#I like Loyalty's Meander though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auroravictorium · 1 year

Text

you're on your own, kid (k.b.)

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown, and I saw something they can't take away.

Summary: set before the midnights series takes place, reader has been a member of the dregs for only a year and has developed a crush on kaz in that time. one night after her shift, her loyalty to the dregs is accidentally put to the test, and things begin to change between kaz and reader.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (pining by reader) Word Count: ~2.9k Warnings: violence [blood, fighting, stab wounds], death of unimportant character, drinking by jesper and reader, no insight into kaz's feelings in this one bc he's getting his own prequel piece <3, very light proofreading Genre: pretty fluffy until the fight scene

Author's Note: sorry about the delay on posting this, everyone! i've been sick, but i'm feeling better and ready to write again :)) thank you for the requests i've gotten so far - i'm SO EXCITED to write them!! enjoy!

grishaverse masterlist / kaz pov for this piece (coming soon!)

The humid summer air pressed down on you as you rushed the few blocks from the Slat to the Crow Club. The heat made you tired, and you took what you thought would be a short midday nap in your room. The nap ended up lasting longer than expected, and now you were twenty minutes late to your shift at the Crow Club. Cursing under your breath, you adjusted the collar of your dress against your sticky neck as you darted down the uneven sidewalk in your rush to make up for being late.

"Move," you muttered under your breath, shoving past a meandering patron and swiping his pocket watch as you passed. You dashed into the Club and passed Jesper at the door as the man realized he'd been pickpocketed. He roared something unintelligible behind you, and you only smirked as you pushed your way to the bar to relieve the poor Dreg who was still there.

She shot you a glare and left, and you only shrugged back before getting to work. Whatever. She'd been late more times than you could count.

You were able to pour two drinks before a cane thumped against the floor behind you. Wincing, you turned to see your boss looking at you impassively. "You're late," Kaz said. He surveyed you up and down, and you tried not to blush under his gaze.

"I overslept." There was no use lying or coming up with a better excuse. Lying to Kaz was a death wish, and you liked your position in the Dregs enough to not want to lose it. After a full year with them, you'd finally established yourself with the group and made friends with Nina and Jesper. You'd even gotten to know Inej somewhat, and you longed to know her better and learn from her.

Kaz considered that for a moment. "Don't let it happen again." He walked off to probably scare someone else, and you exhaled heavily and returned to making drinks. When he was around, you could hardly breathe and found yourself struggling to look at him directly. Those blue eyes made you want to blush, and the butterflies in your stomach churned violently. It was no secret that people found Kaz attractive, but you'd rather jump into the harbor in the middle of winter than have your feelings exposed. Your cohorts in the Dregs would never let you live in peace.

Regardless, nothing could happen. Kaz was the boss. You were still working to establish yourself in the Dregs; you were surprised he even noticed your tardiness. That's how much of a nobody you figured you were, even though he recruited you himself after word spread of someone causing trouble for the rich.

Boots thumped against the floorboards as Jesper, fresh off the door, shoved his way over and plopped himself on a stool before you. "He let you off easy," Jesper said. You set a clean shot glass on the counter and rifled for his favorite liquor. "Must be in a good mood."

You shot him a look, pausing your shuffling. "Kaz is never in a good mood."

"He never tolerates lateness, either," Jesper pointed out. He jerked his chin toward the shot glass and batted his eyelashes. "Please?"

Shaking your head, you found the liquor and poured Jesper a shot. He bowed his head to you as if you were a Saint, then downed the drink in one smooth gulp. "You're insufferable," you told him.

"You love me." He set his glass down and swiveled to survey the crowded Club around you. "Caught three men trying to get in with fake coin." Jesper clicked his tongue. "Explains why Boss is here."

You didn't respond and pretended to examine the room. But your eyes lingered on a well-tailored figure roaming the less-populated parts of the Crow Club. The crow's head of his cane shimmered in the dim lighting, allowing you to keep track of his movements as he strolled this way and that, seemingly without a care in the world. His hair was slicked back today, the sides a bit shorter than the last time you'd seen him; he must have cut his hair. It suits him, you thought. It complemented his angular face, and with his hair out of the way, you could see his eyes.

His eyes were as blue as the sky on a rare day when the clouds parted over Ketterdam. They were your favorite thing about him, aside from the image of his smile you'd conjured in your mind. You'd never seen it and likely never would, but you indulged in your imagination. As long as word of your tiny crush on Kaz didn't get out, you would allow yourself to wonder whether he had dimples.

Jesper glanced at you and then followed your gaze to where Kaz was subtly looking over a man's shoulder at his cards. He leaned over the bar and whispered in your ear, "You're staring."

You jerked, nearly bumping his glass, then swatted him on the shoulder. "No, I'm not." Your cheeks burned, and you turned your back so that Jesper couldn't see your face. Damn it, Y/N. Couldn't wait to stare until Jesper left?

"You totally were." Jesper reached and ruffled your hair, and you smacked his hands away with a fierce scowl. "Does Y/N have a crush?" he asked in a sing-song voice. He abandoned his stool and rounded the counter to bump his shoulder with yours. He helped himself, pouring another shot and waggling his eyebrows at you.

"I will break your nose," you hissed. Your face and neck were hot, and you glanced over at Kaz to make sure he hadn't noticed the two of you. Nobody else seemed to notice either, but you needed Jesper to shut up before that changed. "Stop talking, Jesper."

"Oooh, you do," Jesper sang. Drink in one hand, he wrapped his other arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. "Y/N has a crush on-"

You grabbed Jesper's arm and ducked under it before giving it a sharp twist. Not hard enough to harm him, but with enough force that he shut his damned mouth. He winced and set down his drink to rub his shoulder. "Don't," you warned him. "I don't want anyone to know." You frowned and poured another drink as a regular walked through the door and straight toward the bar.

Jesper softened at the look on your face and lost his teasing mood. "What's the worst that can happen?" He nudged you gentler this time.

"I get laughed out of the Dregs and end up back on the streets," you answered, already sliding the regular's drink to him by the time he produced kruge and set it on the counter. He added a few coins for a tip, and you flashed him a false smile of thanks before turning back to Jesper. "It's not going to happen, Jesper," you whispered. "I've accepted that. It's just a stupid thing, and it'll go away."

"You don't know that," Jesper insisted, ever the optimist. You shook your head, and he rushed to continue. "You can always test it, see if there's a spark there."

"How am I supposed to do that, exactly? Tell him, 'Oh, hey, by the way, I wanted to ask whether there's a spark between us,'" you said mockingly. You grabbed a torn-up rag and started to viciously scrub at an impossible stain on the counter. You didn't even know why you were starting to get upset with Jesper; it wasn't as if he was being hurtful. He was offering genuine suggestions for navigating your feelings, but you were frustrated by it. Maybe it was the fact that it would never happen. Kaz didn't show interest in anyone but himself and his money. End of story.

"Well, don't say that," Jesper muttered. "A recipe for disaster. Why don't you start by saying hi and see how that goes?"

You faced Jesper and put on your best Kaz glare. After a few beats of silence, you broke and gave him your own scowl. "That's how he would respond, Jesper."

You forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. You were just embarrassed that Jesper had seen right through you. That's all this was, and Jesper didn't deserve the brunt of it. You'd scream into your stupid, flimsy pillow at the Slat later. "I appreciate the advice, Jesper, but I don't want to talk about this anymore. Now, if you're going to stand behind the bar like an obstacle," you began, throwing the dirty rag at him. He batted it out of the air with a disgusted look, and you smirked in satisfaction. "Either leave or help clean."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Jesper said. He picked the rag up from the ground and held it away from him as if it were poisonous. After throwing it in a bin, he turned to you with that classic, charming Jesper smile. "I'll be at the Slat."

"Please, don't say anything," you pleaded. You caught his arm as he turned to leave. "Please, Jesper."

He stopped and looked down at you. Seeing the desperation on your face, he nodded slowly. "I won't, sweetheart." He ruffled your hair one more time to see your grimace and the look in your eyes that promised violence, then he was off and swaggering out of the Club.

You sighed in relief and leaned against the counter, fixing the hair that Jesper had disturbed. Seeing the shot on the counter he'd left behind, you considered before grabbing it and knocking it back. The alcohol burned on its way down, tasting bitter and vaguely treelike, and you wanted to gag. But you needed the confidence because the whole exchange with Jesper made you wish you were anywhere else. At least alcohol didn't tease you about your stupid crush. It just helped you through it.

Miraculously, the rest of your shift passed with no further encounters with Kaz or anyone else who could tease you. You made it back to the Slat, your coin pouch weighed down with tips, and you took the steps two at a time up to the attic to deliver your tips for the day. They'd make their way back to you eventually, but Kaz liked to catalog them to get a sense of how his Dregs were doing bringing in revenue.

A true businessman, except infinitely more terrifying.

You slipped into his office, grateful that you'd seen him still patrolling the Club when you left. Unless he could be in two places at once, you were safe. Depositing your pouch on his desk with a short note, you turned to leave.

A thump sounded from the room connecting to Kaz's office. Metal scraping on metal came next, making your ears ring. The hairs on the back of your neck rose, and you immediately slipped your favorite dagger from its sheathe at your waist. The weight was comforting in your hand as you crept toward the door and leaned against the wall next to it, listening.

Silence. A heavy, unnatural silence. And then slow, creeping footsteps moved right toward the door.

Goosebumps rose along your skin despite the hot summer air. This was not a Dreg. Nobody entered Kaz's bedroom unless they had a death wish, and there was only one way to get in. There was someone in there who definitely shouldn't be.

The footsteps to the door, and you threw your weight at it as you opened it. Someone grunted behind the door and stumbled back, and you rounded it to find a man twice your size dressed in all black, except for the gleaming mop of golden hair on his head.

Not a Dreg.

Your days on the streets returned to you, and you made the first move while he was dazed. You shoved him back toward a small, teetering bookshelf in the corner. He collapsed into it. The wood turned to dust, and thick books rained down on his head and hit the floor with loud thumps. His back hit the wall behind the shelf as it damn near disintegrated underneath him. He recovered quickly, pulling his own weapon from a sheath at his thigh and advancing on you.

You exchanged blows. The man was strong and put most of his weight behind each swing, and the blade narrowly missed your face when he slashed a wide arc in an attempt to disarm you. You ducked as he used his free hand to try to punch you, and you shoved his arms away as you came back up, bringing your knee to his gut. He groaned but was unaffected enough that he could plunge his dagger toward your chest. Unable to dodge completely after putting too much weight into the blow to his stomach, you settled for turning to bear the impact.

The blade pierced your shoulder, and you clenched your teeth to muffle your cry of agony. White-hot pain ran through you, and it took every piece of training you had to resist the urge to drop your weapon and cup the seeping wound. Your knuckled turned white as you gripped your knife tighter and went straight for his throat, taking advantage of his moment of satisfaction.

The man gurgled as your blade made contact with his skin, and blood sprayed onto your hands, face, and clothes. He released his dagger and crumbled to the floor with a loud thud, cupping his throat and staring up at the ceiling with wide, agonized eyes.

You knelt over him and shoved his shirt sleeve up. The limpness of your left arm made the task difficult, but you managed by gritting your teeth to muffle your heavy breathing. Something was severed. No time to think about that. Focus. Who the hell was this man who was clearly sent to kill Kaz?

A tattoo stared up at you, dark as night against his skin. It looked as you expected: a cat curled on top of a crown, with the Dime Lions' motto beneath it. You recoiled in disgust and shoved his arm away from you. Standing, you stepped on the Dime Lion's hand and felt the bones snap. Twisted satisfaction ran through you. He deserves much worse.

He didn't respond to the pain. Blood pooled on the floor, puddling beneath him and seeping into the old wood. He was gone, well and truly, and his eyes were glassy and blank. They were turned toward the ceiling as if the Saints could help him now. If you weren't trembling with anger, pain, and adrenaline, you would have closed his eyes, although he didn't deserve the gesture.

Footsteps thundered behind you, and you whirled, ready for more would-be assassins to arrive. Instead, Jesper, Inej, Kaz, and a few miscellaneous Dregs piled into the room, their weapons drawn and aimed.

Jesper's mouth dropped when he processed what stood before him, and he holstered his guns. "Saints," he breathed. His eyes flicked between you and the man behind you, disbelief shining in them.

Your dagger thudded to the ground as the adrenaline suddenly left your body. The blood was gushing from your shoulder faster, soaking the back of your dress and spreading toward the front. The Dime Lion struck deep, and your head began to spin. The air suddenly felt too cool, and you shivered, crossing your good arm across your chest.

What the hell just happened?

"Get Nina," Kaz ordered, turning to pierce the Dregs behind him with a glare. "Now."

The Dregs went, scrambling out the door and back down the stairs.

Kaz limped over toward the dead man lying behind you. You didn't notice his eyes lingering on you or how they dropped to your shoulder. There were dust motes in the air. Or maybe sawdust from the destroyed bookshelf. Maybe you were imagining it. "Grab her," Kaz said with an unexpected softness.

You were definitely imagining things now. Kaz didn't talk like that.

Jesper and Inej surged forward, supporting your weight and leading you to a seat in Kaz's office. The wound was nonlethal, but the blood loss certainly could be, and the two wasted little time in ripping the left shoulder of your dress off you and starting to apply pressure to the wound.

Through the open door, you saw Kaz investigating the dead man. You hardly felt the fingers probing at your wound as Kaz bent his head and looked over the scene.

"You did a good job," Inej whispered, bringing you back to yourself. She squeezed your uninjured arm to get your attention, and you turned your eyes to hers. She offered you a small, warm smile that reached her eyes. The tension in your good shoulder eased. She just had that effect. "You did what needed to be done."

Two sets of footsteps approached one from Kaz's bedroom and one from the hallway. Nina entered the office in a mess of skirts and unbound hair. Without hesitating, she knelt next to you and started to work.

You didn't focus on her, nor on Inej and Jesper starting to murmur around you about what happened, how they could have missed this, how they should respond.

Kaz leaned his shoulder against the doorway, putting his weight on his good leg, and he examined you. You met his blue gaze despite the butterflies going haywire in your stomach. Earlier, you'd been too shy to look at him, but now, having killed someone trying to kill him, you met his look head-on.

Everyone else disappeared. It was just you and Kaz.

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Well done.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3

568 notes · View notes

fanficapologist · 7 months

Text

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Forty

Autumn had descended upon the Red Keep gardens, painting a vivid tapestry of russet and gold across the landscape. The air carried the first hints of crispness, a harbinger of the season's arrival. The leaves of the trees, once resplendent in shades of green, now donned hues of crimson, gold, and amber, their canopies forming a vibrant canopy above. The air was crisp with the promise of cooler days to come.

The delicate scent of fallen leaves mingled with the sweet fragrance of late-blooming flowers, creating an olfactory symphony that enveloped all who ventured into this lush sanctuary. Fountains and reflecting pools still sparkled beneath the autumn sun, their waters mirroring the tranquil beauty of the changing world around them. Statues of the Seven, draped in ivy and lichen, seemed to watch over the shifting seasons with a serene wisdom.

Maera walked gracefully along the meandering pathway of the royal gardens, Ser Arryk at her side. The memory of Ser Arryk's previous role as a chaperone during her encounters with suitors flitted through her mind, particularly the one involving Lord Warren. How times had changed since then, she mused, her steps deliberate and measured.

As they strolled through the garden, Maera couldn't help but take in the surroundings. The lush greenery that had once been vibrant with summer life was now beginning to undergo a subtle transformation as autumn crept in. Leaves of red and gold had started to emerge, casting a warm and inviting hue over the landscape.

Maera's heart beat a little faster as she considered the significance of the impending meeting with Prince Aemond. The changing seasons and the watchful demeanor of her protector were stark reminders that courtly life, like the garden around her, was in a state of flux.

Turning her gaze to Ser Arryk, she couldn't help but notice that his normally expressive face was unusually stoic. His hazel eyes, typically warm and reassuring, were fixed on the path ahead with a fierce intensity. Even beneath his mousey brown beard, she could discern the telltale signs of tension – a clenched jaw and a firm resolve. It was as if he anticipated some unseen threat on this day, though his unwavering presence by her side offered a measure of comfort. Concern welled up within her, and she felt compelled to address it.

Maera came to a sudden halt, causing Ser Arryk to stop alongside her. "My lady?" he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity. Her pause was unexpected.

Maera looked into his eyes, her own filled with sincerity. "Ser Arryk," she began, her voice soft but earnest, "I want you to know how much I've appreciated your loyalty these past few months." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to think that we're more than just allies, that we're friends." Her eyes searched his for a hint of understanding, for she had noticed the change in his demeanor recently. "Is everything well with you?" she asked gently.

He acknowledged her concern with a genuine smile, saying, "Your concern for me warms my heart, my lady. I'm glad we share such a close bond." He let out a sigh, and with each step, the weight of his words became apparent.

"The truth is," Ser Arryk continued, "my nameday is approaching, and this will be the first time I spend it without Erryk." His voice carried a touch of melancholy as he revealed this deeply personal matter to Maera.

Empathetic to his feelings, Maera asked softly, "Do you miss your brother greatly?" She touched his arm sympathetically, her green eyes reflecting her genuine concern.

Arryk didn't hesitate in his response, his voice tinged with sorrow. "More than you know," he admitted, the weight of his emotions apparent in his words.

Maera offered a small, understanding smile, her heart aching for the knight. "I pray every night that this war will end soon," she confessed, "and now, I will pray that you and your brother find their way back to each other."

Arryk smiled at her sadly, gratitude evident in his eyes. Her compassion was a soothing balm to his wounded soul, and he appreciated her understanding.

She removed her arm from his and continued to walk beside him, her voice gentle. "Is there anything else that's been bothering you, Ser Arryk?" She hoped to provide him with an opportunity to express his thoughts. The knight paused, as if searching for the correct words within his mind.

"May I speak freely, my lady?" he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Maera nodded in agreement. "Of course, Ser Arryk. You may always speak your mind with me."

Ser Arryk spoke cautiously, his words heavy with unspoken concerns. "I cannot believe you are marrying Prince Aemond," he stated bluntly, his tone revealing the depth of his emotions.

Maera chuckled softly, assuming his concern was about her own feelings on the matter. "Believe me," she replied with a wry grin, "I felt the same way at first. I thought my head would be on a pike instead of becoming a princess." Her words were light-hearted, but Ser Arryk's reaction revealed a deeper sentiment.

His jaw tensed again as he clarified, "Lady Maera, you've misunderstood me." Confusion flickered in her eyes as she looked at him, waiting for an explanation. He emphasized his point with a touch of disdain, "I cannot believe you are marrying him." His words were heavy with unspoken concerns and perhaps a hint of disapproval, which left Maera pondering the complexity of her upcoming union with the prince.

Maera nodded resolutely, her expression a blend of determination and resignation. "I know you do not approve, Ser. And I am aware of the differences between you and the Prince," she acknowledged, her voice steady, "but what am I to do? I must obey my father's wishes and marry Aemond for the good of the realm." It was a weighty decision and one that she had grown to accept as her duty.

Ser Arryk avoided her gaze, his own features etched with concern as he spoke. "The match has put you in greater danger," he stated bluntly, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. He elaborated, explaining the intricate web of alliances and rivalries that had emerged. "Prince Jacaerys' bond with House Stark has the Northmen backing Rhaenyra's claim, and with Prince Daemon securing the Vale, the Greens will need more allies." The political landscape was becoming increasingly treacherous.

Maera absorbed the information, her mind processing the events unfolding in the realm. However, she was not content with just the broader picture. She pressed further, stating, “I feel there is more to you concerns.”

Ser Arryk sighed, his gaze distant as he recalled past events. "There was a time I thought Prince Aemond was better than Aegon," he admitted, a hint of regret in his voice. "But since Aemond killed young Lucerys, Rhaenyra's favorite son, I've concluded that he's no better than Aegon." The memory of that tragic event lingered like a shadow.

Maera's brows furrowed as she listened, her concern for both herself and Aemond deepening. Ser Arryk's next words weighed heavily on her heart. "Lady Maera, you're in more danger than ever," he warned, his voice laced with worry. "I'm certain that Rhaenyra will exact revenge on Aemond for killing her son, and she could use you to achieve that." The realization of the precarious position she was in left Maera with a sense of unease and uncertainty about the path that had been chosen for her. She knew of the death of Prince Lucerys, but she doubted Aemond was capable of murder. Yet, some years had passed, and Lucerys taking his eye had a profound impact on the Prince. It was something that Maera had not brought up with Aemond. Partly because she did not want to know if her betrothed had intended to kill the boy, but mostly because she was scared that she knew the answer.

Ser Arryk continued, clearly irked by discussing the one-eyed Prince. “There was a perfectly good match between yourself and Lord Warren, my Lady. But the Prince could not allow it. Not because of any advantage for the realm, but simply because he could. It is twisted. I do not trust him,” the knight growled, his hazel eyes darting as if searching for an answer for Aemond’s behaviour. Maera knew her relationship with the Prince was a complicated one, but she hoped for the sake of her future, it would continue moving in a positive direction.

In the midst of her unease, she turned to Ser Arryk, her protector, her friend. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked him a question that held great significance, "Do you remember the oath you swore to me? About being my sole protector?"

Ser Arryk met her gaze with unwavering commitment. He nodded firmly, his voice resolute, "Until my dying breath, my Lady."

A small, appreciative smile touched Maera's lips as she replied, "I'm glad, Ser Arryk. I trust you to carry out your job thoroughly, to protect me from harm." She hesitated briefly before adding, "Even when I become Aemond's wife." The weight of her choice was evident in her words.

Ser Arryk bit his lip, his expression conflicted. He finally stated, "I'll protect always you, my Lady. Even… from Aemond if needed." It was a solemn declaration of his unwavering loyalty.

Maera's response was filled with hope as she gently replied, "I hope it won't come to that." The thought of strife between her protector and her husband was a troubling one.

After an awkward pause, Maera shifted the conversation, acknowledging Ser Arryk's deep care for her. "I'm fortunate to have you care so much for my welfare, Ser Arryk," she said sincerely. "And you should know that I plan to secure a network of spies within the Keep." She looked to Ser Arryk, her trust in him evident.

"That's wise," he agreed. "A Princess needs all the allies she can get in a place such as King’s Landing."

Passing a statue of the hooded Stranger, Maera couldn't help but ponder the risks she faced. The last time she saw Rhaenyra, Maera was a girl of ten years old. Her dealings with the then Princess had been limited, and by all accounts, Rhaenyra appeared strong but reasonable. However, Maera knew the fierce nature mothers could possess, particularly when it came to protecting or avenging their children. The thought of Rhaenyra's potential reactions both unnerved and terrified her.

But just as her thoughts delved into worry, Maera and Ser Arryk rounded the corner, and there stood Prince Aemond, twirling a red carnation blossom in his fingers. The sight of her intended stirred a mix of emotions within Maera, a reminder of the complex path she had chosen and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

The Prince’s tall figure was a striking presence against the backdrop of autumnal beauty. His long, silvery-white hair, like moonlight captured in strands, cascaded down his back, lending an air of ethereal elegance to his form. A black leather overcoat billowed around him in the gentle breeze as he stood with an air of quiet confidence, his presence commanding attention even in the midst of the garden's splendor.

The leather eyepatch concealed a missing eye, but it did little to diminish the intensity of his remaining violet gaze on Maera’s form. His fingers continued to twirl the red blossom around, the same fingers that had had her crumbling before him many days ago. It was almost as if he was taunting her, a sly smile on his lips. But it excited her, and sent a wave of arousal through her core.

With Ser Arryk watching over her, Maera approached Prince Aemond with the grace and poise expected of a noblewoman. She executed a deep curtsy, her turquoise and golden skirts spreading out elegantly, her eyes respectfully cast downward. As she remained in her lowered position, she felt the gentle touch of Aemond's thumb and forefinger on her chin, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. A faint smile played upon his lips, and Maera rose from her curtsy to face him.

In the moment that followed, Aemond purred in their mother tongue, “Skorkydoso sȳz naejot ūndegon ao obūljagon,” How delightful to see you on your knees, his tone filled with desire. “Nyke jaelarys ziry iksos nykeā ybon ao jāhor sagon isse angez hae issa ābrazȳrys.” It is a position I hope to see you in often as my wife.

Maera's eyes widened at his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She whispered, "Ziry jāhor rȳbagon ao,” He will hear you, her voice laced with concern.

Prince Aemond, however, seemed unperturbed. He responded confidently, "Se azantys daor ȳzaldrīzes valyrio eglie,” The knight does not speak High Valyrian. With that, he dropped the red carnation he had been twirling to the ground and gestured for Maera to follow him. She complied, and together, they ventured into the enchanting gardens, Ser Arryk maintaining a watchful distance a few meters away.

As they wandered through the serene gardens, Aemond's keen perception picked up on Maera's underlying nervousness. He pointed it out, his tone light but perceptive. "Ao vestragon rūnarys,”You seem a bit nervous, he observed, his eyes studying her closely.

Maera initially denied her anxiety, a faint smile tugging at her lips as Aemond attempted to jest with her. He asked cheekily, "Kostagon ao daor jiōragon renigon issa hen aōha bartos?” Can you not get my fingers out of your mind?

His comment elicited a smile from her, but she shook her head, dispelling the notion. "No," she replied in the common tongue, her voice sincere, "it's not that."

Maera met Aemond's gaze, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "I'm aware of the Blacks' advances over Westeros," she admitted, her voice carrying a touch of concern. Aemond hummed in response, acknowledging the ongoing conflict.

With a sense of vulnerability, Aemond probed further. "Does it frighten you?" he inquired, his gaze unwavering. Maera didn't shy away from the truth. "Now that I'm going to be your wife," she replied honestly, "it puts me more at risk." The weight of her impending marriage to a prince was not lost on her.

Aemond's demeanor shifted as he turned his gaze over his shoulder at Ser Arryk, a faint glare in his eye. Suspicion seemed to linger in the air as he redirected his attention to Maera. He asked her directly in High Valyrian, "Gōntan mīsio yn pa iotāpagon isse aōha bartos?”Did your protector put these notions in your head? The question hung in the air, hinting at a deeper concern and perhaps a sense of protectiveness over Maera's thoughts and fears.

Maera's frown deepened as she listened to Aemond's words, and she responded with a resolute tone, "Nyke kirine ziry ivestretan issa. Ziry tepagon issa jēda naejot kȳvanon nykēla,”I'm glad he told me. It gives me a chance to prepare myself. Her thoughts were a whirlwind as she wandered over to one of the garden's trees, her fingers gently brushing against the green leaves that had yet to turn the hues of yellow and orange.

Maera voiced her concerns aloud, acknowledging the weight of her impending marriage. "I'm marrying a man who killed the enemy's favorite son," she stated, her voice tinged with unease. "Surely Rhaenyra will be out for revenge."

Aemond approached her, his humming indicating a mixture of emotions. He stood opposite her, ensuring she had no choice but to meet his gaze. With a calm and confident demeanor, he countered her fears. "You're marrying a Prince of the blood. A skilled fighter, a warrior who rides the largest dragon in the world," he pointed out. "A competent man who is not simple-minded."

His hand reached out to cup her cheek, and Maera instinctively leaned into his touch. Aemond's eyes bore into hers as he asked her a crucial question, "Do you honestly think I would let any harm come to you?"

The intimacy of the moment left Maera momentarily speechless, her heart racing. Aemond continued, his voice filled with conviction, "I would command Vhagar to set the world ablaze if I found a hair harmed on your head." His words were both a vow and a declaration of his unwavering protectiveness.

Maera couldn't help but smirk at his fervent assurance. She looked down, a playful glint in her eyes as she remarked, "Well, it would be a waste of a kingdom if it did come to that." The tension of the previous conversation seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of connection and understanding between the two.

As Maera and Aemond continued their leisurely stroll through the gardens, they passed by courtiers who greeted the pair with respectful nods and bows. Amid the noble crowd, Maera's keen eyes spotted a noblewoman cradling a babe in her arms, the child gurgling and wide-eyed with wonder as they gazed upon the garden's vibrant scenery. The sight brought a warm smile to Maera's face, a fleeting moment of innocence amidst the complexities of court life.

Turning her attention back to her betrothed, Maera couldn't resist commenting on his previous promise to the little Prince. "You shouldn't be promising our nephew an army of cousins," she remarked.

Aemond's smirk revealed a hint of playfulness as he retorted, "Well, it is you that comes from a family of twenty-nine trueborn children." He chuckled at his own remark, clearly finding humor in the situation.

Maera scoffed in response, her sarcasm evident. "It took four women to get to those numbers," she retorted, her tone teasing. She then asked, with mock seriousness, "Were you planning to include other women to achieve that number of children?" Her playful banter was met with Aemond's hum and a straight face as he seemingly fixed his gaze on a stone wall. Maera’s gaze followed, knowing that the wall that held memories, not all of them positive, as it marked the place where they had initially reunited after many years apart. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie they now shared, and the memory brought a fond smile to her lips.

She drew Aemond's attention back to her with a playful comment. "Your mother had the right idea by producing a sensible number of children," she noted, her tone more lighthearted. "Four. It seems like a more manageable number than twenty-nine, do you not think?”

Aemond nodded in agreement with Maera's comment about Queen Alicent's more reasonable number of children. "I am inclined to agree with you on that," he acknowledged with a slight smile.

Reaching the stoney edge of the gardens, Maera spotted the shoreline and couldn't resist the urge to climb atop some rocks for a better view over the garden wall. The salty sea air filled her lungs, and she gazed out at the picturesque scene before her. On the windswept shoreline, the two largest dragons of their age, Vhagar and Ēbrion, were spotted by the Lady and the Prince, feasting together on the carcasses of aurochs, their colossal forms casting imposing shadows over the rugged terrain.

Maera could now discern each of the beasts sizes more clearly. Vhagar, resplendent in green and bronze scales, possessed a longer neck that allowed her to reach the choicest morsels with ease. But the behemoth of dark blue and black, Ēbrion, had his colossal wings spread wide, larger than his companions, creating an imposing silhouette against the shoreline.

The sound of their feasting echoed along the shoreline to the gardens, a primal symphony of vocal trilling, crunching bones and rending flesh. Smoke and steam billowed from their nostrils with each breath, adding an otherworldly element to the scene. Maera couldn't help but find their behavior rather touching, as if they had found a level of understanding and cooperation through hunting prey together.

Her attention returned to Aemond, who had a more serious tone as he spoke. "Marriage will be full of complex decisions, I’m sure, and I do not think we will be able to discuss all the arrangements for the future today,” he began, a slight edge to his smooth voice. “Perhaps we can discuss our plans further upon my return," he stated, his gaze steady as he looked at her.

Maera, now curious, furrowed her brows and asked, "What do you mean?" Her voice held a note of uncertainty as she stepped down from the rocks, eager to understand the cryptic statement.

Notes: Ser Arryk is such a cute lil bean honestly

Tags: @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @shesjustanothergeek @blue-serendipity @grungegrrrl

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd helaena #house targaryen #house wylde

29 notes · View notes

cosmererambles · 7 months

Text

Costober 2!

There are spoilers here for the greater Cosmere, so please don't read if you haven't at least read all of Mistborn and all of Stormlight. Thanks!

“I suppose you wish to speak to Thaidakar?” Mauve trailed her hand along the balcony’s edge, watching the many, many people mill about below. Shallan, or rather, Radiant, glided beside her, thinking over her responses. “Thaidakar. Your leader, correct?” “The leader of the Ghostbloods, yes. Not my leader.” Her companion eyed her. Mauve smiled, turning to face the girl, who towered above her, Radiant’s added height coupled with Shallan’s own dwarfing a woman of Mauve’s stature.

“Not your leader? Who leads you?” Mauve smiled. “Thaidakar and I share leadership of the organization, though I must admit, he has more to do with running it than I.” She shuddered as a wind, carrying normal Rosharan debris, passed over them, carried high and chilled. Radiant cocked her head some, noticing it.

“Are you cold? It’s barely winter.” “Winter…” Mauve shook her head. “I am not cold, just unused to the weather on this planet.” She eyed her. “This is neither here nor there. Do you wish to speak to him? I can get you an audience easily.” “Would Mraize approve?” “Mraize has no choice in the matter.” Mauve turned, beginning to walk briskly, eager to get out of the mountainous air and into the city proper. “I am very disappointed with how he has led you these past few years. From your very beginning, you have shown us a level of respect and decorum we appreciate. He has led you on, fed you tidbits about your past to keep you working for us.” She turned, looking up at her. “This is not how we work, Radiant. This is not how we foster our agents.” Radiant’s hair bled to red, and Shallan emerged, immediately clutching her hands before herself, safehand locked in that ridiculous modestly sleeve.

“I am not-.” “A real member? I’m aware of your split loyalties, Shallan. The time will come when you must make a choice; but isn’t as tough a choice as you think it is. We are not an evil organization, hell bent on overtaking Roshar for our own nefarious purposes.” “Is that right?” Veil this time. “Because I beg to differ, Mauve. The assassinations, the terror you evoke in other street gangs, the manipulation of Shallan’s family…” She let the words hang in the air.

“Would you like clarity on those actions?” “Would that be allowed?” Mauve entered Urithiru proper, taking a meandering route back to her suite. She waved a dismissive hand. “These aren’t secrets, Veil. You’re already a member, albeit a reluctant one.” “Reluctant? I love it.” “Do you?” Mauve smiled, climbing stairs. Veil followed, dark hair swishing behind her. “Do all three of your feel the same way?” Veil didn’t respond at first. “Radiant is self-righteous, of course she doesn’t agree with the Ghostbloods. Shallan is confused.” Veil paused, looking at Mauve, who felt her gaze. “I need answers in order to sway to them.” “Is that it? Truly, it? I can give you answers…” She quickened her pace.

“Mraize has told you that we are looking for power. This is true. Political power isn’t something we’re interested in, however. Raw Investiture is the power we are looking for; raw Investiture with the ability to transport. As it happens, Roshar is a world filled with power literally falling from the sky on a predictable level.” “The Oathgates?” Veil asked. Much of this conversation had already happened with Mraize, teased out through months. “You’re a clever woman, Veil. Why do you think we wanted access to the Oathgates?” “You’re acting like Mraize. Making me work. I thought you said you weren’t happy with him.” “Happy with him? I’m downright annoyed with him, Veil. That doesn’t change that we make our protege think before we give them answers. I ask again. Why would would we want access to the Oathgates, if our mission on Roshar is Investiture?” Veil paused for a moment, their steps echoing the darkened Urithiru hallways. Spheres only lit every other the wall beyond every other window, leading to patches of darkness that swallowed them every few steps.

“Access to Shadesmar. Mraize said as much.” “Precisely.” Mauve smiled, turning down a much brighter lit hallway. At the end, her agents stood, barring the way. They nodded to her with respect, and smiled at them as she approached.

“Unfettered access to the Oathgates is key to easy trade between worlds.” “Between worlds? Shadesmar?” “The Cognitive Realm as I prefer to call it. It connects our worlds; it’s how I traveled here.” She paused outside the room she resided in. “Come. Let us continue our conversation inside. I’ll get you that audience you seek.”

Veil didn’t move. Mauve waited for her to speak.

“The Ghostbloods run things from here?” “I run things from here. We have many locations throughout the tower, throughout all of Roshar. This is just my little slice of heaven, home away from home. Inside you’ll find it very different from your usual Rosharan house. It may interest you.”

“I’m not going to be baited with shiny things, Mauve. I’m not Shallan.” “Oh?” Mauve smiled. “I should have known better. Well then, you may stay outside, if you wish.” She opened the door and stepped through.

After a few moments, Veil entered, looking sour. She stopped, her mouth opened slightly, and Mauve smiled to herself.

Her quarters were dressed up like a noblehouse from Scadrial. Scadrian curiosities, Scadrian clothing, Scadrian pictures. A small statue of the Survivor she had pilfered from a Graveyard many, many years ago stood on a commode, hood up, scarred arms in plain view. The walls were left bare; Mauve hadn’t the heart to change the natural stata, and as much as she detested Roshar, she respected the voice of the stones, the voice the spren.

“Where is all this from?” Veil’s hair changed to red, bleeding from roots to tips in a second. Mauve, who had smiled at her maid in a signal to make tea, sat down in one corner, watching her, legs crossed.

“My home planet. Mraize mentioned it to you, though it’s significance was lost. I will let Thaidakar chose to enlighten you of it if he wishes.” Shallan gazed at the art, lips parted in wonder. Her eyes fell on the bronze statue of the Survivor. Mauve smiled. That stupid thing…Kelsier hated that she’d kept it. It’s theft had been a test of his. She’d passed with flying colors. As the Nalthian’s would say…

“What is this?” She asked, raising a hand but not touching. “My homeworld has a religion based on that figure. He was a key figure in the shaping of the society that now exists. His actions helped pave the path towards our prosperity.” She smiled. Her maid servent, Hanna, bowed and arrived with tea.

“You believe?” “Rusts, no. Survivorism is a strange religion.” She sipped her drink, and gestured for Shallan to sit. Shallan noticed, but didn’t approach immediately. She continued to gaze at the statue.

“It’s not the best likeness. I’ve met the man. He’s far handsomer in person.” Shallan’s hair bled to brown, and Veil emerged. “He looks short.” Mauve snorted. Veil looked at her in some alarm. “Everyone off world is short to you Rosharans. I swear, you are all stone giants. Even the small among you tower above us.” Veil approached, but didn’t sit.

“Where is Thaidakar.” “Off world.” “You promised me an audience.” Mauve held up a finger. “Wrong. I said I could “get” you an audience. There is a distinction. Despite all my hefty power in our organization, my…Thaidakar is a busy man.”

“So…what?” Mauve held her gaze for a moment. She wasn’t going to drink the tea, was she? Sighing, she gestured to an agent, who approached.

“Get me Dor-o, please. I need to ask him a question.” The man bowed, entered a side room. Veil watched him go. Mauve knew she’d already mapped all the exists, memorized every face in the room and potentially every speck of information. Luckily, her own quarters held very little sensitive information.

“Lady Mauve. Dor-o.” He inclined his head, stepping aside to let the Seon approach. It bounced up and down in excitement.

“New people? New faces? How lovely!” It spoke in Elantrian, hovering in circles around Veil, who looked very disturbed by the fact this floating orb of light could talk. “Yes, Dor. New People, new faces.” Mauve smiled. Veil’s eyes widened. “Veil, meet a friend of mine. Dor-o. A type of…spren.” “What language? I’ve never seen a spren like this.”

“Never seen a spren like this? Come now. Radiant spren are varied enough.” Veil finally sat, crossing her legs in a huff, staring at the little bouncing ball of light. “This little friend of mine is Seon; a type of spren from off world. He has a unique ability that we make use of.” “And that is?” Mauve smiled.

“Dor-o. Is Thaidakar available? I wish to speak with him?” “I will see. Should I mention you are not alone?” “Yes, please.”

The Seon vibrated a moment, before speaking, “He is available, Lady Mauve.” She answered him in turn. “Come. This way.” A feeling of excitement struck through her, a chorded note. It left her vibrating. She was going to see him. Speak with him. And let him speak to a very valuable potential agent. Perhaps this would be the key to winning her over.

She led the Seon into the room proper, dismissing her servants, who left into interior rooms and shut the doors, leaving the two of them alone with a single guard. The Seon pulsated, undulating into itself, before forming a face. A face Mauve knew well. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Veil, who slowly approached, gazing at the now floating blue head, obscured by a hood.

“Thaidakar.” “Mauve.” That deep, rich voice of his. Capable of sending her into a fit of delirious joy. She saw the hint of a smirk. “You aren’t alone? Is it Mraize with you, or Iyatil?” She smiled. “Neither. I’m joined by Veil.” “Veil?” She knew, without seeing, that he’d furrowed his brow. “The woman has been…led on by Mraize, as I’m sure you know. She deserves to meet you. To be told of our tenants, our goals on her planet, from the man who orders them.” Kelsier remained silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he raised a blue hand and removed the hood. Veil, now Shallan, gasped.

“Shallan Davar, you are entitled to some answers. Answers I am willing to give. I must ask you though; what are your personal goals within my organization?” “Don’t I get to ask you a question first?” She asked. “Humor me.” “I…I want answers.” She spoke with hesitation. “I want to know things. I’m tired of being in the dark.” “The Ghostbloods can give you what you seek. But your loyalties remain…questionable.” She remained silent.

“I can give you answers as I see fit.” Shallan fought an internal battle, and Mauve gazed at her beloved, unable to speak freely. This practiced formality drove her insane. She knew this man for the insufferable goofball he was. A man who would make a mess of his study, a man who enjoyed scarfing down cakes and pastries and who adored starlit walks in the Field of Rebirth. This practiced persona of his drove her mad.

It was hot. It was sexy. It just wasn’t him.

“Who are you?” She asked finally, stepping closer, her hair bleeding to brown, eyes hard. “You know my name.” He smiled. She rolled her eyes. “Very smart. I thought you promised me answers.” “I didn’t promise you anything. However, I’ll bite.” He took a breath. “I detest secrets, Brightness. I created my organization to tease them out of the greater Cosmere, and use them to protect.” “What are you?” She asked upon his ended sentence. He smiled. She seemed taken aback by this. “A man. Just as human as you are.” “A man cannot live with a spike through the eye.” Kelsier’s smile broadened. “As I said, Brightness. Secrets. There is much you don’t know.” She thought on this.

“Have I been told the truth? By Mraize, by Mauve? Are you really here for…power? Is that all?” “Not all. Until I know of your decided loyalties, I cannot tell you more. Know that we do not actively seek harm to your planet and its people.” Veil snarled at that.

“Harm? You had Jasnah assassinated.” “Didn’t work, did it?” Kelsier sniffed, raising his chin. “Your mistress had many of our agents assassinated, falsely believing we were those behind threats to her family. We were paying her in kind.” “It had nothing to do with the secrets she held? Her search for Urithiru?” “We had better ways of getting the information she held.” Veil sat for a moment.

“That attempt resulted in the deaths of many people.” A pause from Kelsier, who Mauve knew agreed. However, relaying that they suffered a fracus in their ranks would look weak. He instead remained silent, waiting for the next question.

“What would I need to do? To join fully?” “You could remain as you are, Brightness. We have no interest in your family drama or personal politics of Alethkar. We wouldn’t ask you to turn on your family; that isn’t how we work. It is not a one or the other oppurtunity. We just ask that our secrets remain just that: Secrets. Those outside of our ranks cannot know what we discover.”

“Why?” His lip curled. “Do you believe people are ready for the truth, Brightness?” Veil frowned. Shallan bled through, looking meek. “No.” “That is why. Decide. Upon discerning your loyalties, we will divulge all.” He cocked his head. Mauve gazed at him, smiling.

“Who is Restares?” Shallan asked, just as Kelsier was wrapping up. “I’ve heard him mentioned. What is Scadrial, what is it really? Nalthis?”

“Restares is a man. A dangerous one, one that I’ve been hunting for a long time. Scadrial is a planet. This you’ve been told, as is Nalthis. Cosmere aware planets.” “You’re from Scadrial?” Kelsier raised a brow. “That I am. Did Mauve tell you this?” “She did.” “She is proud of our planet, as she should be.”

“Am I truly stuck on Roshar? I cannot visit other planets?” He furrowed his brow. Mauve spoke for him, the conference was wrapping up. Shallan was asking things she already had answers too.

“You know the answer to that. Thaidakar has business to attend too.” “That I do. Consider, Shallan Davar. Consider well. This is not a threat, more…a push. You cannot remain on the fence forever.” “And if I choose not to join?” “I’d be disappointed.” “Your disappointment means little to me.” He smiled. “Then I see there is nothing stopping you.” He turned, the Seon shifting in air, slowly rotating to Mauve. “Goodbye, Mauve.” “Send my regards to Moonlight, Thaidakar. I miss her.” He gazed at her. Unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

I miss you too. Come back soon. I love you.

The face dissolved, replaced by a bobbing sphere.

“That was draining! Long conference!” Mauve smiled. “I know. Thank you for being so patient.” She inclined her head. “You may rest, Dor-o.” The Seon bobbed again, before floating out of the room. A slight buzzing came from Shallan, who stood in the room, staring in the space where she had spoken with Kelsier. Mauve could just barely pick out her spren, Pattern, who buzzed and hummed. A sudden idea came to her as she stared at that little creature. She crossed to the bookshelves, pulling out a volumn on Scadrian animals. It was a hefty, leatherbound book with intricate drawings of every animal that had been documented in Northern Scadrial; from the Basin to the Roughs.

“Shallan. I have something that may interest you. If you’ll humor me.” The woman started. “Interest me?” “Yes.” Shallan approached, tentative, until she saw what the novel held. Her eyes widened as she looked at the illustrations.

“Why are you so polite? So kind?” “It is who I am. You do not deserve ferocity and callousness, Shallan. You deserve understanding. You deserve trust.” “…And you can trust me with this?” Mauve laughed.

“This is no secret of the Cosmere, Shallan. This is the animals of my planet.” She pushed the book over to her. Shallan looked at it, eager. “This is incredible. They look like minks, with fur. Zero carapace.” “We have some animals with carapace. They mostly live in the water, though.” She looked up. “How do they survive the-.” She cut off. “Nevermind.”

“You are free to come to my quarters and peruse my book collection at your leisure.” “You’d let me do that?” “There is nothing in here, aside from Dor-o, that is a secret worth keeping. I do not care a whit if you speak of giraffes and lions to your fellow Rosharans.” She winked.

“I admire you, Shallan. I admire your vigor, your tenacity. You have done what so few others can only dream of. It deserves to be commended, fostered, and pointed. Please consider.” Shallan stared at the book, before looking up at Mauve.

“I will. Thank you. For getting me this audience. Will Mraize be angry?” “Mraize is always angry. I don’t care. You deserved this much. You are a Ghostblood, after all. What you’ve done for us constitutes you at least an audience with Thaidakar, if not access to some of our more sensitive documents.” Shallan nodded, before glancing at the fabrial clock on the mantle piece and yelping.

“Oh, I’m late for a meeting! I need to go!” She hustled out, leaving the book open on the table, flipped to a picture of a great sea turtle; it’s flippers extended to the corners of the page.

#MyWriting #Fanfiction #Cosmere #Costober #Kelsier #MauveOC #Shallan Davar #Veil #Radiant #Stormlight Archive #there are spoilers...

11 notes · View notes

rottingraisins · 1 year

Note

Iris for the ask game?

HAHA YES!! This ones getting long sorry in advance

fav thing: shes such a succinct representation of the question at the core of a lot of foundation writing, which is whether maintaining the veil is really worth all of the harm that's done in the process, and rlly gets into where humanoids/sapient scps specifically fall in that discussion. chief among my fav iris interps is ofc the resurrection canon where as the lone survivor of omega-7, the one who didnt go rogue, she unwillingly becomes a sort of golden child of the emerging alpha-9 project , paraded around for her "loyalty" to the foundation while she doesnt even really want to be here in the first place. its good stuff!

least fav thing: resurrection is perpetually unfinished and very meandering, it loses track of iris pretty bad in act 2 even though to me her relationship to the foundation is easily the most compelling part of the canon. all her rlly interesting character potential is forever unresolved by the main res storyline not having updated in over 3 years and she lacks any like. standalone tales that ever hit in quite the same way i think

favorite line: I've spent the last seven years in a box. It's a fancy box, but it's not the real world. And then suddenly you need my help with something, I get dragged out and get to see the real world again, and… it feels like somewhere fictional. A movie set. The moon.

brOTP: Her and adams are rlly rlly fun and as a tragedy liker im ofc fascinated by the looming shadow of their work relationship (tav-666 being the cleanup crew in case alpha-9 goes rogue) hanging over their budding friendship. Also in the silly fluff timeline where kondraki lives i like to think shes very close to both him and draven

OTP: irismeri again... saddest girls in the world

nOTP: iris/able bad

random headcanon: ik its all i talk about but i have so many thoughts about iris presenting more butch coinciding with her like. finally reclaiming her personhood. i think bc of watching her 13 y/o comphet middle school boyfriend get straight up murdered in front of her and getting contained and functionally stripped of her identity beyond her scp designation right after shes got a lot of complicated feelings and latent guilt about any queer feelings she may or may not harbor and it takes until adams, an older wlw whos very confident in her own attraction to women that iris starts to Realize.

unpopular opinion: /

songs: one of two characters to have a designated playlist on my mobile phone actually. no reptiles everything everything, blindness metric, maybe sprout wings tmg are all on there

fav pic: this one its so simple yet so heartbreaking. I have it downloaded onto my computer

#not art #ask game

45 notes · View notes

alpacinosgf · 2 years

Note

A SFW Alphabet for Oz?

Oz Cobbeplot SFW ABCs

A - Attractive (What do they find most attractive in a person and about you?)

Oz is naturally big on loyalty, given his line of work. If you can hold your own in a confrontation, or keep your cards close to your chest he'll obsess over it and think you're made for each other.

B - Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why Not? How big?)

I go back and forth on this, I think oz in his younger days would have thought his world was ending if he had a kid. How the fuck would he work? It's extra pressure to make steady money to put away, and something that could potentially be used against him god forbid. Now? Oz is a little more sentimental about things. Hes long past the age his father was when he had him, and every time he looks in the mirror he does get a slight shock at the face of his father looking back at him. If it were to happen and you wanted it, he'd be secretly delighted about it for his own sense of connection to his parents and the very idea someone could want a future and a child with him of all people but there's never going to be any pressure either way. Though you can expect the odd throwaway comment about how good you'd look pregnant. He maintains you'd be one of those people that glows. As for size of his family, Oz would prefer maybe 3 or 4 in an ideal world where he was retired and younger and get to spend as much time with them as possible. Real househusbands of Gotham?

C - Cuddle (Do they like to cuddle? How do they like to cuddle most?)

LIVES to cuddle. Any time you're woken up by sirens outside your window and you don't have him stuck to your side, heavy forearm over your stomach you're almost offended. Even if he's completely drunk, feeling hungover, sick, etc. he thrives off the physical connection to you. It soothes him to no end. When he's working late into the morning at the Lounge you have to admit feeling lonely in bed, he takes up so much space literally that it feels almost wrong not to have him there.

D - Date (Ideal date?)

Home cooked meal, good wine and some old cheesy rat pack tunes on his record player at the penthouse. He'll have the curtains drawn, candles everywhere and you waited on hand and foot. Oz loves to cook, he never gets a chance to anymore with how much he's away from the house but any time he can show off a little he jumps at the chance. And for you? It's all he wants, to serve you and keep you entertained and full. It very much plays into the acts of service he loves to do for you. So don't expect to help with the plates or cleaning, and god forbid you top up your own drink.

E - Energetic (How energetic are they?)

As young as you make him feel, he's still a middle aged man at the end of the day. So don't expect any dates around town, meandering the streets and taking the day in your stride. With his bad leg, and his line of business he prefers to plan things out in advance so he knows what he can cope with in terms of pain management but its nothing that's ever bothered you. You don't even think about it now.

F - Fight (How are they in a fight?)

There's a reason Oz's face is marred by scars and there's a part of him that kind of enjoys the attention he gets from them, so people know he's still dangerous even as he's gotten older and heavier. Very much enjoys a fist fight, and has knocked out countless fools with one strong punch to the jaw

G - Gifts (How do they feel about gifts? How do they give them?)

As much as he loved to give gifts, he gets a little surprised by being given any. Even in terms of the girls at the Lounge when they pool money together to get him a new watch or chain he's over the moon and a little emotional that they took the care to get him anything at all. If you got him something he's had his eye on for a while, or just mentioned in passing he'd always wanted a specific thing as a kid or a teenager you can expect a very teary eyed oz covering you in kisses. Oz likes to be a little understated in gift giving if that makes sense, he could buy you something ridiculously expensive but would present it to you on your own. He knows you don't like all that attention when people are around so he saves it for later when you're home. He's also prone to sending little things to your job, like your favourite lunch spot food when you mention you're busy and has even sent stuff to your building. The doorman letting you know another package from Oz arrived.

H - Honesty (How honest are they? Do they keep secrets?)

Honest to a point. At the beginning he'd rather keep you in the dark as much as possible for your own safety but as things progress, he realises how good it feels to talk about things even in a vague way is better than nothing. Sometimes he lets it out in bed, speaking lowly half into the pillows and to you just to get it off his chest. You don't need to say anything but he appreciates it immensely if you rub small circles into his back as he does so.

I - Injury (How do they react if you get injured?)

Bloodthirsty is the only word for it. Whether it's from a stupid accident or someone else to blame (even innocently) he's on the offence. He completely babies you if you're laid up in bed with a broken ankle or anything of the sort. Even if you were to be mugged, and just a little shook up about it Oz does everything from combing the streets to asking crooked cops for cctv, witnesses and suspect lists if it means he can take it out on the one responsible. As quick to anger as he is, Oz would take his time dealing the punishment. Putting his full weight on their shins, bashing kneecaps in with a crowbar, etc

J - Jealousy (Are they the jealous type? How do they deal with it?)

He's definitely the jealous type. But not in the way you might think, as insecure as he is he knows deep down you'd never cheat on him and he has to remind himself that. He's jealous when other men eye at you in the lounge, vying for your attention and thinking they can disregard him entirely. His age, weight and limp are always at the forefront of his mind. That's what irritates him most, so you can forgive him for being a little handsier when men want to try flirt with you, besides you like him a little jealous. He's somehow even more passionate later on when you're alone 👀

K - Kiss (Their favorite way to kiss you?)

Loves to pull you in by the back of your neck, and planting a searing kiss on your lips when you least expect. It makes him feel young again when he feels your sharp intake of breath and the way you move into it. Very much this gif from the north water 💜💜💜

L - Love Confession (How did they confess their love?)

In the heat of the moment in bed, he'd been thinking it to himself for a while but was a little hesitant to admit it out loud for fear you might recoil from the words. When his mind goes blank it starts to spill out, we all know Oz loves to talk so it's no surprise he blurts it out first

M - Mean (What are they like when they’re mean? Is it common?)

Never mean to you, other people? Sure. Anybody irritating or disrespectful is fair game but he couldn't ever be mean to you, even if you're only playing. He probably could have been snarkier if he was with you when he was young but at his age, with everything that's happened to him he knows when to keep quiet and to bite his tongue. He can tease you perfectly fine but don't expect it to be ongoing, even a little comment that slips out is going to plague his mind and he'll feel guilty about it even if it never bothered you. He's too soft to put any real effort into it.

N - Nicknames (Do they have nicknames for you? What are their favorites for them?)

Loves nicknames!!! So much so it's almost strange for him to use your own. It's always something playful. Honey, doll, sweetheart, babe, bella/bello, etc.

O - Open (How long did it take for them to open up to you?)

A long time. Several dates in it's like he finally twigs that you care about him and its like he's got a new lease of life with you. He feels a little giddy truth be told.

P - Proposal (How would they propose? Would they propose at all?)

Definitely would. Wouldn't be a grand proposal he knows your distaste for them, so he'd plan a home cooked meal or rent out the place of your first date entirely for the two of you. No staff or onlookers to gawk at the two of you. He's very much nervous about getting on one knee, both metaphorically and literally so it means even more for him to push his pain threshold that bit farther to give you a proper proposal like you deserve. He's a romantic at heart and would get great satisfaction from planning it all. He'd maybe ask the girls at the Lounge for their input and they're all sworn to secrecy but they're too excited amongst themselves to even think about blabbing to you when they see you next.

Q - Quiet (What are quiet moments like with them?)

Easy. If you're unwell or feel like taking a quiet day he's happy to comply. Whatever you feel like doing is perfect for him. He'll drag out some plush blankets for you to cuddle under on the couch, he'll light the fire and get you whatever you feel like eating or drinking. There's few words said, even then they're whispered into your hair when he holds you. Enjoying the peace as you watch some mindless TV, his fingers tracing circles on your arm.

R - Rainy Day (What are they like in the rain?)

He's well used to the rain, growing up in Gotham it's unusual for the place to be anything but gloomy with rain drifting down. He's maybe a little nostalgic when it rains, thinking of all the times he's been sat in cars waiting for Salvatore Maroni to be finished a deal, or when he was a child watching the rain pour down from the cracks in the ceiling of his overcrowded and deteriorating building.

S - Sad (How do they handle their sadness? How do they react to yours?)

Very quiet when he's in a somber mood. More likely to self isolate and wallow for a while until he feels up to seeing you and being seen by you. Sometimes it's easy to pull him out of it, with the right words and soft touches but you know that he needs his own space at times so you offer it, letting him know he can speak as freely or as little as he feels when he's ready.

T - Time (How long did it take for you to get together?)

Kind of quickly, he was a little tipsy when he first approached you. Emboldened by the booze in his system when you caught his eye. He's grateful for having had that extra drink that night, he would have been too in his own head otherwise to even look in your direction.

U - Unique (What’s an interesting thing about them that not a lot of people know about?)

Likes to try things purely because you recommend them, new food, new show, new book, etc he’s going to try it on his own. It’s a way for him to feel closer to you and appreciate your perspective on things.

V - Value (What are some of the things they value most in life? value most about you?)

He values personal time above all else, if he can’t spend one on one time with you he’ll be in a bad mood in work for the week and everybody is on the receiving end of it. It’s best for everyone if you get to be together a couple times a week.

W - Wildcard (random fluff headcanon)

Really enjoys being little spoon, but never asks for it. You have to pick it up from the way he’s acting, and if he turns away from you in bed it’s not because he wants to be alone or not touch you he wants you to latch onto him and make him feel wanted. It’s funny but you holding onto his larger frame in the bed actually makes him feel a little safer, emotionally.

X - XO (Are they affectionate with hugs and kisses? If not, are they in other ways?)

Very, very affectionate. Might have been a little stiff in the beginning with affection but now, anytime you stop by the club after work he gives you a deep kiss hello, hand deadset on staying above your ass for the rest of the night. He does like to show off, after all. When he’s feeling more comfortable with you he’ll kiss you heartily in whatever situation you’re in. Glad to feel some affection for once in his life.

Y - Yearn (How do they deal with yearning?)

Oz doesn’t deal with it well. He’s spent so long on his own that when he does feel the need to be close to you, he can’t wait till he gets home - he’ll either call you to tell you how he’s feeling and you come down if you can - or he leaves early. Much to the irritation of Falcone.

Z - Zen (What makes them calm?)

Physical touch makes him the calmest. A little shoulder rub often leads to a full massage of his wide back and he melts into the mattress when you work at his strained muscles. He hasn’t been touched so gently in so long, that he’s liable to get a little emotional when you touch him like that. He mightn’t admit how he appreciates it, but you know him well enough to see the appreciation in his noises and sighs.

#oz cobblepot #oz cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot #apologies to this anon i finally finished it!!

99 notes · View notes

simonxriley · 9 months

Text

Uquiz Double Feature

I was tagged by the wonderful @corvosattano and @voidika to take this uquiz and this uquiz.

Tagging @playstationmademe @jinfromyarikawa @detectivelokis @alexxmason @leviiackrman @shegetsburned @chuckhansen @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @chazz-anova and anyone else that wants to do it!!

The Supporter

oh gentle comrade, you know what it takes to make others shine. you live your life assisting others to reach their goals, but many say you are lackluster and unnecessary. but alas, do we need the stars any less for their dim light helps the moon glow brighter! you are warm inside and out, perhaps made of sunshine one might ask? but I can see you are as weary and worn as the hero you so desperately cling to. your purpose is to serve? Is it not? it's those moments of undying loyalty that make your bones ring true with honor. "I am right beside you," you whisper, for unlike the ones who lie through their teeth you will be with your ally through joy, through heart ache, through death. it is a difficult thing to gain your trust back if one has shattered it though, you are forgiving yes? you give many chances, but alas, one can only look away from a wrong doing so long. you can't exactly turn your other cheek as once wrings a blade through your middle. you are made of a steadfast heartbeat and a tired, knowing smile. you bring solace to the aching, and comfort to the wronged. but what happens when your protagonist loses? what happens when your valiant heroes fail you? will you pick up a sword and vanquish their enemy or will you wait patiently for yet another savior to appear and save the day? one must live long enough to see their heroes die. but are you brave enough to take their place? the only strings that bind you to your oaths of subservience are your own doubts. "am I good enough?" they whisper in your ears. you answer that yourself love. for the only difference between the paladin and the stable boy are mettle. it is not the question of can you be a hero. it is simply, will you be?

The kiss

you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

Note: This is 100% true. After Henry, she was so cautious of opening up her heart to someone. Tachanka ended up being the one to change that!

The Antihero

ah yes, hello edge lord. it is lovely to see you again. you my dear, are the incarnation of duality, and you might think of claws and venom mixed with grace but alas, nothing near as poetic. you my friend, are mixture of what is seen as right, and what is questioned. you follow the path of your own two feet, you know the twists and turns of life's forests quite well if I do say so myself. and you can meander along them wonderfully. you strive to stay true to a certain sense of principles you might call your code, but whereas in reality, those would be your morals. people tend to see you as strange. sharp edged and glinting you hide behind a cloak of chain mail but really you just prefer to show off your imperfections first. unlike many who scramble to make it as if their flaws never existed, you proudly raise yours up. saying, "this is me, this is the worst of me, now you know what to expect." and might I say, it is quite an intriguing mindset, for truth be told, the ones that love your spikes and craters are the ones who appreciate your softness the most. you wish not to be loved as something lovable, but as a monster. for aren't we all just beasts in human skin? you are brave, but you are lonely. you know quite well how to scare off most, making even the heroes with the boldest bravado creep away with their tails between their legs. you are not a villian, sometimes you play the part a bit too well. but nevertheless you are no hero either. you put yourself first, but if one wins your trust then may the gods have mercy on those who might wrong them. you long to be a poetic mess of sorts, and well, if the ink sets in long enough you might just become that sooner or later. but for one who is so dead set on truth you sure do hide a lot don't you? please, step out of the shadows, there is a difference to not making your flaws visible and to simply acting as if you're the most despicable person in all the realms. it's because you're afraid of attachment is it not? well let me tell you a little secret, everyone is. you say you wish to be left alone for eternity but than why are you craving connection. you wish to be known and understood truly, but you snarl and push the ones that might be trying away. please little wolf, accept you are lovable. you are not some ravenous beast that terrifies the multitudes, sure, you are not for the faint of heart but that does not make you an inkling less perfect as you are. young antihero, step into the sun. you would do better actually reaching for the things you want rather than pining for them in the darkness.

Note: This is so damn accurate.

The missed opportunity

this one comes with a pang. it is the wrinkled brow of something unpleasant sinking in. they've left to find some new adventure. or they've met someone else. and you have only just begun to understand their true importance to you. you watch them drift toward a future without you, and in that stark numbness of their absence, it hits you. Oh. oh, you want them close. you hopelessly, selfishly want them all to yourself. you'll support them no matter what, but you don't want them to want a future that doesn't involve you. you want them to read the near-invisible signs of your love and decide to take a chance on you. you never want to say that you *used* to know each other. so what are you going to do?

Note: If this doesn't scream Liz and Dunn's relationship, i don't know what does 😭.

The rising underdog

why hello again dearie, I see you managed to help those frogs those children were kicking, hm? oh how much I can emphasize we are but the ghosts of our childhood passions. and, unsurprising enough, the hero to the trodden little creatures of the earth is now a rising golden savior to the masses. oh love, I said you'd go far, didn't I. for the good always prevail in the end, somehow, they do. you lived a difficult life, I know, but you never let that get you down. you took beatings with a grin, and dished back kindness in return. inequality and injustice made you outaged, and you strove to assist the hurting and abused. oh shining dragon, you are bathed in golden light. please keep being true. you have tasted blood and death, but you refused to force it down the throats of others. and that alone proves there is inchor in your veins, demigod. you will be struggling until the very end, battling for your comrades, your people, and yourself. never lose sight of your goal my dear. sometimes you needn't have one, except see the good, and protect it. that is all my advice can tell you. I implore, protect the goodness in yourself with everything you have, but never refuse to share it also. young hero, you are growing. you are destined for wonders even I may not live long enough to encounter. keep up the good work, and keep your head held high. you are bound to do the impossible, all because you see the truth. there is good in the world, and it deserves to be found.

The emergency

something goes wrong. there's urgency. everything gets turned upside down, and you have to grab for the things that matter most-- Oh. suddenly, there's perspective, and at the worst possible moment, the moment when there is so much else going on, you realize that you have been breathless with want for so, so long. you want everyone to be safe, but please, please, you want *them* to be safe. you want everything to be okay so that you can have another chance to get things right. a chance to start over. and everything will be okay, of course, because you've made it through bad moments before, and that foundation of trust is there, even if you've never quite acknowledged it to its full potential. you trust them. you need them. *Oh.*

Note: Yeah this is pretty accurate for Himiko. She does want everyone to be safe.

#oc skylar jackson #oc liz walker #oc himiko nakamoto

11 notes · View notes

fatewoven · 8 months

Text

// cont.

Utter chaos would follow any clash between such prideful beings. With every breath the dream thins like the skin of a rotting corpse, the bones gleaming like the truth; only a fool would relish in the destruction that would follow in the wake of a god's tantrum. Head hanging upside down, lounging sideways on her chair in a manner most improper, Enver lofts one brow. His smile stretches crooked and pleased by the threat. "You always speak of delicious scenarios. Though, I don't doubt we'll both miss my tongue's talents should it be cut."

The book he's idly leafing through depicts the human body's anatomy in beautiful drawings — a gold-tipped finger lingers on diagrams of the brain, coveting the secrets the organ holds. No matter the months spent on research, it only feels as if they merely scratch the surface, ignorant of the full potential hidden within the mind. "He that sups on death but little will find it a bitter draught. Yet he that drinketh deep shall taste only sweetest nectar," he recites, tone resonant and gravel-worn. Tired, perhaps, from yet another sleepless night.

It would explain the meandering path his thoughts have set upon, purpose vague save for experiencing the pleasure of conversation.

"My loyalty will never be in doubt for My Lord. He knows the value of prudence and assessing one's opponents. I know, with absolute certainty, I act with His approval. The Dead Three were once mortal, as the stories tell it. They know when to be lenient and when to remind us of their supremacy — and I am favored for a reason." An unyielding foundation weaves through the words, confidence not at all misplaced. He looks. Holds eye contact as the reminder that he, too, is a creature familiar with the taste of death, gleams in his smile. "Ambition requires daring. You of all people must be familiar with that considering your home. What was it like? To know a God since the moment your lungs met the air?" Religion came to his life later, giving purpose to a once aimless mind the same way a whetstone polishes a sword's gleaming edge. / @silksworn

#silksworn #gortash / interactions.#verse / an alliance forged.#/ he's a prideful shit #/ lounging on her chair like a brat and talking like he's the specialist boy ever

5 notes · View notes

auburniivenus · 3 months

Note

“ i’d protect you with my life.. even if i have to.”

In the IDYLLIC heart of a medieval forest, where brazen luminescence of noonday sun dares to pierce through a supple lattice of emerald foliage, there lies a tableau of such tranquility that it seems as though the muses themselves have inhaled life into the landscape. Air is perfumed with the intoxicating odors of pine needles and the prosperous, astringent scent of decomposing leaves, interweaving into an odorous embroidery that eases the crux. Here, the quiescent soundscape of the woods flourishes; avian maestros compose their chorales above in the arboreal milieu, their lyrical strains embellished by the adventitious, peculiar pleas of hidden fauna—a potent reminder of the untamed oddities thriving beneath this peaceful pretence. Amid the verdant concerto, the dulcet tones of a neighboring stream softly DIVULGE ancient secrets to those attuned to listen; its consistent murmurs are a signal to the incessant passage of time. A zephyr, melted and delicate as a whispered endearment, waltzes upon the dermis—a gossamer embrace bestowed by summer's breath.

Within this secluded oasis by the chirping riverbank, they find themselves encapsulated within an annulus of serenity so profound that it seems as though time itself has courteously paused. Their dialogue meanders with a fluidity rivaling that of the gentle creek at their side. The world beyond is but an echo—here under nature's sanctum, they are sequestered from life's cacophony by a cocoon that evokes an enchantment, bestowing upon them a brief reprieve from external mayhem. Caspian's tenor imbues every syllable with unspoken ADMIRATION, causing his statements to linger suspended like precious offerings. Her gaze relaxes upon him with an intensity capable of softening even adamantine resolve; her smile erupts elegantly as daybreak’s first bloom—a tender attempt to mitigate his professed seriousness. "Here, have an extra loaf." Proffers, her tranquil voice weaving simplicity and profundity into a single pleasing chord—a modest offering transmuted into an emblem of interwoven memories.

Orihime is well-acquainted with predacious dark forces and fated adversities—as capricious as thistles in their path—yet she elects to momentarily relinquish this apprehension within their transient refuge. "You have my devotion as well." Comely maiden responds with equal loyalty in her soothing retort—a mirrored vow lined in auditory silk. “Although I suppose you will claim you stand beyond the need for protection?” Her laughter cascades forth freely, alight and effervescent as the brook's own tune—it departs from her rose-touched lips like celestial music complementing nature’s chorus overhead. "For now, let us savor this respite." @luposcainus

YOU ARE MORE PRECIOUS THAN JEWELS

#( — .:｡✿*┆ answers ❀ ❞ )#( — .:｡✿*┆ BG3 VERSE ❞ )#ooc; i am a sucker for softness #ooc; thank you so much for this :333 and here have some softness and bread back :3

2 notes · View notes

twdmusicboxmystery · 1 year

Text

TWD 11x22: Analysis, Part 3 - Peter, Passover, RxR Spikes

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Tbh, I’m not sure we’ve entirely nailed down the point of the Peter symbolism. Beth clearly isn’t Peter. She’s Christ. So why go out of their to add in Peter symbolism? Of course Edwards = Peter. This is has been discussed extensively in the past, but him having Beth kill Trevitt was a betrayal, especially when he claimed he didn’t do it, so that was the equivalent of Peter denying Christ. But if they went out of their way to put it into Slabtown, you know there will be an equivalent when Beth returns.

So, as you mentioned above, the idea of them going to the Louvre in the spinoff is interesting and I’m sure it will have at least some symbolic relevance here, if not literal.

All your words about the 22 and the 12 made me think about them a bit differently than I have before. We’ve always said 22 was related to the return/Sirius stuff, and I’m sure that’s still true. But more specifically, I kinda feel like 22 is symbolic of something negative. Maybe the negative side of things. Shane wore the 22 necklace, and while he was friends with Rick, he was also the epitome of everything we don’t want our characters to be. He displayed cowardice, selfishness, deviousness, lack of loyalty, etc.

In terms of situations, it’s clear from some of your pics (the Grady cop car, the sailboat with Michonne) that they represent Grady/the CRM, which are kind of the ultimate Bad Situation where things go wrong. Hence 22 = bad side of things. Perhaps the A side, which is the bad side, where in the B side Beth will live and things will be put right. Just spit balling here, of course.

Now, they’re calling Alexandria Outpost 22. It went from a free, loving place to one of violence and slavery under the CW. (Even though now Daryl and co have essentially liberated it.) You mentioned the two episodes that were number 22. In each, the person (Negan) either lost someone (Lucille) or became a sacrifice. But both times, he was becoming a better person. After Lucille, he went and helped some people who needed it. And of course, after Here’s Negan, he became Negan of the Saviors, which was a negative thing. But you could also see that as his first time through. His A side. The first time, he did something negative with it. This time, he won’t.

I really love the stuff about the railroad spikes being indicative of crucifixion. That makes a lot of sense, and I know with Daryl and Leah, we saw three of them pounded into a tree not far from her cabin. But it also makes me want to go back and re-analyze how they might have been functioning in each instance.

Weirdly specific question: did we ever see Leah in the same shot with the RxR spikes? They’re entangled with her either way, since it was her cabin and her storyline, but we also know she’s a proxy for Beth. So, just wondering if we ever saw her in the same shot with them? Anyone remember?

Empty tomb/empty trunk/empty chair.

I really love these phrases, both as images and also for what they mean in both a religious and fiction sense. I sat and thought about this for a while and had a bit of an epiphany, but it’s very nerdy and meandering.

I was thinking about these symbols and something I heard a long time ago in some Sunday class or other. I don’t remember the exact wording or who said it, so I’m definitely paraphrasing. But it was something along the lines of, “the real symbol for the triumph of Easter was that of an empty tomb.” So, the idea is, how can something empty, or something not being there, be a triumph? It’s a little counterintuitive. But the answer is that what was supposed to be there was a dead body. And the fact that it wasn’t meant he’d been resurrected. So the empty tomb symbolized the miracle of resurrection and that life had triumphed over death. I always thought that was a cool way to think about it.

I know I mentioned this next part before, back when you first pointed out the chair on the train platform when Daryl and Carol and everyone was debating whether to take Pamela’s deal. In the Jewish religion, during Passover, they leave an open chair for Elijah, who is supposed to be a forerunner of Christ’s second coming. So, from a religious perspective, the chair definitely foreshadows a return of the person who was believed to be dead. I can’t help but wonder if we’re seeing them in this storyline to show that this arc is the forerunner of Beth’s return.

So, you also mentioned empty trunks. That put the image in my head of Maggie opening the trunk in 5x10 and seeing the Beth walker inside. And I had this thought that Maggie had not actually seen an empty trunk. She’d seen one that was full of death. And that REINFORCED her belief in Beth’s death.

Okay, so this is where I stray from TWD for a minute to nerd out. I’m a fiction coach. Meaning I teach others about writing great fiction. My teaching technique focuses on the internal conflict. Many people don’t understand (and I don’t include anyone here in that) that while plot and external story events are important (vital actually) the story itself is built on the internal character change.

My favorite definition of story comes from Vogler. “A story is a metaphor for a journey that leads to change.” So, the foundation of the story is the character change. The events in the plot are how that change is brought about. There’s a misguided belief that you keep the audience’s attention through high action. Like fight or car chase scenes. And while those are cool, it’s really the emotion of a scene that keeps the audience invested.

The audience doesn’t care that the cars are driving really fast. The reason they like the chase scene is because the hero is chasing the villain, who has kidnapped his wife and child, and he’s trying to get his family back. Sure, the adrenaline affects us too, but adrenaline alone won’t sustain a story. Without the internal or emotional, you end up with B action movies a la Van Damme or Steven Segal. (Sorry if anyone is a fan of those, but they’re known for being all action and no substance.) No one cared about Rocky Balboa’s boxing scenes because he can punch really good. They cared because he was fighting for his family, his way of life, and his self-respect. Incidentally, all things that can be said about Daryl. While he isn’t a boxer, he can still punch pretty good. ;D

ANYway. So, when I’m helping people figure out their stories, I tell them to craft a misguided belief for the character. And this can literally be anything. Just something they believe that isn’t true. So, it can be literal/external (I’m not strong enough to win that competition) or internal (I’m not worthy of love). It can be very generic (love conquers all) or very story specific (If I just provide for my family and mind my own business, the Capitol will leave me alone – Katniss Everdeen). You get the idea. Any belief, depending on the story you’re telling, that is negative, misguided, and disempowering.

Once they have the character’s misguided belief, the next thing they need to understand is that every event that happens in the plot will affect the character in one of two ways. It will either reinforce their misguided belief, or cast doubt on it. The character will waffle back and forth throughout the story, but overall, they cling to the belief mostly through the first half of the story, but really tend to move away from it and toward a higher truth in the second half. The character’s transformation is them letting go of that misguided belief and embracing the truth, which leads to a higher enlightenment and a better quality of life overall. This is the basic internal arc for all stories.

Okay, so what’s this got to do with the whole Maggie and Beth walker in the trunk situation? As I said, it suddenly occurred to me that Maggie seeing the Beth walker in the trunk is what she believes happened with Beth. So it was REINFORCING HER MISGUIDED BELIEF. And that’s when it all clicked for me. This is nothing we didn’t already know, but it’s another way to look at it that makes a lot of the stuff going on in 11c make a lot more sense from a story structure standpoint.

Gimple took this notion of the misguided belief, which is usually internal and about an individual person, and made it external and literal. The group, as a whole, has a misguided belief that Beth died in Coda. She didn’t, but they believe she did. It’s negative, misguided, and disempowering. Everything that happened in 5b—Maggie and the trunk, Daryl seeing the blond walker on the tree, the abusive dynamic between Pete and Jessie, which mirrored Grady—all reinforced TF’s misguided belief.

Which is that the world is brutal, people die, you can’t always save them except through extreme violence, and things are always going to be bleak. It’s very similar to what Hershel tried to teach Rick in 4a. The empowering truth is that we get to come back from the things we’ve done. But there are times when Rick has had the misguided belief that that isn’t true. And now that is literal as well, because Rick is physically gone, but he’s gonna get to come back.

Now, let’s talk about Daryl. (Cuz we always get there eventually, right? ;D) We didn’t see much dynamic change from Daryl between Coda and Rick’s departure. He was always sad, surly, and bleak, but not much more than that. He went through a rage phase and a few other things, but again, not much positive change. Logistically, I think that’s just because the writers wanted to go through most of the comic book stuff before bringing Beth back.

I was also thinking that it’s actually kind of weird that Daryl hung around. We know, from all the way back in S2 after Sophia, that Daryl tends to self-isolate when he’s wounded. Especially when he’s grieving. And given what Beth meant to him, it really would have been more in character to take off on his own.

Why didn’t he? In a word: Rick. In fact, that may have been the whole reason for the “you’re my brother” scene. (Well, other than establishing a sweet and loyal relationship between these two BFFS. ;D) To give Daryl a reason to hang around. And of course he still self-isolates in other ways. Going into the woods to “look for water” or leaving Alexandria to hunt, even when it’s not necessary. He emotionally withdraws, even if he physically stays. But of course, when he loses Rick, that’s when he physically leaves.

So, my point, I guess, is that everything between Coda and Rick’s departure in Daryl’s arc reinforced his negative beliefs. Ever since Carol brought him back to civilization a la Henry, Daryl has started to move away from those misguided beliefs and toward higher truths. That family and civilization are better than isolation. That even if it’s not perfect, things are still worth fighting for. That he can be a conscientious and thoughtful friend (ie Connie and Kelly). He’s come into his own in terms of leadership. He’s become a guardian and father figure to children. Etc. This is probably why he was okay with the CW and even willing to join their army. In past years, I don’t think he would have been open to that at all, but he’s changed. He’s willing to fight for something even if it’s not perfect.

I also think this is why we keep seeing him observing other romantic couples. Let’s talk about the romance angle. Because I think this might be the over-arching answer to why the Leah arc. There are lots of reasons we’ve discussed at length, but from a Daryl’s-character-development standpoint, this will explain it.

Daryl’s misguided belief when it comes to romance is that he is either unworthy or incapable of sustaining a fulfilling romantic relationship. Based on past-Daryl, it’s safe to say that if he engaged in a relationship, as he did with Leah, and it went south, as it did with her, he would throw up his hands and swear it off. Something like, “see? This is why I’m a loner. I can’t do romance.” He would then isolate himself, not from everyone necessarily but from romantic relationships in general.

And maybe that is what he did after Leah first took off. Because, in his mind, before he understood who Leah really was, he probably thought it was his fault; that he screwed it up by not choosing her.

That’s probably also why he went back and wrote her the note. None of us liked that because we didn’t like her and thought she was toxic, and we were right, but Daryl didn’t know that. He probably thought he needed to try harder and fight for the relationship. Which, if it’s a healthy relationship, is true. He was simply mistaken about it being a healthy relationship for him. And again, given the extent to which Leah misrepresented herself, that’s not entirely his fault.

But I think Daryl learning who Leah really was probably helped him gain back some confidence about what happened and his judgement of people. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one at fault there. When it came down to Maggie or Leah, he made a choice, didn’t hesitate, and wasn’t even really conflicted about it. That shows how much he’s grown. But my point is, he’s moving away from his misguided beliefs about himself and romance. And him observing other couples is part of that, I think. He sees others he respects not only willing to engage in relationships, though they might have doubts, but willing to fight for their own happiness. And that will greatly effect events when Beth returns.

Okay, sorry. Told you I was gonna geek out. The only other thing I wanted to mention goes hand in hand with this. It’s the A/B storyline stuff. And I’ve mentioned some of it before, but Carol keeps having dialogue that really jumps out at me.

In ep 21, she talks to Maggie about how if not for the Fall, they wouldn’t have known one another, but were forced to become family. She then says, “we’re not alone anymore and we’re going to figure this out.” (Paraphrasing.) That struck me as really significant. Even if you want to reach all the way back to S4 when we had the Alone episode, everyone ended up alone. Daryl was alone. Beth was taken to Grady alone. The rest of the group was in small pods, but they certainly weren’t together as a unified group.

And we’ve seen this other places on the show and talked about it a lot. The group has to be together in order to survive and make things work. Blair and Gina had to work together. All three communities had to work together to bring down Negan. Etc. But I wanted to specifically talk about the fact that Daryl says they can’t go get Connie. It will compromise the others, including the kids, that they are trying to get back. I can’t help but think that he’s thinking specifically about Beth there. He insisted on going into Grady to get her and Carol, and things went south.

So, I feel like he’s rebelling against his natural instinct here, which would be to go get Connie, because he’s afraid it will get her or others killed. But then, when Carol tells him to sit tight, he says he can’t do that. Despite his resolve to do the opposite of what he did in S5, he’s just not built that way. He can’t sit still when someone he cares about is in danger. Especially when they’re in the hands of an enemy who might hurt or exploit them. When the dying trooper says those marked as designation 2 are taken far away and never seen again, Daryl kinda freaks out. Of course it’s in that silent-urgency way he has, but he still kinda flips out.

Again, I can’t help but think that something in his head is screaming, “Beth! Beth was taken far away and never came back!” So naturally, he’s like, nope. Done with this shit! Outside, Rosita again says they can’t risk the troopers radioing ahead to warn the others they’re coming. D

Daryl argues that they can’t just leave Connie on the train. And then come the next line from Carol that demonstrates the theme: “I think there’s a way to do both.” So, we’ve always talked about how Rick’s plan at Grady was to go in with guns blazing. But Daryl was afraid of Beth or Carol getting hurt, so he talked Rick into the prisoner exchange. And of course, that REALLY didn’t go well either.

So, we’ve always thought maybe Rick’s first instinct, while it seems to be the riskier of the two, really would have been the better solution. But I don’t think that’s the case either. I think the point is that they have to have a little of both. They have to find a compromise that will work for everyone. Here, when they went to get Connie, guns were definitely used and they definitely had to kill people. But they also didn’t stand in front of the oncoming train and just start firing willy-nilly. There had to be a little of both. They had to be stealthy and minimize risk to themselves and their group, but they also had to use force where necessary.

I was thinking that at Grady, there was no show of force at all. Sure, they had prisoners to exchange, but clearly, they didn’t show enough force for Dawn to fear them. This is evidenced by her suddenly demanding Noah stay after the exchange was done. If they’d shown more force, maybe she wouldn’t have tried that because she’d have been too fearful of what they’d do.

Just throwing out some of my spinning thoughts on this. But we see this other places too. Blair and Gina come to mind again. They thought the solution was to let Gina go off by herself from the gas station, and they tried that. It didn’t’ work. They both still died and started the day over. So, if you think of Blair as A and Gina as B, it wasn’t an either/or situation that would lead to success. It was both. Which is exactly what Carol said. And I think the either/or IS the misguided belief we’re trying to get away from in the show as a whole. They need to learn to do both so everyone gets the happy ending they want.

You could argue this same thing with when Rick disappeared. Rick wanted to lead the walkers away. Daryl thought it was too risky and wanted Rick to come with him back to Alexandria. Rick led the walkers away, and it led to his disappearance. But I kind of think that if they’d gone with Daryl’s plan, maybe the walkers would have taken down the communities. So, it wasn’t either/or. They needed a little of both. But Rick went off on his own, ALONE, and then was taken, alone, to another place, just like Beth was.

Now, with this whole CW arc, we’re seeing the characters work together very seamlessly, and they’re having a lot of success. So anyway. I really will stop now. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Forgive the nerdy ramblings of us fiction coaches. We’re a rare breed and often can’t help ourselves. 😊

@wdway:

I really enjoyed reading this. You know how I love long post that has a lot of meat to it. You asked above if anyone remembered seeing Leah in the same frame as any of the railroad spikes. For myself the answer is no. I can't remember ever seeing her and the spikes together. We only saw her at the front door from inside of the shack. For that matter in FM we never saw Daryl going into the shack using the front door except with Carol, years after Leah.

I did a hand palm to the face when I read where you wrote of Elijah and the empty chair at Passover. When Aaron (my son, not Moses brother)was little I and a friend did a Hebrew study for the elementary and middle school kids. For the Passover meal we actually cooked all the authentic foods, lamb and made unleavened bread. The kids made eat their meal using clay cups and plates that they made. I'm rambling, that was a little side tunnel, sorry.

So this fits so well into the railroad spikes because as I mentioned about the ones at Leah's shack door it reminded me of Passover and how blood was placed above the door.

Another episode with blood around the door was WHWGO Noah's front door. You know that silly old episode where we actually see Tyrese's hallucination of Beth. Great connection on the empty chair.

@galadrieljones:

Like @wdway, I’m also face-palming with the empty chair thing. Every year we do a Seder and leave the empty chair for Elijah. We also leave the door open for Elijah, and we pour him a glass of wine. Elijah is a prophet who performed miracles, including resurrection, and his return is a harbinger of the messiah.

I have noted before that Gimple is Jewish. He’s practicing. His wife converted to Judaism to marry him. So, all of these things are layered into his consciousness as he crafts these stories. I remember a long time ago mentioning the mezuzah and its relationship to 30 Days Without an Accident. Daryl goes to Beth’s cell, and it is the 30th day without an accident. The number 30 has special meaning in Judaism. You have 30 days to affix a protective mezuzah to your door when you move into a new home. After a loved one dies, unless it is a child, you sit shiva for seven days and for 23 days after that you continue life in a reduced but certain mourning period—a total of 30 days.

All of this is just to say that there is evidence that the author’s point of view here is very important, and that evidence pointing to Jewish tradition and Old Testament symbolism is especially potent here. I think this makes Beth even more special, since Gimple chose to make her in the Christian tradition, a Christ figure.

This would signal the coming of a new era. Christianity also upholds a more forgiving image of God than Judaism, in which God is like a very stern, punishing father. I think Gimple is very interested in the notion of the messiah. In Christianity, we view Jesus as the messiah, and the Jewish belief in the messiah is what gave way to Christian beliefs in the birth of Christ. In Judaism, the messiah will one day return to lead the Jewish people back to the Promised Land. He will be born of the Davidic Line and rule as King of the Jewish (chosen) people.

Leaning into the number 12, as it is not only the number of Jesus’s disciples. In Jewish belief there is something called the 13 Principles of Faith, the twelfth of which is in the coming of the messiah. Elijah is the harbinger of the messiah.

I suppose it’s not then coincidence that there is currently a character named Elijah, who entered the story with Maggie, Beth’s big sister. I don’t think Elijah is himself an Elijah figure. I just think that when a Biblical name is used, that’s meant to conjure a Biblical theme in the given context. See: Gabriel, Leah. Now, as of 11.22, we actually have Luke returning to the storyline. In Christianity, it’s the Gospel of Luke that tells the story of the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Christian messiah. Lots and lots of connections here!

Recalling now the empty chair beside Leah in Daryl’s first flashback in Find Me. The chair is shaped like a heart, waiting for Elijah to return, a sign that the “messiah,” or Beth, his true love may return soon thereafter.

@wdway:

Broken record but I love when we all play off of each other. After reading your response Tarah I feel even more confident that if blood above a door represents a Jewish theme then three spikes is the Christian equivalent. I too thought of Maggie's friend Elijah as a reminder of a biblical figure. In talking about Luke reappearing I'm sure is part of bringing all the living characters together for the end of the series but it does feel that it's also a reminder with a Galadriel, Luke and Elijah of a Bible theme of good vs evil. A beginning and an end and a Resurrection for a new beginning.

Acts of God. Two spikes near Leah's camp. Did anyone ever have any ideas on the strange box like object?

@twdmusicboxmystery:

No idea what the box is or what they’re doing for. But it reminds me of the Blair Witch Project.

@galadrieljones:

Me too lol. That’s like the first thing I thought. Is it some sort of trap? Like you step on a wire or something and it stabs you, or…????

But Daryl knows immediately it’s Leah based on the look of it. She clearly has some sort of thing for railroad spikes.

@wdway:

You're implying that Leah's responsible for the railroad tracks in the tree. I don't know at this point if I truly think that or if it is a writing direction that wants to make the connection. Has she simply camped near them, that they could be found all over the territory? I don't know what I'm talking about, just that I don't know that it's a isolated Leah symbol. It could also be a recognizable trigger for Daryl about Leah. I think it was Gabriel that asked something about the box, but they didn't say anything about the spikes. Ignore me I do not know what I'm talking about.

@galadrieljones:

I guess you’re right that we don’t know that Leah put them there. They seem to be “prelude” to Leah, like Daryl seeing them sort of leads to Leah, but there’s no way to know how they got there. Hmm.

Another mystery from Find Me.

Like how does Daryl know they mean Leah? Is it just a hunch? Or does he know how she loves railroad spikes? Or did he mark these places long ago that Leah is now returning to? Is this some sort of mind game? I’m confused lol

I know I initially thought Daryl put those spikes in the trees to control his delusions. I’m not sure about that anymore. But they do seem navigational, somehow. Idk!!!!

@wdway:

What came to my mind was when they first met in FM she said, "what are you doing on my land." I kind of had wondered if Daryl had somehow marked the territory in which he had been searching. ???????

@galadrieljones:

That’s a pretty good estimation. Idk?? Yeah, maybe they are meant to mark her “property lines,” or something? They do end up in the woods that lead to her house. But that’s still insane. Like she just decided one day “this is my land stay out no trespassing beware of DOG!”

Hard to defend land when it’s just one lady but then again she was a bit nuts so idk?

@wdway:

One thing seen certain, that we're not going to get any of these answers by the end of the series with only a couple of episodes left. For me this series isn't ending it's just moving on. So many questions left unanswered.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

I totally agree with @wdway on that last point. The series isn’t ending, just moving on. It’s expanding. And there are plenty of unanswered questions still that are good fodder for the spinoffs. Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

8 notes · View notes

k1nky-fool · 2 years

Text

Devil of the Crossroads

Part 3/?

Masterlist

Silco X OC

Pairing: M/F

Warnings: Murder being treated casually by main characters, dead body hijinks, many threats of violence, most of this is canon typical, if you think I missed something I apologize for not thinking of it, this is a very plot heavy chapter.

Taglist: (I am open to adding anyone to this taglist)

It was early in the morning, and The Last Drop was nearly quiet. Pepper knew Silco was awake at this hour, but she hadn't expected Sevika and nearly twelve more of Silco's goons to already be waiting.

Immediately, Pepper knew who was aware of the attack on her daughter. Most of them idly sat around, chatting among themselves while they waited for their daily assignments. three of them, including Sevika, watched Pepper like she was about to burn the place down.

She made her way to the stairs, but Sevika intercepted her. Pepper glared up at her friend, someone that had shown her fierce loyalty, but she knew this was a crossroads for her.

Sevika fully believed that Silco was the best man for leading the Zaun out of the shadow of Piltover. And yet, Pepper was someone that had never betrayed her, and had always gone out of her way for Sevika. These two forces in her life were going head to head, and if this got out of hand, only one of them would be coming back downstairs.

"Stand aside, Sevi." Pepper had never commanded her, and even now, it was a suggestion. One that warned Sevika that if Pepper had to, she'd go through her friend to get to the man upstairs.

Nobody but Pepper knew to look for it, but Sevika's throat tightened, and she had to fight herself to speak. "Don't do something we'll both regret."

Her voice was low, so as not to let every goon in the bar know what she was about to do. "I ain't ever walked against you, Sevi, and I'll never regret that. But standing for him now means you're standing against me. So what's it gonna be?"

"You think this will solve anything?"

"No." Pepper answered simply. "But she's my daughter; that shit's unconditional."

Sevika let out her strained breath. For a moment, Pepper prepared herself for a fight, but Sevi took a single step away, letting her pass. She walked up the stairs like she expected to be walking back down with the head of a king in her hand.

The office door was closed, but not locked. Without knocking, she walked in, finding Silco speaking with Sheriff Marcus.

The two of them went silent, watching her stroll in like the two of them were trespassing on her property.

"Do you need something, Pepper?" Silco asked quite sure of himself and his power, taking his attention away from her to appear as though she was just another goon in front of Marcus. Too bad she wouldn't be playing along.

"I got a question." She said, calmly, taking slow, meandering steps up to Silco's desk and plopping the folded map, blotched with the blood of his employee. "How many maps did it take you to find the audacity to do what you did?"

Silco glared up at her. "Is that all-"

She cut him off by stabbing the map with his goon's knife, also still stained with blood.

"Leave us, Marcus." The Enforcer all but sprinted out, closing the door. The two of them were left in a scorching silence.

Pepper braced herself against the desk, staring down at him. "Silco, I'm more than obliged to work for you. I'll take your orders, and your blood money at your bar. Hell, I'll put blood on the money myself for you should the need arise." She didn't look away from his healthy eye, just to ensure he kept looking at her.

"But there are only two people in this world that I'll choose over you every time. And you're the only man I've ever known to be dumb enough to try holding a knife against both of 'em." She spat. "I suggest you think over your next words carefully. Else I regret being gracious enough to ask you to speak at all."

Silco, who had looked ready to make his case, or reinforce his threat, stayed silent. Instead he reached slender fingers into a vest pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper.

Pepper took it, and opened it immediately. It was an address. One she didn't recognize but she knew where it was. It was actually fairly close to the bar. "What's here?"

"The address of the man that I sent to give your daughter a message meant for you." Silco explained. "I did not permit him to attack your child."

It was a peace offering. "And you don't care what happens to him."

"He knows he is no longer in my good graces, but he did not trespass against me. If anyone should decide hia fate, it would be you." Silco said.

"And you expect me to believe, what? That my daughter is safe because you're offering that fucker's head instead of yours?" Pepper asked. "Would you believe me if it were Jinx?"

Silco gave a small smile. "I couldn't let my people think I'd just let you get away with your stunt without threatening something." He explained. "However, Sevika made one or two good points last night in your favor. Your real repayment for the stunt you pulled will be fixing the problem you caused."

Pepper stood up, glaring down at him with sharp observation. "And, you want me to go back downstairs like I learned my lesson?"

"Essentially." Silco agreed. "Believe it or not, regardless of the stupidity you've shown, I respect your loyalty to your friend, and now your daughter. I'm trying to reach a compromise."

"A compromise." Pepper echoed, taking a few steps to round his desk and lean against the surface next to him. She thought for a moment about how it would play out if she took his offer. "I don't accept it."

Silco's expression changed to a glare. "You would reject-"

"If you'd let me finish..." Pepper stopped him. "If you want me to fix this mess I've made of your crimelords, then I need to appear in control of myself." She explained. "Make them think it wasn't out of line for me to do that."

"They've called a meeting today. What should I tell them?" He asked.

"Today…" She echoed. "Don't say shit, I'll do the talking."

"I need to know what you're planning." Silco argued. "The only way this works is if they think I'm claiming ignorance of your activities, but I can't look like my employees are running loose."

"This is gonna sound like bullshit, but I need you to trust me on this." Pepper said.

Silco scoffed. "Yes, because trusting you has gone so wonderfully for me."

"Actually, me not trusting you was what caused this mess, so I'm trying to change that. I'm trusting you to have my back on this one." She pointed out.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that you're not going to make an even bigger mess?"

"I mean pretty much." She shrugged, earning a glare from him. "Would it help if I promised?"

It was sort of meant as a joke, but Silco stood slowly, watching her expression carefully, knowing full well that she was watching him right back.

Silco was very easy to read. He really didn't try all that hard to be stone faced, and there was something far more confident in being expressive than trying to hide what one was feeling. Of course, most still found it hard to get a read on him. Whether it was because they didn't trust the expression he did show, or they couldn't even get past the eye, they all struggled. Pepper never did.

His glare softened, making him appear sincere and almost tender. It took her a moment before she recognized the look on his face to be most similar to the way he looked at Jinx, when she was sleeping peacefully. Like Silco was deciding against his better judgement to let her do as she pleased.

"Give me your word, Pepper."

"My word to do what?" She asked. "I'll bind myself to my word, I just wanna know exactly what you want from me."

"Give me your word that you won't give them a reason to hurt you." Silco said.

The request caught her off guard. It was way too caring for what she'd come to expect from him in the last few days. Like he let himself forget that since the first day he came to her for a drink, she'd killed near about six people. Or maybe he let himself remember how she walked into his office with his sleeping daughter in her arms, and caringly wrapped her in a blanket as if she were her own child.

He couldn't possibly care that much about her after all the problems she'd cause. Hell, there was no reason to think he ever cared about her more or less than he would for a good barkeeper.

And yet, Silco still requested that she not do anything to get herself hurt. Pepper tried to find an angle, or some hidden implication that he really meant to tell her not to fuck him over, but she came up empty.

"I-I give you my word. By the time I'm done with them, they won't be brave enough to touch me." She said, but his gaze was still expecting something else from her. "I will not be hurt by them, Silco."

He seemed to settle on that assurance. It might not have been what he wanted, but he would take it. As strangely as that vulnerable moment began, it was gone.

Silco took the knife out of his desk and handed it back to her. "Then I'll leave the talking to you."

-Silco-

Of all the moments that he has had the pleasure to interact with Pepper, there were several of them he expected to see her scared. Silco decided that if she didn't look scared now, then no man fortunate enough to speak with her would ever see fear on her face.

What was on her face was a slightly distracted focus as they made their way to the meeting. She tried to keep her focus, but Silco noted the way her eyes were drawn back to him before she inevitably looked away, trying to keep her attention on the task at hand.

He followed her onto the elevator, where they had definite privacy for a moment. "You have a question."

"I was gonna kill you this morning." Pepper said unceremoniously. "Sevi stopped me at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't try to convince me not to kill you, but she let me past anyway."

"Are you trying to tell me that your friend betrayed me?" He asked.

"No, if she wanted you dead, she woulda come up with me to snag you if you tried to run." Pepper said, only surprising him a little that the two of them already had procedures for that sort of thing. "I think whatever Sevi said to you last night was enough for her to believe that you'd calm me down, and she'd know first hand that ain't easy to do."

"I was going to kill your daughter's friend last night." He said plainly. "Sevika simply convinced me otherwise."

"That's bullshit." Pepper called him out immediately. "Silco, I know the reason we don't get along is 'cause we're too much alike. That being said, it's probably harder to change your mind than it is mine."

That was a fair assessment.

"I wanna know what Sevi said that made her so sure we'd both walk out of that office in one piece." She wondered.

Really, his initial statement wasn't a lie. Sevika said in as few words as possible what he needed to understand Pepper. Even now, he was taking her advice. "Convince the Chembarons, and I'll tell you how she convinced me."

Pepper nodded in agreement as the elevator doors opened for them. "You got it, sir."

"Don't call me that."

"You got it, boss." Silco sent a glare her way, only to be met with a faux-innocence giggling back at him. At the end of the hall, Silco opened the door, standing aside to hold the door for her.

She stepped without a care, and stopped in front of the long table that sat three of the most powerful organized crime leaders across both cities. Pepper didn't even look impressed. Silco would be lying if he said there was no fear in him. For this lot, all it would take is one offense in order to go after her, or worse, her daughter.

Pepper moved once more, now rounding the table, getting a good look at everyone that sat, waiting for Silco to take command of the meeting. Distrust settled on their faces as he followed behind Pepper's lead.

When she stood at the head of the table, she stopped again. The silence could have only been torture as Pepper's mind worked to get a read on everyone at the table.

She didn't hesitate, but she did look back at Silco to make sure he was really trusting her with his entire empire. It wasn't lost on him what she was really doing. From the moment she walked in, Pepper had been putting on a show. Everything she did had a purpose for being shown to the three barons at the table. This was to show them that she took her orders from Silco, and nobody else.

With a sure nod of permission from him, she continued. "Afternoon, folks. I'm glad to meet y'all."

She smiled warmly, yet it was nothing like the smile she gave Silco over drinks one late night. Still, her voice was laced with something sweet, while it usually made her easy to get along with, now was a warning that she was hiding some force of nature behind her lips.

All three Chembarons stared her down, even as she appeared as though she was talking to nothing but children. "I hope I ain't a new face, considering I've been pouring your drinks for near about two months, but then again, you wouldn't be the only one." Pepper gave Silco a playful glance.

"Silco, who is this clown?" Despite where Smeech aimed the question, Silco remained silent, keeping his promise to let Pepper have the floor.

"Welcome to the rodeo, Smeech." Pepper laughed eerily quiet.

She hopped up onto the table, and began slowly walking down it. The heels of her boots knocked against the table like someone hopelessly knocking at a door, knowing they wouldn't be let inside.

"I heard y'all took my clowning in the manufacture district personally." She said, giggling as Smeech glared, basking in the attention the barons were forced to give her. "Right now, the only personal offense you should be worried about is mine."

Something about her walking along the table seemed far too familiar. The way she held her hands politely behind her back, the pace she walked, even the sway of her hips. Sillco wanted to say it was the same way she walked into his office this morning, ready to stab him, and yet he felt like the two were incomparable.

"Last night, Finn found out the hard way what happens when I take an offense personally." Pepper got to the end of the table, and spun around to begin walking the other way.

It was then that he recognized the attitude she had. Pepper was having fun. She was absolutely amused by the situation she was ruling over.

"Whatever game you're playing, you now have a wild card to count, and guess who holds it." Pepper announced to the barons as they all glanced to Silco himself. "Now I got a question for you three to consider."

She took a moment to take inventory of all the glares being directed at her. Renni watched carefully, but there was no hatred from her, only caution. Chross did his best to appear indifferent, but when Pepper shot him a cheeky look, his eyes narrowed at her. Smeech did nothing to hide how he loathed Pepper.

"How keen are y'all gonna be on walking against him, when I might take it personally?" Pepper hopped down off the table and Silco followed her silently out the door.

It wasn't until the elevator doors shut that Pepper showed any reaction at all. She let out a harsh breath and collapsing back against the railing. Silco instinctively reached out, catching her shoulder before she hit the wall too hard. "Are you alright?"

Despite what he saw, Pepper nodded through struggling breaths. She was shaking. He wanted to ask, but he wasn't expecting her to answer while she couldn't even get air in her lungs. She quickly stood up straight when the elevator opened again, even while she was still shaking.

The second she found an obscured alley, she immediately took the space to try catching her breath again. It took Silco a moment, watching her chest heave and her shoulders tremble to realize he recognized this. "You grew up on the outskirts of the sumps level, didn't you."

"Outside the Back Lanes." Pepper confirmed.

That made sense. The gasses from the mines seeped into the Back Lanes, making the air there notoriously toxic. For an accent like hers, Pepper's childhood home would have to be around the mineshafts themselves. This problem had likely been an issue since she was very young.

Her breathing finally settled and she could speak coherently. "Didn't mean to spook 'ya. Been a while since my lungs up and jumped me. Must've been my heartbeat. Got a little too anxious there and I lost it."

"You got anxious?" Silco said it before he had a chance to think about it, and Pepper shot a look up to him.

"Yeah, I did." She snapped. "I just threatened three ruthless crime lords on a whim because I didn't wanna take your anger lyin' down. Believe it or not, roughing up the fucking Chembarons ain't exactly a night on the Promenade!"

"It surprises me, that's all." Silco explained. "You threatened my life without a question, and you admitted to plotting my murder."

"I don't know if I'd call that mess a plot, but that's different." Pepper brushed off, as the two began making their way back to The Last Drop.

"Is it really?" He asked. "I am invested, do explain the difference to me."

Pepper gave him a side eye glance as if to make sure he really wanted her to explain her thought process, the same way she was cautious about revealing all her observations about him before.

"'Cause I ain't scared of you."

It should have made him angry, or at the very least concerned. But with what Sevika had told him last night, Silco was almost relieved that he hadn't irreparably damaged their professional relationship.

"Good." He said simply. "I can't buy or threaten loyalty out of a woman like you."

"Then what can you do to get loyalty outta me?" Pepper asked without filter.

"Sevika says I can't get it from you without first giving it. I'm inclined to believe her after what I've seen."

"So you decide to threaten my daughter instead of killing her friend?" Pepper scoffed in disbelief. "That was your bright idea?"

"My idea of a compromise that backfired when my employee decided to take matters into his own hands." Silco deadpanned. "A poor choice in hindsight."

Pepper stopped a moment as they were coming upon the Last Drop. "Hindsight…" She repeated. "Sevi was ambushed by Finn's guys. Which means you have a rat on your detail."

Silco halted with her, noting that speaking about a traitor within his own walls would be stupidly dangerous. "I have been considering that since you mentioned it yesterday."

"Any suspects?"

"Nobody who's mistakes seem malicious. I already considered Louis, but his choice to make an attempt on your daughter's life is no more suspicious than the last time he tried to make a show of strength." Silco explained. "And the supply chain hit wasn't common enough knowledge for him to have been able to give detailed information."

"It didn't have to be detailed. He'd just have to know what route they'd be using." Pepper pointed out.

That made sense, but even then it could still be just about anybody on his payroll. "And how does that narrow it down? If Louis were trying to take me down, why go after you?"

"Because we made it very public that we were spittin' venom at each other." Pepper pointed out.

Nearly everyone had seen their standoff. "And if you had come to kill me, like you already did, and Sevika couldn't change your mind, I would be dead? She would have attacked you, and you would be dead."

"I'd already proven I was able and willing to take down a warehouse single handed." She reminded him. "I was still going to kill you for trying to threaten her. Maybe they still thought they could salvage it."

"The only thing they didn't count on was you and I reaching a compromise." He realized.

Pepper fished the slip of paper out of her bra. Silco averted his eyes to maybe shake the light burn of his ears.

"Do I still get to decide his fate?" She asked.

The crooked smirk across her lips suddenly made him worry. It was identical to the way she had played him yesterday when she swiped that map right out from under him. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking… I can get Finn to come negotiate a deal with you." The edges of her smile peeked out from behind the little white square between two fingers.

Silco was still skeptical, yet trusting Pepper to keep people in line was proving to be a useful tool. "You are certain you can do it alone?"

She hummed as she considered her answer. "I'm gonna need Sevi."

-Pepper-

"Where are we going, Pep?"

"We have a few questions to ask little Louis." She answered. "He knows where Finn's holed up."

Sevi chuckled. "Silco really approved this?"

"Well, approved's a strong word." Pepper gave a noncommittal shrug. "Really he trusts me not to dangerously fuck it up."

She let out a long sigh in reply as they came to the door. "Then why do I get the feeling he's not gonna like what we're doing anyway?"

"Because you'd be right." Pepper gestured for her to knock on the door where she stayed out of sight from the door's eyehole.

Sevi's metal hand made a loud clanging sound against the exterior cage of the door. "Louis, open up!"

It took a brief moment for him to begin unlocking the various mechanisms that kept him safe. "Sevika? The boss have a job?" Sevika shoved past him, making Louis go quiet the second he laid eyes on Pepper.

She took her time walking around the kitchen that sat beside the front door as Sevika guarded the now closed exit. Pepper stepped up to the cabinets and looked around. A few cabinets in and she spotted a rather expensive bottle of whiskey. Pepper smiled, pulling it from the shelf and noted it had yet to be opened.

"What's this about?" Louis couldn't take the silence anymore. Fortunately, Pepper didn't have any plans to let him off easy.

"This is an expensive bottle you got here, Louis." She noted. "Now I'm not much of a whiskey girl, but sometimes keeping such a nice bottle is worth the wait of drinking something you don't like all that much."

Louis had just gone quiet, only getting visibly more jumpy the longer she didn't make a move.

"I reckon you don't know how to tell if the bottle is sturdy enough to bother keeping, do you?" She asked, getting no response from Louis. He began slowly backing away from Pepper, only to back right into Sevika where he froze.

"There's a few ways to tell if your bottle is nice enough to keep." She continued. "One of the easiest ways is just to memorize some good labels. But even good glass makers can have a bad batch here and there. You can finish off the bottle and just try to cut the glass. If it's sturdy, you can get a clean break and sand the edge down. Make some nice stuff outta glass like that."

Pepper finally stopped looking over the bottle and looked up at him as he refused to meet her eyes. He was sweating and Sevi wasn't letting him move. "But you know what, Louis? I don't think I'm patient enough to finish this bottle. So I just gotta test it now."

When he gave into his confusion and looked at her face, she swung the bottle at his face, dropping him fast. Louis hit the counter before he hit the floor. Sevika picked him up by the collar and gave him a generous knee to the gut.

Pepper was already inspecting the bottle. It was now the third item she'd been in possession of that was now splattered with this man's blood. "Will you look at that! Not a crack in it!" She may just have to follow tradition and give this to Silco as well.

"What do you want? I'll give you anything, please!" It was pathetic how fast he was willing to beg for his life.

"Your boss." Pepper said. "Where's he holed up?"

"What? You know Silco's-" Sevika gave another blow to his stomach.

"Your other boss, Louis." She clarified disdainfully. "Where is Finn?"

Louis coughed to regain his voice. "Who?" Sevika's next hit was to his face.

Pepper giggled, and began looking through his cabinets for more liquor. "Sweetie, if you're gonna play dumb, don't play that dumb."

Sevika reared up for another punch.

"Wait- wait! There's a casino!" He panicked, making Sevika stop.

"Which one?" She asked without looking over to him while she turned to the icebox.

"Gold Scales on the Promenade. He owns the place and works out of the top floor."

Pepper found a few bottles of an unfamiliar beer label in the fridge as she nodded along with what Louis was telling her. "You want one of these, Sevi?"

"No, I'm good for now."

"Suit yourself, sugar." She took the bottle over to Louis and looked over his now bloody and swelling face. "What's security like over at Gold Scales?"

"Nobody on the outside, but there's guys keeping a lookout around the whole building." He panted out.

Sevika shot her a glance. Yeah, figures that'd be a problem for her. Pepper had to figure out a better plan if Sevi was gonna be a part of it. But as far as both of them were concerned, Louis had outlived his usefulness.

Pepper found a buckle on his jacket and put the edge of the bottle cap. The cap popped off with just a good yank that also broke the strap. "Well Sevi, this turned out better for you. Turns out we don't need him alive."

Louis didn't get another word out before Sevika had finished the job. Pepper took a seat on the table and sipped away in deep thought about their plan. Unfortunately, spread out security in a casino was likely a covert system. Even if they managed to get in, they would have no idea who was a threat.

Fortunately, Pepper was not a stranger to creative solutions.

"What are you thinking, Pep? This one too dicey?"

A clever grin spread across her face as she looked down to the body of the man at their feet. "I think Louis can still make himself useful."

"I never liked that look." Sevika sighed.

"Louis said Gold Scales is on the Promenade; Finn works out the top floor. If I remember right, that's the casino with the big ol' skylight." She recalled. "What if we don't need to make our way up? I reckon we give him a gift from above."

If Sevika had a problem with it, it wasn't a deal breaker. She knew that if Pepper wasn't able to do her job, or if Finn turned out to be a little more stubborn than they expected, then they wouldn't have a way out.

"This is a risky move, even for you." Sevika noted, looking down at the glass dome at the top of the casino.

They stood on the neighboring building, an apartment complex by the looks of it. But at least it was tall, and there was at least one balcony that was the right height.

"Yeah, well… if this ain't about Silco, then there's only a few things it can really be about." Pepper said.

"This still about Sketch?" Sevika asked.

"A big part of it." She confirmed. "Another big part of it is that this bastard was dumb enough to try using you as bait."

"But that's not all of it." Sevika pointed it out like she had already figured out there was something else.

"While I'm taking this offense personally, I reckon Silco's just as tired of this fella." Pepper figured, "If he's pissed enough to turn me loose on this man, then he better pray that hell's the worst thing I bring with me."

Pepper watched for the security to leave as a young woman made her way into the office. If her sight wasn't going bad, then that girl just locked the door behind her.

"You can drop our gift now."

Sevika didn't need to be told twice to get rid of the weight on her shoulder. A little morbid to use a corpse as a battering ram, but they use the tools they have, and a little psychological warfare never goes wrong.

The glass shattered, leaving a safe opening for the two of them. Sevika went first and caught Pepper, making her landing just a little easier than she was capable of on her own.

A bright smile was her greeting to the two terrified people in front of her. "Sorry to drop in like this, but we didn't have much of a choice."

Sevika stood by the door, waiting if the chance came that somebody might get curious about the noise.

"Who the fuck are you?" Finn spat.

"The fuck I am." She echoed, taking light and chipper steps up to his desk, rounding it and offering her hand to the woman beside him. "Now honey, are you here for any reason other than getting paid?"

She shook her head.

"Well that's fine and dandy. Now, if you head out that door and tell Finn's goons out there not to disturb him, I'll double your pay for the night. Tomorrow afternoon, you come find me at The Last Drop and I'll make sure you're all set."

She nodded, trotting over the broken glass in her heels and stopping in front of Sevika for a second. She was let out and called a shy "Thank you." back into the office.

Sevika took the coffee table and pulled it to where it rested on its side against the door so they were sure to be left alone.

Pepper turned back to Finn, who was glaring between her and Sevi. "You working for Silco?"

Taking the knife out of her boot, she turned it over in their hand. "I do. But the funny thing is, suddenly I'm not too keen on keeping my word to him." She said, leaning in close and tapping the blade against a gold jaw. "You see, I told him I could get you to negotiate a deal with him, but now that I look at you, I don't think you're sweet enough to come up with any deal that he'll like."

Finn laughed. "So what? You're stupid enough to double cross that man?"

"Well, that would be interesting, now wouldn't it?" She said, "But when it comes to you giving the order to kill my daughter, well, Silco might just have to get over it."

He stood, glaring down at Pepper, who was definitely a few sizes smaller than him. But she wasn't worried. "You think I'm scared of you?"

"Little old me? No! Of course not." Pepper waved off, making her way to the body on the floor and squatted down next to him. "But then again, our mutual friend, Louis, here? Yeah, he learned real fast to get scared of Sevi."

Sevika's heavy footsteps slowly came closer to Finn as she towered over him. Now he looked scared.

"So what does Silco want to negotiate?" Finn asked.

"Silco?" Pepper blurted, standing abruptly. "I think you misunderstand, Finn. I'm not here to help you strike a deal with Silco. Your negotiations are with me. And you better convince me to let you walk outta here in one piece."

He looked between Sevika and Pepper, as if trying to decipher some kind of game they were playing. But upon looking at the corpse at the center of his floor, Finn was certainly doubting something. "If you can't deal with the consequences of this business, then find a new job."

Pepper nodded in thought as though thinking over his suggestion. "And me sticking a knife in your dick is what? Is it consequences, or do you call it something else when it's inconvenient for you?"

"I die, and what happens to you?" Finn asked. "Silco gets angry, and just forgets how you betrayed him? Word on the streets is that Silco doesn't forget."

Pepper tapped the knife on her chin, once again in thought. "Funny thing about Silco is that I don't give a rat's ass what he thinks of me. If he pulls some shit, I'll kill him the same way I'll kill you." She said, "Without remorse."

Finn had the audacity to laugh as he stepped closer, towering over Pepper. "You are a certain kind of woman. One that survives by intelligence and the strength of those that don't have what you do. But in the end, that makes you desperate for power, because you and everyone you trust, knows that you don't have it."

The only thing fortunate for Pepper, is that she decided years ago that she would never let a man like him see her falter. If he was right, then she'd show him what a desperate woman does when she knows where to take power from.

"Then what's that make you, Finn?"

She'll give him credit where it's due, he doesn't waver, even as she sees the realization dawn on him. He knows Pepper will tear his head off and leave it on the desk if it means she'll get whatever power he believes she is starved of.

"Willing to negotiate."

"Hmm…" She muses, "Tell you what. You talk it out with Silco tomorrow night, and we can negotiate how long your life lasts after that."

"Deal."

He watches the two of them leave in silence. Nobody stops them on their way back, and nobody follows them. Pepper struggles to catch her breath as soon as the casino is out of sight.

Sevika chuckles, but puts a hand on her shoulder anyway. "Figures that would do it to you."

"Fuck you too, Sevi." Pepper coughs, aided by a few hefty smacks to her upper back.

"I was a little worried you'd actually kill him." Sevika confesses. "Either you meant that or you just want to kill him in front of Silco."

Pepper hadn't thought of that, but if it would help, that wouldn't be a bad idea. "If Silco wants him dead, he wouldn't have sent me to do the dirty work. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it."

"Hmm. What changed your mind then?"

"Silco's trusted me with a lot of shit today." She explained, "Tomorrow I see just how much I can trust him."

#arcane oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco x reader #silco x oc #silco fanfic #oc: pepper #silco x pepper #oc x canon

15 notes · View notes

pushing500 · 14 days

Text

Buckeye is a bit of a plant snob, I think. It makes sense in a way because she seems to be part plant, but the biliog are designed to grow psychite and have improved plant skill in their genetics, so... Maybe Buckeye just thinks Blackdragon's not pretty enough to work in her garden.

Our new Hussar colonist Curly only likes one of the cult members, but Socks considers him a rival.

Nineteen-year-old Curly is also, somehow, twenty-nine-year-old Vasso's granduncle.

And finally, it's time for the final colony tour of Loyalty's Meander before we set off to hopefully cover the last leg of the journey to the crashed ship!

Presenting... Loyalty's Meander!

It's a quaint little settlement with not too much going on—aside from the giant murder church. I'm sure nearby settlements consider that more of a tourist attraction than a threat, though, right? Right?

The central hub of the colony is the kitchen/dining space, with room for prisoners/spare food off towards the south.

There are some very productive fields and a stonecutting station set up in the centre of the colony.

To the left is the saplingchild pen that recently saw the births of Magic Man and Buckeye's daughters, Blackthorn and Bluegum. We also have a tailorshop/art studio, and a guest bedroom.

Vance's room comes next. It was hastily constructed off to the side because he joined us later. Of course, we also have a dinosaur museum. I love dinosaur museums.

The main bedrooms are built in a sort of apartment-style structure, with a hospital and a bathroom at one end.

The laboratory is tacked on to the end of the apartment block, and it doubles as a classroom for the many children around the colony, though only Dire Wolf and Night Stalker ever used it because the others are still babies or toddlers, and Bella and Pro are adults now.

The garage, another bathroom, and our archery target for shooting recreation.

The rec room/fabrication room. This used to be our temple before some traders came by and sold us a prefab which became...

...The spookiest darn church you ever did see <3

They also sold us a prefab for a "Viking Village," which we turned into a guest motel and Curly's bedroom, where he could do grumpy nonbeliever Hussar things away from the rest of the gang.

Last but not least are our animal pens and the barn. The boomalopes have a separate pen because they tend to explode when things don't go their way, and we can't risk losing Shamrock, the lucky donkey.

So there you have it! The end of Loyalty's Meander, and one step closer to escape <3

First | Next | Previous

#rimworld #gracie plays #The Children of Ecthuctu #art #my art #traditional art #rimworld art #unpolished art #poor Blackdragon and Curly #Maybe the two of them will be friends #though I doubt it #I hope we can make the marathon journey in one go #Then I can FINALLY get Anomaly #I've been trying to avoid spoilers but I WANNA PLAY IT SO BAD #how exciting~#have a fabulous day everyone! xoxo

26 notes · View notes

wonderloste · 1 year

Note

“ i don’t like the way they look at you. perhaps i’ll cut their eyes out. ” — siladeu 💅

& RE : bold of you to think i remember these / @londonfallen.

they aren't used to it, to be rather frank. this kind of attention is entirely foreign to them : not the wandering eyes of confused onlookers, no, they are quite used to that, both from wonderland and beyond. even in the nightmare realm had a good portion of fae looked 'pon their fabled bandersnatch in wonder, so too had silas, once in a dream. it's the ... interest that troubles them, makes them uncomfortable in their own skin, where they had never been before. it is not enough, of course, to deter them. they are who they are, and no societal normalcy that attempted enforcement 'pon them would ever take hold, try as silas had at times, and try as stubborn constables of london's churches might, too. it did not make them any less aware of the wandering eyes, particularly veilgarden's.

it did not make it any less unwanted, either, as their head oft drifted to the clouds, spinning in circles almost as quickly as their steps did in time with the music that plays around them. their thoughts swim, all giggles and half-stumbles, but never so much they would not notice that attention — when it is not their beloved who brushes their fingers 'neath the scraps of their dress, they know. so abrupt is it, the way they spin in startled anger, lips parting to say something : and yet before they've even had the chance, they are not the first to have noticed. their wrist is grabbed, pulled back, and those hands, then, are familiar, as they give in to the gesture, allowing themselves to meander alongside him.

they do not think the patron whom had foolishly chased their skirt had expected them to part from the boisterous crowd they had fallen into dance with so abruptly, stumbling with bare, half rhythmic steps into the lap of another, notably very angry man. the mirth has melted from their own face, haze of honey far from capable of clouding their loyalty, judging plain by the disgusted scowl they wear as they collapse against their soulmate. they do not even blink when silas, then, grabs their face, presses his lips hard 'gainst their own with fingers tangled all within their own wild hair, pulling them against him. they allow him to do this, palms pressed to his chest for the sole purpose of keeping themselves from slipping off of him. they do not know how long he kisses them, but they are a mess by the end of it, though they already had been to begin with. when he at last frees them, presses his lips too to the side of their neck, they do not see if he glares into the dancing crowd, but they do not care, breathless giggles on their lips as they ready themselves to adjust positioning.

their legs, bare as they oft are, cross over one-another, the scraps of the dress's trim falling wayside 'neath the movement as they feel silas's arms snake 'round their waist. they stay with him at the table now atop his lap, falling 'gainst his chest with a huff as their arms wrap around his neck. this puts them slightly taller, allows them to lay their head over his, cradle his own against their half exposed chest whilst carding their fingers through his hair. they are uncomfortable with it, that attention : but so, too, is he, and the sense of safety they find in his embrace is more than anything. were it acceptable, they'd have ripped out the stranger's eyes the moment he had touched their thigh 'pon mere principle! but they needn't, not here, not this time.

silas protects them, always.

"solo sus ojos? eso es muy misericordioso de tu parte," they murmur against his ear so that they cannot be heard over the music that plays, lips pressing a tender kiss to his temple as they hold him close. they are far from subtle regardless the rings 'pon their fingers, the way they cling to him, his hands on their hip and thigh both. they can feel his fingertips digging into their skin, as if seeking to pull them further into him though it is impossible to be any closer without moving. it is desire to stake claim, every bit as it must be his frayed edges forcing himself to hold back in such a public space. equally they can feel it within him, the passionate ache that tightens his chest and theirs. it is an anger so specific to him, so fiery. it is overbearing, overwhelming, obsessive. so, too, they believe he can feel how they yearn for it — for him — to claim such total possession of them. blatantly, publicly, loudly. how ironic to what one may think of their nature, that they do not want another's attention, let alone this society of rodent mortals. so offended are they, they'd consider burning their legs all over again simply to cleanse their skin, had silas himself not rest his own hand over where they had been touched, instead.

the subject of their ire, pale-faced and likely humiliated, scuttles to disappear into the dancing crowd, head down with bitten lip. he will not, they think, live to see the next day in london, the way they can practically feel their beloved staring after him, hastened pounding of his heart 'gainst his chest. "that man was an underlandian." their eyes shift through a series of emotions : anger, hatred, then devotion as their attention lands on him. now their hand finds his cheek, thumb stroking his skin, so porcelain, perfect. "ikotane burn ho, a'maelamin."

#londonfallen #ʚ o. in character ɞ ⁄ you’ll lose your mind wandering for hours‚ may even decide to start talking to flowers.#ʚ c. bandersnatch ɞ ⁄ you go down just like holy mary‚ mary on a cross : your beauty never‚ ever scared me.#good lORD #◟ ❥ silas + carisma : your heart knew the path‚ is this the place we used to love? am i the one you dreamt of? › londonfallen.

2 notes · View notes

grasslandgirl · 2 years

Note

1-4 fic writing asks!!

xoxoxoxoxo mary ILYYY sorry im belated answering this! brain broke <3

1: Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

a toss up between my eldonado fake dating/tatbilb fic (x) or my d20 bb figayda hmc au (x); i have complicated and similar feelings for both, they were both the longest thing i'd written or posted at the time of finishing them, but looking back i feel like the execution leaves a lot to be desired, the ending on both of them feels rushed to me, and i don't often go back and reread either of them because i can't not think about how i would do it differently now. which, i mean, i guess that's part of growing and improving in any artistic endeavor, you leave behind the things you did before and have to look back on them with both gratitude and a healthy dose of "eugh" but like. yeah. i think i would either rework my eldonado tatbilb, or expand further on my d20bb fic in a way i didn't have the support or the time to do last year

2: Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

mmmmmmm. idk. nothing specific comes to mind at the moment. there aren't a lot of things i really want to write that i don't/can't. like sometimes i'll have ideas that are really complicated and involved and i know from conception i prob won't write them fully out, but they're fun to kind of plot point and consider and think about, even if they never leave a planning doc. and there are a lot of wips i start and then lose interest/inspiration in and end up leaving in a folder somewhere gathering digital dust; and sometimes i remember and come back to them, and sometimes i dont! most of the things i dont think i'd be able to write are also things that i don't have a ton of interest in writing? really heavy graphic violence and angst, porn, etc- mostly when i have an idea for a new swing at something i want to try writing, i talk to my friends and bounce ideas and i try to read things that are similiar in tone/style to what i want to attempt and work from there!

3: How would you describe your writing style?

uhhhh. meandering. too many lists. excessive use of commas and italics. heartwrenching pining and loyalty and dedication and affection. internal monologues and detailed sensory scene setting. uhh? yeah

4: Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

uhhhuhhh kind of????? a lot of people have prob seen me blog about dna/leah/adam- which are like. pseudo oc's in my mind (though casey will probably argue they're full ocs lmao <3). leah and adam (and a whole additional host of characters that go along with them) started as characters in a very unknown british play (DNA by dennis kelley) and have since, in the seven years since i ran the show, have grown and evolved into sort of original characters? it's hard to tell where the line in the sand is between character inspired by a play and character so far divorced from the original source material it's an oc, you know?

so long story short: i sort of have OC's. i have SOOO many stories (seven years worth) about them. oh my god. (you don't want to see little 16 y/o sav's dna fic though. you don't.)

ask me fic writer's questions from this list!! (my ao3 is also @ grasslandgirl and is linked in my bio <3)

#asks #mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mary #i lvoe ask games bc i can never answer a question concisely. i always have to give my life story ksjdbvksfjb

5 notes · View notes

lgwilt · 2 years

Text

Unconventional writer ask game: answers

It took me a while to get around to this, but here we go! Thanks @knuckleslove for the fun questions and @dewdropreader for the tag!

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I’ve been writing fic on-and-off for quite a while now (since 2016-ish!), but I only started posting earlier this year.

Do you have a favorite word? (One that you love. Doesn’t necessarily have to be one you use all the time.)

Mellifluous (although I can’t say I’ve used it in a fic yet)

Share a favorite run-on sentence that you’ve written?

I’d never really thought about it before, but I actually don’t think I have any examples of run-on sentences! Not even when writing about characters spiralling into panic or on the verge of a breakdown - which is a bit surprising, since my internal monologue is essentially one giant over-excited and/or meandering run-on sentence.

I do write plenty of LONG sentences though (complete with flagrant overuse of parentheses).

Share a bit of a scene that you’ve written that still gives you FEELS.

Sad feels from On a Wing and a Prayer (there’s lots of comfort in this fic, but this scene was the first one that sprang to mind):

Loki’s voice was hard and unforgiving, but it was beautiful, just as rich and musical Mobius remembered. If he just agreed to talk, maybe the nightmare projection would turn back into his Loki, use that silver tongue to murmur soothing lies until he finally drifted into an unbroken sleep… Maybe the illusion of comfort would be better after all.

What is your favorite kind of character interaction to write?

*deep breath* where to start?

Interactions between characters who who mask/repress their emotions (often in very different ways). Stoic and self-controlled characters showing cracks of vulnerability or dramatically breaking down after being pushed to their emotional limits is my all-time favourite fictional trope!

See also: mutual unspoken longing. I love writing dialogue where what’s left unsaid carries more emotional weight than the words themselves.

Drawing out parallels and shared experiences between characters who (at first glance) seem completely different from one another, or between characters on opposing sides (I love a compelling Best Enemies dynamic). I never get tired of exploring the moral ambiguity of “good” characters, or the potential for characters cast as villains to deviate from their assigned roles.

Self-doubt + reassurance ❤️

Friendship, devotion, loyalty

Do you have a hyper-specific genre?

Hmm I’m not sure about a hyper-specific genre, but I’ve yet to write a fic that doesn’t include hurt/comfort - or hurt + moments of mutual understanding and emotional connection, at the very least!

Any personal or frequently used tags?

The classics. Angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

Share a joke or funny moment that you’ve written that still makes you laugh.

I’m not sure I’d call these jokes as such, but here’s some dialogue I had fun writing:

From On a Wing and a Prayer (Lokius):

“It was heroic,” Loki insisted heatedly. “Mobius, they were torturing you. And your body is weak and mortal.” He gestured at Mobius to make his point. Mobius chuckled fondly. “For a minute there I thought you were gonna compliment me.”

From The Man Who Wasn’t There (nostalgic Life on Mars/Doctor Who crossover):

“I’m sorry,” Sam interjected incredulously, cutting off the stranger mid-ramble. “Did you just say… my wife?” “I know. That was my reaction too,” the stranger confessed, as though he and Sam were on precisely the same wavelength. “Never thought of you as the marrying kind.”

Best editing tip?

I second @insert-witty-user-name-here and @dewdropreader's pro tips about coming to your own work as a reader. Anything that helps trick your brain into seeing what you’ve written like you’re reading it for the first time, e.g. taking a break for a few days, changing the font, reading on a different device, reading quickly to get a sense of how the narrative flows as a whole (not being able to see the wood for the trees is definitely a thing, at least for me!)

What drives you to write?

I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve always wanted to try my hand at writing fiction. For fanfiction specifically, I write because I’m continually falling heed-over-heels in love with fictional characters and worlds and I need an outlet for all those “what if?” scenarios that won’t stop crowding into my head!

Share something about your writing that you have wished someone would ask you about.

“Is that semi-colon really necessary?”

Where do you draw inspiration?

All over the place! One consistent source of inspiration is that I almost always have favourite quotes to hand that help set the mood of a fic or resonate with the themes. Sometimes these quotes make it into the story itself, if I can figure out how to weave them in organically, e.g. my Gallifrey fic Silver Lining.

What is your immediate reaction when you receive a new comment on a fic?

Pure, unadulterated JOY! Smiling, dancing, throwing confetti!!! I’m always so touched when people take the time to leave comments, and I’ll never not be ridiculously excited to see a new comment pop up in my inbox.

What is your biggest challenge in writing?

My inner critic looking over my shoulder while I write

Falling into the trap of obsessing over sentence structure/individual paragraphs at the expense of the story as a whole (I’m trying really hard to train myself out of this – I’d love to be able to write FASTER and in a more relaxed, “stream of consciousness” way, at least for the first draft)

What story or scene are you most proud of?

I’m proud of completing my Lokius story On a Wing and a Prayer, the first fic I’ve posted chapter-by-chapter. While it isn’t all that long in terms of the overall word count, the real breakthrough for me was that I started posting before I’d completed the later chapters, which meant I didn’t have my usual “safety net” of obsessively editing the story as a whole before sharing it. My draft for Chapter 6 comprised “they escape - something bad happens”, so I was excited that I managed to work out the nature of the “something bad” and write that chapter from scratch over a fairly busy fortnight (which for me counts as record time!!)

1-2 sentence preview from your current WIP?? (Only if you are willing.)

Saving this one for last. I’m cheating a bit with my answer as I’ve currently got three “active” WIPs on the go. My focus right now is my Lokius fic Variation On a Theme, but I definitely plan on finishing the others (eventually)!

From Variation on a Theme, Chapter 3 – in which Director Mobius meets President Loki:

Loki smiled, sharp and sudden, white teeth gleaming. It was the same smile Mobius had seen in the reels from the Sacred Timeline (mischievous, beguiling, utterly irresistible), and yet it wasn’t the same. The spark of joy dancing in those mesmerising eyes had vanished, replaced by something steely and dangerous. Loki’s expression was cold, his smile slightly unhinged. Not for the first time, Mobius wondered how much of this “teetering on the edge of sanity” façade was a construct, a calculated intimidation tactic, and how much was genuine. Right now, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to find out.

From The Man Who Wasn’t There, Chapter 3:

“Are you trying to tell me,” said Gene slowly, with an exaggerated patience that Sam knew from experience didn’t herald anything good, “that my DI is a Martian?”

And lastly… the conclusion to my little series of Good Omens fics (just two very short fics so far, but the next instalment will be longer). Title = A Twitch Upon the Thread:

“No, angel. Nothing like that.” Crowley sat up, tried to smile. “The fire and brimstone stuff is mostly for show. The worst thing about hell is that it’s got no style.” “Tell me truthfully, Crowley. Is that really the worst thing?” Crowley’s expression changed suddenly, like a mask had fallen away. “Not even close, angel.”

Please link your profile so we can admire your works!

AO3 profile: lydiagwilt

Also tagging @insert-witty-user-name-here @cha-melodius @blackbirdofasgard @mirilyawrites

#unconventional writer ask #fanfiction #tag game #lokius #best enemies #thoschei #life on mars #big finish gallifrey #good omens #ineffable husbands

3 notes · View notes

verbophobic · 1 year

Text

Fics I do plan to go back to and Finish

No no particular order other than my scrolling of my AO3

What To Even Call This (actively working on this)

Zelda Series; Sidon/OC

To help his people, Sidon begrudgingly agrees to a marriage with a Hylian. All he wants is a woman who can rule at his side, someone that he may one day grow fond of like his sister Mipha had with Champion L-something-or-other. What he does not expect is Kino. A girl who seems almost clueless to the difficulties of the Zoran domain but whose heart will not let her stand by and just watch them struggle. As he learns more about her he finds himself growing fonder and he finds himself wondering, 'just who is this woman that wormed her nervous little way past his tightly guarded walls?'

What Am I Doing

Avatar; Tsu'tey/OC

A soldier is sent with Jake to the Omatikaya. She’s sent in an effort to keep an eye on Jake as Quaritch is beginning to doubt his loyalties. So Quaritch has a soldier he feels he can trust more than Jake reporting back about Jake. She tells Q to the best of her abilities what Jake is up to. Unfortunately as Jake has told the Omatikaya that he and her are both of the same clan Jarhead, they want to try to keep them separated as possible. So while Jake is off learning with Neytiri she is left to meander about and an eye is kept on her. She finds that she's fairly often around Tsu’tey - as he trusts her the least so he keeps the closest eye on her. Now she finds herself begrudgingly learning about the Na’vi’s ways and learning about the giant blue jerk. Still she reports to Q about msot of what she learns. Often asking how much longer her misison is so she can return to the base. Her way of tricking him into thinking she’s not actually having fun or enjoying learning about her friend. This fic is intended to follow the first movie loosely and into the second movie where she differs from Jake. ISO BETA

What A Clusterfuck

TMNT (Bayverse, sue me); Raph/OC

Raphael met a woman by coincidence, if you could call a hydroplaning car coincidence that it. But all the meeting for the next month and a half after that? Coincidence. Mostly. Raph would see this walking talking beacon of bad luck, and help her from the shadows. Until he didn’t. Until he stepped into the light and she was relieved he was a mutant turtle and not a mugger of New York City. Plus he was offering the poor half drowned woman an umbrella to help her starve off the rain. Now though? Now it’s just a clusterfuck of trying to figure out how her apartment ended up burning down. Raph/OC oneshots. Not yet put in order. Soon though!

Plane Jane

Lost Boys; David/OC

She was just another Plain Jane among a sea of them. In Santa Carla where everyone tried to stand out, those with the barest of differences are the most memorable. So a girl that's working behind a counter in yet another convenience store that looks like just another 'normie' was no one memorable. Dead end job for what seems like forever, no family so to speak of, and an ex who just can't fully let go; that was all just another boring day in a sea of eternal days to her. The most abnormal she'd ever seen up until a single fateful day was the cat that would somehow sneak into the store and just sit on the counter with her some nights. Until those boys came in like ghosts. She never knew how that triggered the events and she didn't care, all she cared about was the guy trying to rob her. Completely edited and beta's as of 11-20-2022 Ya'll are also welcome to suggest chapter titles.

Lost In The Wilderness/Stolen In The Wilderness

Lost- Transformers; Prowl/Sideswipe Stolen- Transformers; Elite Trine/Sideswipe

Lost: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have had it bad since sparklinghood. Like so many others they were snagged up and put into the pits, chosen for where to end up and where to be a profit. The gladiatorial pits seemed perfect for two mechs whose steps couldn't be more in synch if they tried. But like so many others upon reaching their adulthood it's time to be put up for auction. They have the training, they have experience, they have survived their upbringing and are on their way with others to be put up for auction when unlikely rescue comes. It's not for them of course, but they are along for the ride at this point. Who are those savage black and white barbarians and what do they mean by 'Mine'?! In Search of Beta

Stolen: Spin off of my Lost In The Wilderness fic. What would have happened if it had been some other barbarians that had descended upon the caravan? Barbarians that are nowhere near as 'kind' as those we've come to know In The Wilderness? While Prowl and his group are far more 'civilized' those that rule the skies are seen as demons with wings. And poor little Sideswipe just so happened to be cute and in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this take of the wilderness, Seeker's are not nearly as kind as land mecha. But perhaps there's some charm to Sideswipe that can woo one or two of them~

Sink My Teeth Into You

Little Vampire; Gregory/OC

Rory Murry is a normal teenage. Unfortunately her divorced parents have decided to change their custody agreement and she is forced to move away from the 'big city' to the rural town she had first grown up in. Her memories of back then are blurry due to the young age she left and the few traumatizing events that happened directly prior to leaving. Such as said parental divorce. A teenager that she meets in a graveyard does tug at a few strings of memory though and she is left curious as to just who he is and why he's always hanging out in a graveyard late at night. Her own reasoning for being there? She's not the brightest there is and a tiny bit lonely in this 'new' town. Also- why is there a creepy old guy in a wanna-be ice cream truck haunting this place?

When It Bleeds

Predator Series; Pred/OC

Experimentation is not always okay. But sometimes its necessary. Ta'roga knows and understands this. But when he looks at the other experiment being paraded down the hall in front of him he feels nothing but rage and disgust at these humans. How could they do something like this to- to-Join us on our exploration into hunter territory where we learn about a code of honor that the 2018 movie tossed to the wind. Join me as i make the 2018 move better later in this story. We will be fixing up plot mistakes, and making a proper set up for the movie and not killing off every good character. I will be killing off characters that we will grow to love but saving others that the movies did dirty.

Work In Progress/Metempsychosis

MHA; Bakugo/OC

WIP: Sato Misaki is just your average girl, a young adult who has a semi useless quirk. IT's nothing she's proud of and honestly she would rather be Quirkless. That is until she meets a man in a grocery store. He works in his own way to help her come to terms with her Quirk and accept herself. Bakugo Katsuki is not the same person he was while growing up. He's grown as an individual and learned better how to handle his emotions and mostly reign in his temper. Few understand why he, of all people, would go for a girl who's quirk is so plain. Not to mention someone so oblivious as to not have a clue to the majority of Japan's hero's. This is a series of oneshots, out of order, featuring my OC Misaki and her relationship with Bakugo. One day I'll do a story for them, for now enjoy their life's snipets since meeting.

META: Metempsychosis; resurrection, rebirth, reincarnation. It has a definite definition. The being that chose this as their name has a path set before them. One that will change the hero Ground Zero’s bleak future after his lover - or rather soul mate - is murdered before him. Katsuki had met and fallen in love with a normal girl whose quirk was nothing special. But that in itself made her special to him. With having seen her life ripped away before his very eyes he’s on the brink of insanity. Until some being walks up to him with a warning of ‘pivotal moments’ and ‘not changing them’. Whatever that meant. All he knows is Misa has melted in his arms and left him. His own form is liquifying. Yet he’s able to open his eyes once more and finds his hands are small and chubby. Just like his reflection in the mirror - wait, is he five again?!

Penny For Your Thoughts

CW DC verse; Snart/OC

Prue's motto was to not let life get her down, she'd hit rock bottom while young so she couldn't get any further down, right? One would surely hope so. Seeing a penny heads up she can only hope that it means luck, that whatever was going on right now would be for the best. Taking the coin from the ground she hold it up and out to the man with a gun trained on her. She knew she wasn't walking away from here. As queasiness bubbled up in her stomach and she felt like throwing up she forced out a smile and touched her stomach as if to calm it and keep from throwing up in fear. "Penny for your thoughts?" Perhaps she'd been around her snarky boyfriend far too long as saying this to the man with a twitchy trigger finger might not be the best of plans. Snart/Oc (putting this here because as a ready I like to know exactly which ship I'm reading and not be surprised later on.)

1 note · View note