brothers, however, offered him relief in his life. Vincent was his biological other half. He felt powerful next to his twin brother, a nice change from feeling so small and incapable in front of his parents. Vincent was submissive and hated conflict, which made ordering him around quite easy.

But you - you were his spiritual other half. The only person on earth he would willingly bow down to.

The two of you had met in kindergarten. Bo was loud and outgoing, while you tended to stick to yourself, not making very many friends. The two of you couldn’t have been anymore different, but that didn’t stop the both of you from gravitating towards each other.

Bo thought you were pretty and nice, and you found Bo to be funny and alluring. The two of you became fast friends, playing together during recess, coloring together and sharing snacks during snack-time.

In middle school, the two of you began to develop both physically and mentally. Bo began to see you in a different light - more than just pretty - you were beautiful and kind and when Bo thought about you his chest pounded.

For you, Bo began to grow handsome and charming, making your cheeks glow red at just the thought of him.

Once high school hit and Bo and his two brothers spent time in foster care, the two of you were inseparable. You gave Bo’s life a sense of normalcy in contrast to the death of his parents, his disfigured and troubled twin brother, and life in an uncaring foster system. You were more than happy to stay by Bo’s side, comforting him whenever he needed it. Bo’s happiness was vastly important to you, and you would do anything, sacrifice anything, do help him achieve it.

The two of you began dating in freshman year, only deepening the bond the two of you shared. The two of you were attached at the hip, spending everyday together. Bo was affectionate with you, peppering you in kisses and holding you by the waist every chance he could. To everyone else, he was rough around the edges, snarky, and unfriendly. With you, however, he was unashamed to show his love and adoration for you. He wanted you to feel special, to feel cared for. He was infatuated with you

So when he walked across the parking lot towards your car after school only to find you pressed up against the side of your red Volkswagen bug, locking lips with some blonde footballer, he felt like his world was crashing down around him.

“The fuck?” he shouted.

The two of you sprang apart, both of your faces holding a look of shock. You looked more mortified and dismayed than the boy who had been kissing you. The jock looked more startled than anything.

“Bo,” you began, voice trembling. “This isn’t....I didn’t-”

Bo smashed his fist into the blonde boy before you could finish. The boy fell to the ground with a grunt before wiping the back of his hand across his lips, revealing a severely split lip. Bo then bent down to grip the front of his t-shirt, and punched him again. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

The blonde boy scrambled his feet, face bloodied and bruised, and rushed off before Bo could land another punch on him.

Bo could hear you whimpering behind him, but he refused to turn around and look at you.

“Bo, it’s not what you think, I swear.”

Bo let out a humorless laugh. “Not what it looks like? So the two of you weren’t making out, you were just playing pattycake, is that it?”

Tears streamed down your face, dripping off your chin to wet the asphalt beneath your feet. “No, Bo please just listen-”

Bo finally whipped around to look at you. “I don’t listen to whores like you. After everything I’ve goddamn done for you, you throw it all away for some dumb jock who couldn’t less of a fuck about you?”

Bo was hurt. It was written all over his face, swimming in his eyes, etched into his facial features. Masking his vulnerability with anger was something Bo always did, but never with you. Seeing him look at you with such contemptment and sadness made you cry harder. It reminded you of all the late nights you and Bo had spent together throughout freshman, sophomore, and junior year, baring your souls to one another as you laid in each other's arms. Bo often worried if he was enough for you, if he deserved you, and had voiced these concerns to you on more than one occasion. Every time without fail, you reassured him that he was the only one for you - that you were soulmates, and you were incapable of loving anyone else but him.

Knowing how betrayed he must feel, you attempted to reach for his hand, hoping he would be quiet for just five seconds so you could explain, but Bo jerked away from you in an instant.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You’re a liar and a slut, and this? Us? It’s goddamn over.” With that, Bo stormed away from you before you had a chance to react.

Bo had just broken up with you over a misunderstanding and your heart felt like it was splitting in half.

Bo spent the rest of the day and most of the evening in the town’s auto shop, trying to cloud his brain by tinkering with cars.

It wasn’t working. Bo’s only thoughts were of you - of your smile, your laugh, the way you hid behind him when you got nervous, the sweet way you told him you loved him. Everything about you made his chest ache. He couldn’t fathom how your pure, unbreakable relationship had ended so suddenly on a random Friday afternoon, because you cheated on him.

You cheated on him.

Why? Why why why why? The two of you had always been immensely close and faithful to each other. You had both talked about marriage, about getting out of Ambrose and starting a family together. Was that all gone now?

“Bo?”

Bo stiffened at the sound of your voice. Why were you here? He had ended things. He had made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, that the very sight of you made his blood boil.

“Go away,” he snapped.

Stepping further into the garage, you grabbed both of his shoulders and forced him to look at you. “Baby, please, please just listen to me. I did not kiss David! I would never do that to you.”

Bo shook you off of him. “I know what I fuckin’ saw. Get the hell out of here, I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I didn’t kiss him! I swear! He came up to my car and started asking for my number. I told him I was taken, and then he just pushed me against the car and shoved his lips on me!” Your voice was cracking with every other word. “I couldn’t push him off of me. He was holding my arms down so tight he left a bruise. Just look”

Bo looked down to see you lifting up your sleeve to reveal a large purple bruise on your upper arm.

“He did that to you?” Bo snarled.

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Baby, I would never cheat on you, you know that. I’d rather die than betray you like that.”

Bo’s face contorted into fury. Some fucker had forced himself on you, made him think you had betrayed him, made him call you names, made him break up with you.

“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll slit his fucking throat.” Bo grabbed you and crushed you to his chest, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for calling you names and for leaving you like that.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You were back in Bo’s arms again, the one place you felt safe and secure.

“It’s okay, it’s okay honey,” you cried. “I’m just happy to be with you. I’m sorry you had to see that. I felt so disgusted with his lips on mine.”

“I meant what I said, you know,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make him suffer for what he did. I’d burn in hell for you, and I’m going to make sure that cock sucker does too.”

#slashers #bo sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair imagines #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #love #unhealth relationship #fanfic #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers x y/n

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Revision.

Commissioned by the very lovely @pyrokittyowo.

Pairing: Yandere!Simeon/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Past Trauma, Toxic Relationships, Codependency, Infantilization, Isolation, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

The sun never sets in the Celestial Realm.

It’s less whimsical than it sounds, to be fair. Sleep is a luxury for angels, a way to pass time for the young and the injured, but that hadn't been something Simeon thought to tell you when you first arrived, as you tried to follow his mangled, irregular cycle of rest and work. You’d gotten the hang of it with time, carved out your own routine and forced yourself to follow it, but you’d be lying if you said you were completely used to it. It was grating, if anything, just how bright all of it was, the shine only amplified by the ivory and gold angels seemed so fond of. It was overwhelming, really. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve called it unbearable.

But, you did know better. This realm was warm, but not stifling, not half as oppressive as the Devildom had been. It didn’t have the same constant chill, a pervasive darkness only made worse by the humid air and that invasive metallic scent, like stone and rock and the blood that must've been soaked into the cracks of both. The darkness was worse. All of it was worse, but you tried to keep your mind on the landscape, the starless sky, the bleakness you’d slowly grown to hate.

If you let yourself think about anything else, you’d have to think about the people you’d met, the brothers, the way they’d looked at you. You’d have to remember how tight Mammon’s grip had been, the first time he took you by the wrist rather than the hand, or how dull Beelzebub's fangs were and how much it hurt when he drove them into your skin, your chest, the sensitive area just below your collarbone that never failed to bleed, when it bit down. You’d have to think about how Lucifer’s hand felt as it wrapped around your neck, the sound of your own failing breath, the way he’d laughed as you—

You inhaled sharply, cutting yourself off before you could get any more lost in the memory.

Because that’s what it was – just a memory. Something you’d never have to worry about again, thanks to Simeon.

Still, you were allowed to complain. Even indoors, perched in one of the many bay windows spotted around Simeon’s sizable chambers, you could feel the unyielding sun, notice the light start to eat away at your vision like a hungry, gnawing parasite. There were clouds in the sky, perfect wisps of nothing, but they'd been their since the day you first arrived, fixed features on an unchanging canvas. They wouldn't move. You already knew that. Nothing moved in the Celestial Realm, not unless it had a reason to.

And yet, you found yourself opening your mouth regardless, asking the question that’d been playing on your tongue all day. You could let yourself have this. You could hope that were wrong. It wasn't like this would be the first time. “It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

Immediately, there was a hum from across the room, one of the many soft sounds Simeon seemed to be so fond of. You should’ve been glad he was there to answer at all, really. Simeon spent most of the day tending to his vague responsibilities. If he had time to sit around, pouring over a scroll in a language you couldn’t recognize, it must’ve meant it was either too early in the morning or too late at night for him to be bothered with anything else. You couldn’t be sure which, not when the two were so impossible to tell apart. “Rarely,” He replied, still distracted. “Michael tries not to leave the weather up to chance. If he needed a storm, I’d be able to tell you weeks in advance.”

You almost felt bad for him. You would’ve hated it, knowing everything long before it actually happened, but you doubted Simeon would ever let himself be so careless. “I don’t know how I’d stay sane,” You admitted, your gaze moving back to the window. A white dove had landed on the edge of Simeon’s windowsill, meticulously sorting through bleached feathers with its pointed beak, and idly, you wondered if the animals bothered to regulate themselves, too. “You wouldn't like my hometown. Couldn’t see the sky most days, and when you could, it was nearly too hot to go outside. Never stopped it from snowing a month before winter, though.” You paused, letting yourself smile at the thought. You missed it; you weren’t going to try to deny that. You were still allowed to miss things. “Luke would probably love it. Say what you want about humans, but we've never gotten a bakery wrong.”

Simeon didn’t hum, this time. The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but your heart still found a way to tighten in your chest, stopping completely as you heard his chair scrape against the floor, sharp footsteps following the noise immediately. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and he was kind enough not to force you to, brushing off your avoidance as he positioned himself on the opposite side of your small shelter. It wasn't much of an improvement, though. If he'd just let himself be a little more cruel, you might've had the pleasure of hating him for it.

“You’re thinking about the human world again.”

He was getting straight to the point. You couldn’t say you weren’t thankful.

“How can I not?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained, out of place against his sober expression. “I haven’t been home in a year. I’m bound to want to go back, eventually.”

“You know it’s not safe.” It was a familiar mantra, one you should’ve been numb to, but it still found a way to hurt, to linger, accumulate into a small, aching knot in the back of your throat as you reminded yourself that he was only doing it because he cared. That was all – he cared. He didn’t want to see you get hurt, not again. He didn’t want to see you face anything more harmful than his clumsy comfort, even if he did have a strange way of showing it. “We’ve talked about this before, (Y/n). It’s still too early to tell if Lucifer left any lasting damage. There could still be a tracking spell I haven’t discovered yet, or worse.” There was a pause, and a gloved hand came to rest on your knee. You could’ve mouthed the words, as he said them. “I can keep you safe here, but your world is neutral territory. I might not be able to stop him, if he and his brothers tried to take you away.”

You hated the way he said it. Part of you, a persistent minority, still wanted to think this was all a misunderstanding, a result of crossed wires and mixed messages and the kind of miscommunications that only ever led to such awful things. You knew it was unhealthy, to try to tint your own memories with such a forgiving light, but that didn't help you smother the temptation to believe all the soft, pleasant encouragements Asmodeus had whispered in your ear as his brothers lived out their distorted, carnal fantasies. Whatever Simeon was trying to do, it certainly wasn’t helping, either.

“I’ll be careful,” You tried, slouching against the glass. It was warm to the touch, a feeling you savored under his cold gaze. “It’d be a day trip, at most. Just a few hours. I…” He was wearing the silk gloves, today, soft and smooth as he raised his hand, cupping your cheek without a trace of hesitation. You trailed off instantly, still unused to the gentleness. “I just want to see my family, that’s all. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“You’re bored of me, now?” It was supposed to be playful, the question accompanied by a light chuckle, but you still shook your head, leaning into his palm as you went on. “I can’t say I blame you. I know I’m not one for company, but if you’re dying for entertainment, I can see what—”

“It’s not just that.” You should've let him finish, but it was already too late to stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself, if you were being honest. You just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere different, a place where the sky didn’t hurt to look at and the sun wasn’t so willing to punish you for existing. You wanted to be able to step outside without worrying whether or not your angelic hosts still thought you were worthy of their concern. You didn’t want this, anymore, even if it was the better option. “I’m just tired, Simeon. I’m tired of being here, I’m tired of running, and I just want to go home—”

There was a small huff, a sharp crack. By the time you realized what happed, by the time that sudden acidic sting faded into a steady throb, his thumb was already digging into your jaw, your head forcibly tilted back in such a way that made it so you had to look at him. You couldn’t avoid the softened anger in his eyes, or the stiffness in his posture, or that tight, unignorable scowl. He was disappointed, and he wanted you to know you were the reason why. He was mad at you, and you’d done everything to earn it.

When he spoke, he did so slowly. Like he was talking to a child who hadn’t quite come to terms with reality, just yet. “I’ve taken care of you, haven’t I?”

“You have.” There was no point trying to deny it. If it hadn’t been for Simeon, you’d still be rotting in that hellscape, subject to the whims of a family of monsters. He'd saved you. He'd helped you escape, and you had to be thankful for that. “I just don’t know if I can—”

“And you care about me, right? You don’t want to see me worry?”

You hesitated, but your answer was inevitable “Of course.”

“And you do remember the last thing Belphie said to you, don’t you? What he did to send you running to me?” He let himself smile, despite the nature of the question. “I could barely understand you back then, with the crying and all. Honestly, I almost didn't notice you were begging me to save you.” It was easy to forget how Simeon could be, when he knew he was right. Most of the time, his confidence was comforting, a gentle reminder that you could trust him, that you should trust him. Right now, it just made you feel weak. “What was it, again? C’mon, love, you can tell me, can’t you?”

You could. Objectively, you could, if you tried to. You could force your mouth to make the words, you could shut your eyes and let Simeon guide you through it, and you could tell yourself they were just memories, that you were somewhere else now, that you were somewhere better, but…

But, you really, really didn’t want to, and you couldn’t convince yourself you did.

If you did, you’d have to remember how tightly Belphegor had held your hand, as he said it, his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip strong enough to leave your palm bruised, after he pulled away. You’d have to think about the small smile he wore, the hatred in his half-lidded eyes, the chill that'd run down your spine as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder and told you that, if you ever tried to leave him, if he ever had to share you with anyone beyond the six exceptions he was already making, he’d kill you. It was as simple as that.

If he ever saw you again, he’d kill you.

You were safe, here. You were safe in the Celestial Realm, you were safe with Simeon, but you still found yourself choking on the words, your throat going dry as your shoulders pitched forward, a bolt of something frozen striking your chest before you could ward it off. You couldn't be sure why something so distant would make you cry, but you could feel it coming on – hot tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision, threatening to spill over and strip you of what little pride you had left, but Simeon only wiped them away, as doting as he always was. As loving as he always was, even when you took his patience for granted. Even when you hesitated to lean into him, as he pulled you into his chest, urging you to hide your face and treat him like the pillar of support he was so clearly trying to be. Even when you didn't deserve it, when you didn't deserve him, when you didn't deserve any of this, not when he was kind enough to pretend he didn't know that just as well as you.

“Poor little thing.” He was humming, now, his tone teetering on the line between carelessness and comfort. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, not in the moment, not when it was all you could do to muffle your hitched sobs into small, pathetic whimpers. “It’s nothing to blame yourself for. You just need a little help.” Another pause, elongated and purposeful. Sadistic, in only because he had to try so hard not to be. “You just need someone to protect you. It’s only human.”

It was all you could do to nod, to agree, as mindlessly as you were capable of. You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to risk remembering something you shouldn’t.

Instead, you just focused on the sunlight streaming the nearest window, how it felt as it hit you.

How, wherever your skin made contact with Simeon’s, it seemed to grow just a little more insufferable than it had been, a second ago.

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sea-side-scribbles · 2 months

Text

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either. Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Part 1 | Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn't. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Part 2 | Chapter 14 - ? | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 14

Solas hadn't seen the explosion, but felt it. A tremendous eruption of energy, tearing through the veil into the fade. The veil had screeched in agony, rather satisfyingly so. But then came the screams of the living, being pulled apart, contorting and losing themselves in the draw. Countless bodies reshaped, spilled their blood and caught fire in the blast. A cacophony of destruction. The source of it all became trapped somewhere among the remaining forces. Solas had made his decision quickly since he was the only one who could deal with this sort of power.

When he approached the gate of Haven, he took off his hood to state that he had nothing to hide. The breeze of cool air made his ears twitch. He looked around and found chaos. People clad in all styles of armour brushed past him, making him not the only person who neared the village. A trunk of a man in a furred coat shouted orders. Many other voices rang out from the stables and the tents. Solas sensed the mages. Judging by how jittery they stirred the fade and radiated its energy into all directions without consolidating it, he concluded they were terrified or in pain, or possibly both. An unsettling song hovered in the air, accompanied by a distinct smell that made him grimace. Titan's blood. He would stay away from the templars.

A group of mages, likely apostates, gave him the opportunity to follow them through the gate. The chantry was conspicuous as the largest building, sitting on top of Haven. A pulse emanated from deep under it. He stopped in front of its entrance, taking in the rhythm from the mountain's underbelly. There, a voice interrupted his thoughts. “The chantry bids welcome to all who seek the Maker's blessing.” The accent was gentle. Orlesian. He turned around to face a hooded woman with the emblem of the chantry displayed on her chest. “I am Sister Leliana. I believe you are new in Haven?” Her eyes were less gentle, betraying a high rank and ominous danger. Solas was glad he had learnt to read faces and body language since the rest of her was empty. “Pleased to meet you, Sister Leliana”, he answered politely. “My name is Solas. I saw the tear in the veil and...” He pointed at the breach. “I would like to offer my assistance as a mage.”

He might've stared at her a little too long. She was a human. So close to him. He didn't see her ears, but her shoulders.

Leliana, however, solely noticed this: Curiosity. In humans. An elven apostate who kept away from human settlements. Especially good at making himself invisible, even among templars. The circumstances helped, of course. On the surface, this elf didn't seem so unusual. But now he risked his own safety, only to help those he had avoided his entire life? And he appeared fascinated by the chantry – or rather, what was hidden inside. When he spoke, his voice was soft, humble, but not afraid. He was taller than her, but never appearing to look down at her. He made no quick movements, like an elf surrounded by predators. But what did he hide?

He handed her his staff when she asked him to. He followed her into her tent to answer more questions. Didn't seem to be bothered by them. In the end, she allowed him entrance to the dungeons, because he claimed he could help. She kept him under supervision, expecting he'd reveal his true intention when he found the suspect. To her surprise, he appeared not to have known what to find in the chantry.

Solas couldn't suppress a wince, despite being watched by suspicious soldiers. The only survivor of the conclave and radiating his magic was – a Dalish elf. The woman lay unconscious on a pallet. Her Circle robe was torn and stained. White ink marked her skin, branching out on her cheeks and forehead. Mythal. He almost touched her face.

The power of his aria'sulahn had burned through her hand, leaving a mark that glowed and emitted the pulse he sensed. Now from up close, he heard it sing in a hundred voices at once. Its mere power worked through her hand, consuming it. He palpated her wrist and felt the heat. Closing his eyes, he focused on the light in her hand. Then he pulled gently, trying to channel it toward himself. The mark's power felt immense. He had to be careful not to take it in all at once. If he even could. At his pull, it began to flicker, its rhythm quickened. It reached out to him, sending sparks that tingled in his fingers. They made him gasp in excitement. Now! Then the light began to burn under his lids, the sparks turned into daggers under his skin and a blast of energy sent him flying backwards against the stone wall.

Promptly, the soldiers came at him and he had to convince them not to chain him up right next to her. His disappointment lowered his voice and they let go of him. The woman still lay there, unchanged, her own pulse weak against the mark.

When he had managed to calm the mark's power, the effect probably remaining a few hours, he was told to leave the chantry. His supervisors followed him along and he expected to be introduced to the remaining group of mages. Just as he looked up the giant breach in the sky, it erupted and bolts of energy shot down, hitting the ground in the distance. Shrieks emerged from the impacts.

“Shit. There goes my beauty sleep,” a deep voice suddenly came from below, caused him to almost jump out of his skin. He cursed inwardly as he turned his gaze. Again, he had missed a person standing directly in front of him! He had practised this over and over again, using the only senses he had left in this world, but now the chaos distracted him. A breach hadn't been part of his training. And demon's cries and Titan's blood and desperate people running around, humans and elves alike. And...durgen'len.

Solas blinked, but the image didn't go away. He was aware that he stared, but unable to look away. He knew theoretically that many of them had left the deep roads and lived on the surface. They weren't rare and he shouldn't act as if they were. But the last time he had seen one of them, they had been a part of a frightful, mysterious army. Faceless soldiers, enclosed in heavy armour, moving as one person and following unspoken orders. It felt unreal to stand in front of one of them and not have a horde charging at him. His own advice had cost countless of their lives. Unjustified.

And now he saw a face, the sharp edges of a chin, a broad forehead, soft hair, not unlike any other he knew, loosely tied together. The same red colour as the hair on a chest with distinct muscles that were so casually presented. “My face is up here, by the way”, the voice rasped and then chuckled. Solas was surprised to see an amused smile and warm brown eyes scanning him. So very vividly. “I meant no offence”, Solas pressed out. “None taken. I never get tired of saying it.” Then there was an awkward pause while Solas wondered how to act naturally around a durgen'len.

“Are you good with that thing? Looks like there's another demon outbreak and I think we should do something about it.” Solas eventually realized he meant the staff on his back. He glanced back at his guards and the tent next to the chantry. “Ah, I get it. Nightingale won't mind if you save everyone's ass, though. Someone has to keep the arrows away while me and Bianca put holes into demons.” Solas still hesitated. He hadn't planned to throw himself into a battle, considering his current state and the necessity of his survival. “Oh, you're not a battlemage, right? Sorry, you don't have to come. Guess I'm so used to travel with suicidal maniacs that I forget some actually have the will to live.” The durgen'len chuckled. “See you around then.” “Wait!”, Solas shouted after him. Letting others fight what he initiated felt terribly wrong. “I am coming.” “You sure?” Solas nodded, his features sharpening. “Lead the way.” And then he found himself fighting alongside a durgen'len. The situation was beyond absurd.

He didn't exactly enjoy killing demons, he merely understood that there was no better solution at the moment. These demons weren't created by a binding, they simply distorted because of the reality of this new world. He heard their disturbing call and he had to ignore the draw he felt towards them.

Apart from that, him and the durgen'len worked quite well together, to Solas' continuing surprise. His random comrade was a rogue with unbelievable agility compared to his heavily armoured ancestors. He jumped and spun, sending a continuos rain of bolts at his enemies. He fought effectively against enemies which appeared and disappeared on a whim.

In addition, the breach worked well for Solas. He felt much lighter that usual, spinning his staff and dodging spells, rivalling the durgen'len's speed. The fade made waves around him, constantly searching his connection. The veil bent at his will, more flexible than it ever was, and opened little rifts for him, allowing the fade's essence to spill out. Solas felt like dancing. His barriers became thicker than usual, allowing the rogue more time to aim.

They didn't fight alone. Other soldiers joined them, or were already involved in a battle. He heard someone shout orders, presumably of a higher rank. “You! Mage!”, the voice directed at him. “Solas is the name”, he clarified. “Solas! And Master Tethras”, the officer went on with an appreciating look at the durgen'len. “Asher needs help! By the river!” Master Tethras seemed to know what that meant. “No sweat”, was his short answer. And together they sought out the party of “Asher”, that was confronted with rage and despair demons. Solas shouted out his advice, since no one of them seemed to have experience with demons.

After a while, he just felt good fighting alongside others for a common cause. Not as a “god”, but as a part of a group. It awoke a longing in him he had suppressed for millennia. Even the danger, the spell that left bloody tears in his upper arm and the burn marks on his leg didn't spoil it for him. Only when he realized what they were doing, he deflated. This was too much like the old days. Alleged heroes, attacking victims and celebrating their death. He wondered why he was doomed to end up in battles like these.

Master Tethras let out a triumphant cry when the last demon dissolved in a cloud of smoke. More cheers followed from the party, the soldiers slapping each other's shoulders, throwing fists in the air and giving out health potions. Solas remembered this, celebrating every good moment that occurred, giving it a meaning, because the next battle was already on the way. Although he tensed when a soldier slapped his shoulder. He accepted the potion though. It seemed that despite the mage-templar-war, the party was just glad for every help.

With the battle over, Solas stopped tearing at the fade. Promptly, the numbness fell over him again, the difference being more plain than before. He was sure he'd never get used to this, disconnecting to the world around him. Hearing and seeing everything as if he was under water.

“Come on, let's have a drink before this breach can stop us”, Master Tethras said to him specifically and Solas followed. It could've been a great opportunity for the durgen'len to backstab him somewhere in a corner. Instead, he stopped in front of a campfire. A kettle hung above the flames, supposedly holding the drink. His comrade lifted the lid, revealing a clear liquid and stirred it with a ladle. He took in the scent with long sniffs. “Yeah, that's good...” He began to pour it into mugs.

Solas couldn't identify the smell. It was rather faint. “What is it?” “Ah, that? Just water and spices. The real deal is this.” He brought a flask from his pocket and let a tiny drop of its content fall into every mug. “Koslun's Tears”, he said with a wink. Then he clinked his mug against Solas' and took a deep gulp. Solas sipped curiously until he recoiled coughing. Although the majority being water and spices, the tiny drop made the drink so sharp, it burned down his throat. “Careful”, Master Tethras warned too late. “The pure stuff would melt your flesh from your bones. Not even Qunari drink it pure, though I won't bet on it. You shouldn't get too cocky with it.” “Thanks for the warning”, Solas rasped. “You'll feel better soon, trust me. It warms you right up. I brought it from Kirkwall. The tavern here is fit for chantry sisters and pilgrims. Not exactly what you need when shit like this happens.” “If you say so...” “Still hoarse? Ah...it's not that I haven't seen elves drink it, but one of them had lyrium marks burned into his skin and the other one was a blood mage...”

Solas, not understanding half of his ramblings, suddenly felt the urge to laugh. At the absurdity and beauty of this situation. He could've listened to Master Tethras' soothing voice for hours, hearing who knows what about the new world he didn't understand, drinking this unholy brew that boiled in his throat. Whatever he had expected to find in Haven, this wasn't it. Suppressing his laughter didn't work out as hoped. It made him chuckle madly. He covered his face with his elbow, what didn't help either. “Hey, what's so funny?” Solas only shook his head, unable to speak. “Maybe this isn't so good for elves after all.” In secret, Varric was glad to see this sad elf smile. Eventually, Solas' fit faded and he wiped tears from his cheeks. “Feel better now?” “Yes...”, he sighed and sniffed. “Thank you for the drink, Master Tethras.”

The durgen'len huffed. “Let that master go. I'm Varric to my friends.” Solas' heart missed a beat. Now they were friends? He didn't know durgen'len were so quick with making friends. He didn't know anything about them, actually. Did drinking together have a deeper meaning? A ritual? Or was “friend” merely a polite title for guests? Allies? Acquaintances? And what did that “master” title imply? “So...are you a general of this army?” Varric laughed. “Far from it. I'm an author. Somewhat popular. My bestseller is a crime series, 'Hard in Hightown', maybe you've heard of it? And most recently 'The Tale of the Champion.' That General Hasley is a fan.” “You wrote 'The Tale of the Champion'? I apologize for not recognizing you, Master Tethras.” Varric waved him off. “No need. I'm not exactly showing my face around, Chuckles.” Solas winced at the nickname. It seemed like durgen'len weren't only quick with friendship, but also with naming. Compared to his other names, he truly earned this one.

“...And just when you're having fun...”, Varric suddenly muttered into his drink. “What's wrong?” “Looks like the Lady Seeker is coming at us.” “Koslun's Tears are not illegal, or are they?” “Nah, but we better not offer her some.” Another human woman planted herself in front of Solas, standing tall in her chantry armour. He could see her face with sharp cheekbones and dark, stern eyes, framed by short, black hair.

“Good to see a friendly face around here, Seeker”, Varric promptly began the conversation, much to her annoyance. “I suppose you are Solas”, she said ignoring Master Tethras. “The elven apostate Sister Leliana told me about.” She had a different accent. Solas guessed the Free Marches or Nevarra. “You are correct. Who do I owe the pleasure?” “I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth and Right Hand of Divine Justinia. Sister Leliana said you offer us your help.” “I did. I already examined the survivor in the dungeons to contain the damage and I helped clearing the area of demons.” “And he's damn good at it”, Varric threw in. “Ask Asher if you don't believe me.” “What is your goal exactly? Saving her life?” She nodded at the chantry. “I believe the magic that infected her hand came from the same spell that opened the breach. If she is to survive, we have a chance to close it. With or without her approval.” “So you are exactly who we need.” “I...As much as I am tempted to give in to such flattery, I must admit...I cannot promise you anything. I achieved to calm the mark, but the effect is not permanent. I will have to see her again. And I cannot promise a satisfying outcome. I might not be exactly who you need, but I have not seen other options.” “You are the only one who had a positive effect on the mark.” “This flattery I accept.”

She squinted her eyes. Her presence radiated authority, more brusque than Sister Leliana's. Solas concluded that the Left and Right Hand of the Divine had taken control over the remaining forces. Time would tell if they merely accepted their duty or if they saw opportunities. There was something else in Cassandra's aura – most notably, she had an aura at all. But she wasn't a mage, nor a templar. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

“Isn't this lovely, how we all come along?” Varric interrupted their pause. “Templars, mages, torturers and victims working together for a common cause? Feels just like home.” “You will find me less flattering if you lied to me.” Cassandra ignored Varric again. “I am certain you are not to be messed with, Seeker of Truth.” Varric was surprised by how this elf stood his ground. Humble or not, he didn't flinch once. Stood with a straight back as if it felt natural for him to speak to a woman of her rank. Even the little bow he took was respectful, but not submissive. “For the time being, you are allowed to enter the chantry's dungeons whenever you find it necessary. And it's your choice if you join the mages in their camp or stay on your own.” “That is very generous of you, Seeker. I will do my best to repay the debt.” He bowed again.

Varric thought that this time, she deserved it. He could've sworn she'd throw him in with the rest. The mages and templars – there was so much tension in the air. He wouldn't have liked to get Chuckles caught in it, forced to take sides. He didn't look like he had a side in this war and he was brave for coming here. Just another one of these suicidal fools after all. The sort Hawke would have picked up, given a new home, a pretty outfit, a pat on the head and off he'd go follow him around like a puppy. “Varric, anything helpful to say? About the demons perhaps?” “Why, me? That they stink and make your teeth hurt. Just like the last hundred times they showed up.” The Seeker made an annoyed noise. “That's it, then.” She walked away while the eyes of all soldiers were on her. Solas' too.

She surprised him. First, because she allowed Varric to behave like this around her. Second, because she told him nothing about her but her name and rank. No endless speech about her line of ancestors, her accomplishments, her titles and how she expected to be worshipped by him. And even though all eyes followed her, she didn't make this situation about herself. Sister Leliana was different. She was secretive and lurking in the shadows. He didn't expect her to brag. But the Seeker...That was another reason to be careful around her.

“That went surprisingly well, Chuckles. I think she likes you.” Solas chuckled. “If that is her sympathy, I do not want to see her resentment.” “Yeah...Just keep your head down. And stay the ass-kicking battlemage you are.” “Thank you. If I knew I would get so many compliments in a human settlement, I would have moved to an alienage.” Varric laughed. “Today's full of surprises.” “It is indeed.”

After another drink with Varric, Solas went into the dungeons again. The mark had already begun to pulse slowly. He grabbed her wrist and worked his magic. Later, he decided to sleep in the dungeons, so he could watch over the mark while recovering. When he slept, the breach called for him. It dominated the fade in this place, more so than the black city. He couldn't resist coming closer and every time he felt like falling upwards, diving into the sky. He didn't resist, let it carry him up where a song hung in the air, faintly in the distance. A lullaby. Or a summoning. He wanted to hear more. He awoke when the mark acted up, drawing from the breach, pulling him back down.

Working on the mark challenged his skills. He had to pull his hood deeply over his eyes and ears to cut off other stimuli, helping his focus. He had to touch the mark, stir it to reveal its nature. Every time, he learned more about it. How it ate into the woman's body. He managed to numb its roots with the same brutality that numbed the world, but in this case it was necessary. And as soon as he did it, the body recovered, in the course of hours. She needed a lot of healing spells and drops of lyrium potions – the templars wouldn't allow more. Because she was a mage. He felt the thin strands that reached into the fade. Fragile and weak, but existent. He helped her body help herself. And finally, after days of work, the woman's consciousness awoke.

Her memories pressed into his mind and he allowed them to enter. He saw the fragmented landscape of the fade, the green sky, the breach twirling from above. Sharp rocks cut into her hands and knees as she tried to climb them. Screeches of demons behind her. Another voice shouted – was it her own? Then a blinding light – falling and ascending at once.

They gasped in unison when they came back to their senses.

It was only the Dalish elf that stared at him and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Notes:

“aria'sulahn”: the song's vessel (the elvhen word for the orb, clumsily cobbled together by me with the help of FenxShiral's lexicon. “Foci” as the plural of “focus” should be a Tevene term and not the word ancient elves use. “aria” actually means cage, circle, trap or barrier, but you get the meaning.)

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve #dragon age varric #dragon age cassandra

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 3 years

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- The Sweater Thief -

Summary: Your husband, Walter Marshall, confronts you about the mysterious case of his sweaters constantly disappearing from the wardrobe.

Pairing: Walter Marshall × Reader as Mrs. Marshall

Content Warnings: A bit of fluff in handcuffs 🔗, if you squint there might be a hint of implied smut so 18+!

A/N: Based upon this ask here by @demotalias and the fact that uni from home seems to drain almost all creative focus from me, I came up with some Walter Marshall HC, because I'm not feeling any of my other WIPs.

Walter had been giving you that side-eye glance all evening long. He clearly was annoyed by something and you were quite sure that it wasn't something regarding his work.

Actually, you were rather certain that your plan worked out - finally - and that you caught your husband's attention by acting a little kleptomaniac towards his fluffy sweaters, that were worn out just the right amount, revelling in them everytime he was gone for work.

Walter was so caught up in his most recent case that he barely found time for the two of you. You understood and knew that he was first and foremost married to his job, yet you found this to be a very effective way to remind him from time to time that he was also married to you.

After some subtle hint-dropping you got more and more bold, leaving the worn clothes hanging in the bathroom, tossing them over his bureau chair and eventually sleeping in them for him to see you wearing them when Walt came home in the dead of night.

As you were about to leave the dinner table to go and watch some TV, Walter's eyes narrowed at you. You met his glare as he told you to sit back down and so you did, a devious smirk playing around your lips.

"What is it?" You asked him innocently and crossed your legs.

"Show me your hands." He demanded, piercing you with an intense stare.

"Excuse me?" You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Am I stuttering?" He tapped the table with the palm of his hand where he expected yours to be.

Taken aback quite a bit you let your hands wander across the table just for your wrists to be pressed together firmly.

"Mrs. Marshall..." Walter proceeded as you tried to withdraw your wrists from his clutch "You are hereby arrested."

With his free hand Walter swiftly unbuckled a pair of handcuffs from his belt and wrapped them around your wrists, ultimately forcing them to stay in place.

You found yourself giggling at that and you were certain to have caught his attention.

"Detective! I'm sure there must be some kind of misunderstanding. You may want to tell me what crime I'm held accountable for, sir?"

Your grin widened even more as you noticed your husband clenching his jaw ever so slightly. That tiny, innocent Sir at the end of your sentence didn't went unheard and if you kept that up you, for sure, would have his attention for longer than just this little show here.

( gif by @cavillvirus )

Walt titled his head a bit, hardly withholding a smile himself.

"I'm afraid the evidence led me to conclude that you, Mrs. Marshall, are the mysterious sweater thief that seems to be raiding my wardrobe for the past two weeks."

While presenting the charges against you, his fingers played around the chain connecting the cuffs, softly tugging at them to see how your body would react upon the cold metal grazing over your skin.

"Interesting, interesting..." , you nodded slowly "And what does the Detective think should be done about this?"

"We could go about this in two ways: Either you pleade guilty, I can assure you a quick, but nonetheless thorough process in court or you pleade innocent and I surely need to enforce some serious investigations regarding this case."

The both of you grinned at each other by the time you leaned in and answered: "I pleade innocent until proven guilty!"

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall #nomis #night hunter #walter marshall headcanon #walter marshall fluff #walter marshall fic #walter marshall imagine #henry cavill #fuzzy sweater bear

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cherryatiny · 3 years

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𝙏𝙖𝙭𝙞 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬 - 𝙅.𝙔𝙃

⩥𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙩𝙖𝙭𝙞 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧!𝙅𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝙪𝙣𝙝𝙤 (𝘼𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙯) 𝙭 𝙛!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

⩥𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙣𝙤𝙣-𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡 𝘼𝙐

⩥𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3,0𝙠

⩥𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘽𝙤𝙩𝙝, 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙨𝙨'𝙨 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠-𝙪𝙥 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙭𝙞-𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚

⩥𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙪𝙥, 𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙤𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜), 𝙘𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮, 𝙨𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭 (𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙡), 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖, 𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙚

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Salty tears already at the brim of eyes, from the harsh words that came out of her bosses mouth. All this only because she submitted a work, one hour later than she was supposed to.

As she sat down at her desk, her head fallen in her palms, trying hard to stop herself from starting to cry. No crying in front of her boss. She can’t show him how his words affected her, how it breaks her when someone doesn’t validate her hard work and shouts at her.

Turning off her PC and arranging her work for the next day, the young girl was prepared to leave work and go home where her loving boyfriend Hyunsoo was waiting, the sound of her phone��s notification stopping her actions.

Picking up her smartphone and opening it with her fingermark, she saw a notification from Hyunsoo, quickly opening it to see what he wanted. If he hadn’t burnt the kitchen while trying to cook, it should be okay. At least that’s what she thought.

HyunHyun: Y/N, let’s break up

HyunHyun: I know it’s lame to announce through a message

HyunHyun: I didn’t want to see you cry, it’ll make me regret my actions

HyunHyun: But I just can’t keep on pretending my feelings for someone, when I lost them a long time ago

HyunHyun: I’ve already taken my belongings from your flat, so you don’t have to bother with it

HyunHyun: I found a girl I’m really happy to be with

HyunHyun: And I hope you’ll also find someone, who’ll be the right one and make you happy

HyunHyun: But it’s not me

HyunHyun: Live a good life, Y/N, you deserve only the best

She couldn’t believe what she just saw. Her now ex-boyfriend broke up with her. Over a text. The incident with her boss already forgotten as tears spilt down her cheeks. Eyes redder than blood, mascara running down her cheeks, and the top of her blouse already soaked from the tears.

This can’t be happening to her, not now, not today. She and Hyunsoo were meant to be, this must be some misunderstanding. She rushed home, only to find an empty flat, no more Hyunsoo’s dirty t-shirts, no sink full of unwashed bowls and plates, only his keys laying on the kitchen counter with a note.

„My keys.

When we run into each other one day, let’s not feel any hatred or malice. My feelings for you were sincere, unfortunately, they disappeared over the years, I still wish you the best.

- HyunHyun“

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

„Like... can you believe what he did, what a jerk. Break up with me through a message? He couldn’t even grow a pair and say it to my face, coward.“

Y/N has been babbling to her friend about her ex for over 2 hours now, still not understanding the fact how could he break up with her over a text.

„Look Y/N, I’m not going to comfort you with those stupid lines like ‘it is not your fault’, ‘it is his loss’, ‘maybe he was not the one’, but maybe just think of this as an opportunity to meet someone better, someone, who will love you and won’t meet other women behind your back.“

„I know, I know Sora, but I just, wasn’t prepared for this, he could have at least say it to my face and not act like he loved me for over three years. Today is really the worst day ever, my boss scolded me for nothing today, then Hyunsoo broke up with me, and now I’m probably going to throw up, from how bad this alcohol taste.“

Y/N sighed and kept playing with the straw in her drink, thinking about how hopeless everything was. She was about to lose her job and now she had no one who will comfort her after a bad day at work.

„Sora let’s go to a club, what do you think? Dance the sorrow away and hook up with some guys. You know, my sex life with Hyunsoo was disastrous, most of the time he couldn’t even get it up, and when he did, he came after a few minutes and left me with no orgasm. Now I’m finally free to get some good dick, without cheating on anyone.“

„Y/N aren’t you a bit tipsy? Let’s do this another day since you’re too drunk and afflicted, I don’t want you to do something stupid, you’ll regret it the next morning. I’ll call you a taxi to take you home, honey.“

Sora picked her phone up and dialled a phone number of a taxi driver, ordering the taxi to come pick up Y/N at the bar.

„The taxi was near, so it'll be here in 5 minutes, get your coat and try to not forget anything.”

As the two girls paid for their drinks, they went outside the bar to wait for the taxi. Autumn breeze caressing their cheeks, with coldness, colourful leaves falling on the path.

Soon after a yellow car with a 'TAXI' written on the side, was nearing the two figures. Sora opened the door, to talk to the taxi driver.

„Hey, um please take my friend Y/N to ***, she's a little bit drunk and afflicted, so if she starts babbling nonsense, don't mind her.”

The taxi driver smiled and nodded in understatement to Sora's words, as she pulled Y/N closer to her, to help her get into the back of the car. Y/N resisted and rather sat at the front

„Bye Y/N, call me when you get home and make yourself some good green tea to flow away the toxins and alcohol. And eat something, you'll get sober faster.”

Y/N waved her hand at her and closed the door, finally sighing and relieving after the hard day.

The car ride was quiet, the driver probably didn't want to make it awkward and force her to talk, since she was probably nauseous, but it had the opposite effect because of the awkward silence. The fact that Y/N couldn't get her eyes off the driver, didn't make it any better.

Dark piercing eyes, focused on the road, as his big, veiny hands with long and slim fingers tapped on the steering wheel. Occasionally twirling it to the right or left. His black hair with middle-part showing off part of his forehead making him even more attractive, if that was possible. She just couldn't take her eyes off the handsome man.

„Uhm, do you want me to turn on the radio or do you wanna talk maybe...?”

„You can talk, I'll just listen.. tell me something about you Mr. taxi driver”

„Well, I don't really have anything to talk about, but if that's what you want, your wish is my command I guess. Uhm... my name is Yunho, and I've been a taxi driver for two years, apart from that, my life is just pretty boring, when I don't work I usually go to the dance studio or am out with my friends, that's all I really don't know what to talk about.”

„Okay if you don't want to talk, then listen pretty boy, this is the worst day of my life, I was the whipping-boy for my boss today and then my boyfriend broke up with me after cheating on me... why did this happen to me? I did nothing wrong in my life, all I did was work hard and this is how society repays me. Can you believe it?”

„Well, look, I’m a single taxi-driver. I have no boss or a partner who’d cheat on me, so I don’t think I can give you any valued advice, but maybe try to be more positive? Think of it as an opportunity, to meet someone better I guess.“

'The sane shit Sora told me' thought Y/N. She lied back on her seat as the car stopped because of a traffic jam. With the alcohol banging in her head, she leaned a bit closer, her hand landing on Yunho’s muscular thigh to stabilize herself. Yunho could feel her hot breath on his neck as she just noiselessly stared at him.

„Y/N ehm.. what are you doing.“

„Just observing you. You know Yunho, you’re much more attractive than my ex, I would swap you two right away.“

„I think you’re too drunk, Y/N. Just wait until we get to the address your friend gave me, I think the traffic jam will go away soon.“

As Yunho said that, Y/N just moved her hand more up his thigh, close to his crotch, her fingertips fiddling with the material of his jeans. His breathing quickening, his legs shaking as he saw the traffic moving, leg accelerating the speed by stepping in the accelerator.

„Y/N-ah... you’re drunk.“

Yunho pulled the car over to the side of the road, in the middle of nothing. No cars, no people. Perfect. His hands fell and gripped her wrists. He knew this wasn't right, she was his customer after all, but he couldn't resist.

„Don’t start what you can’t handle.“

He turned to look at Y/N’s flushed face, leaning closer to her, lips attacking her neck and leaving kitten licks and bites. His hand going up to her thigh, slipping under her skirt, rubbing her clit through the material of her panties.

„Spread your legs for me, baby.“

Yunho pulled his seat down into a horizontal position, tapping his thighs, motioning for Y/N to straddle his lap. Y/N undid her seat-belt and sat on Yunho’s crotch, his bulge getting more and more visible as arousal filled the car.

Yunho let his hand do the magic, as soft and drunk moans left Y/N’s lips. Yunho connecting their lips, his tongue slipping into her mouth to suppress her moans.

As he broke up the connection between their lips a string of saliva dripping down their lips on the seat.

Her hips brushing and grinding on him, the material of his jeans stimulating her clitoris delicately. Leaning in to unzip his leather jacket. Yunho stripped of his t-shirt as Y/N did the same with her dress, leaving her only in her panties and bra, which didn’t last long as Yunho sat and adjusted himself, his chest pressing against her as he unclipped her bra, letting it fall.

„Are you sure you want to-“

„Shut up and kiss me.“

„Oh baby, you’re not the one to give commands.”

His hands wrapped around her, pulling her down to lay on top of him, his lips kissing her hungrily, his hands coming up to grasp her breasts.

„Unzip my pants and fuck yourself on my big cock, as I suck on these pretty tits.“

Y/N clenched on nothing, his dirty words arousing her more than she expected, whimpering and adjusting herself on his much bigger figure. Her fingers unzipped his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers to his knees. Subconsciously gulping at the sight of his erected cock, certainly the biggest dick she’s ever seen or had in her. How the fuck was it going to fit?

„Impressed? Get to work then. I’m sure your pretty little pussy will take it.“

She grabbed his member and slid it along her lips, wetting his tip with her slick, as she positioned his tip to her entrance. Sinking slowly to let herself adjust to his size, moans and whimpers left her swollen lips.

„Fuck baby, you're taking me so well, so tight and warm.”

Y/N let her hips sink up and down on Yunho's bottom, his hands found their way to cup her breasts. Fondling and caressing them. His fingertips rubbing and pinching her hardened nipples. Hands roaming all over her body, enjoying the view of Y/N fucking herself on his big dick.

Seeing the pleasure in her eyes and feeling the knot creating in his lower stomach, signalizing his climax, his fingers went lower and lower, down to where their bodies were connected, parting her folds which glistened from all the arousal.

His thumb pressing against her clit, Y/N’s walls clenching around Yunho’s length from the unexpected pleasure, sharp inhales were heard as the feeling of his thumb pressing against her nub added to the pleasure of his girthy dick hitting her g-spot. His thumb began to draw circles around her clit, bringing Y/N closer to her orgasm.

Her smaller frame spasming on top of him, hands gripping on the seat under them, juices spilling on his dick as her velvet walls clenched around him.

„Cu-cum in me Yunho, I’m on the pill“ blabbering leaving her lips, as Yunho thrust his hips into hers from below as he released his semen into her hole.

Yunho flipped both of them, so that he was on top, as he looked at her fucked figure, Y/N still breathing heavily from the intense session with him. His lips attaching themself to her neck and collar bones, licking and biting marks on her.

Moans left her lips at Yunho’s dirty words, nodding her head as she looked at the handsome man on top of her, his broad shoulders and muscular chest, covering her frame, feeling so small underneath him. His hands grabbing her legs as he bends them in knees, to help him position himself better in between her legs.

„Fuck, Y/N, you felt so good, I loved the way your tits bounced as you fucked yourself on me, so pretty for me.

Maybe I should be the one to fuck you this time, fuck the cum deep into your cunt, would you like that beautiful?“

„Put your legs on my shoulders.“

Y/N straightened her legs and laid them on his shoulders, Yunho wrapping his hands around them and leaving small kisses on them, going from her ankles up to her thighs. Detaching himself from her legs, he positioned his tip by her pussy, smacking it on her clit, and slipping into her.

Y/N shuddered as his girth stretched her hole, still not used to the feeling, stretching her far beyond what she was used to. Containing her whimpers as Yunho started to slam his hips into her, holding her by her legs to keep her in the place.

She held onto his shoulders, to stabilise herself, so she’s not bouncing too much on the seat, crying out from the position of Yunho’s hips, The angle hitting her g-spot repeatedly. Beads of sweat creating on his exposed forehead, their heavy panting filling the small space of the taxi car.

His eyes diverting down from her beautiful face, the bulge in her stomach catching his attention. Fingers going down to caress and press on it. Loving the way her small body couldn’t even take his dick.

„Aww baby, look at the bulge in your tummy, do you see how your small body can’t take my big dick, so small and fragile, I just want to wreck you and see you break apart on my dick.“

Whimpers leaving her mouth from the sight of the bulge in her stomach, pout forming on her lips, Yunho loved the way her eyes shut tightly.

„Don’t grit your teeth and let those sinful sounds come out, tell me how good I make you feel.“

Only blabbers leaving her mouth as she tried to say something.

„Oh so cute, is my dick making you feel so good that you can’t even say something coherent? Are you going to cum soon, baby?“

„Y-yes ah Yunho.“ Tears spilling out of her shut eyes from the endless thrusts of his hips into her bottom half. Feeling Y/N cum all over him, it took only a few more thrust of his hips to release himself into her, loud grunts falling from his lips.

When they both came down from their climaxes, their breath steadying. Kissing her lips and sitting down to dress himself and then dress Y/N.

„Yunho? Uhm, do you want to come over? You know... to clean yourself and maybe eat something, I’m a pretty good cook.“

„I’d love that, Y/N.“

„Uhm, I-I’ll get you a towel and something to get dressed in, so you can shower while I cook...“

As Yunho dressed her, Y/N sat down on the passenger seat, he pulled his seat up and drove to the final destination which was Y/N’s place.

As Y/N unlocked the door to her quiet and empty apartment, they both stepped in.

„No, either you go shower and I cook, or you shower with me and then we’ll cook together.“

„Shower together it is then.“

Y/N intervened her fingers with Yunho’s as she took him into the shower. Both of them rubbing off the dirt of each other as they laughed and smiled together. The smell of bubblegum and flower shampoo filling the air.

„Y/N stay still as I dry you.“

They both bundled each other into bathrobes soft and fluffy smiles on their faces. Putting on some underwear underneath those bathrobes, the two of them went to the kitchen to cook something to eat. Deciding to make some broccoli pasta with cheese, since broccoli was the only thing in her empty refrigerator.

„Eat Y/N, it’ll help you get sober faster, don’t make me feed you...“

Even though it might not be understandable for some people, the two of them felt like they’ve known each other forever and a day.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Y/N rubbed her eyes, quiet snores were coming out of the manly figure laying next to her, his strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to his bare and warm chest, his face snuggled into the crook of her neck. Maybe Hyunsoo’s idea to break-up with you wasn’t that bad after all...

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