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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 10 months

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Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap (Sneak Peek)

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

Tags: Future NSFW 18+/Shameless Smut/PwP/MMF/some Ghostsoap, Anon Request •ᴗ• (Full tags will be used in main post), Jealousy, Banter, Flirting, Bickering, Sexual Tension, Soap and Ghost are fighting over the same girl, but it's a friendly competition, ends in a three-way too so, spoiler alert, Scarcely proofread

Masterlist

Ghost leans forward now, resting his arms on his knees and furrowing his brow. "A'right, out with it," he says. "What's your game 'ere?"

Soap's brow furrows rather facetiously. '"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Don’t play dumb Johnny." The playful tone Ghost once used before has now since cooled, growing darker. "You know wha' I'm askin'."

Soap merely smirks, resting his arm back against the couch. "The same game you're playing, yeah?"

"And what game is that, Johnny?"

Soap can't help but laugh now, growing more and more cocky with each loaded exchange. On a normal day, Ghost might manage to intimidate the Sergeant every so often with his sheer presence, let alone his words. However, when it comes to women, Soap couldn't feel more in his element, especially up against his superior.

"One I'll beat you in."

Now it's Ghost's turn to have a laugh. A subtle thing, trapped beneath the burliness of his chest, though its deep rumble is audible enough, having warmed the Scotsman's cheeks at the sound.

"I doubt that," Ghost says.

"You underestimate my charm L.T." Soap puckers his lips and kisses the air between the two men mockingly. As much as Ghost tried to hide it, the sight had made the air catch in his throat for a second. It's that usual, competitive nature about the Sergeant that really gets Ghost's blood pumping during these mutual bouts of bickering.

"My last statement still stands," Ghost chuckles. "So what? You thought I'd leave and you two would just go at it then?"

"I wouldn't say it like that," Soap says. "...But I was hoping to have some alone time with her, yes."

"And you figured on waitin' for the rest of us to vacate before making a move..." Ghost shrugs with affirmation. "...Clever man."

"Yeah, well, what about you?" Soap asks. "Clearly we're both still here for the same reason. What's your "game", L.T.?"

"It's not your concern."

Soap groans, sinking back in his seat, though he hadn't been surprised by the lieutenant's response. "Suppose it isn't, then," he says. "It's hers."

"That's right," Ghost agrees. "We can't both have her."

"Can't we?"

Ghost brings his eyes forward to Soap's, having thought his comment had been a mere joke. However, once their gazes matched, Ghost could see that his Sergeant was dead serious.

Personally, Soap's never been opposed to the idea of a threesome. He'd even be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about it from time to time, as boyish as it sounds. Adding Ghost into that equation hadn't tripped him up much either; Lord knows the lieutenant would be next on Soap's list if you weren't at the top of it first.

Still, Ghost had a hard time even picturing a scenario where something like that could happen, let alone with all three of you. No doubt the man had been interested in you, and for a while, he'd even felt something for Soap as well, feelings that haven't necessarily gone away.

Something with all three of you would no doubt be perfect, however, it just seemed...

"Let's be real here, Johnny." Ghost leaves it at that.

"Suit yourself," Soap merely shrugs, before a light bulb moment suddenly lets off in his eyes. "How about we bring this to the source then? Hey Y/N!"

"Soap-"

"Oi, calm down, mate," he smiles at him. "No point in beatin' 'round the bush, aye?"

You round the corner finally, having heard their voices vaguely through your door this entire time, but not being able to put full words together. From the "uh-oh" look you had on your face, however, something told the two men you were already preparing for them to say something crazy.

"What's up?"

Soap gives Ghost a final look, waiting to see if the man will protest. However, when he sees that he doesn't speak, Soap grins, turning back to you.

"If you had to pick between Ghost and I, who're you choosin'?"

"Pick for what?" you ask, certainly needing clarification. "For battle?"

Soap bursts out laughing, just now feeling how awkward it was going to be explaining this to you. "No," he says. "Like if you had to pick one of us to... I don't know, go out on a date with, who would you pick?"

You keep smiling at Soap like he's joking, but once you see he hasn't budged, you feel your heart begin to race.

Your eyes grow wide, now suddenly embarrassed to have the spotlight on you. "You're seriously asking?"

Soap nods. "I am."

You look over at Ghost now. Surely this was just another one of Soap's antics. "You too?"

Ghost shrugs. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

You were hoping he wouldn't say that. But, if they were asking, then may God be your witness as you answer them.

Placing a hand to your chin, you pout to yourself and look back and forth between your teammates, sizing both men up for every physical feature they had to offer.

Your mind immediately goes to the gutter, not being able to help it. You've found them both distractingly good-looking ever since you joined the team, and you've more than thought about this before. Just never in comparison. Or out loud.

Soap looks like he'd be fun to play with -- he's eager, energetic, and even better, open-minded. Not to mention he was cocky too; you always liked a man who could talk his shit and back it up. With those big arms of his, he could just box you in against the bed and pin you down good and firm, as he drills into you, cooing that sweet little accent of his in your ear like he would. It made your body tingle just thinking about it.

And then there was Ghost; if there was any voice you wouldn't mind having growled in your ear while being fucked senseless, it was his. Unlike Soap, you just knew you wouldn't get it rough like you would from Ghost. You've lost count of how many times you've caught yourself gawking at him during sparring sessions or while out in the field, watching that bulking mass of muscle of his he called a body, manhandle any and everything in his way. Having him do the same to you in a more intimate sense never failed to make the lower parts of yourself start to throb at the thought.

After giving both men a good, long look, you sigh, letting your arms fall back to your sides.

"I can't choose."

"Ah, don't be shy now, lass," Soap says. "If you're worried about hurtin' our feelings-"

"No it's not that," you cut in. "It's just not an easy choice, you know?"

Simon raises an eyebrow now. "Oh?"

"Oh, don't act all surprised, Ghost."

"You like us both then?" Soap asks cautiously.

"I'd say so." You begin to smirk. "Why? What's going on here?"

The two give each other a look, before Simon goes to explain things to you.

"We're just trying to figure out which one of us has a shot."

"Figures you should be the deciding vote, seeing as you're the subject of interest, lass."

You imagine you look pretty stupid standing at the center of your living room all wide-eyed like you do, but frankly, this just feels too good to be true. It hadn't been one of them that was supposedly into you, but both of them. If you could do a backflip, you'd do twelve right now, no questions asked.

But before you get head over heels about this, "So you're saying you both want me then?"

"In more ways than one, darlin'," Soap teases.

You glance over at Ghost this time, having taken note of his sudden silence. "You too, Simon?"

He hadn't necessarily been prepared to confess his feelings to you, not like this, and much less in front of an opposing audience. Still, Ghost wouldn't have his own Sergeant show him up so easily. Plus, the way your eyes lured at him this whole time had a chill running down his spine, making it hard to concentrate. So he nods, "That's right."

A devilish smile slowly creeps over your lips.

"Well, can't I just have you both?"

Coming soon...(・ω・｀)………..

I'm in the process of typing the smut for this, but here's a preview. Please let me know if this dialogue kind of wreaks; I don't know why, but I'm struggling to like it no matter how much I rewrite it (I keep flipping back and forth between liking it and not liking it). But enough of that. I'll link the full part here once it's complete! (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)

#ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader #soap x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #Spotify #ghostsoap #soapghost

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

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Ok I sent you that jealousy ask with a horny intent…but what you delivered was honestly better (and still kind of made me horny). I love dad Bradley and coach Bradley so much. The fluff was sooo good.

….And it got me thinking about their son’s conception (Bradley definitely has a pregnancy/breeding kink)

Thanks for writing!! We don’t deserve you!!

ahhh coach bradshaw! loved writing them like this, especially since they don't quite lose their spark even as parents. i maintain the fact that they would be fucking terrifying on the pta

and i am good for nothing if not subverting expectations, so yes! let's delve into the bradley x smart aleck breeding kink dynamic and gilbert henry bradshaw y/l/n's entry into the world...with a twist

warning: breeding kink, smut, child birth?? language

"Oh my GODDDD," you shrieked.

Shrieked - there was no other way to describe it. Your voice positively echoed through the maternity ward, bouncing off the linoleum floor and scaring doctors, nurses, and future grandparents alike.

It was hour thirteen - no, fourteen? - of labor and Bradley felt like his hand was about to break from the vice grip you had it in at the moment. All things considered, though, it was probably the least he could do.

The ice chips hadn't helped. Ditto with the quick walks around the room and all the back and shoulder rubs. He even offered to rub your feet despite feet freaking him out. The only other thing he'd ever heard of helping labor was sex and that didn't seem like the best idea at the moment. So, nothing - nothing helped.

"I know I will love him when he's here and all that mushy maternal bullshit, but right now I just fucking want this kid OUT OF ME!"

Your dad and step-mom chose that moment to poke their heads into your private room. "How's it going, sweetie?"

"Do you hear a baby crying yet, dad?" you snapped.

He had the decency to look apologetic and Bradley shot him a quick smile. "Sorry, we just figured we'd drop by again. Guess we'll be in the lobby with Pete, let us know if you need anything."

"Okay..." you said, way less harshly. Your dad just waved you off. "And now my dad hates me!" you wailed.

Bradley gave you a quick kiss on the head. "He doesn't hate you, sweetheart. You're going through a lot at the moment, he's just worried."

You let out a deep breath, then sucked in another, working through your latest contraction. They were just about three minutes apart and you were dilated about seven centimeters last time the nurse checked.

"My back is killing me, bubs..."

"Oh, here." Bradley rubbed your back, wishing he could do more. "The nurse said it shouldn't be too long now, alright?"

This was the transition phase, or so the book had said. You cried out during a particularly difficult contraction and flopped back against the rumpled and sweaty pillows once it was over.

"We are never doing this again, so help me god, Bradley - this is all your fault!" you grumbled.

Even amidst the circumstances - read his son's imminent birth - Bradley couldn't help but scoff. "My fault?"

You nodded, a weary expression on your face as he handed you some water. "You're the one who's always desperate to cum inside me like some fucking fourteen year old in his dad's Playboy."

"Hold up, hold up. Nah, sweetheart - you're always the one saying fuck me, Bradley. Come inside me, Bradley. Put a baby in me, Bradley -"

"- I'm being facetious!!"

He sputtered, "Facetious, sure, sure - I wanna make you a daddy, Bradley? Ring any bells?" That one normally sent him over the edge. He was one hundred percent sure he could pin down Gil's conception to the third night of your wedding anniversary trip to the Maldives...

"...Please, Bradley," you moaned in his ear, "I wanna make you a daddy."

His fingers dug into your hips, barely giving your body a moment to settle on his cock before driving it back into you. You felt so glorious around him - so pretty, so wet, so fucking tight.

"Come on sweetheart, keep talking. Let everyone here know how much of a slut you are for daddy's cock."

You took a hand off his shoulder to play with your tits and arched your back. "Ohhhh god, don't you wanna see me get all big and full when I'm bouncing on your cock? Have everybody know you made me look like this? So fucking full of your cum?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That did it. Bradley cried out your name and slammed his cock into you one final time, getting lost in the ecstasy of your cunt pulsing around him. He spilled into you, filling you to the brim.

"Thi - think that'll do it? Think that'll make me a daddy?"

You came with a cry at his words, no doubt waking up the Garcias in the villa next door. Bradley couldn't wait to see them at breakfast in the morning. 'Yeah my wife was the one keeping the resort up last night, asshole.'

Your body sagged against his and you pressed lazy kisses along his shoulder and neck. "Bra-Bradley, Bradley. Love you, Bradley, so much, bubs, so good..."

"Shhh, shhh, sweetheart. There's my good girl, took me so well. Just sit here for a bit, yeah? Don't wanna waste a drop of that cum you begged for so much. Gotta make sure everyone knows you're mine..."

...Current you shot him a look, trying to appear intimidating. But the hair plastered to your forehead with sweat and the partially unbuttoned johnny didn't really help your case. "I don't sound like that!"

"You do! And you say shit like that, too! But I love it, it's hot as fuck." This probably wasn't the place - or the time - to discuss both of your respective kinks, but that didn't stop either of you - until...

"Do not - oh, oh, shit..."

Bradley grabbed your hand. "What is it? This one feel different?" You nodded. "Let me call for the doctor, okay?"

He sat up to leave your bedside, but was stopped by your hand pulling at his pant leg. "Bra-Bradley?"

"Yeah?" He stopped.

"I love you," you said before letting out a deep breath.

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, sweetheart. Now let me go get the doctor so we can have this kid, alright?"

Twenty minutes later, Gilbert Mitchell Bradshaw was born.

And despite your earlier protestations, Margaret Amelia Bradshaw was born six years later.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley and smart aleck #top gun #asks #they go to the st regis maldives for their anniversary if you're wondering #just to give a visual you know??? 👀👀#bradley bradshaw full on dilf after doing the age break down on these kids ie. 40 and 46 respectively...#i gave gil a fucking stupid name that i'm oddly attached to now so figured any future ones should be relatively normal #writing #bradley fic

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thrawns-backrest · 11 months

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My thoughts on Treason but just the funny bits. I'll do a more serious review but here's some crack for now (CONTAINS SPOILERS BEWARE):

Pik and Waffle, lovable evil jocks with the silliest little names. No, I will not elaborate.

Savit is the embodiment of the 'he's out of line but he's right' meme. He was literally right. No actually he was wrong, he gave Stardust a few years when in reality it only lasted a day (Fs in the chat but also lmao, get rekt).

I'm still not supposed to root for the Empire like this but here we are.

Someone give Ronan a 'Krennic's top simp' shirt that he can wear with his goofy little cape. Which I'm happy to say the book read to filth, as it should.

The fact that Eli is still so genuine and likeable that even barbed-stick-up-my-ass Ronan felt bad for leaving him down at the space port... only for Eli to then get back to his shuttle with literal thoughts of slaughter on his mind. Like damn it takes some skill to make Eli this mad.

In recent news, Thrawn is still an absolute riot.

My heart goes out to Faro, every time she thinks she's catching up to Thrawn he just comes up with an even more insane plan and she ages ten years on the spot. Like 'we're going to fight Savit now but I'm not even gonna be here, also I left you some instructions on your Ipad :)' '???? Sir????'

My sympathies to the poor stormtroopers who had to watch Thrawn and literally thought he was joking when he said he was going to the bridge. They literally went 'yeah sure you will buddy- wait where did he go?!?'

Cue Savit having an aneurism when he finds him there. (You cannot tell me this man isn't having the time of his life in that moment. Huge 'little shit' energy right there. And I respect that.)

Imagine the Firedrake crew just minding their own business and Grand Fucking Admiral Thrawn walks by without any escort whatsoever like 'Hello :)' '???? Can I help you, sir????' 'No, I know my way around :)) Thank you :)'

TIE Defender supremacy. Stardust sucks.

Half of this book was big ships yeeting smaller ships at other big ships. No, I will not elaborate.

The other half was Thrawn and Ar'alani going back and forth like 'Thrawn no!! >:((' 'Thrawn yes! :))' 'sigh... fine.'

Also, can we talk about how hilariously petty the Chiss are?? ...I am so on board with that.

Knowing how bad Thrawn is at these political games, it's no wonder he's cool chilling with the Empire for now. I mean, the Empire is bad but the Chiss sound even worse. My man just wants to solve space mysteries, let him be.

Savit having another aneurysm while waiting for Ronan to catch up to him and Thrawn in the beginning of the book. Meanwhile Ronan living his best life walking down the runway with his stupid little cape

Chiss are genetically predisposed to being little shits, I'm not joking that's just facts.

"Have you found the target? If not, I suggest you put thoughts of entertainment out of your mind and concentrate on the task at hand." "Yes, sir." Tanik straightened in his chair. "Oh, wait, sir," he said with exaggerated brightness. "I stand corrected. Admiral, we have them." (SEE? SEE WHAT I MEAN??)

Tanik literally smiling at his station because he's gonna spill the tea about Khresh having a little tantrum to all his besties at home, what a legend.

Eli: Man, I want some one-on-one time with Thrawn. Also Eli when he gets some one-on-one time with Thrawn: Oh fuck, am I in trouble-

"Perhaps. But I believe you were suggesting a shift to turbolaser fire?" "A shift to-? Oh. No, actually, I was being facetious." "Ah." PFFFFFT

Okay I'm done. For now.

#thrawn treason #thrawn treason spoilers #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #eli vanto

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im-a-matt-girl · 1 year

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"Groceries"

You come into the room pushing back your hair and letting out a big sigh.

"What's wrong?" I ask you, looking up from my phone.

You shake your head. "I don't wanna go grocery shopping today," you say in an exasperated tone of voice.

"I can go for you," I shrug.

"No, it's okay," you say, reaching for your keys. You sound unenthusiastic, to say the least.

"But I like going grocery shopping," I tell you.

"Really?" you ask me.

"Yeah, I'm being for real," I smile at you. "I really don't mind at all. I'll take my car."

You sigh again, but this time it's in relief. "Thanks," you tell me, putting your keys back down. "I just really don't feel like going out and getting recognized today."

It's been one of those days for you, I can tell. "I get it," I nod. "It's okay. I got you."

"Here's the card," you say, handing me the card you use to buy food with. "The list is on the fridge."

"Okay," I say, putting the card in my pocket. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Hey," you say softly, reaching for my hand as I try to walk out your door.

"Hm?" I turn around.

You give me the gentlest of kisses on the cheek. "Be safe," you tell me, just above a whisper.

"I will," I whisper back at you, smiling.

The grocery store is packed, but that doesn't deter me. No one knows who I am, so I won't get stopped and distracted from my goal of getting everything on this list. I'm glad for that.

I look at the list, and it makes me smile whenever I see an item that I know you put on it, as opposed to one of your brothers. I just hope the store has exactly what you want in stock.

When I get home, Nick opens the door for me. He looks appalled. "Matt, why is she the one carrying all the groceries!?" he calls upstairs to you.

You come running down the stairs to help me. "Sorry," you apologize. I don't know if you're apologizing to me or to Nick, so I just smile and say nothing.

Nick purses his lips at you, annoyed. "What is wrong with you?" he growls between his teeth.

"What? She offered!" you explain to him, motioning to me.

"It's true, I did," I admit. "I actually like grocery shopping."

Nick quickly shakes his head in bewilderment. "Okay, whatever," he says. "That's between you two, I guess." Then he turns toward the stairs again. "Chris! Come help!"

"Why don't you help?" you ask Nick as you walk up the stairs with bags of groceries.

"Oh, haha, very funny," he says facetiously. "I helped by opening the door for her. This is your job."

Chris comes downstairs and takes the remaining bags. "I got it," he says.

"Thank you," I tell him. "And thank you, Nick, for opening the door for me."

"Of course," he nods, closing the door behind me. "It's the least I could do."

"The very least," you say from the top of the stairs.

Nick rolls his eyes. "Matt, shut up!"

I chuckle quietly to myself. I have two sisters who are very close in age to me, and we bicker all of the time. I love the dynamic between you and your brothers.

We put the groceries away together, and every time you see something in one of the bags that I got for you, you take it out and smile at it before putting it where it belongs. I love seeing you happy; that's all the validation I need.

When we're all done, you wrap your arms around me and give me a big, long, tender hug. "Thank you," you whisper into my ear.

I close my eyes and hold you in my arms. "It's my pleasure," I whisper back to you. And it truly is.

#matt sturniolo x reader #fic #op #pov: yours

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messinwitheddie · 6 months

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Dipper "So, this is how we're spending our evenings from now on, hu?"

Mabel "Mom brought him home from work!"

Kimber "He was a promotional prop for our new office space, but now he's my dance partner. So energetic, so fluid!"

Dipper "So distracting."

Mabel "We'll clear the living room before Dib's next Zim update; don't worry."

Kimber "I hope he calls a truce with Zim on earth's behalf and Zim decides to adopt earth as his new home. We'll all become good friends.. I can interview him; exchange recipes and mix cds. Aw!! Then when he starts a big Irken family I can see what their babies look like."

Mabel "Smeets."

Kimber "What?"

Mabel "Irken infants are called smeets."

Kimber "Awww! Little smeetie-beebies."

Mabel "We can adopt one! Or a pair if they're social!"

Dipper "What if smeets projectile puke highly corrosive acid or they're just really ugly?"

Kimber "No baby is ugly. I don't care what kind of fluid it spews out; I want to adopt one and name 'em Babka unless Zim insists they keep an Irken name. If I can't pronounce it, I'm going to be so embarrassed."

Dipper "Are you going to raise it Jewish?"

Kimber "Well, yeah... unless Zim openly objects."

Mabel "Are we allowed to do that, like, on our end? Can an alien convert to Judaism?"

Kimber "Ye....er...? I will do some research and ask some questions."

Dipper "Guys, stop. I was just being facetious. Zim isn't here to make peace with humanity, that's very much established, and he's NOT going to hand you alien baby adoptables. This conversation is too stupid to entertain any further."

Kimber "A human can hope."

Dipper "Just... I don't even know if Dib has an update. Did he message you at all recently?"

Mabel "No. He usually contacts you first. You haven't heard from him?"

Dipper "Not since last week."

Mabel *wincing "Ooh. When he just cut the stream mid update?"

Dipper "Yeah."

Kimber "Poor baby. He got all glassy-eyed and quiet."

Dipper "That was weird."

Mabel "And sad. I wonder what happened?"

Kimber "Did we say something that upset him?"

Dipper "I don't know. I don't think so, but... Wait; Gaz logged on. I'll ask her what's up with him."

Dib "...? He's been in his room doing Dib things I would rather remain ignorant about."

Dipper "Is he okay?"

Gaz "I... guess so? Why?"

Dipper "He hasn't contacted me or replied to me at all since last week. I even hacked into the swollen eyeball site. He's been idle for days."

Gaz "That is kind of weird. Wait, you hacked the swollen eyeball? Why not just make an account?"

Dipper "I'm banned."

Mabel "What?"

Dipper "Not me specifically; The entire Pines family is blacklisted by the swollen eyeball."

Gaz "What did you DO? They haven't even banned Dib yet and he's a nuisance."

Dipper "It wasn't me; my zadie Shermie used to have a lot of heated arguments with some of the elder mods in the mid 80's. There were a lot more antisemitic conspiracy theories circulating in the SE back then, from what dad told me."

Gaz "Yikes."

Dipper "Yeah... Anyway, um, you haven't spoken to Dib or seen him come out of his room at all?"

Gaz "Not in past few days."

Dipper "And that didn't seem concerning to you?"

Gaz "That's not unusual or anything. We try to give each other generous amounts of personal space in this house. I just assumed he was obsessively going over his stupid Zim research or editing the next update with you."

Dipper "No, I haven't heard from him. We just wanted to make sure he was ok. He seemed really upset last time we face timed, like he was about to cry or break down or something."

Gaz "About what?"

Dipper "No idea. I was hoping he said something to you."

Gaz "If he did, I wasn't listening."

Dipper "That's kind of shitty."

Gaz "I'll spare you an emasculating comeback while I carry us through this mini boss battle."

Dipper "Could you check to see if he's alive? Tell him to text me when he feels like it."

Gaz "Now?"

Dib "Preferably."

Gaz "But we almost reached the save point."

Dipper "Don't you think your brother's well-being takes priority?"

Gaz "No."

Dipper "That's really shitty."

Gaz "Says someone who never smelled Dib's room before."

Kimber "Gazlene?! Go tell your brother to come downstairs and floaty screen talk with us right now, little miss! Be a good sister. Tell him you love him and we miss him and we're here for him."

Gaz "Is she trying to guilt trip me too?"

Dipper "Welcome to the family."

Gaz "Fine. After we reach the next save point; Only because YOU care. But I won't be pleasant about it. Actually-- Hold on... Todd? Todd!"

Squee -startled mid-snore snort!- "What?! What's burning?!"

Gaz "Nothing yet. Do me a favor. Go tell Dib he needs to call Dipper. The whole Pines family is worried sick about him apparently and they're trying to make it my concern."

Squee "Um...ok. Sooo, the last time I went into his room, he told me to fuck off and threw a bucket of chicken bones at my head. Not putting myself through that again. Sorry..."

Gaz -irritated growl- "Fucking serious?"

Squee "Sorry, but, I scrub the bathroom twice a week. You go deal with Dib."

Gaz "Damnit..."

A continuation of this dialogue.

#invader zim #gravity falls #crossover #au #dib #gaz #dipper #mabel #sorry #long post is long

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saintsenara · 1 year

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If you're feeling the violence, I'd love to hear your thoughts on 1, 8, 18 or 25 😈

thank you for the questions from the choose violence ask game, anon!

1. who is the character everyone gets wrong?

obviously, this is caveated with read and write and interpret characters how you want, but sirius, 100%.

and i'm not just referring to the womanising, prank-playing, "you're not serious?"/"yes, I am" version of fanon, but also the dark-aristocrat!sirius which has been created in many fics to counter this portrayal.

i find myself really not fond of a sirius who is, at any one time, one argument with dumbledore away from becoming a death eater; who finds himself saying "mudblood"; who feels more comfortable around characters like lucius malfoy than he does lily; and who would happily take a hereditary seat [not a thing!] on the same wizengamot that will later sentence him to azkaban without a trial.

yes, sirius undoubtedly had a lot to unlearn from his childhood, and i think we are absolutely supposed to suspect that this included blood-supremacist prejudice. yes, sirius' capacity for arrogance and cruelty and ruthlessness are very voldemort-ish characteristics. yes, the difficulty sirius has with reconciling the fact that many death eaters are his own flesh-and-blood is obvious in canon.

but once he made the choice to stand against voldemort his rejection of the world he came from was total. as long as he loves james - and he will always love james - there is nothing on earth that could drag him back.

[i'm also going to answer this by mentioning the concept everyone gets wrong, because this truly does annoy me: occlumency.]

contrary to what you see if you read any snape-centric pairing, occlumency is not the total shutting down of all emotion. it is controlling your emotions, under enormous mental pressure, to an extent which allows you to lie fluently. putting up occlumency walls/shields is not a thing - or, not a thing as fanon uses it - and snape is not a good occlumens because he's emotionally repressed, he's a good occlumens because he's petty.

8. what is a common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about?

there is not a single soul on earth incapable of redemption.

i do not want to see another 1000-note tumblr post or 500-comment reddit circlejerk about how malfoy or snape or whoever you want to choose is irredeemable; that their crimes are so heinous there is never any space - in canon or fanon - for them to be forgiven.

the harry potter series is not morally spotless by any means, but one thing it does - in my opinion - do right is highlight the complex and combined power of failure, grief, regret, atonement, and forgiveness, and how this is a weapon in the face of hatred, rage, and arrogance.

and it's an important lesson! at some point in all of our lives we will fuck up badly - maybe even to the extent of joining a terrorist group intent on murdering our peers [i come from northern ireland, i've seen it happen; and this is in "peacetime", when the lure of the paramilitaries is a fraction as strong as it was during the troubles] - and we will long to be forgiven. and we will deserve it.

to be human is to have access to the fragile, beautiful possibility of atonement. even if you're as much of a knob as draco malfoy.

18: it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

the fact that hagrid is a death eater.

i'm being facetious here, but i would love to see more fics which explore the idea that hagrid's deranged buffoonery is all an act, allowing one of the most evil men in history to operate under dumbledore's nose.

"he is at hogwarts, that faithful servant". so true, my lord, and he's teaching care of magical creatures.

25: what is a common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing?

this is a call-out post for myself, because i complain about this all the time, which is petty and boring and i need to get the fuck over it.

yes, ideally stories will be britpicked, but, in the grand scheme of things, americanisms etc. don't matter.

we are all just having fun writing our little stories and drawing our little pictures and offering them, tentatively, to the world. we are creating something free in a society increasingly hostile to such things. we are finding community. we all deserve to be proud of what we've done, even if we don't understand how london geography operates or we think ron's slamming down a stack of pancakes and a 20oz soda every morning, and brits whinging about sweater v jumper or mum v mom [anyway, real ones know you call her your mam] doesn't contribute to that and should be avoided.

[other answers from this ask game]

#asks answered #choose violence ask game #i stand by what i said #especially about hagrid #the man is a monster

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sio-writes · 1 year

Text

Sacrifice - Chapter 6

<< Chapter 5

<<< Chapter 1

Summary: This winter has been brutal, and you’re out of options. So, with teary eyes, you take your best goat into the woods, hoping for some pity from whatever god finds you.

A/N: My laptop is undergoing some maintenance right now, and I’m posting this from my iPad. So if you see any editing/formatting errors...No you don’t, haha. (Also I’ll add all links to chapters once I get my laptop back!)

The changeling house is an hour's walk downstream from Aurelius' home. It occurs to me to mark my trail as I walk so I can find my way back, until that first look and I see the tree stretching so far into the sky it disappears through the clouds. It makes the sigil on my back itch, and suddenly I'm not concerned with getting lost anymore. So I follow the river's winding path, over slippery stones and muddy banks. Anything that may have gotten in my way, be it animal or fae creature, all scurry out of my path.

In one arm I hold a basket of fruit from Dachaigh, in the other a book from the library. It didn't disappear when I stepped out of the house, a sure enough sign that I wasn't ripping a piece of Dachaigh away once I left. I only mean it as a tool, a piece of information to trade in case the food isn't accepted.

The cover is lined in gold filigree, but has no title on the cover or the spine. The pages inside are strange, with slanted, irregular text that cuts off at odd places, or rotates around so one would have to read the book upside down. The perfect, typed font tells me it wasn't written by hand, so it's not one of Aurelius' journals, therefore I felt safe enough being able to trade it away.

So down the winding river I go, stopping to sip from the stream and pluck a grape from the basket every now and then. The day is lovely, as always, small feathery clouds dot the sky, the sun lights up the forest floor, and I take the time I'm walking to appreciate just being outside.

Aurelius won’t notice that I’m gone. It’s a thought that strikes at my heart, a hot iron dunked into cool water. Alongside it is the thought that if I’m timely enough, if I make it back before sundown, he would never realize that I left at all. The alternative isn't comforting either. That he knows exactly where I am now, and where I'm going, and he doesn't care.

I feel my control over this situation with him is slipping. Not that I had much to begin with, but the small amount of influence I had is all but gone. The extent of these festival preparations, deciphering his notes, has only led me so far. I 've read what I could and thrown the rest to the side.

The house comes into view through the thickness of the trees, a two-level cottage with a garden to the side, and a stone path to the door. The roof is tiled orange and black, and the walls are colored cream. There's smoke swirling out of the chimney, and I step up to the door and knock.

Gregory implied that I could visit, and I hope he wasn't being facetious, because I'd love to visit the other humans here on a regular basis.

I’d wondered what they’re like, if they’re all similar to Gregory, or if they’re like the fae I’ve come across. Will they reject me, or bring me into their home? Trick me?

Just as I decide it's been too long of a wait and turn to leave, the door creaks open, and a familiar eye catches the light. I offer a small wave and a smaller smile, and the door opens fully to reveal Gregory. He's got a shiny gold shirt on and poofy black pants that end at his knees. His hair is mussed, and there's smudged golden paint around his eyes that speak of sleep— I must've woken him up. Still, after looking me up and down, his face breaks into a smile.

"It's you!"

I offer the basket. "I brought food."

Gregory claps his hands together in delight. "Lovely! Come in, please."

He waves me in, his gold ear jewelry catching the morning light, and I step across the threshold only for my jaw to drop.

The cabin is huge and open, the front room has couches and cushions around a low table, with large windows on the far wall that show a beautiful river just a stone's throw away. There's hallways to my immediate right and left that lead into open sitting rooms, and a staircase on either side leading to the second level.

Gregory, unaware of my awe, continues forward as naturally as I would in the library. He leads me towards the back-right of the main hall that turns into the kitchens, a huge space with a rectangular island in the middle. I follow him only after quickly scraping my muddy feet on the welcome mat and running to catch up. My bare feet slap against the tile, causing Gregory to look back at me, then down to the dried mud caking my ankles and the hem of my dress.

I'd used my first dress, my original dress, for this journey, as I didn't want the nicer ones I'd just finished to pick up mud. I realize that was a grave mistake, and I shift the basket into both of my hands in a futile attempt to cover the mud. Gregory doesn't say anything, only purses his lips and continues into the kitchen.

Inside there are three other humans, more than I thought I'd ever see again. One is sitting on the countertop swinging her legs, her skin is a rich brown and her black, wildly curly hair is piled atop her head, while the two others swim around each other as they cook. One is as pale as the moon with a shock of red hair, the other is tanned, with silky black hair tied to their nape.

"Everyone, this is Kaitlyn." He announces, getting all of their attention. The two cooks turn around, and the one at the counter stops swinging her legs. They stare at Gregory, then at me, as Gegory points to each person, left to right. "Meet Emile, Kimiko, and Josefina."

They're staring at me, all of them expecting an answer, a response. The one on the counter, Josefina, although I doubt that's her true name, has an eyebrow raised as she looks me over, her gaze stopping at my feet.

I shuffle awkwardly, looking between each of them. "Hello."

They all look fresh, clean. Their clothes are all crisp, no fraying at the edges. Kimiko's hair shines in the morning light. My feet are covered in mud and the plait I'd pulled my hair into is simple. Ordinary.

The man, Emile, squints. "Kaitlyn, where have I heard that name before?"

Gregory plants his hands on his hips. "She's the one I tried to steal at the market."

All their eyes widen, and Kimiko scoffs. "No shit?"

"Not a shit to be seen," he says, and I can't tell if he's joking, but they all laugh.

Something on the stove starts to simmer, interrupting the laughter with a loud hiss, and Kimiko curses before turning back to her work. Gregory gestures to the kitchen, and I take the sign and set my basket on the countertop in the middle.

Josefina hops off the counter as Emile steps up to the basket.

"Ooh, you brought grapes! I haven't had grapes in a decade!" he says, picking up a whole string and starting to pick them off.

"What did you bring us?" Kimiko quickly examines the basket, picking through the food. "Grapes, cherries-- oh Gregory, you love cherries, don't you?" She glances up at me. "You didn't bring any cheese?"

I shuffle my feet, bare and dirty against their floor. "No."

I’d told Dachaigh I’d be visiting them, but she only provided me with the usual assortment of fruits in the basket. I hadn’t thought to ask for anything extra.

"Well that's okay," she waves me off. "You can bring cheese next time."

"O-okay." Shame is creeping up my spine, I can feel it sinking claws into my skin. I want to make a good impression, I want them to like me. They're my only human connection here.

"Come on Kimi," Gregory says. "She brought us food."

Gregory turns towards me, and rests a hand on my shoulder while offering me an easy smile, the same relaxed smile that eased my fears in the market. "Don't worry about them, they're impossible to please."

Just as I return the smile, the door leading outside opens and in come two more people. A tall, willowy woman with short hair the color of snow, and a tall, dark-skinned man with long dreadlocks. They both have a healthy layer of dirt on their clothes and hands, as if toiling in a garden, and my heart eases its frantic beating. I'm still the filthiest one here, but not the only one.

"Hey!" Kimiko waves to them with her spoon, which is covered in some kind of sauce and splatters the countertop. "We got a new one!"

The willowy woman groans, letting her head fall back. "Another baby? We just finished with Josefina!"

"Fuck off," Josefina fires back, popping an orange slice into her mouth.

"Then what--?" The woman says, her eyes falling on the basket. She looks to Gregory, then past him to me. Her eyes go wide as saucers and she's beside me in a manner of two steps.

"You're new!" she says, her grin wide and excited.

"That's Sveta, that's Francois," Gregory loudly whispers, gesturing to each of them.

Sveta reminds me of a kinder version of the faeries I encountered on the trail. She flits around me, gently tugging my hair, pinching my cheeks and patting my arms.

"How long have you been here? Do you really live with the master? Were you taken like us? Oh what fun!"

Francois steps forward, gently pushing Sveta aside. He's built like the Greek athletes I've seen in picture books, taller than me by at least a head, and I instinctively take a step back, tensing.

But he’s quiet, gentle when he asks, "I see you brought a book. Is it from the lord's library? What is it? What's inside?" His voice is level, but I can hear the curiosity, the excitement behind it.

His voice is soothing, like Aurelius' is in quiet moments, and I relax as I hand the book over. "I…I can't read it. I brought it in case…"

Sveta tilts her head, looking like a bird. "In case of what?"

"I-I'm not sure," I lie. "I didn't know…what to expect."

Josefina says, "Did you think we worked like the fair folk?" and her tone is upset, offended. I feel my heart sink.

"I…"

She rolls her eyes, and I see the orange rinds collapse as she squeezes her hands. "It's not all trades and magic, you know."

"That's not--"

"Hey, be nice," Gregory says, stepping between us. "She hasn't been outside, and living with the master? Perfectly understandable, she'd think we need to barter."

Francois turns to me and smiles gently. "We don't work like The Neighbors do, or even the lord. We're still human, all grouped together."

I nod, looking down at my hands and fighting the burning in my nose that comes before tears. How stupid of me, to assume humans and fae followed the same rules. I'm glad Josefina's not staring at me anymore, her eyes are bright green and piercing. Like she can see into my soul.

Francois steps away, leaning against the wall as he flips through the book. It leaves an opening for Sveta to continue prodding. "So you're the lord's new mate?"

I look into her eyes, which are a pale gray with flecks of green. "I'm…I'm not his mate."

She rolls her eyes. "Horseshit. Do you live in his home?"

"I-- Yes."

"Does he provide for you?"

"It's more the house herself that provides…."

"And you fuck, yes?"

My jaw clenches, and the color in my face is enough of an answer.

Sveta barks a laugh. "See? You're his mate."

"Look at her face," Kimiko exclaims, pointing at me. "She is red as a beet! They definitely fuck."

"What is that even like?" Emile asks.

"Does he rut you like an animal?"

"I'd imagine he's soft and kind."

"He's terrifying! I'd want to face away."

They all laugh, and I look down at my hands. They’re chapped and dry from doing chores this morning.

I think I prefer the company of the fae to these humans. They remind me of the ladies my age that came in from the city. Mean-spirited. It makes me want to take a bath and forget this whole ordeal.

Sveta pulls me into a hug and I try not to shiver. "Don't be so serious, darling! We just tease."

Sveta releases me, and I sway on my feet. I'm not used to so much touching, not even from Aurelius.

Pulling me out of my own anxiety is Gregory, gently holding my hands in his. He's warm, he's stepped close enough that I can smell spices and honey.

I look down at our joined hands. Gregory says something, but his words bounce against my head, unheard. The last human I spoke with, let alone touched, was Andrew nearly half a year past. There's people here. People I can talk to without worrying that they’re going to steal the words from my mouth.

Emotion, overwhelming and all at once, washes over me. The stinging in my nose returns, spilling over into tears. My face scrunches up as the tears flow freely, and I must look so ugly, but I can’t help it.

Gregory makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat. "Hey, no, it's okay."

Svate rests a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, we're sorry, please don't cry."

"I think she's overwhelmed," he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

I didn’t mean to make them feel bad, to have them worry over me. But still, they guide me out into the living area and sit me on the couch. I feel like a newborn sheep, barely able to walk, blinking the tears out of my eyes.

Slowly, I come down from my hysterics, wrung out and tired. I’m offered a handkerchief that I use then rest on my lap, and then Kimiko shoves a plate full of buttered bread in my face.

“It’s fresh. Eat it,” she says curtly, her head turned to the side, her lips pursed.

I take the plate and pick up a slice, and take a tentative bite. It’s sourdough, with a toasted outside and soft inside. I haven’t had sourdough in ages, and I realize I hadn’t eaten breakfast— the basket of fruit is sitting in the kitchen.

Emile leans forward in his seat. "Tell us of the human world. Have they fallen to shit?"

Through my despair, I find the light in me to laugh. "Not quite. In the city there's a lot of steam engines, and a lot of people. There's a machine for everything, even sewing."

All of them 'oh' in unison, fascinated, and I smile as I finish off the first slice of bread. I once found it fascinating too, until I learned how expensive such machines are. But I'll spare them that piece of information.

They ask me about the city, and I tell them what I know, making up only a few details here and there. Kimiko is fascinated by the fashion of whale-boned stays and kirtles, and Emile wants to know if men still wear their hair long. Throughout the conversation I pick up on details, small and fleeting, about my new friends.

Gregory was the first one here, raised by a witch until he was a young man. He learned to hunt, fish, and care for himself on his own. Then came Kimiko and Emile as young children, both stolen away from countries across the sea. Francois was next, replaced as an adult, and he had a difficult time adjusting to this strange, fae world. Finally, Josefina arrived as a baby, and they all worked together to raise her, and she’s been here for at least seven decades.

I want to ask questions, I have so many. Why they age to a certain point then stop, or how they came across this cabin. But I’m content to keep listening, absorbing their stories as they tell them. It’s Kimiko who pulls me out of my listening state.

"You could live with us, you know," she says, propping her chin on her fist.

I set the empty plate down.They all refused my offer to share, leaving me to finish it off. "I could?"

She smiles at me for the first time. "If you ever get tired of the old lord."

"I appreciate that," I say, smiling back.

The six of them continue talking, mostly about what they did that day, and I let it flow around me easily. I've never been a lively girl, or the best at conversation. I'm more of a listener than a speaker. But having six voices bouncing off one another is a certain type of peaceful. It reminds me of the days my parents and brother would share stories around the soup pot. This is familiar, and I want to be there for all of it.

"This book you brought is full of spells," Francois says, wandering in from the kitchen. "Did you know that?"

I grimace, shame souring my belly. "I couldn't read the script."

"They're very advanced," he continues, oblivious to my insecurity, idly flipping pages as he slowly meanders towards the couch and finally plops next to Kimiko. "They're all about conjuring, summoning spirits and such."

"That's amazing," I say, genuinely surprised. You can do that?

"The cost is high, though. Look here, to open a portal between planes you need a mutual agreement on top of a great trade."

"How great?" Emile asks.

"Something of 'great perceived value', whatever that means."

I inhale so sharply I choke on my saliva.

"I think she knows what it means," Kimiko says around a laugh as she pats my back.

***

I feel lighter on the walk back to Aurelius' home. The time with other people was like jumping into a clear pool-- refreshing and bright. Their laughter echoes throughout my head, their easy touches are ghosts on my skin.

I want to tell Aurelius about my day.

He didn't come and fetch me at all, which bodes well for me, as I wasn't interrupted. If he needed anything he knew where I was anyway. But it’s a little disappointing in hindsight, that he didn’t need me, and didn't wonder where I was. The realization slows my steps, makes my arms like lead.

Climbing up the stairs into Dachaigh makes me anxious, as if Aurelius will be waiting for me in the library to reprimand me like a child. But he’s not there, and I breathe a little easier. It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, or broken some rule, so why do I feel like he’s going to be upset?

I set the empty basket on the low table and head towards my bed. I’m exhausted, all the talking and people certainly sapped my energy. I fall into the cushions lining the massive windowsill, careful to keep my feet off the blankets as I fall backwards and stare at the ceiling. I’m ready for an afternoon nap, and then I’d like to work on my second dress.

“Kyla,” comes Aurelius’ voice from across the room. I sit up, and there he is, appearing out of thin air.

“Aurelius,” I say.

He steps up to me, and takes my hand, pulling me to a standing position. "Come, come."

“What—?” He allows me no time to ask before pulling me across the room towards the stairs. He stretches an arm out and grabs all my notes before shoving them all at me which I barely manage to wrap my arms around it all before we’re flying down the stairs.

He’s dressed very nicely: a crisp white collared-shirt and tan pants and suspenders. His shape is human with those long arms, reminding me of my father, narrow from the legs up until filling out at the shoulders that speaks of endless time chopping wood. Is this his true form? The form underneath the cloak he wears?

"Where are we going?"

He turns back to me, and I catch a glimpse of his head. I’d thought it was his typical corrupted deer because he maintained the branching antlers, but this one is sharp and dangerous, with extra angles and longer, threatening teeth. "I have business to attend to,” he says. “I require your assistance."

I try not to trip over my own feet. "Business?"

"The vendors for the festival are beginning to arrive. Your papers are what gives them their position."

“Oh,” I say, rather stupidly.

Before I have time to think, he pulls me outside, and there's a long line of Fair Folk, winding like a snake to the treeline. There’s animals that I’ve seen, and animals that I could never imagine. There’s half-human half-animal hybrids, beings with shimmering skin in every visible color, and even a few that seem to be made of pure light. I see feathers and scales and rough skin and slime. Bringers of dark and bringers of light, and bringers of something neither good nor bad, all gathered at Aurelius’ home for a festival.

My eyes widen. "They're setting up here?"

I stop dead, and Aurelius nearly yanks me to the floor when he keeps moving. "In the clearing, yes."

I sigh heavily, resigning myself to go along with whatever he wants. He’s not going to explain.

We step the edge of the shadow but not completely out of it, and every single being, creature and fae, bow their heads, in respect or fear I’m not sure, but it’s a humbling sight to watch them all stare resolutely at the ground.

From my notes, I've gathered that Aurelius sits at the north end of the clearing, with the vendors to the south. There's a large empty section for celebration and dancing, and the whole area is lit with magical floating aurora.

The first patron is easy, Aurelius gives them their assigned location and they walk off. And after five, six more groups it’s almost boring, menial. Until we encounter a snag.

A patron of dryads approaches, and I remember their location was one that I’d changed. Quickly flicking through the pages I find their rearrangement and slap it on the table, triumphant. Aurelius looks down at me, and I swear that he’s glaring.

“No, the Aur dryads will go here,” and he points to the map.

“But this’ll put them closer to the woods, and isn’t that what they—“

“It is not how it’s done, my doe.” And he smoothes a hand over my head, making the dryads laugh and my face ignite.

He’s not going to listen to me, much less take me seriously. What did I prepare all these notes for, then? What was the point of it? I want to walk away, I want to go take a bath, but I shouldn’t be giving up so easily. I learned that I need to speak up to earn my place here.

After that, I do my best to follow along, chiming in when I recognize a symbol from the notes or a vendor from the list. But every time, Aurelius denies me. Every time, he tells me things don’t work that way, or these vendors are never together. My favorite was a series of stalls that float in the air above the festival that also need to be arranged a certain way.

The next fae is a kind I've never heard of in books or stories. A giant rabbit, as tall as a man when they sit on their haunches, carrying a small basket and wearing a bonnet. The strangest thing, though. She’s not looking down. She’s actually looking up at Aurelius, with large, shiny black eyes.

Aurelius leans down so the two of them are eye-level. "Hello Eodine."

The rabbit’s nose twitches, and then shakes her head. "Atya, my dear!” I gasp— her mouth barely moves when she speaks.

“How are you?” She asks. “And oh--" those inky black eyes turn to me. "Who is this?"

Aurelius taps one of his branching antlers with his long claw instead of answering, and the large rabbit named Eodine gasps.

"This is the human you've captured!" she remarks, planting her furry paws on her hips. "Haven't seen a new face in near a century. Send her my way for some tea, Atya, I could use more company than just you."

"Of course."

They speak easily, and Aurelius marks a spot close to his seat for her. I’d originally moved her small art station towards the middle so it would see more patrons, but I don’t mind being wrong about this one. She reminds me of a matron, or a grandmother. She’s opinionated and harsh, but well-meaning and kind.

Eodine speaks a little longer with Aurelius, catching up and making plans, and I wish those plans included me.

“You, human,” she says, looking at me. “Visit me anytime before sundown.” And she turns away, stepping with those large paws towards the grass, where she fades into the mist.

In my silence, Aurelius turns back to the line of fae, and continues his placement of stalls. I want to think of Eodine more, but I’m caught up in a slurry of plans, arrangements, and vendors. Every part of me rails against opposing Aurelius, but I still try to assert myself.

"I think the takoyaki stand could go here with the rest of the--"

"That is not how it's done. The kitsune are always placed here," he gestures to another spot that makes no sense.

"A food stand shouldn't be in the middle of two textile patrons. The fabrics will absorb the smell."

"M'lord is correct, human. It is always done this way," the fox says quietly, glancing up at me through their long fox lashes. "Although, I'd hate to ruin the lovely river spirit's textiles." They bring a paw up to their snout, as they look over the layout in thought.

For what feels like the thirtieth time, I want to pull Aurelius aside and ask him why he brought me here. I asked for something to do, but was it a fruitless task just meant to keep me busy?

"Would m'lord perhaps," the fox gestures to the open spot. "Consider moving us here?"

Aurelius goes quiet, considering the map. He heaves a heavy sigh through his snout, and crosses his arms. "You will have to tell the Whiteadder spirit that they're being transferred."

"M'lord is most kind," the fox says with a bow, before literally disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Before the next round of fae comes, I look up at Aurelius, my face drawn into a frown. "Why'd you bring me if you're only going to shoot down all my ideas?"

"I wanted you here, with me," he says, folding his arms over his chest. It’s still strange to see him in human clothing, I’m so used to the tall cloaked form.

“To do what?” I ask helplessly.

“To be by my side.”

One of the fae speaks up, "That's a cursed life if I ever heard one!"

The fae to their right chimes in, "The human is rather silly for agreeing to live with him!"

And another voice asks, "Can you even look him in the eyes when you fuck?"

They all laugh for half a moment, until Aurelius growls low in his throat, and every voice goes silent.

"Certain placements are sacred," he chides me, and I scoff.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I'm telling you now."

I want to cry and scream at the same time. I ball my hands into fists to keep from lashing out at Aurelius. I hate it here, I want to leave.

Another fae in line that I can’t see jeers loudly, bringing up a chorus of responding cheers. I don't like having our personal life on display for these creatures. They haven't earned the right to my anger. So I stomp away, ignoring the laughter of the fae behind me.

Maybe that kindly rabbit or the other humans will take me in, I think as I make my way to the center of the tree and up the staircase.

***

Aurelius takes the rest of the evening to sort out the placements, and I can only go to one place: the library. I’d considered exploring the other levels of Dachaigh, but she still doesn’t feel like home. I’m not comfortable rooting around in Aurelius’ personal belongings, especially when he considers me one of them. He’s been kind in the past, but I’ve seen his anger, not the frustration that pushes me to the floor and makes me his, but his true anger. His rage. And I don’t want that turned on me if I stumble upon some secret.

So I watch the sunset from my bed, through the large window that lines it. The colors run together, orange and red and purple, with wispy, bright pink clouds. It’s gorgeous, and speaks of fair weather for tomorrow. I idly wonder what the others are doing, the humans at the cottage.

My visit to the house floats through my mind like a bird on the breeze. They’d all be nice to visit again, but I need to remember to defend myself or I fear I’ll become their new scapegoat, an easy target for harsh words. But I’m more comfortable with them after this initial visit, and I hope I can remain friends with them.

In the corner, Dachaigh shoves a book from the shelf, the same one meaning an affirmative, and I groan to the endless ceiling.

“Dachaigh, I’m too tired for this.”

Another book falls, and I sigh heavily. I’m not in the mood for more games. But yet another book falls, almost insistent in the way it hits the ground, and I roll out of bed.

I put the initial book back in its place, and turn to fix the others, when it falls again. I squint at it on the floor, put it back again, then straighten to stand just as she pushes it off the shelf again. Dachaigh is trying to tell me something.

I pick up the book and open it. It’s softbound with no title and those same, tilted words that I’ve come to know as Aurelius’ handwriting. I couldn’t read it before, but I’ve become familiar with his script after devoting weeks to planning a festival that I’ll have no part in. Quickly flipping through, I see it’s not completely full, about half the pages in the back of the journal are blank. I flip to the last entry, a single line of perfect cursive: The human has left.

Ice shoots down my spine and my mind is thrown into a tornado of thought. No, this must be a falsehood. Aurelius has told me he’s never brought another to his home, and the fair folk won’t lie. But Aurelius is not of the fair folk, he’s a god. Would he lie to me? Why would he, what purpose does it serve?

The book falls out of my hands and clatters on the floor.

Something in my mind snaps, the world slows to a halt, and everything I knew about Aurelius snaps into focus. I clap my hands together.

“I need a bath.”

Like someone with no personality, I walk away from the bookshelves and into the bathing room to take a long, hot bath. Nothing about today is bothering me. I’m completely fine.

Strangely enough, I’m beginning to recognize all the bottles on the bath’s edge, so when one very deep green bottle about as long as my forearm appears amongst them, I’m curious. I can’t see the color of the liquid inside through the green glass, but it’s slick, loose flowing like water, not the thick soaps I’ve become used to.

This one still has its glass stopper, and pulling it out I smell roses, jasmine, and an undercurrent of spice. Sandalwood? Ginger? It’s almost seductive, this combination of smells. I take another deep inhale and I tip some of the liquid into my palm.

I was correct in my assumptions— it’s an oil. For bathing or…some other purpose. The smell is even stronger out of the bottle, washing over the whole room. It’s definitely meant to catch attention, and part of me wants to slather it all over my body and stand in the library, waiting for whatever beast it awakens in this creature I’ve linked my life to.

Instead, I decide on a milder option, and dump it into the water. I dump it until it’s empty, and climb in, immediately dunking my head underneath the water. All sound, all sight, all feeling cuts off from me as I hold my breath. I can’t open my eyes, so I rest my forehead against my knees until my lungs begin to scream.

The human has left.

After a long soak, I dress in Aurelius’ long shirt and pad into the library. I’m not tired enough to fall asleep, and the lights are too dim to read by, so I resume my former position of sulking in the windowsill and watching the stars.

It’s a long time before I hear Aurelius climbing the stairs, making noise so I know he’s coming. I expect he’s going to ignore me and head to his room but instead, I feel his presence over my shoulder.

"You are unhappy."

I scoff. "Yeah, no shit."

"Let me show you something."

"I'd really rather--ah!" He picks me up from the couch and we dissolve away, his strange method of teleportation taking us outside.

The transportation makes me dizzy, and the night air is cold. He's taken us to an empty field, where the grass has grown high and unruly. It’s the dead of night, so I can’t see much, but I can still see Dachaigh in the distance.

“You smell nice,” Aurelius says as he sets me down. He starts off north, at least I think it's north, and we reach a sandy lake.

"Where are we?"

"A practice field. I'm going to show you this," and he produces a book. Bound in black leather, embossed symbols on the front and along the spine. A chill runs up my spine at first— it looks just like the journal— but it’s much thicker, and hardbound like a proper book. I take it— oh, it’s heavy, and inside is runes, the same he used to bring us to this plane. I realize why he brought me out, and I smile.

"You're teaching me magic."

He looks away, shuffling awkwardly. "You requested it."

My face stretches into a wide grin. "You're teaching me magic!"

Unable to contain my joy, I jump in the air and fold my arms over his frame. I’m learning magic!

I open the book, and on the opening page is the setup Aurelius used to bring me to this plane. I run my fingers over it, feeling the raised impressions of the ink, before flipping through the rest of the book. Its language is scattered, runes and symbols blending together to make a stew of words and thoughts. It’s impossible to make anything out, even the margins with scribbled notes are too tightly scripted for me to decipher.

"I…I can't read this," I say, tears welling up behind my eyes.

“Oh,” Aurelius says, stepping forward and starting to fret. He takes the book in one hand and encircles me in the other. “Here, here, let me show you. Here.”

Flipping to a page in the middle, he gently holds my hand in his, the only point of warmth on this cool night, and guides my finger over the sand. He’s gentle, guiding instead of forcing, and I wish I saw this side of him more.

We trace a few circles, some too lopsided, others too shaky, until he finally deems one acceptable. I feel a swell of pride as he nods decisively, and then points to the runes surrounding the circle, telling me which to draw first. There’s six in total, spread around evenly like a clock, and simple enough that I can listen to Aurelius as he speaks and I draw the runes at the same time.

"You're already familiar with the idea, but it bears repeating. All magic comes at an exchange. You’re pulling from nature itself, and nature always takes what it is owed. It is always hungry."

Before I can ask what he means he breaks off a piece of his own antler, and that black ichor wells up and begins to drip on the ground.

"Your head…" I frown as my stomach turns with guilt.

He waves me off with his free hand as he places the piece in the center of the circle. "It will regrow by tomorrow."

And for a moment, it is quiet. And then, the antler begins to glow a soft green. It shakes and spins, stretching and twisting around on itself as it’s pulled into the air. It flashes several colors, red, purple, orange, before settling on green. It’s as high as my chest before it shudders once more, elongating and exploding from one end, and a bouquet of wildflowers takes its place, held together by a simple black ribbon. The flowers are bright and fresh— red poppies, yellow yarrows, purple bergamot, and several other types I don’t recognize all combining in an arrangement as big as my head.

The flowers slowly float towards me, as if carried by some invisible suitor, and I grab them from the air. The moment my hand touches the stalks, the green magic fades, and I’m left holding the flowers, grinning impossibly wide.

These are flowers. Real, cut flowers that I could find at the market. And I made them from a branch and some runes in the sand. I shove my. Face into the bouquet and take a deep inhale through my nose. It smells like summer, like summer and beauty.

"I did that! I really, really just did that!” I say, my voice echoing in the field.

Aurelius chuckles, and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Well done."

The contact warms me, makes my heart leap inside my chest. I did something right! I’m full of energy now, I want to do another.

I look up to him, eager. "What else?"

Aurelius hums, idly flipping through the book. "Ah."

It’s another circular configuration, an oval, actually, with a large, complex rune in the center.

“This will do, for now.”

This oval is much easier than the circle, now that I know what I’m doing, and the single rune is more complex than the last, but Aurelius traces the strokes with his finger and guides me through.

Despite the chill in the air, I manage to draw the large symbol, easily the size of my torso, into the sand. It’s not perfect, and I push my lips out in a pout, but maybe if we do this again I can ask him how to properly draw things.

Now I just need something to trade.

I look down at myself. I have no branching antlers to snap off, nor any articles of clothing I wish to remove. I look back up at Aurelius, helpless. "What should I…?"

He considers me for a moment, tilting his head this way and that as if trying to get a better look, and hums thoughtfully.

"This is your second lesson. Humans with the potential for magic often have to give up very little of themselves. Try something small."

I pluck a few hairs from my head, and set them in the center, expecting nothing. Then the rune begins to glow blue, peeling off the ground and floating into the air. It ripples and shimmers before shooting back into the ground, flattening and growing into a small pool of water within the oval. The sand absorbs the water before I have a chance to touch it, but the damp sand is enough proof that I need to affirm that yes, I just created water.

My grin returns full force, and I jump to standing. Water! I can make water! But something nags at my mind, and I look up to Aurelius.

"Why so little, when you had to…" I reach up, and my fingers barely brush the antlers branching from his head.

“This was nothing,” he says, tilting his head to allow me access to brush my fingers over the empty space. “As much as you giving up your hair. Humans are also more potent because they are rare, they have to trade much less than, say, an average fae.”

My eyes widen. "How did you know I could do magic?"

"I've known since the first moment I touched you."

"And you kept it to yourself this whole time?"

He straightens, and brings one long hand up to tap at his unmarred antler. "I admit that the thought was in my mind, but it was overshadowed by other things. I was only reminded when Eodine brought it up."

I frown. What would take up space in a god’s head?Then I remember: The human before me. When did he write that? How far back did the entries go? Were they like me?

Instead, I ask flatly, "Overshadowed?"

Aurelius looks towards the house, then back to me. He exhales a long sigh before he leans forward, looming over me, moving as if to gently knock the side of my head with his snout, but stops. It’s like he’s waiting for something, but I couldn’t guess what.

“You left today,” he says.

His head shifts on my shoulder, and he sinks to the ground, sitting so we're level with each other, and holds out his hands for me to take. Against my better judgment, I take his hands, still warm and calloused, and look down at them in the silence.

Aurelius speaks up, “Why did you go?”

“You know where I was.”

“But why?”

“Why do you care?”

He stills and looks away, hands tightening on my fingers, and my stomach drops. I know what he’s going to say.

"Because I love you."

My lips part on a sharp inhale as images rush through my head. Of Aurelius saving me from the forest fae, of him giving me the library, the gifts he brings back. Alongside it are memories of our argument earlier today, of him chasing down Gregory because I dared to wander off, of him removing me from his bed day after day.

The human has left.

Whatever this is between us right now, it’s not love. It’s not the love I want.

"No, you don't," I say, sighing, and pulling my hands away.

He doesn't respond, seeming to shrink back into himself, his empty hands folding in front of him in a way that reminds me of a mouse.

"It's getting cold," I say, rubbing my arm for emphasis. "I'm going inside."

And I turn away from him, the magic we just created together, and towards a home I don’t belong in.

Perhaps I'm wrong. What do I know of love? My own parents weren't unhappy, but they certainly didn't seem to be in love. I loved my brother dearly, but I know it's different from romance.

When I sold crops in town, I'd hear the ladies speak of their courtships with the lords. How they'd be gifted a new trinket each day, each one more exuberant than the last; How their beloved would write them sonnets of their beauty, or commission an artist to capture it in painting. They'd cry out when their suitors arrived on horseback, flinging themselves into his waiting arms and peppering each other with kisses.

After my parents passed, I received a few such pleasantries. A few notes written in cursive that I couldn't read, fresh cut flower bouquets that I'd heard have secret languages. One brave man even visited our home, but Arthur had already contracted his illness by then, and the suitor fled once Arthur began coughing. He was a nice gentleman, and I once imagined myself marrying him and moving to the city, leaving the farm behind. The men of town weren't like the farmers surrounding it. They were soft, romantic and well-educated.

But Aurelius is not human. Perhaps I'm expecting too much of him to align himself with the lowly creatures he watches over. Perhaps all I'll ever be is a trinket to him, a pet to be watched over and cared for. We never set out to build a romance.

And yet, I still crave one.

Deep in my bones, I know that I want everything from him, his affection, his touch, his gifts of books and buttons and safety. I want his anger, his jealousy, his need to possess me in every way possible. I want to learn to read better for him, to share meals and a bed. But he doesn’t love me the way he should.

I’m well underneath Dachaigh when Aurelius appears in front of me, a flicker of shadow and bone.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he says, and I see the stars in his eyes sparkle. “I don’t like when you’re angry with me.”

“Then don’t do things that make me angry,” I say in a rush.

“What am I doing wrong?”

“You shouldn’t need me to tell you!” I shout, and I’m silently stricken. That was a cruel thing to say. I sound like my mother. Angry at a cowering child for doing something without realizing. Aurelius is even still keeping his head lower than mine, so I can look him in the eyes.

The human has left.

I don’t want to talk anymore. I can’t speak with him anymore. I don’t want to crack open my heart when I don’t know what he’s going to do with it. It’s too late, I’m too tired, and it’s too cold for any of this. Aurelius couldn’t have picked a worse time to bring this up.

I push past him, ignoring the hitch of my breaths and the constricting of my throat. I will not cry. Not here.

“Kyla,” he says, his voice far too soft for what he is, and I continue walking, brisque and cold.

Aurelius doesn’t chase after me, doesn’t call my name again, even as I ascend the stairs, and wind through the room, and bury myself into my bed. There, and only there, do I let the tears flow freely.

#sacrifice #My writing #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster romance #this chapter is hefty #That’s why it took me a few extra days #Thanks so much for everyones patience!#Monster writing

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citrus-cactus · 13 days

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For the character ask meme! 1 and 7 for Kaito, 24 and 26 for Minoru, and 10 and 11 for Aoi. Sorry if this is a lot! You don't have to do all of them if you don't want to! :)

OOOOH A BUMPER CROP OF SURVIVE KIDS HECK YEAH LET'S GOOOOO! For reference, the ask game is here.

Kaito:

1. My first impression of them

"Wow, these lone wolf/rival archetypes are getting edgier and edgier!" (sorry! Kind of a facetious answer, but I think the first time I saw him was the promo art/intro credits image of him and Dracmon, so there was literally no other information to go on other than his partner and appearance. Pretty sure I thought the same thing about Rei from Appmon as well. Sorry, recent Lone Wolf characters of Digimon media I’ve latched on to, I have two nickels!)

7. A quote of them that you remember

Not so much a direct quote, but I know I was definitely struggling to understand Kaito through my first playthrough-and-a-half of Survive (vis-a-vis the correct affinity dialogue choices for him). But his behavior in Wrathful really unlocked something for me. He understood the pain Aoi was going through, and his relative level-headedness about it really helped the rest of the group pick a direction at times. So it’s less about exactly what he said, and more about what he did and how he reacted to Aoi going down that dark spiral as the things that really stuck with me, and helped inform my Truthful playthrough. Plus, I got his affinity Mega at that point (even though I was fully committed to scum-saving anyway!).

Minoru:

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

This is a really interesting question for Minoru, because given the right circumstances, I'm not sure he has any secrets that he would be 100% determined to keep forever. But this is related to my answer for #26, so see the next question below.

"Sexuality headcanon" is definitely going to assert itself on the rest of this answer (so apologies if you weren't looking for that), but I think something he would not admit during the game timeframe is that any time he's mentions/teases Takuma about girls or some get-your-mind-out-of-the-gutter thing, it's all 100%, grade-A, this-is-whats-expected-of-me 14-year-old posturing, and my headcanon is that he currently has no interest in girls or any of the “naughty” things he's teasing Takuma about. Either he won't admit that to anyone but himself for a few more years, or it's possible he doesn't even realize it himself yet!

26. When do you think they were being “themselves” the most?

I think the confrontation between him and his shadow self in the Moral ending, where he said he knew he was "trash" and a "total failure" and "worthless," was THE instance where Minoru’s happy-go-lucky attitude was revealed to be largely a facade, and there were a ton of secret insecurities he had about himself... which I don’t think is something he would have admitted at that time to his "heroes" Takuma and Aoi under many other circumstances. I don't... thiiiiink... this self-doubting low-self-esteem reveal comes up as directly in any other route? So this felt like a once-in-a-game opportunity to learn who Minoru really is, and fill in some of the thoughts/motivations behind his previous (and perhaps alternate route) actions.

Even though Minoru didn't get to choose the time or place of revealing that information to Aoi and Takuma in Moral, I think it's possible he would choose to admit it at some point after the ending of another route, either just conversing with one of them in private, or to bolster one of them if they were down on themselves and he thought sharing this info might help them (again, I interpret him as perfectly willing to share what he’s thinking, but only under the right circumstances).

Aoi:

10. Describe the character in one sentence

"This anxious, well-behaved, 15-year-old honors student is also an amazing, terrifying, absolutely tragic and sympathetic villain."

11. What’s the first thing you think about when thinking about the character?

"Girl, same."

(And then I proceed to think at least 15 other things, because there's just SO MUCH to think about when it comes to Aoi all the time always. So much great meta has been written about her already, and I'm eating it all up while nodding along, and thinking more thoughts that I can't even articulate, but it's fine. Aoi contains multitudes, she's an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of the "supportive mom friend" character trope, and I love her and pity her and root for her self-actualization all at the same time).

#asks #thesmurfchick #the cactus speaks #digimon survive #kaito shinonome #aoi shibuya #minoru hinata #my headcanons

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idolish7imagines · 9 months

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Could I request Momo's S/O trying to hide a sprained ankle from him? She knows about what happened with his soccer history and doesn't want to worry him over it. Of course, I don't want to cause strife and secrets between Re:Vale…but what if Yuki's the first of the two to find out Momo's S/O hurt her ankle? How does Momo react? How does he care for her? If he does at all.

Momo's S/O hiding a sprained ankle from him

A/n: anon this is such a good request your brain is just

.::.

"Please, don't tell him.."

"Sorry but I don't have a good reason not to." Yuki folds his arms.

It does seem like he was being a bit cold to your request, but he was concerned for your wellbeing. Especially since you came all the way to Okazaki Pro to be with Momo while he's on break. Yuki had noticed a slight limp in your walk down the hall and being the gentleman he is, immediately came to your side to help you up.

"I just...its not that big of a deal, y'know? I've got pain meds and ointment, itll be fine in a week." You try to argue.

The idol lets out a sigh that probably dragged more than it should've.

"That's not the point right now. Its that you're actively refusing to tell him. He's gonna think you don't trust him if he ends up finding out on his own." Yuki explains.

A small groan escapes you. You already knew that deep down.

"I'm just...trying not to be a burden, alright? The last time he dealt with a sprained ankle it kinda..changed the trajectory of his life. He might overreact if he finds out I got one." You sigh.

Yuki goes quiet for a moment. Something that told you he knew how you were feeling now.

"He's already got enough to deal with on his plate...adding to it just makes me feel like I'm not helping." You continue, head hanging a little low. "I came here to help keep his morale high while swamped in all this work."

"I get it." His lips slightly purse. "But not telling him is going to hurt him worse than doing so. He worries about you all the time already."

You lift your head up at that.

"Momo's always trying to help someone. While its not always good for him, if he can't help the people he's closest to, he feels useless for some reason." His fist tightens a little. That trait of Momo's gets himself in too much trouble sometimes and Yuki doesn't always appreciate it.

"Just trust me, he wants to take care of you...probably more than you think if he gets you all to himself" He remarks bluntly.

An eyebrow quirks at that last part, but you stand up straight, nodding in acknowledgment to his points.

A door nearby in the hall opens. "Are you guys okay out here?" A familiar voice asks, peeking his head out.

You almost curse at how this probably looks. You and Yuki looked rather somber having this conversation in the corner of the hall so of course Momo immediately discerns there's some distress going on.

"Oh, we're fine. I was just about to go get a drink by the vending machine, I'm getting (Y/N) one too." Yuki turns to him, a charming gleam in his eye with no hint of a lie whatsoever.

Before Momo could respond, he's always heading down the hall in the opposite direction, purposely leaving the two of you alone.

You knew he was doing you a favor but somehow it felt facetious. You and your boyfriend stare at each other after he's gone.

:::

Just as Yuki predicted, Momo was immediately concerned when you tell him about it. He asked the obvious incoming questions such as 'how did it happen' and 'how long has it been' and 'have you seen a doctor already' to which you come clean about everything.

Whatever dressing room you were in becomes the '(Y/N) Care Center' as he goes so far as moving everything (including the couch) around and propping your foot up on a pillow so you could reach 'max comfort and happiness levels' in this state.

It was sweet to witness and he won't stop reminding you you're not being a burden by telling him you're in pain, giving you all his attention and affection, cuddling close to you on the couch.

"Don't get me wrong, it was nice that you were thinking about how I felt, but just because I had the same injury that ruined my soccer stuff back then doesn't mean I wouldn't care to help you heal yours." His head rests tilted against yours. "If anything I wanna make sure you get proper treatment so you can get better and be at 100% again." Turning towards your face, he gives you one of those wide smiles you adore.

"Yeah..thanks Momo, I love you.." You place a kiss on his jaw.

"Love you more!" He kisses back. "...is Yuki coming back with the drinks or did he ditch us-"

You shrug.

#idolish7 #idolish7 x reader #ainana #idolish7 headcanons #idolish seven #i7 #re:vale #idolish7 momo #momo x reader #momose sunohara #momo

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crimson-phantom-designs · 11 months

Text

Some more from the stand alone story thats reached 12k words now.

Poor, sweet little Eb. His brooding is so cute.

~~~~~

Ebenezer scowled bitter with a crisp tone. "Christ Francis, I'm not a child. Yes... I will be back."

Francis applied a hard stare to that as he spoke hinting a lecture. "Last week what was claimed to be a 'moments trip' to the market turned to several hours into the night because you bumped into a colleague of Lloyd's and wouldn't stop talking..."

Ebenezer made a little disdainful noise as he looked away knitting his brow. "That was one time... and it was business. This isn't."

"Oh that was one given example, certainly not the only time but I can provide more if you like."

"Of course you could..." Ebenezer muttered with a hardened vex, still looking away. "Now Francis, I said stop being rude to me. I'm doing you a service here... do you want me to come back at all?"

Francis raised a high brow, observing this brooding posture with a twist to a sly smile. Ebenezer looked so adorable when tempered, at least to him, he was like a hare stomping its foot.

Yet this seemed a bit more than brooding. He might actually be hurt... "A service, mm?..." Francis purred, breaking the small distance between them to stared down at him, using his hight to force the man to look directly up to face him. Even if their hight wasn't greatly different, in situations like this, that mattered... Yet when Ebenezer didn't reciprocate, Francis gently lift the man's chin to meet his gaze by a thumb and index finger. "Don't pout, look I'm sorry.- I didn't mean to be so rude, but you have to admit, your lack of surroundings really set up this situation..."

With a depressive sigh, Ebenezer cut his eyes up to him barely speaking. "Which I apologized for, a few times infact... Can't you just let it go?"

"You did... I still expect you to make up for it though..." He said with a soft suggestive husk to his voice and bump at the hip.

Ebenezer did fully face him now. "Oh?... Am I being leveraged?..." His brooding expression shift to a soft, playful one.

Francis hummed, spending devilish charm as dexterous fingers trail up Ebenezer's strong jawline to brush his sharp cheekbones, cradling the side of his face. "Let's just say things I've wanted to do I should be able to get now..."

"Oh?... Is simply bedding me become too mundane for you?" Ebenezer teased facetious regard but leaned into the touch of his face.

"Hm, cheeky. Of course not... but... since you're getting dressed again anyway... a strip tease would be a nice little service..." His spread smile shows teeth slyly.

"I see... Is that all?" Ebenezer's head tilt with a curious sparkle in his eyes.

"Well, that's how it will start..." He purred huskily as Ebenezer raised a high brow with a frown. He then leaned into Ebenezer's ear to explain through a rasp of hot breath with details only Ebenezer could hear. Allthewhile, Francis hand ghost down his lover's spine sending a wave of burning motion rolling up his form to crimson his face the more explicit those factors got. What Ebenezer struggled hard to contain internally as he only let out a soft, breathy exhale as heated blood rushed to his core.

Francis then pulled away with a lecherous grin as Ebenezer said nothing past an intense slanted stare under thick brows. "Now that gets to knock about in that buzzing cranium of yours all the way there and back, perhaps then you won't dawdle. Either for the want or the knowledge it's going to be that much more intensified if you do..."

"You are a cruel bastard, Dr.Osman..." Ebenezer quipped with a combative stare.

"Likewise, Mr.Scrooge..." Francis mirrored the expression back offering the man's coif a flick with his fingers. "Make with swift action now... hurry back..."

~~~~~

#The fact Francis sees Eb's tiffs as a bunny thumping it's foot sent me. xD #WHAT DID HE SAY TO HIM?!#thank god they have enough sense to go into the next room #their mood shifts are headspinning #oc francis osman #scrooge a christmas carol #scroogeposting

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mrmallard · 4 months

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So here's my problem with modern Pokemon. Yes, this is my boomer-ass genwunner rant, finally realised and in the flesh.

So ever since gen 6, Pokemon as a franchise has relied a lot on redesigning old Pokemon and adding gimmicks to the gameplay loop. I'm talking about Mega Evolutions and Dynamax, but I'm also talking about regional variants. As much as the team make new Pokemon every gen, they rehash old Pokemon with a new coat of paint.

And that's fine. I don't have beef with any of that. Perfectly neutral, and frankly some of the new forms are badass.

But I think gen 9 has come to a head with that.

Much like prior gens, Paldea has Pokemon like Wiglett that rehash old Pokemon designs. There's a land-walking Tentacool, there's Clodsire etc. etc. Wiglett is explicitly calling back to Diglett in a new context. Clodsire is explicitly Quagsire but Different. You couldn't argue that these new Pokemon aren't specifically calling back to older Pokemon designs - and it's cute and fun and all that. Game Freak does design throwbacks like that. That's not inherently an issue.

But this time, Wiglett and Clodsire and all of the throwback Pokemon are actual, new, registered Pokemon. Like, Alolan Raichu is its own thing, but it's not called like Umichu and given its own Pokedex number - it's understood that there's an evolutionary difference between Pikachu that's native to places like Kanto, Johto, Hoenn etc. and Alola. It's Alolan Raichu.

They took Diglett, made it into a barnacle, gestured wildly at it and went "look it's Diglett as a barnacle!!!" and made it a new Pokemon.

I feel like these new Pokemon go past the point of homage - because I would argue that those other gimmicks like mega evolution and regional variants are a form of homage. It's covering old ground, but it's being cute about it. But with Wiglett and all that, they're actually padding the Paldean Pokedex. "OoOoOoOoOoHhHhH it's a NeW sPeCiEs~~~~~~~~", meanwhile it's indistinguishable from a regional variant of Diglett, or Tentacool, or Quagsire from an older game. It's explicitly a throwback in the style of regional variants, except it's been labelled as a distinct, seperate entity for what feels like a completely arbitrary and creatively bankrupt reason.

That being said? I understand that Game Freak are overworked, and they're churning out crap like Scarlet/Violet on development time-frames that are less than a year. And I know that's a contentious and facetious opinion - it's less that Paldea is Bad, and more that the games were completely unoptimised and underbaked, even with the bold new open-world direction and inspired new gameplay elements that the games introduce. Paldea is fine, but the games themselves are these awful products of corporate greed and crunch, and you can blatantly see the seams.

Game Freak made that game in maybe a year or two, probably beginning pre-production during the development of Legends Arceus to lock down the design and aesthetic of Paldea and then entering full production after Legends came out. I'm not a game dev, I'm just speculating, but if that's true, S/V was in full production for less than a year. And when you're under the crunch like that, with a franchise that's been recycling old designs for years, you're gonna hit a point where you either take more of the critically short dev time to make up some new pokedudes or you do the same song and dance of dressing up mutton as lamb.

So like I can understand why this might have happened. I'm not crossing my arms and throwing a tantrum at the devs; S/V genuinely seem hellish in the way that they were developed.

But I still don't think Pokemon like Wiglett and Clodsire should count as their own Pokemon. I think it's a product of crunch, but I still think it's a bullshit decision. They're so, so clearly regional variants. And like - I think they should exist in any and all facets that they can exist in, it's not that I'm decrying their entire existence. I just don't think they deserve to be a new Pokemon when they're clearly a homage to Pokemon that came before, like with a new mega evolution or a regional variant. And I find the fact that they do qualify as their own distinct new Pokemon to be creatively bankrupt and extremely cynical on behalf of the Pokemon Company.

Detractors have been throwing the idea of "Game Freak running out of ideas" around for years. We've all seen bullshit hater kvetching about the ice cream Pokemon and the car key Pokemon and the trash Pokemon, and we've seen the counter-argument of older Pokemon with bullshit designs etc. etc. I don't go for that, and I never have. I'm not a fuckin Klefki rabble-rouser.

But Diglett and Wiglett being legally, textually distinct Pokemon with their own seperate Pokedex number is bullshit, right? Like it's not controversial to say that these are just elevated regional variants that are bizarrely and cynically considered new Pokemon for the sake of padding and not on their own merits, right? They're fine designs, I'm not saying they shouldn't exist, but having the games go "This is Quagsire, and this is Quagsire's Paldean cousin Clodsire, and they're different :)" after years of toying with the idea of regional variants is just bullshit. It's actual, unabashed bullshit.

That's my boomer-ass genwunner Pokemon rant. The fact that Paldean regional variants are considered entirely new, original and fresh Pokemon for the sake of filling out the Paldean Pokedex is a lazy, cynical decision - and it may have a sympathetic motivation, but it doesn't make the decision any less bullshit. I've always been a flexible Pokemon fan, I haven't been a hater up until now, but this is bullshit.

#pokemon #like there's a thousand pokemon now and almost no-one gives a fuck #that's monumental. that's a milestone. but who can tell you what the one thousanth pokemon is off the top of their head?#long post #pokemon discourse

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shallowrambles · 1 year

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Alt John/Mary and a The Very Real, Very Good conversation in 1x12

John & Mary have a wonderful fight in SPNwin 1x12 Tears of a Clown. It was my favorite one. I'm not even being facetious.

I know there is a crowd lying in wait, like Fate, rooting actively again alt!Mary/John, because we *think* we know who they are. See this post for more of my thoughts on that. But basically, with The Winchesters, the audience divides itself thus:

Team free will - Hope is the whole point. Go, Monster Club!

Team who cares - There's no point. (Nihilism)

Team fun and games - They can enjoy themselves so long as the future stays.

Team Fate - I've decided who John and Mary are; they cannot change or triumph.

However... Regardless of the challenges they face, this fight in Tears of a Clown is an incredibly, incredibly honest one.

Because this is the tough stuff. Because it's not the FATE part of coming together and falling in love that's the interesting part. It's the staying together part, the growing together (or apart) part. The struggling together and choosing part.

//// So, anyway, the episode opens with a literal rearview mirror:

JOHN: All right? Once my mom and Betty find evidence to clear my name, uh... be able to put all this in the rearview. MARY: Rearview? It's like you're pretending nothing ever happened.

That sets up John's struggle, as well as the bones of the fight. I think the coolest part about their fight is that they're both right. It's like an issue of Cosmopolitan. This is not a sign of weakness in a relationship. It's a sign of deepening strength.

These are the fights family is made of. Tell them what you’re expecting and where your needs aren't being met; then, negotiate if they can healthily be met. Talk about the problems that you both are facing and how you can solve them. Constructive criticism once in a while is healthy.

/////

Furthermore, Mary does a huge, incredibly vulnerable thing here. She reveals her doubts.

To reveal your own anxieties is Really Something. To reveal your anxieties about a relationships is The Crucial Step beyond the you-can-never-hurt-me, you-would-never-let-me-down phase of the relationship.

"One of the most marvelous aspects of (the early) stage is not only the idealized way we see our partner but the new, more laudable way we see ourselves. Listening closely comes easily to us, as does giving the ideal response. Our patience seems eternal, our interest in the other boundless. Who knew that we possessed such generosity, such largeness of spirit? How delightful it feels to live with an open heart, bountiful compassion, and unconditional care. In the shelter of our love bubble, it’s easy to think we can float in such pure happiness forever." - Carroll, Linda. Love Cycles (p. 8). New World Library. Kindle Edition.

Mary and John, at this snapshot in time, are moving beyond the specter of the frozen-in-time-idealized-love. This is perfectly illustrated by Harper Sayles in SPN Prime 14x08's Optimism.

SPN Prime 14x08 (Optimism):

HARPER SAYLES: Jack, it's the best kind of love. Without baggage or compromise. And all the other guys, none of them are like Vance. Strong and courageous and..

He never let me down. So what if I had to kill him in the end? Every relationship has its stuff, right? (Oh, Harper...)

SPNwin 1x12 (Tears of a Clown) + alt Mary/John + a relationship moving beyond limerence?

MARY: What if our relationship is the problem? JOHN: Wanna tell me how hunting an evil clown suddenly makes you think we have issues? MARY: Not hunting Limbo. Talking to Clarence about what happened to his brother. JOHN: Mary, that doesn't make any sense. Clarence used the carnival as an escape so his brother wouldn't have to face his problems.

And here it is. The mirror is making Mary think, making her worry, making her see things in a new light. This conflict is the actual stuff souls are made of. ("Souls are messy, all confusion. Conflict." -Asmodeus, SPN Prime 13x07)

Notably, Mary is not doing a one-to-one comparison theorem here: To suggest that these two brothers, Roger and Clarence, "have similar problems to us, ergo they must be romantically entangled," would be a strange conclusion indeed.

She is simply witnessing this incredible challenge to a loving relationship, and it's making her think. Making her examine herself. (I'm generally in agreement that all family and relationship stories are love stories. Yes, I think Save the Cat even gets that right about buddy comedies.)

MARY: Don't you think it's possible that you've been using our relationship in the same way? JOHN: Okay, so our relationship is a circus carnival in this metaphor. MARY: No. It's something happy to distract you from your issues. And it's been working, because ever since we left Lawrence, you've been pretending that we've been on vacation together instead of on the run for Kyle's murder. Either that, or you're flying off the handle because it's like you're totally ignoring reality. JOHN: I'm ignoring reality? You're honestly gonna stand here and act like you're not avoiding your issues, too? OK, what about life after Hunting or us? MARY: Well, I applied to college, and I got in. JOHN: Great. And then what have you done since? Have you accepted the offer? Have you enrolled for any classes? Have you taken a second to think about how any of this works if I'm still Hunting? MARY: Sorry I'm too busy trying to save the world. JOHN: There it is, Mary, the eternal excuse. I mean, admit it... the second your future got real, you did what you always do. You buried your head in the Hunting sand so you wouldn't have to think about college or our relationship. MARY: You know what? Think what you want. I don't have time for this. JOHN: And there you go, proving my point.

Right after this, Mary stumbles onto a clue to Limbo, because Mary is quite literally running from making difficult decisions. (BUT she's voicing her grievances, which is a great first step.)

They fact that they vent their frustrations to each other shows vulnerability, trust, and growing strength.

The disillusionment stage can be completely healthy and a necessary component of an evolving partnership:

"It takes most of us a long time to look candidly at ourselves, partly because we become so obsessed with the faults of our partner and the generally distressed state of our relationship. Back in the first stage (how long ago that now seems!) we exaggerated the depth and breadth of the best qualities of our partner. Now, in the third stage, we flip-flop between attachment and disillusionment. How unremittingly annoying he is! How outrageously self-centered she is! Both extremes of viewpoint — my partner is fabulous in all ways and my partner is worthless — are gross distortions. Our challenge is to understand our seesawing hearts, and then to act from a more balanced place. That’s the goal. Until we reach it, though, we may endure some trying times. - Carroll, Linda. Love Cycles (p. 59). New World Library. Kindle Edition.

So, in her vulnerable state, Mary gets trapped. SPNwin 1x12:

MARY: We can be together where there aren't any problems. And we never have to fight again, about my future or your anger. We can be happy in Limbo's tent forever. JOHN: But none of it would be real...Mary. There's a world out there we have to save. MARY: Limbo can protect us from all of that here. All you have to do is look in the mirror behind me. JOHN: No. We're leaving. Come on.

(Because it's not The Dream. It's A Dream.)

Interestingly, John makes the right choice here. He resolves not to look in the rearview mirror. He makes the choice to leave...and the villain intervenes, like it's chiding, "You're not allowed to heal, John. I won't allow you to heal."

And because Mary refuses to leave stasis, she's invertedly dragged John into stasis with her. Because although she is not responsible for John's happiness, they affect each other's happiness. John is waiting for her.

CLOWN: A bit of misdirection. I'm sorry to have to trick you, John. Now, put a smile on that face.

///

And so, they emerge, with new perspectives, but it's not a magic fix:

LATA: Do the two of you remember it, when you were clowns? MARY: Yeah, all of it. LATA: How terrifying. MARY: Actually, it was kind of nice. /// JOHN: So, do you really mean that? MARY: Didn't it feel good to you, not having to worry about our problems for a second, not to have to worry about us? JOHN: Maybe. But it also made me realize that you were right. I have been ignoring things because it's easier than facing the truth. I'm sorry for that. I am also sorry for being so angry with you. MARY: I guess I got kind of angry myself, you calling me a hypocrite and all. But you were right too. Thinking about the future is scary. JOHN: So, we good?

Maybe they're not "good," but they're trying to be. And that's the part that's real.

So, there we have it. Mirrors are ruminations, meditations, wishes, reflections. They are not Truth with a capital T, so much as they are questions. You can get trapped in them if you're not careful.

SPN Prime 1x05:

Sam: Right. I mean there’s a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they’re a true reflection of your soul, which is why it’s bad luck to break them. Dean: Right, right. So maybe if you’ve got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.

But Sam is WRONG. Mirrors are NOT necessarily true. They can be misdirection. They can even trick you into seeing the worst outcome, the worst self.

But ultimately, you make your own Fate. You can reject the falsity you see and break that fucking mirror to smithereens. (You see, you gotta know yourself pretty deeply and courageously in order to determine if the mirror's got any truth to it.)

#spn 1x12 #alt mary/john #spnwin #mary/john + dream worlds #mary/john + mirrors #harper sayles #spn + no baggage no compromise #spnwin +#core4 + key traits

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