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wannawritefast · 6 months

Text

Poise

A/N: Here she is. Seriously Aro is wicked fun to write and as I told Vas (@vasiktomis) reader/MC kinda ripped the reins from my hands. Is she (as in reader/MC) a lil coo coo bananas? Yes. Did she stretch my abilities as a writer? Yes. Were there times that I agonized over a singular word choice for an embarrassing amount of time? Oh yes. A lot of firsts in this fic for me as a writer. Very proud of myself. Thanks for reading. Also I'm so unserious about Aro. No funky aesthetic gif for this one. He's simply too silly. I also post all my stuff on both Tumblr and AO3. Same handle!

Pairing: Aro Volturi x F!Reader

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: gore (consider yourself warned), implied intimate partner abuse in flashbacks, death (no major characters), arachnophobia, reader has powers having to do with nightmares and is crazy, so is Aro, it’s the Volturi you kinda know what you’re getting into

Summary: After taking matters into your own hands, you swear never to be weak a day in the rest of your eternity. The Volturi can help with that.

“What I am left wondering is why you have suddenly found yourself in want of membership to the Volturi. You denied us quite emphatically those many years ago.”

“I was under a year into my immortality, Caius. You must forgive the blunders of my youth.”

Indeed, that many years ago you had declined their invitation. But that was when you still had your youthful fire about you. In so many years you had traded it in for temperance.

Still Caius narrowed his eyes from the platform. Only two of those splendiferous thrones were occupied at the moment -- a naked helm. Heidi had assured you that Aro was well on his way. That had been 3 minutes ago when Caius had decided to put you on trial for no other reason than him not being present.

Marcus watched on with those ancient eyes. They must have always looked old, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t imagine Marcus’ eyes looking any younger than time itself. And Caius’ eyes -- well… Very well. You’d let him enjoy this silly little power trip. There was something of a cruel smile lifting the edge of his lip.

“I have the time to hold a grudge.”

“Have you nothing better to do with eternity than harbor petty anger? My, my, you truly do not play well with others.” Your eyes drifted to Marcus. “Have you nothing to say, old friend?”

“We are hardly old friends.”

You rolled your eyes, settling your attention back to Caius. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall speak no more until Aro arrives.”

“Why? Are you frightened?” He taunted. Bait, that’s all it was…

“Are you?”

The doors behind you swung open heavily, like a final breath. Four sets of heeled shoes struck the marble. You did not turn even as Jane and Alec walked close on either side of you, like eels as they glided up the platform standing in the background.

Heidi didn’t even so much as brush past you to go out a side door. It was an unusual occurrence to demand entrance into the Volturi especially when a previous invitation had been so rudely turned down. You were certain a number of the vampires along the walls with you were there simply to see what demise would befall you for such insolence.

The fourth set of boots slowly walked up to the direct back of you. There was no body heat to speak for Aro but you knew it was him. The eyes of all the people in the room suddenly on you could not mean anything else.

“Did you receive a warm welcome?” His voice hit the back of your head and it was no louder than a lover whispering their intentions.

You straightened, your eyes piercing Caius where he stood. “Something like that.”

Aro finished the pace around you. “You are very brave to have come here.” His eyes scanned the walls. He was looking to see if it was true that you had come alone.

“I was hoping it might be rewarded.”

“Hope…” He tasted the word. “Now that’s a word I have not heard in a good while.”

Half of a smile spread across your face. “You’re welcome.”

“Hm.” Aro looked you up and down, amused, before continuing his path to his throne. The three men on the platform finally sat. “And I… well, perhaps I should not assume a thing. Why don’t you tell me why you are here?”

The blonde vampire stole the silence from you. You couldn’t help but think that the angelic color was wasted on him. He would be blonde. “Foolish girl, she’s changed her mind!”

“Caius, I did ask her to tell, did I not?” Aro only dignified the man with a slight turn of his head. He set his jaw and sunk back into his throne a little. Aro’s hand gestured for you to continue.

“It is true,” you responded. As much as it pained you to soothe Caius’ temper via agreeability you were not above it especially now. “I would like to petition for entry to the Volturi.”

The laugh of all the vampires in the room made it all the more funny, you supposed. Even Marcus’ perpetually morose eyes tilted up as he chuckled.

Aro only smiled. “Now my dear…”

“I am aware of my past petulence-”

“Ooh, that was not petulence,” he corrected you, leaning forward. “Petulence is far too generous. You were rude.”

You gulped. It was true. You had been rude those 200 years ago. Very rude.

Aro continued. “I believe you said… what were the words you used…?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Allow me. ‘The Volturi are a semblance of order. Their actions are a colossal mimicry of law and the leaders are just as big of fools for as long as they stand if they believe that their offers of entry are anything more than an identification of spinelessness in the subject if they accept such a thing.’” Curse him for his memory. “Something like that.”

His really good memory.

The helmsman of the Volturi raised his brows at that. “Your recollection is pristine, Marcus. My goodness, such scathing words… I had forgotten.”

“‘Go to hell, you greedy fucks’ too,” Caius added, that hint of a cruel smile earlier was now a complete grin. “Can’t forget that either.”

“That last one was not me actually.” A glower from the blonde vampire. “My sire, rest his soul-” I hope he is eternally suffering, “-should be properly credited for that.”

There was a chuckle from all three on the platform, even Jane smiled a little. Although it was better than how you had begun it still was not a good sign.

“Yes, rest his soul.” Aro tilted his chin up. “Whatever did happen to him?”

A test. Aro knew what had happened. Everyone in the room knew what had happened. Or they knew a version. “My coven at the time… handled him and went our separate ways.”

It was not a lie.

“Yes, I suppose you did handle it.” Aro remarked. “It was startling to hear about, just like that, ripped limb from limb by your coven.” He didn’t trust you. Why would he?

You swept up the steps before him and wordlessly knelt, reaching a hand up. A young woman reaching her hand up to a young man, both centuries old. Jane and Alec stepped forward in warning, flanking Aro’s throne. Your eyes flitted between them. An impasse. Still you kept your hand outstretched to Aro who had taken a small step forward in your approach. Your eyes landed back on him. Please.

Aro regarded you coolly; it was colored by something else though. Intrigue. Curiosity. Hunger. The last time Aro had read you had been 200 years ago; you had so much less control then. You remembered him snatching his hands away from yours as your nightmares, or rather his, had sloppily tumbled toward him while he flitted through your memory. Two horrible truths slamming into one another -- a mutual bruise, the two of you. Your talents were similar, all thing considered.

“You can look,” you whispered up at him. “I am better at this now.”

Something of a warm smile dawned on him, if indeed Aro could ever be described as warm, as he crouched down. His red, milky eyes bore into yours and then, gently, one of his hands tucked under your palm and the other covered your knuckles. You bridled the lightning fast nightmares as the man pushed forward.

Just like the first time it had happened, it felt like nothing more than the pad of a thumb releasing held pages as they rushed for the cover of a book. Aro flicked through two centuries of life in ten seconds, his eyes darting between yours as he passively consumed.

The story had to begin with the truth that covens did not turn on each other. In technicality it was not that it had turned on itself -- just all against the self-declared leader who held all of you in a vice-like grip. You refused to even give him his name in your memory, yet another way to kill him back in a way that truly mattered.

His inclinations of you showing abilities upon your turning were unfortunately well-guessed. You cursed your sire for the rest of your days for his early but ultimately rare stroke of clairvoyance. With time you would learn that he was no stranger to fear as a weapon either.

Aro pushed forward, unreadably neutral. The memory of the first time you ever used your abilities somersaulted through your consciousness. You had gone well beyond the bounds of the perimeter that had been set for you by your captor. It was direct disobedience to your sire’s orders and the vampire passing through never saw it coming. The spooking they had done you was a complete accident. Their intentions to take the human body you were feeding on, however, were undeniably loaded with malice.

You had only intended to shoot them a glare but something about the tense moment, about them approaching you with a hand reaching out to what was in yours… that’s what started it. You heard it first, an impossibly low thunder like something far beneath the earth pushing its way up; they heard it too. Your crouch was something feral when you did it and the nightmares that crashed into that poor vampire tumbled into your mind too. To that though you were a spectator, privy to the innermost workings of what horrified that particular individual.

Tense shoulders, a talon-like grip taking control of your hands, a furrowed brow. Your eyes snapped shut; while the nightmares were never your personal bane they hardly offered any comfort. You saw it all. It would be the first of many in the coming eternity.

Their shrinking hands slashing and clawing through phantom blood, unable to cup it, unable to consume any of it in a vicious bout of craving. Frantically pressing themselves into the ground as the endless blood on the ground began draining into the soil. They were withering by the second. It didn’t matter to the vampire that it was utterly ridiculous.

The vampire before you, the real version, collapsed to the ground; you heard it, like a snare cutting through reverberating bass. You didn’t open your eyes until their breath came out in pants, as if they were suffocating on too much air. And it stopped. Just like that. An end to the focus ending their nightmare.

Aro cocked his head, continuing to read you. In hindsight, you wished you had cut and run right then. You would have had a head start. Your sire wouldn’t have caught you in the few moments he had made the mistake of leaving you alone. From that moment on, he forced you to be at his side. You remembered the berating you had gotten for your disobedience that followed after his wide-eyed realization that you could do what you had done to the weeping vampire.

With that, you became the prize of the coven; it was your abilities that afforded your sire his longevity. He made you play with his food sometimes; asking what you saw as you screwed your eyes shut. You told yourself it was from the effort. In truth it was not any harder than flicking down a wooden block had been in your mortal youth.

No, you strained with the wretched knowledge that the only thing you really had a knack for was holding out a mirror. The beastly things you saw -- what frightened the most deplorable of individuals. It was sick; in every horrid vision you churned out, you saw the inner workings of the mind, of the filthy things that these monsters had done in their conscious lives. The worst thing about your abilities was that the most frequent nightmare you bore witness to was them getting what they had deserved. Revenge. Balance. Order. Justice.

It was true. Yours and Aro’s gifts weren’t really that different. You saw a lot, possibly too much of whoever had the poor luck of encountering your proficiencies.

And, oh, how your sire had loved your gift. It was precious, he said. You recalled a time he had even called it artistry. It was after you used it, after you saw the depravity of human and vampire kind that he cradled your head between his heavy hands. You learned to savor the moments where he wasn’t throwing them around. And during those times when you deeply pleased him by what you were able to do, you saw him bloat with the intoxication of power. It would be many years until you really used your gift but it took little guesswork to know then what he feared: the loss of control -- the loss of you. Motivated by pride he kept turning others, stopping at the fifth of your covenmates when he realized that he had really only lucked out on his first try -- also, you.

That was when you had been initially approached. Your sire had never once received so much as a greeting from the Volturi; he never let you forget how bitter it made him. Unfortunately, his hold on you also included passing down his opinion. By the time the Volturi got to you, you had been spoiled against them. Only time would truly tell whether you would be forgiven for it.

At this moment, though his red eyes were set on you, Aro wasn’t really looking though -- not the present-you anyways. It was subtle, the way his brows and lips fluttered up and down as if fighting his own desire to respond. His expression sobered briefly.

You had spent centuries with the man, your sire… he was brutal. Even you were not immune to his rage. Each of your covenmates were strong in their own rights but none of you were singularly stronger than him. The Volturi’s arrival and immediate departure was one of the worst days of your life. You remembered holding one of your sisters, the sixth, the youngest, after it all. She begged you to stay and endure with her. And for two hundred years the two of you, all of you kept that promise to each other.

It had been one too many cruel moments when the dam broke. It was the moment that all of you realized that while you were too individually weak, he couldn’t handle all of you. You did the honors of the inaugural blow -- undoing him with nightmares of his own demise as it came to fruition. It was the only time in all of your years of using your abilities that you hadn’t clenched your eyes shut and shrunk away. No, that time… that time you had leaned forward, eyes unblinking as you watched him writhe in fear before what was left of him was instead writhing in pain. It was easy, like dropping a heavy bucket with little care of what happened to its contents.

As Aro dug, it was only then that you realized you smiled when you’d done it. It was funny, you supposed, that your sire’s worst fear had come to pass right as it transpired just moments before in his mind. The six of you, your five covenmates and yourself, tore him to shreds. No blood that you had tasted or would ever taste compared to the delicious freedom of his eternal rest. He died, truly died, afraid. He deserved worse.

It was short-lived though. After centuries of subjugation, the sudden freedom was a blessing and a curse and not a single one of you could really agree on what to do except to leave. It was devastating in the same way you would see the final struggle of a living thing fighting off its final moments before succumbing; they were certainly in a better place. Two of them went on their own. The other three traveled together elsewhere. At the end of it you found yourself alone and not wanting to be weak again a day in your life.

While the rebellion had been justified, it was an overthrow of power, something especially dangerous in the halls of Volterra and you had been the ring leader. After all, you were the only one in the group with a talent.

Aro rose to his feet, gently tugging you up with him. “Now that does complicate the narrative, doesn’t it…”

Your eyes flickered to Caius who was in turn staring him down. “Oh, come off it, Aro. You are not honestly considering letting her in.” He stalked up to where the two of you were standing. You looked up at both of the men, still a step below. “The Volturi do not give second chances!”

“If I may, I am not asking for a second chance.” Bold… This was bold of you… “I am petitioning for membership on the grounds that it was offered once before. Your opinions of me have not changed since the initial offer.”

“Yes, they have.” Caius spat.

“Mine haven’t,” Aro confirmed. “Although I wouldn’t be so sure that is a good thing.”

Bright red eyes bore down as you finally pulled your hand from his grasp. His fingertips brushed along your knuckles before his hands lowered in kind. Him looking through your mind just moments prior felt less invasive. You directed your attention instead to the less intense of the two.

“We should have killed you the second you walked in here.”

Very well. “If it is an apology you want I will give it.” Your eyes were locked on Caius, pure impudence meeting unbridled sadism. You knew it drove him crazy.

“Foolish girl-!”

“I am sorry!” You snapped at him. The words came out more like ‘shut up.’ They were just as effective though. Caius stood silent although the sneer was still on his face. Of course that would do it for him. You knew it. It was disgusting. Oh, how he loved seeing people grovel. The hate in that man’s heart…

You suddenly remembered yourself. Aro had seen that -- your distaste for Caius, your willingness to do anything to be a member of the Volturi, your deep regret that your sire had influenced you to be so brash. That was one of the worst things your sire ever did: convincing you that his opinions were yours.

“I will repeat to you what I said to you earlier. Forgive me for the insolence of my early days. It was unwise of me to have behaved in such a way… and-” You were practically choking on your apology, uselessly panting with the effort. Admittance that you were wrong had a bad mouthfeel, especially after decades being forced to do it. “-and I was wrong about all of it. Consider me corrected.”

If Caius had been biting back any of his cruel amusement before, he certainly wasn’t hiding it now. Marcus was now standing closer having meandered nearer during the course of the apology. And Aro… Aro had the most curious of soft smiles on his face.

You were beginning to think you had made some kind of mistake coming here. You had laid almost all your cards bare. You had shown them you were desperate which was far worse than just being desperate. This was something you were going to have to amend for a good while if they accepted you. That you begged to be let in.

“I am satisfied,” Caius remarked, eyes settling on Aro. They were standing over you, all three of them.

Some days ago you had come across a rat moments before it was devoured by three street dogs in an alleyway on your journey to Volterra. It must have looked like something like this to that rather unfortunate vermin, you thought to yourself.

Your head dropped in complete and utter humility, eyes only on the marble underfoot. Even the pristine stone was too good for you… You had been at the mercy of the three men before you since you set foot in this dreadful place. It was only at that premature moment you still had an ounce of pride in your body. It was far gone now.

“Marcus?”

“I am satisfied.”

“As am I.” Cold smooth fingers tucked under your chin. Aro’s. You must have looked something pitiful. “And this-” Aro tutted at you, lifting your face up. “-we will work on this.”

The gesture might have been kind, intimate even, if it was anyone but Aro. You didn’t really trust him as far as you could throw him but you knew enough in having seen his nightmares many years ago that he would not tolerate an ounce of self-deprecation in a vampire beyond paying their due respects to the Volturi, to him. He had seen quite enough from you. That much was true.

“Yes… sir?” You tested the title. You weren’t quite sure what to refer to him as.

Aro’s face took on something of a delighted expression. “Look at you using your manners. See, Caius; she learns.” The blonde vampire rolled his eyes. “I do appreciate it but ‘Aro’ will do just fine.”

Ah. Well, that was embarrassing. You nodded affirmatively. Marcus’ eyes flicked from Aro to you and back before he returned to his seat. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jane smile something wicked.

“We shall get you new attire, especially now that you will be joining the guard after some fine-tuning, but there’s no sense in putting you in anything of the sort since we’re coming up on-” The side doors swung open and Heidi led in a group of tourists who were guffawing at the ceiling. Aro’s hands flew up like a child prince being brought an expensive present. In a sense, it was -- “-dinnertime!”

Oh, so this was how they fed. Aro steered you to the side and behind him with a hand clamped around your upper arm. Heidi sidled up to you.

“Welcome to the Volturi.”

“How did you know?”

“You are still in one piece.” Fair.

Aro leaned over to you. “Now, next time you will join your compatriots along the wall but tonight we will make an exception -- something of a welcome gift…” He extended his arm to the group of mortals before you who were clicking pictures of the room. Like fish in a bucket… or however the expression went.

You raised a brow at him.

“You first, my dear.”

A vampire along the wall by the name of Felix bobbed on his feet, antsy. You smiled and launched off the platform for the human before you. The both of you rolled together as you slammed him into the ground. Only his limbs flailed clumsily. Yours had been a vision of centuries of practice. A trained killer.

You bared your teeth. He screamed. Humans…

Wandering aimlessly about the grounds, such expansive ones at that and with such independence, was novel to you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself; it was beautiful. Just months ago you had been sequestered to your corner of the world, never to go beyond a painfully small perimeter. And now here you were… surrounded by the most powerful of your kind. Nearly unrestricted access to the grounds. New clothes. Fresh blood, not whatever your sire didn’t finish. Eyes never black with hunger. The respect you got as a tentative member of the Volturi guard. It was new.

And the Italian air. Sure, you didn’t really need to breathe at all. There wasn’t a function to smelling it. But the air… The breeze in Volterra was something fresh, warm, earthy, sweet, like blood. It was even more perfumy at night.

Something about the years of being on edge, even as an immortal, still ran through your veins, through the very way you functioned. Even in your most relaxed moments, you could recognize when you were being followed. And someone was following you.

You stopped in your tracks, only peering over your shoulder.

A fraction of you thought to yourself -- how odd… Aro should’ve been better at this. Then you realized two things. The first was that if Aro was truly aiming for discretion in whatever he was about to do, there was no reason for it to be him here and now. The second was that it was also entirely possible that Aro simply didn’t care that you knew he was there… or, in fact, did want you to know. Your curiosity was a helpless one; you must’ve looked like a cat.

“I was wondering when you were going to catch on.”

Only the trees in the garden obscured him from you, not the darkness. “How did I do?”

Silence as he rounded the corner. Black suit. Red eyes. Dark hair slicked back. You let him approach until he was a pace away, slowly continuing. “Ten seconds before you caught me… there are a good many vampires who would have gone much longer if noticing me at all.”

“Will you subtract a moment or two since I contemplated not acknowledging you?”

“Hearsay.”

“Only if you have the ability to corroborate and don’t.” You held your hand out to the side toward him, stopping in your tracks.

Aro only looked at it from the side of his eye, not even stopping. He did grace you with a smile though. “I should like to keep my victory unnegotiated.”

Ah, yes… the cat walking next to whatever you could call it that killed it. You closed the distance with a few long strides, now playing catch up with him. “You were loud.”

“I was not aiming for stealth.” If Aro was trying to humble you, it was working.

“And what was your target then?”

Silence again. It was comfortable. In time you came upon your favorite spot in the gardens — the point at which you could overlook the better portion of the town. It was beautiful -- quiet and empty for the most part at this time of night but the evidence of mortality there, living and dying… well, you still found it charming.

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

“For heaven's what?”

“For…” You finally looked at him beside you. He wasn’t looking at you; perhaps he was gazing beyond this little enclave in Tuscany. “For your hospitality.”

“Hospitality is for guests.”

“I was a guest for a small while.”

“You were more of a defendant.”

“Well, then, I thank you for your arbitration.”

“My ‘arbitration’?”

“Yes.”

Aro exhaled for the show of it. “Do stop your simpering and get on with what you mean.”

You were speechless.

“I didn’t say ‘shut up,’ did I?”

You blinked at him. “I suppose… I am grateful to be somewhere nicer.”

“I can hardly be thanked for your decision to come here.” He still refused to regard you. You imagined it was a rare thing for Aro to resist such expressions of the kind. He was a proud man after all. You looked back out at Volterra.

Aro finally turned his eyes to you. It was a withering look. Now that you obliged. “I saw quite a bit in that mind of yours. It is such a shame that you were thoroughly convinced of such horrible things.”

You were confused. “The only thing that I was convinced of was inferiority.”

“Like I said,” he snipped. “Horrible things.”

“Now how is that horrible,” you inquired. Surely this did not bother him personally. Aro did not strike you as the type. “I do you no injury in my lack of pride.”

“And you think it is good for the Volturi’s reputation, for the guard’s reputation to have but one who thinks themselves lesser than even humans?” Aro seemed to shudder at the ‘h word.’

Oh. There it was. He was right. Your head lowered.

He tilted your chin up for the second time. It wasn’t as gentle. This time it was a scolding. Aro was not pleased. He released it looking back onto the town. “And you must stop that. It’s unbecoming.”

It was lost on you how to respond. “Sorry.”

“Already forgiven, my dear.”

“I guess… I just want to thank you for taking a chance.”

Aro scoffed and looked at you fully. He wasn’t a tall man; his height was hardly what made him intimidating. What made him intimidating was the stature with which he carried himself, the raw power, the hunger, the intelligence. A man like him hadn’t gotten to where he was without some impressive cunning.

“I might find low esteem from my subordinates satisfactory on the usual occasion. I will not mince my words -- on you it is a most distasteful thing. I will forgive its ugliness for its reaffirmation but only for a time.”

If there was any functional air in your lungs, it would’ve been snatched from you. His words were not harshly spoken nor were they loudly boomed at you. Instead they broke skin like something sharp to vulnerable flesh. Aro took an imposing step forward. You took one back but it wasn’t enough. Your neck was craned up at him despite every inner instinct to shrink away; you wouldn’t dare disobey him again. You weren’t sure he would be as kind.

“There is nothing so abhorrent as one of our kind — our superior, beautiful kind — acting in the embarrassing way you continue to. If I was capable of emptying my stomach at the thought, I would.” Aro plucked something minute off your shoulder before rolling it between his long fingers and discarding it to the wind. “And as far as taking a chance is concerned, I- The Volturi- do not ‘take chances.’ Make no mistake, there is no calculated risk with you being here.”

“I-”

“If that is an apology or another meaningless expression of gratitude poised on your tongue, I would advise that you hold it there.”

You could only gape up at him. He was leaning over you still, very close.

“You will show the full extent of your gifts tomorrow. I want you officially in the guard as soon as possible.” And with that, Aro was gone, stalking away into the gardens.

With about 12 hours to ruminate on Aro’s words to you, you had decided that he had a flair for melodrama. You also decided definitively that you would never let him know such a thing unless he pried the information from you, which he was indeed capable of. This… what you were being made to do before the Volturi… You would not define it with such levity. When Aro had said that you were to display the full extent of your gifts, he had meant it.

It wasn’t certain whether it was you or the man writhing on the ground that was the subject of the gripping fear that your nightmares brought, what with your upper body being curled in on itself the way it was. Your fingers were curled at the ends of your locked arms with effort. The unfortunate human’s whimpers rattled along the domed ceiling, merely an accessory to the deep hum in your ears.

There was an exaggerated yawn from behind you — showy for a vampire — Jane’s. And a voice cut through the whole of it, halting your powers immediately. “No, no. That won’t do at all.”

Because you had already been shrinking away at the time of the interruption you needed only to open your eyes. The body thudded to the floor. Relief. It wouldn’t last. Aro was shaking his head as he leaned against his throne.

“You, my dear-” he pushed off his spot and stopped just behind you “-are holding back.”

The man, as far as you could tell, was only deeply phobic of spiders. It was how you had done it the dozens of times you’d done it before. Except for…

Out of the corner of your eye, Caius held a finger to his temple, rolling his eyes. Asshole… Aro’s voice pulled you back. “Try again.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your chest coiling up in kind. The man began wheezing almost instantaneously, the only sound in the room.

“No.” Aro cut in once again and you dropped focus. You turned to face him, your muscles loosening in the way that only annoyance could make them. His red eyes glimmered back at you. “That is not what I meant. Again.”

You huffed. You’ve done it once before, his face seemed to say. Who were you kidding… that was exactly what his sharp features said. When you had channeled that much power, you had been in an entirely different state of mind. That had been the raw rage you had buckled behind survival. All you had done was suddenly unleash it. You weren’t certain that you still had it in you. “Aro. I can’t-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nonsense. His hand straightened to a point — the human, once more.

You faced more of your body, still tense, eyes clamping shut. Your arms locked to your sides and you willed the fear forward before you tensed — thunder in your ears. Your muscles reacted in pure instinct, the man weeping in perfect time. Despite the overwhelming physical sensation of pushing the abstract forward, you could feel Aro behind you. It was stronger this time.

Oh, the man wasn’t just afraid of spiders.

Between the spiders, flickering amidst the impossible number of angular legs and blinking sets of eyes, the insects that dribbled into every corner of his vision, there was something else. A girl with one dark eye and a knife. She was young.

You jolted backward, knocking briefly against Aro. If he minded he didn’t indicate any such sentiment. Your lip curled into a sneer. The human… he was pleading with a higher power that was certainly not listening if it was there at all. Pathetic.

When your eyelids closed this time they didn’t tighten. It was a flutter. And this time when your muscles tensed, you trembled. Where there was air between the clawed fingers at your side, you imagined the man’s fleshy neck. This… this was righteous. The girl began closing in, spiders skittering out of her path.

Aro’s voice brushed your ear. “May I?” You nodded your head, although you weren’t certain as to what exactly you were agreeing to. Aro would not harm you; you were sure of it.

It felt like a baptism. In a way it was. Feather light, Aro’s fingers ghosted first at the base of your neck, gently pulling the muscles out to your shoulders. In the touch you were acutely aware that it wasn’t intimacy that Aro was after; he was honing you. Your nightmares were only encouraged.

Aro’s hands smoothed over your shoulders with a quiet mastery -- tender in the way a sculptor guided pliable clay between their fingers as it spun at their behest. The harshness was gone with but a swipe.

The man bellowed. He sounded now more of a screeching animal than man. The girl picked up her pace, almost a jog. The knife winked at him.

It turned into a full grasp as Aro traveled down your biceps, tugging the astriction out. He chased the natural form of the muscle down your elbows into the joint of your wrist. The rigidity in your fingers released at the pressure he placed there -- conjoined in poise.

You pushed a stronger assault of terror forward to meet the man. Long gone were the spiders. There was a small part of you that recognized that he wished for the insects instead of the young girl with a bruise ready to bury the knife in his chest, his stomach, anywhere the business end would find purchase. She was standing over him.

He screamed. Yes, ‘scream’ was the right word for it…

You spectated his nightmare; the girl with the dark eye had already started plunging her blade into him. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Aro’s hands shed themselves from your arms but only for a moment. Your chin bloomed with the familiar feeling of his fingers, turning it and angling it upright. Proud as it was meant to be.

He whispered again. “Look.” It was a gruesome sight.

The possibility that the man had begun gouging out his own eyes the moment Aro had begun amending your posture was a good one. If that was the case he had indeed made decent progress. The man was on his knees and his left eye hung from its socket like a generous helping of hot cheese, swinging. You almost wanted to applaud the man’s zeal. Only a desperate rodent would have done what he had. His grubby fingers pushed into his own skull again, getting around the other eye, bemoaning his self-inflicted plight. He seemed to be chewing the air. There was viscera on the marble -- not the first time it had been so defiled and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Still, you didn’t relent; you had never extended your power this far. God, why hadn’t you done it before… Sure, you- no, he had taken his eyes but somehow it wasn’t enough. The young girl brandishing the blood-soaked knife was still angry. This was justice. And he hadn’t yet paid in full.

He howled, writhing.

Marcus approached at the very edge of your vision. “Aro… is this-?”

He was halted by an upheld hand, the other slowly falling from your chin. Aro watched you as you watched the man, watched his nightmares.

“We needn’t toy any longer.”

The thunder in your ears rumbled to silence. “This is toying? If you saw what I saw, you’d know…”

Marcus seemed taken aback. You weren’t sure if it was because of how true your words were or how right they sounded coming from your mouth.

You drifted back to the man. “He deserves it.” Your voice came out no louder than a whisper.

“It’s alright, Marcus. We asked for an assessment-” The ensuing squelch and sudden cry indicated the man had found success on his second endeavor. “-and we have indeed received one.”

You found Aro’s eyes with yours.

There was something of an assuaged smile -- his bright teeth wolfish. The feeling of your cheeks pulled up was the only sign to yourself that you had been smiling. You took the moment to look about the room. Caius was staring at the man on the floor, mouth slightly ajar.

“Well?”

He turned his head first then his eyes. A grin.

You beheld the grotesque body with a sneer. He hadn’t even had the decency to look artful as he went -- his body held upright by the leverage of his spine against his heels. Pathetic. The way he dug at his own face like that… like you were some tumor, something he could just rip out of himself if he tried hard enough and be done with. He died as stupid as he looked. Your chest flared at the offense.

Aro was still standing near you. “Par excellence.”

You digested his words. You understood now. This was what he had known you were capable of. In just moments, Aro had cured you of your affliction, the debilitation of timidity. You matched his smile.

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

It was met with a giddy laugh. Aro clapped his hands together, utterly delighted at your words, your smile. He gulped it down and stepped backward offering you an expressive bow complete with arms outstretched. “No ‘thanks’ necessary. You… you are a credit to our kind.”

You bobbed your head in courteous reply to his own bow, unable to hide your giggle.

“You were never anything but.”

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fairymascot · 2 years

Text

i imagine quite a few followers of mine, over the last few days, have been looking at my blog and wondering to themselves, 'what is milgram, and why won't she shut up about it?'

well, lads, this post is for you.

WHAT IS MILGRAM, AND WHY I WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT: a masterpost

milgram is a bit difficult to explain. here's the short version: imagine the popular reality show 'survivor', only instead of real people, it's anime characters. instead of a desert island, it's a magical jail that makes you sing. and instead of an assortment of swimsuit-clad hotties, it's ten highly unstable individuals who have all been, to some degree, involved in a murder. does that clear things up? no?

well, here’s the long version:

a teenager called es wakes up in an eerie, mystical prison, in a guard's uniform, with no memory of who they are or why they're here. the helpful mascot character, a talking rabbit named jackalope, explains that this prison is called milgram, and es is its sole guard and jury. the prison contains ten prisoners, all of whom had committed some sort of murder, although the prison's definition of 'murder' can be a bit loose. none of the prisoners are quite sure how they got there, either, but it's clearly detached from the outside world, and they have no means of contacting anyone from home.

es' job is fairly straightforward. they have to get to know each prisoner, and then decide whether to 'forgive' or 'condemn' them. (this is often translated as voting 'innocent' or 'guilty', but rest assured, everyone is actually guilty. the question is not whether they've committed the murder -- it's whether they're considered justified in doing so.) there will be three trials: for each one, each prisoner will offer their testimony, and receive their verdict. their future in the prison will be affected accordingly.

the prison has a nifty schtick: the prisoners don't testify, exactly. instead, they're connected to a special machine that takes their innermost thoughts, feelings, and memories... and turns them into absolute bangers, paired with epic anime music videos. yes. their fate is decided based on the music video produced by their brain. what happens to those forgiven, and those condemned? well... that will be revealed in time.

that's that for the in-universe setup. in reality, milgram is an interactive multimedia franchise that delivers its story primarily through a series of youtube music videos. the songs are composed by renowned vocaloid producer deco-27 and the videos produced by otoiro. if you're into vocaloid at all, that's probably all you need to know it looks and sounds awesome. (if you're not: i'm telling you that right now.) each character's video has a distinct visual and musical style tailored to their personality, which makes for a very unique and diverse experience. and seriously, all those songs slap.

but the key gimmick is this: es is you. after each character's music video is released, a poll goes up where the viewers can vote to decide whether to forgive or condemn. the majority vote is then canonized, and future story developments will be affected by it.

milgram also explicitly urges you not to vote based strictly on morality. you can vote for whatever reason you'd like. maybe you just find this character cool, and want them to have a good time. maybe they annoy you, so you want them to suffer. maybe you just think this particular verdict would make for some really neat story developments! there's no right or wrong, which makes for some really fun and varied fandom discussions.

another aspect that makes it really engaging to me, is that the music videos -- meant to be the fruit of each character's subconscious -- are rarely straightforward. most of them require some degree of analysis on the viewers' end, and there's no concrete canon explanation provided for most of them. this creates really rich and interesting community discussion! nothing like watching a video for the first time, having no idea what to make of it, and scrolling down to read some passionate fan's frame-by-frame, 5000 word breakdown. it's awesome!

with ten prisoners (plus es, who is not nearly as much of a blank slate as the story would initially have you believe), every fan is guaranteed to find their own little blorbo. each character is incredibly fucked up in their own special way! they're all professionally voice acted and, in addition to their songs, have accompanying voice dramas where you can get to know more about them.

with the first two trials (=seasons) out of three complete, now’s a good time as any to jump in!

OKAY, SO HOW DO I GET INTO THIS THING?

first, a warning: in case that wasn't clear from all the murder, this is not a feel-good series. your favorite blorbo will inevitably turn out to be a horrible person who does horrible things, and will have horrible things happen to them. the videos include, in addition to the obvious violence and murder, themes of abusive relationships, bullying, suicide ideation and child abuse. and that's just off the top of my head.

TRIAL ONE

T1 MUSIC VIDEOS: you can find every video from the first trial, in order, HERE.

they're all in japanese, and have CC in (just slightly broken) english. this is the main meat of the canon! if you've watched it all and still want more, here's some extra content:

T1 VOICE DRAMAS the character voice dramas can be found in the single release of each song, on spotify, youtube music, or apple music. here are translations gathered from various fans across the web. (i’m linking both youtube uploads and text-only translations, in case any of the links get taken down due to copyright stuff.)

TRIAL TWO

T2 MUSIC VIDEOS: you can find every video from the second trial, in order, HERE.

additional resources

milgram official site & twitter - news & updates (japanese)

milgram en on twitter - additional translations (website updates, character blurbs, comics)

rochisama on wordpress - translations of background text in the videos & character interactions from the official app

@milgrammer - sadly no longer active, but has lots of translations, including character bios, cd dramas, and voice actor interviews

@onigiriico - currently active translator who’s been doing awesome work on the cd dramas

have fun, and happy judgement!

#milgram #text #long post #PLS WATCH MILGRAM I NEED MORE FANDOM FRIENDS

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demigoddessqueens · 2 years

Note

Hi! It’s me again! I have another request if possible with maybe a funny adorable one on headcanon with Vox Machina on them getting angry and the reader just kisses them on the cheek completely distracting them like a blank frozen look quickly replacing the anger that had.

Also would love to say your writing is spectacular. Seriously 👌✨

Aww thanks!! That’s so nice of you to say 💞

Percy - he’s tinkering away at a new project, and you’re there on the bench sitting with him. After trial and error, he gives up with a curse, not making any progress for today. Seeing his frustrations, you give him a quick peck on the cheek, to which you smile fondly at his bashfulness

Keyleth - While going over plans, she grows frustrated at working relentlessly. You see how it’s draining her, and offer that she take the rest of the night off, placing a kiss on her cheek. She turns to you with a wide-eyed smile and a “well, I could take the night off.”

Pike - she was having a hard time focusing during her meditations. When you heard her give a heavy, exasperated sigh of frustration, you knew there’s more to it. Later the night, when the cleric just wants someone to listen to her, your kisses do calm her down for the whole. A grateful smile with a warm feeling.

Grog - he’s miffed, hon about the fight he lost, saying how he’s never been beaten before. Though you’ve offered your comforts, a reassuring kiss leaves him speechless for a moment.

Scanlan - some showboat one upped him in a tavern and when they tried to steal you away, the gnome was not having it. “I’m better than them, right?” is assured by a cheek kiss he’s fond of, followed by a “I always thought so”. The gnome has the smuggest grin on his face the rest of the evening.

Vax’ildan - it was just a bad day for him overall. The half elf didn’t realize he had a scowl on his face most of the day until you inquired. Not one for many words today, the rogue curls into your shoulder as you play with his hair for a while. Kissing a top his head, you notice how he melts into you, burrowing further into your shoulder.

Vex’ahlia - Nothing just seemed to have gone right today. Big or small, Vex just felt a barrage of emotions all at once today. Yes, she knew talking it through with you might help but something kept nagging at her. Amidst her speaking, you stood up to grab more ale and water but not before giving her a sweet forehead kiss. At that, her attitude takes a turn for the better, a quiet “I don’t know what I was upset about.”

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ask-de-writer · 7 months

Text

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

(Part 57 of ?)

18+ readers only (sex scenes)

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 57 of ? (Work in Progress)

De Writer

63566 words (story in progress)

//////////////

This story is age restricted to 18+

years or older!

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the start HERE

///////////////////////

Kin, shuddering slightly at the memory of some of the things that ancient sorcerers had made her do, did not want to be there as a part of the sentencing. That the defendants richly deserved what was going to happen in no way lessened the fact that these were calculated sentences. And that would bring her pain from those ancient memories.

Luna, picking up on Kin's upset kindly offered, “Kin, dear, I do believe that we have all that we will need of your services. Why don't you go back to the Carousel? I am sure that Rarity will be happy to see you.”

Kin managed a very good courtly bow and offered, “I will take the Pink Tornado with me. It needs only eyes to see that more butterscotch, chocolate mint and cherry treats are going to be needed.”

She corralled Pinkie Pie and they went out to haul away the now empty snack cart.

Pinkie offered sympathetically, “What has you so upset, Kin? None of the rest of the trials and all bothered you. Something set you off.”

Kin shook her head sadly, “Old memories, Pinkie. You know what I am. My guess is that you don't really grasp how old I am or what I had to do, mostly when I was younger.”

Pinkie nodded, “You got ordered to do some really bad things, um? Kinda sorted that out a long time ago, my mare. Thing is, you are not evil. The poopy heads who made you do things were the evil ones. If you were evil, you wouldn't feel bad about things you had to do centuries ago.”

Kin impulsively hugged Pinkie as she agreed, “Thanks for seeing that, Pinkie! It was the calculated nature of setting the punishments that got to me. It was really nothing like the calculated evil of the old sorcerers but it triggered those old memories.”

Pinkie looked up from the comfort of Kin's arms and nodded, “I can see that. It might be more like old times when the Ducal Council gets their tails nailed to the wall in some deep dark dungeon!”

Seriously Kin replied, “I don't think that would bother me at all, Pinkie. From the goodness that I have experienced from the Princesses, anypony trying to take them down out of greed or power lust really makes me angry.”

Pinkie nodded slowly as she through that idea. “I can really see that one, Kin, my mare. It's not that far off from what I feel for them.”

They were already at the Carousel's front door with its beautifully glowing phoenixes rising from flames. Rarity opened the front door and snickered, “Too late, Pinkie! Put away that jimmy now and come in the front like a proper shoplifter!”

Pinkie was giggling as she re stowed her prized burglar's jimmy. “Darn! I wanted to use the window again because what happened last time was so much fun!”

Rarity gave a slightly closed eye grin as she assured Pinkie, “Never fear, our cuddlesome mare. We can manage more fun than mere catching a burglar, though that was a delightful catch!”

As they went in, Rarity's eyes were taken once again by the beautiful softly glowing door glass. She paused and wrapped her arms around Kin, incidentally entrapping a shorter pink mare between them as she murmured, “Thank you so much for this amazing pane, my treasure.”

She gently shut the door and led the two of them on into the back room. “Minty left because we got all the costumes that you had listed done. She really is an excellent seamstress.”

Kin took notice of some costumes laid out on Rarity's work table. “I don't recall any Saddle Arabian harem dance numbers, my Dear.”

Rarity chuckled as she snorted, “That's because there aren't any, my lovely Fiend. Those are for us. I thought that we could do a little costume play. And yes, Pinkie, I did think that you would be along, so there is one for you too. In fact, I made up two complete sets of these dance outfits.”

Pinkie chuckled, “Oh, we can trade off outfits! There's only one fly in the ointment that I can see. I don't know anything about Saddle Arabian dancing!”

Rarity was saying, “My sweet innocent Pinkie, these are not really about DANCING except for, um, back danc . . .”

When Kin interrupted, “I do know Saddle Arabian harem dancing! Equestria is not the only place on this world that practiced raising my kind.” She shuddered slightly as she spoke.

Pinkie instantly pulled her into a close and comforting hug. “Never forget, Kin, it was the sorcerers who were evil, not you. But if you learned some dynamite dances, at least that part of it was not merely good, but great! I always wanted to learn that!”

Kin smiled and ruffled Pinkie's mane. “You are right, Pinkie, and I would love to teach you and Rarity both. One thing needs to tended to first, though.”

Head cocked, ears forward with curiosity, Pinkie simply asked, “Oh?”

Kin gave her a perfectly lewd grin as she replied, “Both Rarity and I have full boobs and need to be milked! I will bet that you would enjoy doing that, wouldn't you?”

Pinkie made a production of staring from Rarity to Kin, eyes focused exactly at tit level! “You got that right, my mare! Only one question. What will we do with it all? Between the two of you, there must be a half gallon waiting to hit the milking pail!”

Rarity gently felt up her own bosom and commented thoughtfully, “You know, Kin, she could be right. Let the cream settle to the top while we play and make it into whipped cream to go on top of some cold coffee and as a topper to some ice cream that we make out of the rest? Maybe banana split sundaes?”

Pinkie piped up, “You two are singing my song! Where is that bucket?”

Laughing, they got out a clean and shiny small pail and a leather strap to support it. Rarity, licking her lips in anticipation declared, “My shop! Me first!”

She leaned forward, hands on knees, and tail up! That let the bucket hang down on its strap just under her right boob. A few drops leaked out of her nipple into the waiting bucket with small pings! Pinkie, mischievously took time to simply fondle before starting back at Rarity's chest wall and carefully squeezing and working the alabaster breast in her hands.

While Rarity purred her pleasure, her milk shot out in steady, if pulsing, streams from her nipple. The pings and rattles of milk striking the bucket bottom were soon replaced by the light hiss of thin streams of milk striking the milk pooled in the bucket. In a surprisingly short time, that breast was empty.

As Pinkie was shifting the leather strap to move the bucket to Rarity's other breast, she looked in and exclaimed, “Holy Celestia! Did you or Kin cheat somehow? That is at least a pint in there.”

Rarity smiled softly at Pinkie and replied, “No, dear Pinks. As good as it felt to have you milking me, it never even occurred to me to cheat. That was all from my breast. Where it comes to milking, I think that you are the best.”

Pinkie, taking advantage of Rarity's bent over posture, pulled her head close and kissed her on the lips, while gently stroking the sensitive areas behind her ears. Breaking the kiss gently, she went back to her task of erotically milking her friend and sometimes lover. She luxuriated in the soft yet firm texture of the tit that she was fondling as much as milking until there was no more to be had.

Setting the bucket aside, she held Rarity at her level and both nuzzled and lick-suckled at both of her nipples. As she was letting Rarity go, with a gentle smile on her face, Kin interrupted.

“Dear One, the Pink tornado was right. I just poured your milk into our separating pitcher. You had thirty four ounces, just over a quart. From what I saw, I can't wait for her to do my boobs too!”

Pinkie hugged her close with one arm and reached up with the other to the top button of Kin's blouse. Her hand lightly floated down the front of the shirt, her fingers sort of dancing, the fabric falling away to both sides. Hugged slightly closer, a pink arm went under the loose garment and played only a second at Kin's bra backstrap.

Stepping back just a little, she reached up to the cream colored shoulders and slid both blouse sleeves and bra straps down her arms. Snuggling close, nuzzling between Kin's tits, she finished pulling away the shirt, followed by the bra straps, releasing that garment from the lovely mare before her.

Stepping further back, like an artist admiring a perfect sculpture or painting, Pinkie shook her head slightly, in wonder and let out a sigh. “I am so lucky, Kin and you too, Rarity, that I have such a poor memory. I keep forgetting how amazingly beautiful you both are, so that I get to see such gorgeous mares like it is the first time, every time!”

As she bent to be milked, Kin took Pinkie into a hug and a kiss, stroking the Pink one behind her ears! Pinkie managed to get the strap and bucket into place and begin. Like with Rarity before her, she had milk leaking into the newly emptied bucket before Pinkie could do more than merely stroke the full breast before her. As her milk flowed out under Pinkie's careful and erotic manipulations, it was apparent that Kin too was going to have more than the average mare.

Accompanied by a little heavy petting, Pinkie got the strap and bucket shifted and started in on Kin's other breast. All too soon, in Kin's opinion, the milking was done.

She pulled the willing and eager pink one into a hug and lifted up her sweater. Pinkie blocked its rise with her arms, both nuzzling and muttering, “Bra too, creamy one!”

With a slight snicker, she played at fondling Pinkie's back. Almost magically, the bra came undone! Pinkie delighting in the titilating feel of her clothes being erotically removed raised her arms enough that both garments came free.

“I hate to break this up, Kin, but we have those nifty costumes to try on.”

Gone serious, Kin offered, “Pinkie, if you want it, I can have you dancing the different Saddle Arabian dances in only a short time. There is only one problem. To make the necessary reflexes and moves work naturally, I will have to use my deep magic to alter parts of your subconscious. I won't touch your mind as such or any memories.”

Pinkie was in her arms that fast. Snuggling Kin's soft fur, she reached up and stroked down from her collar bone, between her lush breasts as she said, “I trust you, Kin. What you need to do, do it. I would love learning something new and wonderful like that.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC #Part 57 of ?#age restricted 18+#MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer #WORK IN PROGRESS

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anhed-nia · 2 years

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BLOGTOBER 10/15/2022: A personal essay on THE BEYOND (1981)

There is a lot to say about THE BEYOND as a work of art, and it's been said by smarter people than me—including Tenebrous Kate, a writer and critic who handily kicked off the Brooklyn Horror Film Festival's Fulci retrospective with a compact, insightful introduction to the prolific director's genre-spanning career. Besides situating his work historically, and breaking down his key themes, Kate also reflected on what it was like to discover someone like Fulci in a pre-internet world where you really had to care and network and sleuth out movies like his, and you could often be surprised—traumatized, even!—by stumbling upon films you never saw coming. THE BEYOND was like that for me, and Kate's observations sent me spiraling into old lady reverie and musing about whether that kind of mentally revolutionary discovery can still happen in this day and age. So, this piece is more about that, than it is about THE BEYOND specifically.

Just to be clear, I was never some sort of tape-trading hero. I made most of my discoveries in mom & pop video stores, and then later in more esoteric rental places where there was an escalated risk of experiencing something that I was in no way prepared for. When I was 14 and had my first personal membership at our local shop, I picked up something that looked for all the world like an old F.W. Murnau movie. When I took it home and pressed play, I realized how wrong I was; it was DER TODESKING, an explicit essay on suicide by Jörg Buttgereit, the director most famous for the still-shocking NEKROMANTIC. About 20 minutes later, after a segment that suggests a hardcore version of ILSA: SHE-WOLF OF THE SS including graphic castration, I took the tape out, returned it, and spent the rest of the afternoon crying. Many years later I found a love for Buttgereit, who makes intelligent, satirical art that tends to target past and contemporary German culture—but at the time, I was REALLY not ready for it. I didn't even know anything like that existed. And actually, I wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world. It made watching movies an adventure, with a real sense of peril, and it encouraged me to take them very, very seriously.

When I was a little older but not necessarily wiser, I took a semester off college in Portland, Maine, where there was once the greatest video store I've ever been in to this day. I would beeline for that place every day or three and grab a handful of movies—typically, anything that I couldn't sort out just by looking at the box, or even anything that seemed potentially threatening. This is how I first encountered CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST. It was the first movie of its kind that I had ever seen. I didn't even know that it was a whole category of thing, let alone the most challenging and feared version of the type. So, with absolutely zero context, I met with a movie around which probably the most people have drawn lines in the sand. It completely blew my brains out of my mind. I returned it the next day in a daze and sheepishly asked the clerk, "What……..is this?" The guy rolled his eyes and gently assured me, "It's just one of those Italian endurance tests." I still like to use this phrase, and I still like to maintain my initial, naive impression that what I had seen was, in fact, a snuff film. Not that I think it's cool to, like, kill people, or that I like the idea of filmmakers having their work literally put on trial like Ruggero Deodato's was. I just love that I had that folkloric kind of experience where I really didn't know what had happened to me. Years later, I came to really like CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST—which feels weird to say, it definitely doesn't strive to be liked! But I do think it has a certain kind of editorial intelligence that becomes clear if and when you can get passed the visceral shock of the images.

Anyway, in between DER TODESKING and CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, I was enduringly shocked by THE BEYOND. It was the end of high school, and Quentin Tarantino's distro Rolling Thunder Pictures was circulating a print of the movie that turned up at our nearest theater with a midnight program. I had seen ERASERHEAD and PINK FLAMINGOS there, and as challenging as those can, they came with a certain reassuring reputation establishing their position in the art world, and those screenings were joyful experiences. Still, my friends and I didn't know a thing about Fulci. We had no idea what we were in for. The whole audience seemed to anticipate that we were in for a fun time, as it was the late '90s, and our collective ears had pricked up when we heard the name Tarantino. We thought THE BEYOND was probably going to be a charming thrill ride like EVIL DEAD 2 or something…and we quickly found out we were dead wrong.

As soon as the movie began and the warlock Schweick was being chain whipped to death in a swampy basement by a sweaty mob, a very, very bad vibe descended on the theater. It was grim, and grimy, and unforgiving, and it just got worse by the second. Fabio Frizzi's perverse, spidery score was also something the most of us had never heard anything like before, and we were experiencing the evil, perverted potency of italo disco in the best/worst possible context for the first time. As the movie unspooled, a thick pheromonal fog of fear and misery gathered in the air around us, and no one made a sound. We were trapped with this film, unable to escape it, compelled to see how much worse it could possibly get. Finally in the middle of the movie, as someone was being protractedly pulled apart like so much monkey bread by a swarm of tarantulas, my most sensitive friend simply couldn't take it anymore, and screamed out loud: "OH MY GOD THEY'RE RIPPING OUT HIS EYEBALL!" It was exactly the icebreaker the audience so badly needed. Everyone laughed, and that midpoint catharsis helped us survive the rest of the movie. But still, we all walked out marked by an experience we would not soon forget, whether we all liked it or not. (Of course, I really, really liked it)

I definitely don't mean to complain about the availability of movies and information that we enjoy in today's computerized environment. To me, nothing beats the pleasure of movies and the stories about how they came to be. But I wonder how often people still get to experience the thrill of seeing something that they are truly, completely unprepared for. If you have a story like this, past or present, please feel free to ad it to this post.

#the beyond #lucio fulci #blogtober #blogtober 2022 #horror #supernatural #fabio frizzi #zombie #occult #anecdotal evidence #video stores #extreme cinema

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charmsandtealeaves · 2 years

Text

Ministry of Magic Monthlies | September: Love Languages, Words of Affirmation

Prompt: [Style] Letters

Read it on AO3

Summary: A series of letters exchanged by James Potter and Lily Evans in the summer break before 7th year.

Words: 2,951

Photo by Ranurte on Unsplash

Dear Evans

Dear Evans,

I hope this owl reaches you okay. Remus warns me your sister is getting married so there might be a lot of muggles about the house. I just wanted to write and check in with how you’re doing. The prophet is a bit scary these days and it can’t be easy for the likes of you and Mary having to read that. For all it’s worth the Minister thinks blood purity is a load of tosh, he won’t stand for the nonsense and violence this Voldemort bloke is spouting. Dad’s herd from friends in the ministry that arrests will be happening any day now for those muggle attacks.

If you ever need anything, please let us know.

Thinking of you, hoping you’re not too stressed with helping with wedding shit.

Potter.

Dear Potter,

I must admit I was surprised by your letter. I don’t usually receive owl post over break if I can avoid it as it upsets my sister. She thinks owls are unclean because they eat rodents and produce pellets. But it did brighten my day when yours unceremoniously dropped your letter into her bowl of pathetic slimming cereal.

I’m rather bored without my usual level of correspondence from the likes of Remus and the girls. Currently steering clear of everything wedding related as my sister doesn’t want me anywhere near it which is both a blessing and a curse.

I haven’t seen anything in the prophet as I postponed my subscription for the summer with all the random family coming and going. I can gather by muggle attacks though that it isn’t anything good, but I’m glad to hear that appropriate action in imminent and thank you for your concern for myself and Mary.

Kind regards,

Evans.

Dear Evans,

That explains why you don’t own an owl. Sorry in advance for this second one. Remus refused to give me your address so I can send you post the muggle way without your express permission.

Do you always write your letters so prim and proper? I swear you write like an old person. No offense.

Three so called ‘Death Eaters’ were arrested yesterday. They are currently being held in Azkaban awaiting trial, so they certainly aren’t too comfortable right now. So that’s good news.

Why doesn’t your sister want you helping with her wedding?

Anyway, please send your address or give Remus permission to reveal it.

Potter.

P.S. Promise I won’t send dung bombs in the post.

Dear Potter,

You can tell Remus (or rather show him this letter, as I highly doubt he’ll believe you otherwise) that I give him permission to share my address with you. Under the guise that you will not send me dung bombs or any other paraphernalia of the sort via the muggle post. Mostly because I am confident that the Ministry would not be pleased to hear about you doing so, and I’m sure you would take a letter from the Misuse of Magic office very seriously, unlike detention. I’ll ignore the fact you said I write like an old person.

Pleased to hear about the arrests, can only now hope for conviction and not release I suppose. Marlene and Remus tend to be very careful about telling me anything negative, so I’m assuming I can trust you to keep me informed? I’m not in the wedding party so I don’t have any assigned duties. My sister and I don’t get along. She loathes anything to do with magic and if it weren’t for my parents paying for almost everything I wouldn’t even be invited to the wedding. She threw a fit at the mere idea of me being a bridesmaid, she’s even made the dresses this frilly thing with an awful colour to clash with my hair, so I quote “Don’t get any funny ideas”.

I’ll hear from you soon via muggle post, I’m sure.

Kind regards,

Evans.

Dear Evans,

Rest assured I would never do anything moronic via muggle post. I don’t need to find myself grounded for the summer and wand snapped. I’m told one stamp should suffice but if I receive no response I’ll add more.

Further reporting on the muggle attacks is very hush hush currently. Mum has speculated it’s because there’s still others to round up or they just wanna keep everything calm before they all go before the Wizengamot. I’ll keep you posted.

Sorry to hear you and your sister don’t get on. It’s much the same for Sirius with his brother (as I’m sure you’re already aware after the hexing incident) so I can sympathise.

Are you actually going to get to do anything fun this summer?

Potter.

P.S I have paid for a PO Box at the closest muggle post office. Remus suggested this would be easiest. See return address on envelope.

Dear Potter,

Your letter arrived perfectly fine; no further stamps required. Do they allow reporters to attend the trials? Or will they just publish the results after the fact? I’m not over familiar with wizarding law proceedings in that regard.

I’m very much familiar with the hexing incident considering it was me who reset Sirius’ broken nose if you’ll remember. We had a somewhat lengthy discussion on shit siblings in the aftermath and he brought brownies from the kitchens as a thank you for not setting his nose crooked. I really must get one of you lot to show me how to get into the kitchens this year (without detention I might add).

I have no definitive plans for the summer other than surviving it. I will visit Diagon Alley when supplies lists are posted so I will have the chance to catch up with the girls then. Mary is going to Spain in a couple weeks, but I don’t think the others will be going abroad. Not that Dorcas and Marlene mentioned before the holidays started anyway. Letters from the pair of them have been sporadic at best, they’re so lovesick with each other I’m amazed they’ve come up for air in total honesty. That’s the one thing I don’t miss about Hogwarts, hearing them giggling and snogging away at all hours.

What about you, any plans that don’t involve terrorising someone?

Kind regards,

Evans.

Dear Evans,

I can’t believe you sent your last letter full of glitter. Pure evil genius. I don’t know why I’ve never considered it. I’m still finding bits of it everywhere. Fair play, I didn’t know you had it in you. I’ve just done the same to Peter now you’ve given me the idea.

They allow reporters in the gallery, there will be one from the prophet at least and I imagine a few internationally. Two muggles ended up dead with several others critically injured, that sort of thing tends to get overseas attention as extensive memory charms were needed. Breaking the statute of secrecy is serious business.

You accidentally set a bloke’s nose wrong one time and you never hear the end of I swear. It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’d be happy to show you how to get into the kitchens, the house elves like me.

You know Evans if you did some snogging yourself you might not mind them doing it so much. Can confirm it’s generally speaking a good time. Would recommend.

I have an extra ticket to the Puddlemere United game on the 15th if you’re interested? It’ll be me, Sirius, Peter and Dad. The ticket was supposed to be for Remus except it’ll be moon time so he can’t make it. I imagine your house isn’t set up for floo. But if you can get yourself to Kingscross we could pick you up from there? No pressure either way just let me know. You’d have to get there by 11am. It’s only reserve teams so I can’t imagine the match lasting more than a day.

Potter.

Dear Potter,

I would love to escape this prison and join you for the quidditch match. I’ve actually never been to a professional game, so it’ll be a new experience and I’m sure far more pleasant than my house currently. Vernon (my sister’s pig of a fiancé) is here at the moment. He’s supposed to be sleeping in the spare room, but the banging of the headboard against by bedroom wall would suggest he isn’t sleeping alone. There’s only so many times I can be expected to bite my tongue and swallow my own vomit.

Do I need to be on the wizarding side of Kingscross? I only know Platform 9 ¾.

Kind regards,

Evans.

Dear Evans,

May I suggest your earmuffs? If they can keep out mandrake screams, I’m sure they’d block out bestiality. Can’t think of anything worse than having to listen to your sister shagging a pig. Though to be fair I’ve caught Sirius having a wank on more than one occasion. Same thing?

I can’t believe Marlene has never taken you to a game of professional quidditch. That’s really bad form. The wizarding side would make things easier, if you get yourself to 9 ¾ we will find you. Just stay by the wrought-iron archway. We will see you there at 11am on the 15th.

Let me know if anything changes in the meantime.

James.

Dear James,

Thanks again for the quidditch. I REALLY needed the breather. But did you really have to tell Peter the glitter was my idea? I would have been fine with you taking credit.

Earmuffs were a brilliant suggestion for at least blocking out the sound, if only it were possible to stop the vibrations. Thankfully the wedding went off without a hitch and the pair of them are now out of the house. See the photograph for aforementioned hideous bridal party dresses.

Mary wants to go surfing in Cornwall before the chilly weather sets in. Marlene and Dorcas are gonna come too. Do you and the boys wanna join us? We’re gonna pitch tents and stay for the weekend. We are gonna hire boards, but you’ll need to bring your own tents. Fair warning it’s no parental supervision, whether you disclose that fact to your folks is up to you.

Lily.

Dear Lily,

I am nothing if not generous and I never take credit where credit is due. Pete will get over it… eventually. As for the earmuffs, I’m full of brilliant ideas don’t ya know? Now that the wedding is over does this mean you can receive owls again? They’re much faster than muggle post.

Surfing sounds great, can’t be much more difficult than riding a broom. Boys are all keen and it’ll be good for Remus. Mum and dad don’t much care about the no parental supervision. We’re going into 7th year and will all be ‘adults’ soon. They can’t expect us to not take advantage of our last summer of youth.

James.

Dear James,

Owls are now perfectly safe. I can finally buy my own in Diagon Alley this year with no Petunia to complain. I’m so excited!

We’ve booked a spot at the Tollgate Farm Caravan and Camping Park. You can meet us there. It goes without saying it’s muggle, so don’t let Sirius apparate anywhere nearby! We are meeting Friday at 3pm.

Lily.

Dear Lily,

I can not tell you how nice it is to send an owl. Not that I minded muggle post too much, but the constant back and forth checking the PO Box was quite tedious.

Will have to do surfing again next summer when we can. I haven’t had such a good time as that in a long time. Though next time… definitely not having my tent so close to Marlene and Dorcas, or Sirius and Remus for that matter. I’ll take Pete’s snoring over listening to our friends getting off with each other any day. How Peter slept through it I will never know. How he didn’t know those two are lesbian still mind boggles me.

On a more serious note, came home to find Hogwarts letters so I assume you got yours too? Please tell me you got head girl. No surprises really but I got the quidditch captain badge, but there was one I wasn’t expecting. Lily… I got head boy. Dumbledore’s lost his marbles. I wasn’t even a prefect. It should have been Moony. I feel bad that it isn’t him because he deserves the recognition for all his hard work. I’ve spoken to him about it and he’s fine with it, he says he would have found it too draining on top of his furry little problem. I see his point, but I don’t know if he’s just saying that to appease my feelings of unease about it. That’s a very Remus thing to do. Sirius says I’m being ridiculous. What do you think? Am I overthinking this?

So, we can now plan Diagon Alley trip. Ice cream, my shout?

James.

Dear James,

I got head girl so you’re in safe hands. I won’t lie to you. I’m surprised you’re head boy. Not because I don’t think you are leadership capable; you’ve obviously proved you are with quidditch, but only because you weren’t a prefect. I didn’t realise that wasn’t a prerequisite.

Remus is right. I think the responsibility would have been too much for him on top of N.E.W.Ts and everything else. We had a long chat while you and Sirius were still out on the last waves. I can honestly say he will be at peace with this and if anything will be a huge weight off his shoulders now that he knows. He’s been fearful of it. I think he’s a lot more afraid of this last year than he’s been letting on. He’s downplayed the furry little problem for so long I don’t think the bisexual thing is gonna be noticed if he doesn’t want it to be. But he is daunted about this being the last ‘safe’ year he’s got. It’s going to be a lot harder for him to find a job outside Hogwarts than us because of his furry little problem, unless something drastically changes by June. He shouldn’t have to register his status, he’s not a predator. Not in that way anyway. I’ve heard st Mungo’s is part of a clinical trial testing potions, Slughorn was talking about it with some medic at a party last year. She said some of the initial results have been promising and participants have been paid. I just pray he can get in and maybe find one that will help him with his transformations? I can’t think of anyone more deserving than him to actually be happy.

Congratulations on head boy truly, I realise I haven’t said that til now. It is a massive achievement and I’m sure you’ll be up to the task. Especially if we can manage to work together without fighting like cats and dogs like we have previously. I bet your parents are really proud.

I’m actually going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron the day before the train. I don’t want mum and dad to come see me off. Not with everything that’s going on at the moment. I got my subscription to the prophet renewed, I read that aurors will be posted at the station. I haven’t told them what it means to be muggle-born, the blood purity bollocks. I don’t want to scare them. I don’t want them to not let me go. I belong in the wizarding world. It’s my home now whether some people like it or not. That includes Petunia. She and Vernon get back from their honeymoon on the 31st. Mum and Dad agreed to collect them from the airport so it’s the perfect distraction for them. I’d be lying if I said Remus is the only one that’s frightened about this year ending….

Let me know about when we can go get ice cream. I’ve been craving Fortescue’s all summer.

Lily.

Dear Lily,

Please don’t stay at the Leaky alone. Not now. I know you’re a capable witch, but I wouldn’t sleep knowing you were there alone with all that’s going on with these nutters. You’re more than welcome to stay with us. I’ve already cleared it with Mum and Dad. We have lots of empty bedrooms, you can take your pick. Please say yes. If not with us than with Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, anyone.

I know this final year is daunting. But we’ve got to make the most of it. I promise to show you all the Hogwarts secrets I know. Especially now I know you won’t get me thrown in detention for it.

I’m going to Diagon Alley on Thursday. I’ll see you then.

Please seriously consider staying with us.

James.

James,

I’ll see you Thursday. I’ll think about it and give you my answer then.

Lily.

Dear Lily,

I’m glad you agreed to stay. Mum’s thrilled about the idea of another woman in the house to talk to. She’s already planning dinner. At this rate you’re going to have to come stay at Christmas or Easter… the woman won’t take no for an answer once she’s adopted a child. Just ask Sirius. We will be so full come morning someone’s gonna need to roll us onto the train.

I…I still can’t stop thinking about today. I didn’t plan it I swear. One minute I’m just watching you laugh and smile and the next? I’ve never felt a kiss like that. I hope it was the same for you too. And I really, really hope we can do it again.

I can’t wait to see you on the 31st.

James.

Dear James,

Tell Sirius he might need some earmuffs…

Can’t wait to see you too. Lily.

#Charms Library #Fic: Dear Evans #prompted fic #jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans

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lyon-amore · 6 months

Text

Time Trial Chapter 8 - More than just strangers

Chapter 7

I thought I could rest on Saturday but when I heard the ringtone, I made an effort to get up. For a moment I thought it must be Sally talking about her discoveries, but I remembered that she does not have my cell phone number to bother me with. And I cannot imagines he woke up so early on a Saturday either.

I pick up my phone and look at the name. Malcolm. Your boss calling you on the weekend should be a crime against humanity. “Hello?” I half out, half asked, yawning. "Jake, we're down at the offices." he says quickly. "Good morning." I respond, sitting up in bed. “Good morning? You were sleeping?” “Well, it is… weekend.” "Exactly, and you don't have class on the weekends" I huff, sitting up in bed ", which means you can work." “Do you know labor exploitation?” "Boy, you're talking to who pays you," I grunt, slowly getting out of bed “and it's not that I call you so much at the offices, you're lucky that you have more freedom than the others because I worry about your studies.” Well, I agree with him on that. And although I had no plans for today, I thought maybe I would spend it talking about the files Sally found. I will have to postpone it. “So if you want to get paid this month, you know.” “Yes I am going.” “Oh, and come a little tidy, you know it's an office.” “Clear. See you.” I hang up and put my hands to my face, trying to stay awake. I am going to have to take a huge thermos full of coffee.

I finish showering and when I leave the bathroom, Albert lets out an exclamation, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh, no, I'm still in my nightmare." he says exaggeratedly. “I do not know if I want to know what kind of nightmare you were having if seeing me only in a towel reminded you.” "You win this time." he points out to me heavily. “Tell me when I do not do it?” I joke as I walk away. "I can assure you that someday you're going to lose, Jake." he says jokingly. I am glad he habe regained his humor a little. But he have to admit, he have not beaten me at all yet.

For Malcolm, according to him, being dressed up means leaving the sweatshirt and comfortable clothes at home. I do not know what he think of me, but I can wear appropriate clothes to go to work. I finish dressing and head out to the kitchen to make coffee. Albert also comes in and opens the refrigerator. “Do you get up early too?” I ask, waiting for the coffee pot to finish heating. "My mother sent me a message asking if I'm going to eat" he shrugs with a smile “and well, knowing what happened yesterday, I don't want her to think that this affects me, so I'll go see her so she can stay calm. And you? Are you coming?” “Malcolm called me, so it is time to go to work.” “Do you want me to talk seriously to him?” “No, “mother”, it is not necessary.” he laughs, taking the bottle of juice. “Let me know if Nancy Drew has anything new!” Well, at least this time he did not link me to her in some way. The coffee finishes making and I pour it into the thermos. That is when I hear the Facebook chat notification. I will not deny that I am surprised that she sent me a message so early. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally Help, they woke me up early I have made the excuse that I will be busy with work So we can investigate 😄

Jareth Well, I am sorry, but I am going to be busy this morning. You will have to wait until the afternoon.

Sally Oh Okay 🙁 Well then I'll see if there's any Christian Jones stuff on my own

Jareth Or you can say that your plans are cancelled. Have fun :)

Sally Uh… I guess… Well then, we talk later ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I go to say goodbye, but she quickly disconnects. This time I did notice something strange and that never usually happens to me. I guess the big brother sense never goes away. I put my cell phone away and go in search of my backpack to store the thermos. Better not to dawdle too much. I will get there quickly by motorcycle, I had better let Albert take the car so he can go see his mother.

Seeing the mistake someone has stupidly made makes me nervous. I try to fix it without getting angry. "How are you doing, Jake?" Malcolm approaches me, hands in his pockets. “I do not know who you hired, but this is a disaster.” I respond with a small grunt. "And that's why we have you here with us" he pats me on the shoulder a couple of times with a laugh ", you're important to us, Jake." “I guess so…” He sits at the table, looking at me with pity. It is been a long time since he is looked at me that way and I am sure it is because of what happened yesterday. "We're talking about putting you in a much more special unit" he crosses his arms, this time more serious “, it may be a little bigger for someone your age—“ “Why is that?” I cross my arms too, arching an eyebrow. “Because normally we have people who have been experienced for years, but with your talent and the fact that you are a discreet boy, we think you are ideal for the team.” I thought I was already on a special team. Or at least that is what it seemed to me. “Just think about it and we’ll talk about it.” he gets up from the table and walks away. I wonder if all this has been intended to talk to me about it face to face.

I keep fixing the code. Now I really doubt that he actually made me come to talk, this whole thing is chaos. I know I am capable of fixing it, but right now my mind is on research. I work better at home, there are a lot of people here talking about news and one of them is about Albert's graffiti. Nobody talks about me anymore, suspicions have been left behind since they point more towards my friend.

The cell phone saves me from getting away from the murmurs of the people and I decide to answer the message. Better to work and talk. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally I was able to take a few minutes to do some research 🙂 And I have information on who Christian Jones is Just to say, I don’t know him personally, but I dislike his parents I said ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I arch an eyebrow curiously. I did not even know who he was in college. How is she supposed to know who they are? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth Are his parents dangerous?

Sally They are… Journalist from ‘The Vigilant’ 😑 And those who got involved in those stupid rumors with the police station But otherwise, Christian is clean, he is not registered in the police records

Jareth Although that does not mean he has not done something to Katherine.

Sally Correct But as long as we rule out crimes, it’s easy for me to focus on fewer witnesses from the past to question and focus on the now

Jareth Which means that Paul has witnesses to everything he did in the past.

Sally And that we can talk to them 😉 But we are not going to rule out Christian, he may have made some deal with 'The Master’ to be able to get a good grade at work

Jareth Of course. And what crimes has Paul committed?

Sally He is quite a little angel Store riots, group fights, drug possession, illegal racing Ugh… It’s like reading the list of “How to write to a bad boy” Is that why Katherine was dating him? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am not saying that what I did when I was a teenager was also something legal, but compared to him, I do not think I have any precedent. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth I do not know, she never told me.

Sally And Jake is like that?

Jareth No, he is quite the opposite. Why do you want to know?

Sally I like to have information about everything Since I only talk to you, I don’t know what the rest of them are like without talking to them

Jareth Well, according to Alice, she said you had rather talk to me.

Sally What?! She told you?! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

<<I think that is what she was referring to as "girl things.">> ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth I guess it is because I am your contact.

Sally Of course! 😄 Okay, back to the “bad boy” I have only obtained the record of a complaint from the owners of the store How I would like to be in the city now… But you’re going to have to do the work

Jareth I would not have left you anyway.

Sally 😑 Hmp… Someday I'll have to investigate it myself and you won't be able to stop me

Jareth But for now, you are better off staying away. I do not want problems with your family, you know that?

Sally As if they would care ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I blink in confusion at her words, but she quickly answers me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally Forget I wrote that ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then she tells me not to worry about her if she talks like that. I guess she just needs to vent and she does not know how. I will change the subject for her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth So, which store is it?

Sally www.thelibertyriver.com It is a clothing store, on the page you can find all the information about where the store is located and the phone number

Jareth Hmm… Will the same people who were witnesses continue to work?

Sally It's a family-run store, so I hope so 😐

Jareth So when I have free time I will go. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally Break time? Wait, are you still busy?

Jareth I am working, yes.

Sally What?! And now you tell me?

Jareth I can do two things at the same time :)

Sally 😑 And then I'm the one who has to be focused on my studies and you get distracted at work

Jareth Do you really want to discuss this?

Sally No, but there is something else that I’m thinking about. If you are friends with Katherine, how come you didn’t know her boyfriend? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shit, shit, shit, I did not think about that. I am left thinking about what to answer. This may make me more suspicious. What do I do? The bad thing is that now I have gone too far with the lie. I rub my face feeling like an idiot. She has not pointed the finger at Jake or Albert as the culprit. It is truly a nice thing and now... I would break her trust just because I was afraid that she would not help me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth Well… Seeing what her ex was like, I understand why she hid it from me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally I guess I understand her I once dated a jerk and my friend got mad when he found out Sometimes it’s just better not to say anything ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sigh with relief. I am already starting to think she is suspicious of me again. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth Well then you know the reason why she did not tell me :)

Sally At least in the end everything turned out between bad and good I managed to meet the love of my life ❤️

Jareth I am happy for you :)

Sally Thanks 😊 Good, we’ve already talked a little And I didn’t want to after knowing that you had to work 😑 It’s quite fun talking to you Although it’s only me who speaks

Jareth Was not it that we had to focus on the case?

Sally And that’s what I do Or do you think I’m not looking for information while I’m doing it? I am also investigating the families of the victims The more you know about everyone, the better

Jareth And how do you do that?

Sally I'm watching the videos of the interrogations trying to notice small micro gestures that I can analyze I have started with Katherine's father, since it is the missing woman that interests us

Jareth I do not ask anymore.

Sally 😄 I’ll let you work and I’ll continue watching the interrogation Tell me when you have spoken to the store owners

Jareth Of course. Goodbye Sally.

Sally Goodbye Jareth 😊 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to her words, my suspicions become greater. Her anger with the journalists, her getting the files, seeing the interrogations... I had better keep it a secret if she is the real mysterious investigator. I do not want to take advantage of that news and tell anyone. I know what it feels like to be watched by so many people. And I do not want her to suffer because of me either.

I finish fixing the code and notify the plant supervisor. I would like to get out of here as soon as possible, seeing that mess has given me a headache.

I get to the garage and go looking for my motorcycle, but when I get to it, I see that it has a flat tire. “Seriously?” I clench my jaw tightly, wondering how they could have done this at a large company. I go to the surveillance room to see the security guard. Maybe he is seen something. “Excuse me, but someone has damaged the front wheel of my motorcycle.” The security guard looks at me confused, as if what I am saying is strange. “What do you mean?” He asks me with his arms crossed “I've been here the whole time, I haven't seen anything on the cameras.” “Are you sure?” I raise an eyebrow, looking at him without much trust. “Sure, see for yourself.” He opens the door to his office and lets me in, returning to the table to show me the cameras in the area where my motorcycle was parked. I keep my eyes open as the hours pass quickly. I do not see anyone passing by at any time, everything seems in order. How did they do it? "I do not understand" I say without looking away from the small screen ", a tire cannot go flat on its own." “Well, you see” I see him take off his hat, scratching his head “Shall I call a tow truck, Mister Miller?” “No, I will do it, thanks for the help.” I sigh and walk away, returning to the motorcycle. I grab the handlebars and begin to move it with effort, taking it out of the garage. I would like to know how they were able to do it.

Once on the street, I take out my cell phone and look for a nearby workshop, while I try to think how it was possible. Maybe it must have been punctured before entering? But there has been no sound of it happening. “Jacob?” I look up from my phone when I hear my full name. A car parked in front of me. Inside, Katherine's father approaches the passenger window. I put my cell phone away and hold on to the motorcycle. “Hello Mister Beinh.” I say in a calm voice, trying not to get nervous seeing him. “Problems with the motorcycle?” He asks me, looking at the vehicle. “It is a flat tire, nothing more-“ “Let me put it in the trunk and I'll take you to the nearest workshop.” “No need, Mister Being.” I try not to seem nervous talking to him. Now that I know Sally is investigating him, I do not know how to look him in the face without making it obvious that he is just another suspect. “Nonsense, let me help you.” He gets out of the car and opens the trunk. Resigned, I move the motorcycle towards the car. Between the two of us we take her and that is when he laughs. “This brings back memories of when we used to go to the countryside as a family and store our bicycles” he lowers the trunk and looks at me sadly “. Then the walks in the countryside were replaced by the parties and the boys” he lets out a sigh, knocking the car lightly “. Anyway, when you grow up, you distance yourself a little from your parents.” Sometimes I think that the universe laughs at me when these types of situations are put in my path, as if it reminded me from time to time that I have no one. I hate it. "I guess so." I answer, starting to approach the passenger seat. We get into the car and I put on my seatbelt. I wonder if he does it out of kindness or because I am Katherine's boyfriend. Or maybe he thinks he is going to get information about me and where I have his daughter. If I knew, I would tell him.

The ride to the workshop is silent, I even look at my cell phone to pretend I am busy. “I'm very sorry about your friend” his words make me look up from my phone “, it's a shame that someone did that graffiti on him.” “So you do not believe what they say in the news about Albert either.” "No, if he's your friend, I don't think he's a bad person." I see how his lip curls into a smile “. Although it’s not like they have found any clue about my daughter.” “I am sure they will find something.” And that is what I hope. Part of me wants them to find some clue that we cannot see. I just hope I stop receiving those emails. "I just hope they find her before it is too late." I hear him murmur heavily. I hope not. I do not even know how the auction go and I do not know if I want to know. It may even have increased.

He parks in front of the workshop and gets out of the car almost quickly, while Mister Beinh does so at a slower pace. "Wait" he opens the trunk and helps me get the motorcycle out. I utter a hasty 'thank you' “. It will always be a pleasure to help my daughter's good friends.” <<Well, I do not think friends kiss like we kiss.>> "Thank you very much, Mister Being" I reply, avoiding getting nervous “. I can take care of the rest now.” “Of course. If…” he takes a card out of his pocket. It's an architecture company “if you need to talk to someone or if you need help, you can call me.” I nod and see a broken father, but he has that side where he tries to help others even though he does not have his daughter. "Have a good day Jacob." he smiles at me and returns to the car. I take a deep breath. I do not dare talk too much to him. I think I do speak, I may screw up, I am not good at this. Well, time to go in and buy a new wheel. How does the 'Master' expect me to be able to save it with money if I cannot pay the ransom?

After buying it and having a new wheel fitted, I write to Albert what happened. He does not take long to answer me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Albert Don’t fuck with me! Really? You should talk to the company, maybe they can compensate you

Jake And who did I denounce? The ghost in the building?

Albert Ah! 😠 Incredible! That it wasn’t even seen on the security camera… And what are you doing now?

Jake I am going to look for Alice. I need you to help me talk to the managers of a store.

Albert Be careful, maybe she'll take the opportunity to get you into her basement

Jake I appreciate the friendship you two have :)

Albert Beautiful, right? Anyway, I hope you find out something

Jake Me too.

Albert I will surely return late So…

Jake Fine. Try to spend some time with your mother.

Albert Yes, the poor thing is worried… We talked, Jake.

-----Albert has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put my cell phone away and put on my helmet, starting the bike. I hope Alice is willing to help me.

When I arrive at the police station, they leave me waiting at the reception for her to arrive. Alice arrives at the reception and looks at me surprised. Almost as if she had seen a ghost. "What are you doing here?" She asks me, tightly grabbing her backpack. "I need your help." I murmur, looking behind her. She nods and we leave the police station. We moved away a little, getting closer to my motorcycle. "Well? what do you need?" She asks, crossing her arms. "I need you to use your police practices to obtain information—" "Really?" She blinks and then smiles "Do you really need me?" "Sally needs information about Paul's past" I take out my cell phone and show her the report "and if he was with people who could be suspicious that day." "Oh, the boss has given you an order and it’s makes you afraid to interact with people." "The one who is practicing to be a police officer is you, I am in charge of the computer." “Okay, got it” she rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh ". So, you take your motorcycle and I'll go in my car, I'll follow you." I nod, getting on my motorcycle and wait for her to return in her car.

I look at the store when we arrive. It seems to be one of the expensive ones, the ones who make your clothes to measure. Alice positions herself next to me, observing the place with curiosity. “How Sally would have loved to be able to investigate on her own.” I hear her say in a whisper and look at her. She has a sad smile on her face. “So my suspicions are true.” I whisper. "If those suspicions are what I sense, then yes, they are" she answers harshly “. That's why I ask you not to tell anything, and more because she is like a little sister to me, I don't want her and her family to suffer any more.” “Do not worry, I will not say anything.” I answer as I start walking towards the store. Inside the store, everything is like something out of those fantasy stories where the princess or prince has a room full of crystal chandeliers and ivory columns. I get dizzy just imagining what it cost. “There she is” I look at the counter, seeing the lady behind it. I recognize her from the photograph on the web page “. Agatha Schäfer.” “Okay, leave it to me and my police skills.” I watch as she cracks his fingers and neck. I roll my eyes, letting out a sigh. This is not going to turn out well…

I start looking at the nearby men’s suits while Alice goes to the counter, smiling at her. “Lady Schäfer? I'm Agent Hill and I wanted to ask you about Paul Bailey.” “Paul Bailey?” The lady closes the magazine and starts tapping on the table with her fingers. I see how Alice gets nervous looking at her hand and making throat sounds. “Yes, well, as you see, we are investigating the disappearance of Katherine Beinh and Mister Bailey was her ex-boyfriend.” “Honey, if you don't talk faster, I don't think I'll be able to keep up with you.” Miss Schäfer puts away the magazine and leaves the counter, heading towards some women's clothes. I try to get a little closer, while Alice follows quickly. "Yes, well..." she clears his throat and takes a deep breath "It's my first case, excuse me." “And why would the police bring a rookie to interrogate me in a case from years ago?” The woman raises an eyebrow, lowering her glasses. “Now…” she looks at me and I gesture for him to continue. I thought it was going to be useful, but she just makes herself more nervous “Anyway, the fact is that we want to investigate if someone from Mister Bailey's entourage could have approached Miss Beinh and how we know that it caused disturbances here—“ “Do you think the kid came with a group of thugs?” The woman laughs, placing the clothes delicately “He came with a girl who had ordered a custom dress.” “Perfect!” Alice exclaims excitedly “And do you know her name? We would like to question her in case she is a suspect in Miss Beinh's disappearance - perhaps an ex-girlfriend of Mister Paul Bailey?” Schäfer crosses her arms, sighing.

She shakes her head, almost disappointed. "I think that's going to be impossible." “Why's that? Don't remember the name?” "Because she's dead, honey," I look up when I hear that woman's words “. That girl was Bianca Fetcher” Alice turns to look at me surprised “. Of course I didn't report her, she wanted to calm the boy down from making a fuss in my store. Poor girl... Having a boyfriend like that...” It is more than clear to me then that it was Paul, although I have to tell Sally to form a theory. This was probably how Katherine met her ex-boyfriend, through her friend. "So... Are you sure he didn't come with anyone else?" The lady shakes her head at Alice's question “Wasn't there a group of thugs or people... Suspicious?” “Miss Hill, here we are selective with the clientele that enters, we do not let poorly dressed and uneducated people enter, but with you” she looks at her up and down “, I made an exception because you told me that you are a police officer, otherwise I would have fired you because you damage the image of my store.” “It's just… I just…” Alice starts to stutter. She sure wants to explain that she just got out of police station classes, but she clearly cannot do it or that would give her away. She is not a full officer “Thank you for your time, lady Schäfer.” Alice starts heading for the door and I follow her. “And you young man? What were you looking for?” the lady asks me, approaching me. I remain silent at his question. I did not think she would notice me. “I was just looking.” "And also spying, from what it seems" she counterattacks my response “. Just be careful, you don't want me to report you, right?” I look at her confused and then I hear her laugh. Of course, she must know who I am. I leave there, controlling myself not to get angry. After what she said to Alice, I do not think that woman deserves her or that they should go into her store.

I go out to the street and see Alice with her cell phone in her hand, angry. “What are you doing?” I ask, a little afraid that he will screw up. “I'm leaving a bad review for this store, so that no one else comes” she answers with a touch of anger in her voice “. And... that's it” she puts away her phone and looks at me “. So… did Bianca and Paul know each other? But how?” “I think even more than we imagined.” I answer while looking at the time on my cell phone. I wonder if she is busy at this hour. Surely she can come up with something about this. <<What if maybe... Paul was the same guy Bianca went to buy drugs with?>> "Jake?" I look up from my cell phone, looking at Alice “. I've been calling you for a while. Are you thinking about her?” “Her?” "To tell Sally." “Oh, yes.” She laughs and I try to figure out what she finds funny. "You really look a lot alike when you think" she says as she walks away ". Well, I've already helped you—" “I received another message from 'The Master'. ” I say and she stops. Alice turns around and frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I have not told Albert either” I see how she tilts her head a little, worried “, it was just yesterday, when we saw the graffiti. "Okay, I get it" she sighs and crosses his arms, ", you didn't want to worry your friend and make him think it's because of him." I lean against the wall, putting my hands to my face, tired. I do not want to show myself like that in front of her, but at least that is how I tell someone to face. "He told me that the auction had started and with the sum of a thousand euros...” “Fuck!” She exclaims loudly and I look at her to lower her voice “But why did he send it to you? What is he trying to achieve with that?” “According to Sally, provoke me.” “And he has achieved it?” I throw my head back. Looking at the sky. Well, more or less, the buildings cover it a bit, along with the trees that sway slowly in the wind.

At first I could have said that I am worried in an inexplicable way. Now I just, I just want this whole thing to be over since I have nothing to do with it. Katherine and I had just started, why go after me? Was not it better to send these messages to her parents? I am sure they would be more willing to offer the amount of money they are asking for, but I cannot. “No, I try to maintain my composure,” I look at her, releasing a small sigh “. If only those messages were not tampered with, I would be able to track him down with some time. “And that's why you're looking for who could have taken her.” "Surely someone would make a lot of money with this, auctioning it and getting a witness at the same time" I finally separated myself from the wall, walking towards my motorcycle “How could it not be a perfect crime? Nobody talks about that page and if they do, they treat it like an urban legend.” “I wish I could do more on that web page” she shrugs, twisting her mouth uncomfortably “. Let me know when you need me to question someone else.” "I have seen your abilities today, I do not think I'll be able to ask you for help." “I was a little nervous, I admit” she gets offended and makes a sound in her throat “. Goodbye Jake and… Give my regards to Albert.” “Of course.” She waves goodbye and heads towards her car, while I get on my motorcycle.

I get to the apartment and get more comfortable, although I know I cannot rest. I send Sally a message telling her that I have completed her task. Now it is a matter of connecting like every night. I take my book and my notes, dedicating myself to studying the classic stories. Orpheus and Eurydice. Their love story is tragic. Orpheus went to look for Eurydice in the underworld, trying to return her to life, without looking behind him until he completely removed her from that place. He thought he had already taken her out, but that was not the case, only because one foot remained inside. I do not know what it must be like to lose someone you love so soon and when you want that person back, to not have been able to save them. In the end, he suffered in battle, finally uniting with his beloved. "Their souls met again." I murmur to myself "Does something like that really exist?" The Facebook chat notification rings at that moment and I drop everything to focus on the case. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally Good afternoon Jareth 😊 So, work done? Any problem?

Jareth Only the shop assistant is selective with people. If you do not have money, give up.

Sally Crossed off my list to ever go to that store And for the information?

Jareth Paul was not in a group the day he decided to destroy the store. He went with Bianca.

Sally Oh… If we deduce from all the crimes that Paul accumulated and that Bianca was with him, he may also have accompanied her in the search for Buster’s drugs

Jareth This is what I have theorized as well. Maybe he got mad at Bianca about something, killed her, and then went after Katherine because of his exgirlfriend.

Sally Maybe the reason of jealousy and lack of drugs is enough reason to get angry and commit murder and kidnapping

Jareth But?

Sally Why take years to do it? If he was so angry with them… why not end their lives sooner?

Jareth Good question…

Sally Maybe you could help me with this 🫤

Jareth What do you mean?

Sally Did anyone else know about Katherine and Jake outside of your group? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth I do not think anyone else knew. Jake’s circle is very small and I do not think Katherine said anything about him either.

Sally You know? Every time you talk to me about them, I imagine them more like just two friends

Jareth You yourself must know what relationships are like. Since you said that you have a partner.

Sally I did not say that 😑 And it’s something… More complicated It does not matter I have finished analyzing Katherine's father and he is more than ruled out And I have also ruled out the mother, she is working in France

Jareth At least it is a relief that it was not her father.

Sally It really annoys me that I can’t do more than look at files. I feel like I’m too slow

Jareth But what are you saying? For me this is fast. You do well. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I try to encourage her, I do not want to pressure her with this either. And she already does more than any of us or the police who are stuck. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sally Oh… Thanks Jareth 🙂

Jareth :)

Sally It’s just that I would like to do everything you do I would do it faster

Jareth Are you calling me slow?

Sally At least to investigate 😝

Jareth Well, thanks for my part in not having the same access to those documents as you.

Sally Well, I admit that you are of great help to me at least 😊

Jareth Good. What do we do now?

Sally How... bad would it be for you to investigate Paul?

Jareth The level that they have prohibited me from approaching him.

Sally Oh… I think I’m going to take charge of investigating Bianca If she was a girl who was active on social media, I might find something you can work with

Jareth And what are you going to do?

Sally I will look among her followers And you’re looking for a way to investigate Paul For example, maybe Alice can help us get closer to him

Jareth Are you not afraid because of what I told you about her?

Sally Yes I fear, but… I can’t think of anyone else to ask🙁 And if you can get in trouble for investigating Paul for me, then I don't want that

Jareth I understand. Thanks for worrying about me :)

Sally Well I don't want you to get in trouble because of me

Jareth And whose example did you get it from?

Sally Okay, I admit it. I have to listen to you because you are the adult 😑

Jareth ;)

Sally >>* When you can, then ask her for help, okay?

Jareth Fine.

Sally Ey…

Jareth Yes?

Sally I won't be bothering you while you work yet, right?

Jareth Haha. No, I am done :)

Sally Good, good 😅 I don’t want… How do you tell me? Ah! Monopolize your life ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I roll my eyes. As if she could do it. She would need practice for that, I always have everything under control in my tasks and work. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jareth Do not worry, you are not able to do it. I told you that I know how to do two things at the same time and one of them is not going to be that a teenager monopolizes my life.

Sally Sometimes you become hateful...

Jareth You are welcome. ;)

Sally I'll start searching social media if there's anything suspicious

Jareth Good luck Sally. I will talk to Alice.

Sally Perfect! Good luck Jareth Goodbye 😊

Jareth Goodbye :) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as she disconnects, I grab my cell phone and look for Alice. But I have not realized that I do not have her cell phone number. And neither does her address. Which means, if I want to look for her, I would have to go to my old foster home.

And…

I do not dare go alone. It does not bring back good memories. And Albert is with his mother, I do not want to bother him. “Great Jake, because you cannot ask Jeremy to come with you knowing he does not like Alice either.” I will have to wait for Albert to get back, even though he said he would be late, but I will tell him everything I have discovered.

And also the email I received.

Chapter 9

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #everbyte studio #everbyte game #duskwood fanfic

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dexmas-month · 2 years

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As you might have gathered from our introductory post, we're inviting you all - participants, commenters, readers, fans and lost passer-bys alike - to take part in our Prompt Potluck (September 1-14) by sending in your Dexmas prompts via e-mail or ask.

Now, you might be wondering how is such a thing supposed to work. Why, we're very glad you asked! Or didn't ask. No matter, we have asked for you!

We hereby present the Dexmas Month 2022 Prompt Potluck FAQ:

I want to send in a prompt. Does this mean I am guaranteed to get a fic?

Ha, we all wish it worked like this. No. In fact, the prompts aren't obligatory at all - they are there for participants to take inspiration from. If you get a fic, you get a fic, if you don't... Well, it's still nice to have an interesting prompt list, isn't it?

There are many kinds of fanworks other than fics! Can I leave a prompt for art or vids?

This is absolutely allowed. However, please take into account that Dexmas isn't the most popular ship, thus making the probability of somebody responding to a highly specialized prompt rather low... You know what? Go for it! Who knows what might happen yet!

I am not sure if my prompt fits any of the proposed themes. What do I do in this case?

You send it in as it is. If it's possible, our mod will try to assign your prompt to one of the themes. If it's not possible - whether due to its character or to the requested medium - your prompt goes into the Various Prompts part of our list.

When can I start sending in my prompts? What if I get struck with a bout of inspiration after the Potluck ends?

In theory, we accept prompts for two whole weeks starting from September 1st. In practice, we'll have to see how many prompts we get before we close the list and convert it to a downloadable pdf. After the list is officially closed, we're sorry to say you're out of luck.

Help! How long and how detailed does my prompt have to be?

Generally, we'd prefer it to have more than one word. You'll notice there is no set formula and no questionnaire. Get creative about it! Be free! A sentence describing the situation in general terms is just as welcome as an entire key scene of the desired story.

Oh dear. My prompt is rather racy, you see. What if it's not fit for public consumption or whatever they call it these days?

Come on, Smouldering Smut is one of our themes! However, if you are worried, put in an appropriate warning first. Based on our arbitrary judgement (as well as on your explicit wish), we'll spoiler it out or take other appropriate measures. Rest assured, we'll do our best to get every prompt onto that list!

I am an author and I really like one of the prompts. What do I do next?

Well, you fill it, I guess? No need to sign for it, although it would be kind to put the prompt in question in your author's note.

I am an author and I really like one of the prompts. However, I have reason to think someone else likes it as well. What should I do?

Duel to the death at dawn? And seriously, you might need to come to an arrangement privately. Or, you know, you could write it anyway! If so many people like it enough to fill it, then it must be a very good prompt!

I am an author and I don't like any of the prompts. Do I get to participate still?

As we've already said, the prompts are optional. They are there for you, dear author, to make use of as you see fit. Although it would be very kind of you to keep (more or less) to our weekly themes.

Do I need to sign my prompt? I am rather shy about it, you see.

It's not obligatory, no. We accept anonymous asks and even if you reach us by e-mail, you can always ask us to use a whimsical pseudonym or nothing at all. However, leaving a way to point you out will make it easier for our participants to thank you for the provided inspiration.

Do I really have to risk being put on a public trial via Prompt of the Day?

If you tell us directly while sending in your prompt, we'll spare you the blushes and avoid choosing your prompt for Prompt of the Day. You don't have to tell us the reason, we'll do it anyway!

How do I know if my prompt was sent in correctly?

If it was sent in as an ask or to our e-mail, it should show up on our list within a day or two. If it doesn't, please, let us know! Sometimes Tumblr gods get very hungry, you see.

Ooof, this might be it! If you still have any questions regarding the prompts, please put them below.

Keep an eye out for our future FAQs. We promise to do our best to cover every possible topic and then some.

#Dexmas Month 2022 #Prompt Potluck #Dexmas #Thomas Barrow #Guy Dexter #the rules #FAQ #Hollywood Husbands Fanwork Fest

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arcademgmt · 2 years

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What are Shiro's thoughts on the Alola gang? I know he doesn't stay in Alola, but I am curious 👀

oh rest assured shiro's still close with all of them and keeps in regular contact! loves all of them.

it's pretty predictable that he and hau play really well off of each other with their upbeat personalities and slight playfully sarcastic streak. they're good buds! they encourage each other's goofiness in a lot of ways, but not without genuine moments — shiro can kinda read the insecurity hau has locked away, and hau can subsequently tell what mashiro's hot buttons are even though he doesn't show it and tries to let anything that bothers him roll off his back. hau was one of the first to realize shiro was disinterested in pursuing the league. rather than asking why and telling him he could be missing out, he happily encouraged him to follow his own path, just as he learned on the path of the trials. it was kind of a huge relief to shiro, who could not imagine himself as a competitive battler. shiro, in turn, encourages hau to just have fun with what he's doing. he knows deep down that he is a little on edge about one day becoming a kahuna, and that he does want to do it but is unsure of himself. he's there to remind hau that they're only eleven and have time to figure it all out. for now, it's just time to have fun and appreciate the world and that they're always learning along the way.

with lillie and gladion, i imagine he's like an honorary third sibling after a while with all he'd done for them. lillie sorta latched onto him after he saved nebby on the bridge and was saved by tapu koko, feeling safe around him. his promise to not tell anyone about nebby was clearly genuine, and behind his eyes she could tell he was wondering what was going on under the surface. she appreciated that he didn't ask until she was personally ready to tell him. he really won't let anyone throw abuse her way and tries to let her know that it's okay to want and/or need protection and help from others. he's generally pretty laid back and will let any sort of negativity just bounce off of him if it's directed at him and doesn't hit one of his sore spots. if it's directed at someone else and they clearly aren't bothered by it, he might have a little sarcastic jaunt at the attacker to let them know like "dude nobody gives a shit". but when it comes to lillie he takes it more seriously knowing she's more sensitive to that kind of stuff, especially after finding out about her familial situation.

gladion was probably one of the people who he had one of those sarcastic quips with at first, but not at all in a harsh way. he was just a little confused at why he was being so intense with him right off the bat and why he knew him, and did not appreciate his words against hau (hau didn't seem bothered, at the very least). gladion was indeed a little brutal at first, but shiro's not stupid. he could tell this kid was related to lillie, who he knows is struggling. he hears team skull refer to him as homeless. he probably has a reason to be like that, and shiro holds no ill will towards him because of that. he's patient, and rest assured, gladion comes around upon realizing he can help, will help, and has been helping. shiro's been taking care of his sister as she travels, after all.

i could say more about more characters but i will leave it here for now so i can continue my excursion on clip studio paint. thank you for asking!

#magnus infodumps #sm: twilight astronomer #floretverse

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ofcarnvge · 1 year

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Unarmed

@annalis-e--shadowofpanem

“I’m glad you walked away from that at all,” Amy admitted. “Pan might lynch me for being so liberal with secrets, but...the public opinion in our ranks is beginning to waver on the subject of what happened. What Agnes did to you was cruel and everyone knows it. But if you could even believe it, Agnes’s hand in another matter recently resulted in something worse. Far worse. Our esteemed collogues Agnes and Saga have taken their isolationism rather seriously ever since and, as you saw, Leslie had taken drastic measures to distance herself from them. If anyone were to see them on the street...” The frustration flickered on Amy’s face as struggled to Weave a result. How does a Shadow arrest one of their own? How does anyone arrest Agnes Lemieux? Would anyone even try? Where would they put her if the warden of the prison she’d go to is her own best friend? Killing her would be so much easier--

She stopped trying. There were too many unknown variables that swam around Agnes. It was the only reason why she remained in the comfort of her home in France.

Amy shook her head and continued. “So while its good that you are by her side now, rest assured: O-Ren was absolutely right to keep you away. She doesn’t know much about us, yet, so she acted on instinct alone. And she was absolutely correct. You found your peace at the end of a horrible ordeal and you deserve to keep it. I hope you believe that.”

Go-Go had taken a spoon and begun feeding Amy’s ego. She couldn’t have known, they had only just met, but the smile on her face and the curiosity she had shown in something Amy had dedicated much of her life into making would sustain her for months. “You gathered that from a stance?” Amy smiled. “Impressive.”.

Amy may as well had pulled the kunai knife from the ether. She flipped it idly between her finger, a chuckling to herself. “It’s a cocktail of studies. The four traditional weapon styles that make up ninjutsu, plus a few more modern studies of my own choosing, mostly dedicated to innovating ninjutsu’s approach to hand-to-hand combat and gunplay, all in attempt to make it a better fit in a modern world while accommodating the demands of my job. And you’re right, Wadō-ryū was absolutely vital to that modernization. Years of study, practices, trial and error, incorporation and rejection, learning and unlearning; it all comes together to form my own personal take of Shinobi-jutsu, made for modern espionage. If you had asked me when I was seventeen, I would have told you I was the first Kunoichi in centuries. I find the statement to be a little grandstanding...but more than a few of my peers still call me that. And it’s in my dossier...so I guess it works. But I’d like to keep my inflatable ego in check. But speaking of modernization...” Amy leaned forward. “None of this holds a candle to you making the meteor hammer work in a modern setting. I only heard stories. If I ever find myself in a smithy again...I could be convinced to fashion you something nice.”

A brief study of Go-Go’s hands, smooth and pale, revealed that they hadn’t held a chain in some time.

“For ceremonial purposes,” she added. “If that was something you’d be interested in.”

Go go’s thoughts turned to Agnes Lemieux, the name and the scent were wedded forever. And trailing behind it came Saga Skarsgard. Her face went blank a moment as she recalled the inside of her prison, and the strange mental limbo which had accompanied her time there. Once again, she pressed the thought away from herself.

“I’d be lying to tell you that I don't feel...” She searched for the word but it was complicated. “Anger? Hatred? Toward both Agnes and Saga. I have been manipulated in my life, this much is obvious. But their abilities and what they did with them? It was akin to how Bill used to operate.”

Her expression took on more reflection, she bit her bottom lip. “That being said...I’ve also seen what their capabilities can do when they are turned to a positive purpose. I’m not sure what Leslie did. But when I stood at that spot on Tsushima Island, something changed in me, and it was not a manipulation, not an illusion.” Again she struggled to find language to describe what was essentially impossible to say. “It was as if...My whole life I had been in a dark room, and someone just, opened a door. They didn't push me through it, they just allowed me to see it was there.”

Go go nodded. “I have my feelings about Agnes, Saga. But Leslie? She might have an ability and a will to use it, that could undo a lot of damage. She might even prove a keystone against your other hypnotists. For the sake of that I hope the ire doesn't fall on her.”

The dance of the small blade in Amy’s fingers brought a look of rapt fascination to the former bodyguard’s face. O-ren used to keep a kunai inside the folds of her formal kimonos, a lifetime ago. Listening to Amy recount her training, that fascination deepened, but again - it was all in the art of the thing.

The smile finally broke on her face, and some of the years fell away from her, brows raised with a look of impressed surprise.

“Damn, an honest to god ninja, no less.” She laughed. “That’s an education to be proud of. I can see why you and Pan would have butted heads, too much skill in one room for a start.”

The idea of holding her once familiar weapon again was different in Amy’s presence. It was nostalgic, not brutal.

“You know, in a way I do miss it? I don't miss the constant threat, the endless functions and late nights and dealing with stinking drunk Yakuza. But the hammer? I miss practicing with it, on a good day, I really felt like the eye of a hurricane. Perfectly in tune, totally still...”

She shrugged, feeling a little vulnerable at the creak of sentimentality that had crept through.

“I’d like to hold one again, even if just to train with it, I’d take you up on that offer.” She looked out of the window, England was looming, and even more beyond it.

“How long do you think till we land?”

#annalis-e--shadowofpanem #Unarmed #i adore the post kill bill verse all of these characters are getting to experience

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delimeful · 3 years

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(don’t) take this the wrong way (7) (END)

final chapter of dtttww :) i had a lot of fun with this verse so i may take requests set in it in the future, and this might receive some more copy editing later, but for now this is the epilogue!

warnings: mild injury, mild hypnosis, for once no miscommunication :)

[Several months later…]

Sunlight trickled down through the water in wavy bands, illuminating the shallows and growing fainter and fainter as the distance from the surface increased.

Virgil didn’t spend much time in the shallows, too wary of being without escape, being made vulnerable to human vessels or poachers. Despite his dark and gloomy aesthetic, he couldn’t go too far into the depths either, simply because his fragile fish bones weren't built for it. His eyes weren’t built for it either, and down there where anything could be lurking, he would need more than speed to avoid danger.

So, on an average, sunny day like this, he could be found miles offshore, in waters that were easily too deep for unsuited humans to reach, but still well-illuminated by the light above.

There were a few old wrecks scattered about the ocean floor here, and though they’d probably been stripped by a pod in the past, he figured he’d go through them and check for anything that was left behind. Things that weren’t useful to a pod could certainly be things that were useful to him, after all.

He’d been poking through the undercarriage of one of the larger ships for an hour or two, relaxed as he ever got. He could take his time. The only creatures around to judge him were the shoals of fish and layers of barnacles built up amidst the metal, wood, and rust.

Actually… Virgil paused in his inspection of an old cutlery set to glance around.

What had happened to the fish?

Through a hole in the ship’s hull, he watched as a broad shadow passed over the ground and ships alike, large enough to belong to a whale.

There hadn’t been a single shred of whalesong above.

Virgil edged further back from the hole, eyeing the outside warily as the shadow receded, leaving behind only wavering sunlight on sand as though it had never been there at all.

There was nothing here that was worth sticking around.

He carefully made his way back to one of the other exits, in the opposite direction of where he’d seen the shadow head, the strokes of his fin cutting through the water with barely a whisper. The porthole was easily wide enough for him, and the ocean stretched out blue and vast before him, a promise of safety if he just moved fast enough.

A moment’s pause, to make sure he didn’t hear or see anything out of place, and then he was out, flitting from rock outcropping to bone reef and scanning the seas above. Not for the first time, he wished his scales were a little less distinctive in the day.

Behind him, an ominous creak.

He froze, and watched with mounting apprehension as a shadow spilled over him, looming closer and darker than before. The silhouette of an arm stretched out, heading towards him…

“Virgil, you must help,” a huge voice pleaded, “I’ve been had.”

He twisted around just in time to see a huge arm flop down onto the floor next to him, kicking up a cloud of sand and panicked burrower fish in the process.

It was wrapped in heavy wire netting from fingertips to forearm, and behind it, a giant mer was pouting at him with the best seal pup eyes he could manage, which, considering who his best friend was, were fairly potent.

Roman was huge, and he was a shark, with teeth and claws designed to shred and tear, and hands that could enclose him entirely-- but his elbows were braced against the ground with delicate balance so he wouldn’t crush anything, and he’d never grabbed for Virgil past that first disastrous encounter, and even now, his brow was furrowing with worry.

“Pufferfish status?” he asked, voice lowered from the dramatic plea of before.

Virgil’s mouth pulled up at the corners without his permission.

Roman was huge, yes, but he was also theatrical and eager and witty, full of sharp return quips for every barb Virgil had to offer.

He could hurt him, but he wouldn’t. Virgil believed that much.

“Prickly for a second, but I’m smooth now,” he answered, shrugging away the last of the tension. “Try not to sneak up on me without a warning click?”

“You have my word,” Roman replied, and if someone had told him months ago that he’d dare to ask anything of a giant mer, he’d have laughed in their faces. Now, Virgil knew that just like all the other requests, Roman would do his best to heed it.

“But really, my fingers are starting to feel numb. Help?” he entreated with a tilt of his head, shifting his net-wrapped hand a little closer.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t go away, though it tilted more towards amused now. He darted forward, twisting in a spiral around Roman’s hand to try and see the extent of the damage.

“How’d you even manage this? At least I had the excuse of being caught up in a storm,” he snarked, picking at a loose section with his claws. Roman’s fingers twitched a little, and he shot him an apologetic glance.

“I was… perhaps… trying to get a glimpse of those sailors that Logan mentioned patrolled the coast?” Roman offered, more than a little sheepish.

Virgil’s gaze turned sharp in a heartbeat. “Did they spot you?”

Logan had warned both Patton and Roman several times that not many humans would take as kindly to their long-term existence near human settlements as Logan himself had.

“No!” Roman assured, “I was very stealthy, truly, I was just… so focused on being stealthy that I missed the other vessel and the nets it had dragging along behind it. It could have happened to anyone!”

“I seriously doubt that,” Virgil replied dryly. He’d snapped a few of the looser wires with his teeth, but already his jaw was beginning to ache with the strain. “Well, you get to explain this to Specs, ‘cause we’re going to need his expertise in detangling for this one.”

Roman groaned in answer, dropping his head to plonk against the ground.

---

Logan carefully set one foot in front of the other, all of his focus on the thin strip of rock below him.

If he switched his gaze to even a few inches to either side, he’d be faced with the sight of a vertigo-inducing drop to the waves below, one that would have all but the most experienced tightrope walkers dizzy with panic.

His gaze didn’t move, though, unerringly focused on the ground beneath him, and on his own body. There was no need to look at anything but the ledge, a soft presence confirmed in the back of his mind, because he wasn’t going to fall.

Another part of him was skeptical, seeing as he wasn’t known for a lack of clumsiness by most. There was just so much to get distracted by, and it was so easy to look away and miss a curb or accidentally trip over his own feet--

But not now. Now, he was focused on just this one task, a gentle voice dragging his attention back whenever it began to stray. He was hyper aware of where each of his limbs were and where he needed to put them to continue forward, step by careful step.

Only a little farther…

“Logan!”

The harsh call snapped him right out of the trance, and he was abruptly made very aware of both the distance he could fall and the effects that sudden instinctual terror had on his sense of balance.

“Newton’s fucking Cradle,” he swore, and then wobbled again, precariously close to falling over.

There was the sound of water crashing against rock, and in the next moment, two giant hands had curled up on either side of him like the shells of an oyster. They provided him some much needed stability to lean his weight against, and he struggled to steady his breathing as relief swept through him.

“It’s okay, Virgil, I won’t let him fall! No cliffs, ands, or buts about it,” Patton’s voice was muffled, but not enough to miss the pun.

Logan sighed loudly, but he also shifted to let his full weight rest against the curl of Patton’s left palm, tapping twice to let him know it was alright for him to move.

His stomach still swooped slightly as Patton slowly shifted his hands away from the thin rock ledge, but there were some things that one had to adapt to when living with two very affectionate, grabby sea giants, and being toted around was one of those things.

Before long, he was level with the flattest segment of rock that made up their meeting place, which could be called an island if one was feeling gracious, but was really more of a collection of rocky spires and bridges that stuck out of the ocean.

Logan was barely able to sit up before Virgil pulled himself up at the edge of Patton’s palm, expression thunderous but his hands gentle as he carefully checked him over for scrapes or injuries.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, a phrase that he used much more frequently around Logan for some reason. Logan had already been reassured that it was an exaggeration and Virgil had no heart problems he knew of, so instead of worrying, he bore his friend’s fussing with good grace. “Did we or did we not agree that you need a spotter if you want to play around with bullshit sirensong magic?”

The mer paused. “No offense, Pat.”

“None taken!” Patton replied from where he had sunk further into the water to put himself closer to eye-level.

“I figured you would be along shortly,” Logan defended, and then perked up at the reminder of his most recent experiment. “Besides, one of the things tested in this trial was if the siren song could overshadow significant fear or even terror, and I wouldn’t have been nearly as afraid if you’d been there with me.”

“Aw,” Roman cooed, curling his tail up and leaning against one of the larger rock outcroppings, his posture slightly off.

Virgil dragged a hand over his face with a sigh, and then flapped a ‘go on’ gesture at Logan, distracting him. “So, what’d you figure out this time?”

Logan needed no further encouragement.

“Even the lightest application of a siren’s song can overwhelm other emotions,” he started, recalling the utter honed focus he had experienced. “While in the past I’ve felt distant or removed from my body while under its effects, this time I had Patton focus on requesting a very specific task, and due to the intense concentration it took, I was very present in the moment while fulfilling that task.”

“You didn’t snap out of it until I called for you,” Virgil interjected, more curious than wary. “Was it harder than normal to use the grounding tactics?”

One of the first things Logan had investigated was what it took for him to resist and even break free from Patton’s song, a task that Virgil had demanded in order to let him run any experiments with the siren’s magic. Back then, Virgil hadn’t expected Patton to agree, and he’d outright sulked for weeks to cover up the nerves he felt whenever the siren thralled Logan.

“It was,” Logan said, his excitement growing as he considered the new information. “Without significant outside stimulus, all of my attention was focused on the task, and so I couldn’t pull away mentally to do my normal grounding techniques!”

“I’ve never heard someone so excited about being hypnotized better,” Roman commented wryly.

“He should get a hypnoprize,” Patton added, and Virgil grinned, because he was a traitor who enabled Patton’s wordplay habits.

“Is there an award for smart people doing dumb things?” Virgil mused teasingly. “Logan could be voted ‘most likely to throw himself into danger in the pursuit of knowledge.’”

“That’s why he has us, Finding Emo,” Roman countered, gesturing extravagantly with one hand. “We would never abandon him to the cruel clutches of his own nerdiness.”

Logan couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pride at the casual way that Virgil ducked beneath one of Roman’s sweeping gestures, no trace of the blatant fear or suspicion that had been present as recently as a month ago.

They’d really come a long way from the misunderstandings of that first encounter, all of them.

A glint of light at the edge of the shark mer’s submerged forearm caught Logan’s eye, and he frowned. “Roman, what’s happened to your arm?”

Roman’s prideful grin dropped into sheepishness immediately. “Well, about that…”

“Princey here was abandoned to the cruel clutches of his own reckless dumbassery,” Virgil informed him, ignoring Roman’s trill of offense to drift back and shove at the hand in question until Roman finally lifted it, displaying the impressive collection of netting that he’d managed to get tangled in.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Patton clucked sympathetically, and Roman soaked in the attention like a very dramatic sponge. Virgil rolled his eyes even as he sawed at a few of the looser wires, and Logan sighed in fond exasperation as he reached for his pocket knife.

Perhaps some things would never change.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #mermaid au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #dtttww #dont take this the wrong way #my writing #writing #mermaid #giant mermaid

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cas-kingdom · 4 years

Text

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?�� he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Away. So, so far away.

"There wasn’t a single moment where he could forget how fragile you were. How different your life span was compared to his —he wanted to give you all of his enormity, all of the years that wore too big on his bland and heavy life.

He couldn’t keep you by his side forever".

Pairing/s: Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

There's 2 alternative endings, a "choose your own adventure" kind of thing.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: angst. God, believe me, this is so fucking sad. Sorry about that. Some fluff, implied smut, Odin and Frigga's A+ parenting (/s). Thor being a little bitch. Reader not wanting kids.

Total word count: 16,3K (this was supposed to be an oneshot???)

Chapter word count: 4,6K

If you had to choose the best outcome from working with the Avengers (or, more specifically, under the economic decisions of Tony Stark), it had to be the hotels he chose for the team on the missions.

The rooms were always a bliss —you would’ve never gone to such fancy places if it were up to you. You didn’t think it was worth the money at all, and you didn’t fit into the overpriced lifestyle of those who loved the five-stars everything.

But your work was something you had to do, and, let’s say the comfortable beds, big bathrooms and incredibly talented chefs making your breakfast wasn’t something you had to work hard for you to enjoy.

And now, as your sore muscles ached and your fogged head went everywhere and anywhere, you thanked greatly to be able to be there that night. Peaceful. Tranquility washing over your back in the form of drops of water.

The mirror was covered with steam and a curtain blocked your way, but you still noticed the tall figure of Loki peeping in. You heard his clothes being dropped on the floor and you kept on putting soap over your shoulders, as if he wasn’t there. You were so, so tired, you didn’t even realize that the shower was a little bit too hot for your lover. It even was too hot for you, too.

“Damn”, he gasped as he flinched away from the water. You woke up from your daydreaming and immediately turned the cold water on. The mixture of them formed a perfectly tepid temperature you both could tolerate. You learnt the hard way Loki showered on such cold water your lips would turn blue. “You alright, dear?”, he asked from behind you.

“Yeah, a little tired, not more”.

“You need some rest, take the day off tomorrow, would you?”, he purred on your ear with his hands on your shoulders, giving you a soft massage. His hands moved up to your hair, and he soon began cleaning it himself. He loved to do that for you, and you loved to feel his long fingers caress your scalp, the soap running down your body, the shampoo smell staining his own skin and leaving the shower smelling the same.

“I have to finish this mission up”, you mumbled. “But once we’re back to the compound you bet we’re taking a day off together. You must be tired too”.

“Not that much, but I can’t deny a day off with you”, you felt him smile, even though you weren’t facing him. You knew how and when he smiled; you memorized the curve of his lips and every situation it would curve. His smile did things to you. “You know I don’t get tired off of these things”.

“Yeah, it’s almost like you’re a God or something”.

You both laughed softly. He gently pulled your head back and cleaned off the shampoo. He kissed your temples, all the way down to the nape of your neck, and kept kissing each protuberance of the spine, bone by bone, as if missing one would make it feel left out. As if every inch of you, every single bit of you, deserved the same praise and the same love —it did. He made sure you knew that.

“It’ll be all over soon”, he promised in a whisper. You sighed.

“Don’t worry, my love. It will pay off”, you assured him. You turned around to face his furrowed brows. Standing in your tiptoes, you reached his forehead and planted a kiss where his frown disappeared as if by magic. “Now it’s my turn to wash your hair”. He smiled and kneeled before you, so you could reach his head.

You shampooed and conditioned his hair slowly and silently. He closed his eyes, not letting you know he was overthinking about everything he was making you do, and how much he appreciated you doing it.

“You know…”, he murmured, his deep voice almost getting mistaken by a groan if it weren’t for the clearly spoken words, “we could stop all of this, if you see it… surpassing your limitations”.

He opened his eyes and raised his head to meet yours. Those puppy eyes of his. You scoffed.

“Limitations?”, you cocked an eyebrow and smirked teasingly.

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“You know you’re a weakie”, he said jokingly, emphasizing on how bad that word described you at his gaze. “Now, seriously. I’m aware it’s a lot. A lot, lot”.

“Love, you don’t have to keep worrying about it. I accepted because I love you so, so much. Some even could say too much”, you caressed the back of his head and sank your fingers in between the curled strands. “I may not agree with it ideologically, but I can make a little sacrifice if that means being with you for the rest of my life. And, for the record, it’s not as much as you think”.

He didn’t say anything else to that. He simply smiled again, pressed lips in the tiniest curve, as if repressing it would make it last longer, and let you wash the conditioner off him.

You could do very well with a day off, though. Between the missions that seemed to never stop and only get worse week by week, and the infinite amount of trials you had to go through by the Asgardian royals, you thought you may pass out any time soon.

The trials… ah, the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life. And that was not little to say, for you had fought freaking aliens and helped supersoldier’s wounds to heal in a matter of seconds with Stark’s subdermic nanotech.

Loki had a possibility, a chance to have everything he ever wanted to have, and he could’ve taken it. They said ‘you can have the throne now’, as if it had always been that easy, and he didn’t take it right away, as if it hadn’t been the thing he most wanted.

“The thing I most want, little darling, is you”, he told you when he explained what had happened.

And you swore he was about to propose —he almost took off a damn ring off his pocket. But he didn’t, and instead, he related carefully and detailedly what had to happen before he could marry you, if he were to get the throne. You had to show your in-laws you were a good companion for the King.

And that sucked. Why did it matter so much? You loved him and he loved you, and he was going to be a great King. That was all that mattered for both of you. But the conditions were very clear, and had no room for argument. And you wouldn’t let Loki give up his unfulfilled wish to rule the realms, nor would he give it up now that he had the chance.

So there you were, balancing between the missions and the trials. Which were very sexist, in fact. Who would’ve thought royals and Gods would be so conservative? You laughed. They varied between many housekeeping duties, archery, Asgard’s history, a lot of politics, the cooking and baking of different Asgardian treats, and a lot of those idiotic kind of trainings of putting books over your head and walking in heels. They said they had to transform an avenger into royalty, and you almost laughed in their face. Loki did.

It was impossible you'd ever actually become who they wanted you to change into. A submissive and silent companion, not possessing any other ability than smiling politely and attending your husband's needs? You were so incredibly far from even being like that, that not even Strange could see a reality in where you'd do it.

But you could pretend. You passed the first dozen trials, and passed them well. Odin had started growing a certain liking to your attitude, much unlike Frigga, who was increasingly repulsed by it. She was trying her best in transforming you, a lost cause in her eyes, into whatever she found fitting to accompany her younger son.

"Your mother's idea of a 'good' partner is very different from mine", you said over a glass of wine, waiting for dinner to finish cooking. Loki was sitting over the counter reading a book. He closed it over his lap and marked the page with a wooden spoon that was on handy.

"Mine too", he sighed. "She doesn't see that you already are perfect".

"I don't think she'd see me with your eyes".

"You must remember she was raised to be the princess that would someday marry Odin. She has no other view of marriage than… changing the true self. Much as she taught me shapeshifting, we have all learnt different ways to hide underneath a veil of lies and deceiving".

You took in his sincere words and went back to silence for a while. He didn't go back to his book, instead, he looked at you. He wanted to know what you were thinking about, but asking felt like an intrusion of some sort. You looked back at him, an invitation to ask. He then asked,

"How do you feel about it?".

You nodded with no reason to nod. Pressed your lips in a line, a smile that wouldn't form just yet. Not for this.

"I sincerely don't know", you finally said. He hummed. "I love you, that's all I know. My perception of marriage doesn't mean giving everything and everyone up. But again, in my perception of marriage I never thought I would actually marry a prince. I know this is how it is. I know this is what has to be done".

"It doesn't", he jumped off the counter and surrounded your waist with his arms, resting his head on your shoulder. "Love, this can be solved. I don't want you to resign everything and everyone. This is not how it has to go if you don't like it. Say the word. Say the word and…", he sighed.

"And you'll resign your everything and everyone?", you chuckled.

"You're my everything and everyone, I wouldn't be resigning anything I don't already have".

"Liar. You want this", you said almost in a whisper. Turning around to face him, you cupped his face and kissed his chin. "You can have it. I'm sorry, I don't want you to feel guilty".

"I have reasons to feel that way".

"I'm just being dramatic".

"You're not".

"I really am", you assured him. Love sometimes was protecting him from your thoughts. Love sometimes was waking up from a nightmare where he died and not telling him about it. Love sometimes was not worrying him and lying. Or was it? Were you protecting him or were you creating a demon? "This is your big chance. Do I have a big chance here? I don't. My big chance so far has been being by your side. You make me blindly happy. I don't care if I have to change some things to please your parents, we both know I wouldn't actually change. We can see underneath the acting. You know me".

"I know you enough…", he started saying, with no need to finish it. I know you enough to know you don't want this.

"Let's have dinner", you smiled, and he kissed your forehead.

Love sometimes was accepting, he thought. Accepting you didn't want to talk about it that much. Love sometimes was sharing time. Sharing that glass of wine while sharing moments in the kitchen. Sharing the dinner you cooked together. Sharing time. Sharing. And this… Loki knew he wasn't sharing. He was taking his chance and making you go through it without you wanting it. But you shared —your life, your motivations, your fears, most of your thoughts. And you shared your thoughts about it, yet he could sense that wasn't all. You were keeping some worries to yourself, and that was what preoccupied him the most.

In the training room, you avoided Thor’s blasts and threw your daggers, trying to practice over the little things the Queen had taught you. Loki observed from afar, not wanting to distract you. He stared proudly, knowing who he was going to marry. It was not bad at all.

You had started liking that part of the training. You catched interest for Asgard’s history, politics, and the trainings of archery and dagger-fighting. You grew fonder of the idea of living in his Palace, and, to him, nothing sounded better than you calling him my King in front of everyone. But, whatever would come for the future, would come brightly.

You weren’t closer with Thor than with any other Avenger. And you weren’t exactly friends with anyone. You got along pretty well. Tony Stark liked your fierce personality, and laughed at the contrast between your bitterness in the field to your kind essence in any other situation.

Steve Rogers constantly pointed out how hilarious it was that someone like you would end up with someone like Loki. Both took it personal —Loki thought it was an offence to him, “how could someone as caring and sweet as you end up with that mass murderer”. You thought it was an offence to you, “how could someone as dull and incompetent as you end up with a literal God”.

Natasha Romanoff… She didn’t talk much. But, unlike James, she didn’t even try to communicate. James was interesting, and you were sure you would call him a friend, someday. He wasn’t very talkative, but he was always there. Always laughed at your jokes. He memorized your coffee order. He liked the same shows you did and watched them with you, in silence. He was quiet, but his actions spoke to you much more than any other Avenger. Although, James “Bucky” Barnes, was not an Avenger. Much like Loki. He was just there, he was always helping.

“How are the trials?”, asked Thor, avoiding one of your daggers without much effort. You weren’t actually good at it. Thor had learnt to avoid them for the last thousand years.

“I have a week left, and then it’s done. I think I’m doing pretty good”, you said, hiding your exhaustion. Thor was barely moving and you couldn’t catch up to him as much as you tried. He laughed when you fell, and helped you up, only to blast you again with a tiny electric wave, that at that point you felt no more than a tingling sensation.

“My son”, heard Loki from behind him. He turned around and made a small reverence to her. She smiled and stood by his side, observing you too. “I see their determination”.

“Nothing better for a King’s companion, yes?”, he said, proud dripping off his words. Frigga rolled her eyes and nodded. She wasn’t amused that Loki, from all the choices he had, had chosen a dull midgardian to follow him for less than a century. And then he’d had to choose again. Hopefully, someone who would live longer than a damn heartbeat.

“We ought to have a little talk, boy”, she finally said, and Loki’s heart tightened with nervousness. Very few people managed to get him that nervous over a couple of words. “Join me to a more… private space”.

They walked in silence until his room seemed like the best option. Room was a formal way to call it, for it was huge as an apartment. You both had managed to make a standardized-looking studio apartment into a cozy space, decorated with care and dedication. It was obvious Loki’s good taste and your inherent warmth had a big role on the decorations.

Frigga roamed around the room, observing the hung pictures and passing a finger through the white Christmas lights. She stopped at a particular photograph of Loki and you ice skating. He was carrying you as if you were a feather-weight doll, your seemingly cold hands wrapping his blue neck. Frigga stared at the actions developing at that moment. Under your cold touch, he was half transformed in his Jötun form, completely comfortable. You looked at his eyes with a glimmer that Frigga knew it to be the same Loki looked at you with. You were both laughing, and he seemed to have carried you up bridal style only to tease you into throwing you into a snow pile.

“Mother?”, Loki pulled her off of her thoughts. She turned around. “You wished to talk about something”.

“You seem… in love”, she murmured under a confusing expression. Despite Loki’s perceptiveness, he couldn’t figure out if his mother was repressing a smile or holding back a frown of sadness. Perhaps both.

“I am, mother”, he admitted, appearing a mug of tea in her hand and inviting her to sit on one of the couches. “If I must be sincere with you, as I always have been, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way for anyone”.

“For a mortal, Loki…”, she sighed and sipped her tea. “You know what will happen now. You’re so… attached”.

“As attached as you are to Father, not as one is to a puppy pet”, he clarified.

“But much more like a puppy pet, they’ll live less than a quarter of your life. Much less. In fact, you’ll blink twice and you’ll be by an empty space on your bed, my dear”.

“I certainly hope you’re getting to a point here”, he scoffed. He’s had this conversation countless times before, and his mother never gave in.

“There is this last thing in the trials…”, she said, raising her eyebrows and getting up to pace around the room once again, barely watching over the decens of good moments in pictures you had displayed on the wall. “One thing that has to be surely not optional”.

Loki sipped on his own tea, looking out the window. He watched the spider boy try the man of iron’s flying boots and crush against a window. It was a much better thing to have his mind on, than in what his mother had just implied.

He didn’t realize it, but a few tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he had to swallow harder to speak his mind. The implication alone of what that meant… he knew all of this would crumble under his touch. Sooner or later, he would have to make a choice, and he’d choose the wrong thing.

Both options were the wrong thing. There was no way out. There was no right path to follow.

“There has to be a way out of this question. Of this decision”, he hurried. His mother chuckled.

“Given your reaction, son, it doesn’t sound like there’s much to decide. It’s an answered question, and we all know it”.

“Yet you thought it wise to pull them through all of these trials, all of these…”, his lips trembled, and he had to stop to take a breath. “To rouse us with the illusion of the better life we always dreamed of?”.

“I had warned you about it, Loki. There is no us in your daydream for the throne. And much less with a short-lived being such as a midgardian. I had warned you”, she repeated, and rage boiled on Loki’s veins.

“Why is it that everytime I get a glimpse of what a good future could look like, it gets destroyed before it arrives?!”, he lost his temper, raising his voice. The tea fell to the carpeted floor and he didn’t even look at it. Frigga didn’t flinch, and walked closer to him. She gave him an arm-length grab on his shoulders that was supposed to calm him down.

“Hush, little boy… this is for…”, she tried to soothe the wound she opened, but he interrupted her before she could say anything else.

“For my own good? Were you going to say that, Frigga?”, he hissed. His mother dropped the arms. She didn’t like when he called her by name. It implied things he had implied before, and were no less true than what he felt like. Apart. Away. “And must I remind you I’m not a little boy you need to protect and make decisions for? This is ridiculous. I’m given, once again, the illusion of the choice”.

“Oh, Loki, when have I ever given you a golden apple you couldn’t actually reach?”, she folded her arms, furrowing her brows. “I’ve taught you magic so you could be unstoppable. I’ve raised you equally, despite your roots. I’ve…”, she enlisted, and Loki’s chest hurt so tightly he thought he’d finally die. He couldn’t speak. “I’ve left everything to your reach. Your arm just wasn’t long enough. You could’ve stretched it further, yet you decided to go for another apple, and that, my son, is not our fault”.

Loki sat on the floor, and she stayed standing. The height difference that would always make her look up at him was now gone, dissolved as the confidence Loki had gathered in the past few years he’s been living in Midgard, away from all of those words. Away from what he considered at some point, the truth. And you weren’t there to hug him and squeeze the lies away —it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, he repeated himself like a machine. It wasn’t true, although it felt so much like it.

“Loki? You haven’t said a word in…”, she began saying, rotting her patience of steel.

“What would you like me to say?”, he asked, blinking some tears away. He got up, not letting her see how much smaller he felt now. Words are just words. “Perhaps you could facilitate me with a script, so I would never wrong my path again, yes?”, he spat sarcastically.

“Oh, son. You musn’t…”.

“Take this personally, I’m aware. Now, if you excuse me, my beloved will come from training any time soon now, and it would be very unpleasant for you to come across them and have to greet them, right? So I’d suggest we wrap up our little chat and you go… Queen around”.

“Now, you’re being just rude. I wouldn’t wish you to fail in anything”.

“I’ve never said that. You said that I’m just too… incompetent to reach, the apples, was it? Were you talking about Iduna’s or was it a metaphor for all the things you’ve taken from me?”.

“You’re putting words in my mouth”.

“You’re right. You’ve never taken anything from me. You’ve never given them in the first place. You’ve only put them near, so I could want them enough, and then give them to your real son”.

“You’re my son, too. You’re a real son, too, Loki”, she extended her palms for him to grab, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned around.

“Excuse me. I must have misunderstood”.

“You certainly did”.

“Perhaps it’s because I live in a world of illusions, and I’m forgetting what’s real and what’s not”.

She nodded, hiding impatience. Without saying another word, she teleported away, disappearing behind a veil of yellow lights, like a flame surrounding and consuming her.

Loki dropped to the floor again, and inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled, inhaled…

“Love?”, you asked, dropping your water bottle on the table without unlocking your eyes from him. You kneeled next to him immediately. “Love, what’s happening? Are you bad?”.

If he wasn’t in such a state, he would’ve laughed at the comparison of what caring for the other meant in your eyes and his family’s.

He didn’t let you see his face —torn apart, wet with cold tears that solidified to the touch of his skin, the blue form that couldn’t hide when he was too upset, or too broken, like he was right then.

He sank in your arms, hugging you as tightly as he allowed himself to. Grasping for your touch, for you to never leave him, for your soul to never leave your body and stay with him for the rest of his life.

His mother was right, he thought. He was all she said he was, and that hurt him. But it stung him even more when he knew how right she was about his short-lived being beloved. He was going to pull away from your hug and you would take a few more breaths, and that was it. And your worried face, frowning your expression as you couldn’t see what had taken over his lover this time, would become cold as marble.

“Please, please—I can’t live without you, not like this—not anymore”, he sobbed over your neck, sinking deeper into the embrace you would oh so tightly hold and hold —you wouldn’t let him go, not ever, not if you had the chance to. And Loki knew you would actually do it. He’d lose you because you would never agree to that, and with good reason.

“You don’t have to, I’m not leaving. I’m here, Loki. I’m here, love, and you’re alright. Deep breaths, breathe with me, love, come, breathe with me”, you helped him calm down, rubbing big circles on his back, your palms open and warm trying to cover the immensity of him compared to you.

There wasn’t a single moment where he could forget how fragile you were. How different your life span was compared to his —he wanted to give you all of his enormity, all of the years that wore too big on his bland and heavy life.

He couldn’t keep you by his side forever.

He could, on the other hand, keep you as far as he could manage to.

He was already stable, now. You cuddled him on the couch, weighted blanket surrounding his body, a few ice cubes inside a bag for his forehead and neck —you knew it would always make him feel less pushed, keeping his Aesir form costed an extra amount of energy he sometimes couldn’t handle to bare— and your hand kept brushing his hair, braiding it, letting him know he was safe.

He opened his eyes and there you were —an angel, a healer caring for his wounds. He sighed at your sight, and embarrassed himself for even thinking about it. No, no. Of course he would choose you. He would never choose the throne if he had to give you up. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He raised a hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered.

“Don’t be”, you assured.

“I… I have to ask”.

“Tell me”.

And so he asked,

“Would you, ever, at any given point of your life, want to have a child with me?”.

You stayed silent. You looked at him, every bit of his face, every expression that would tell you what he was actually thinking about. Why was he asking this now? After all of this? He knew the answer, why would he bring it up again?

And then it hit you.

“Your Mother was here”, you lowered your gaze. Your legs started bouncing.

“She was”.

“This is a condition”.

“It is”.

“Heir”.

“Not more and not less”.

“What will we do?”, you asked, raising your eyebrows. As you looked for Loki’s eyes to be wet, to have any emotion of regret, they weren’t. He was hiding them very well.

“We will stay here. No more trials. No more boring royal things for you to learn”.

“This can’t be possible”, you frowned in concern. “Loki, this is the thing you most want. You can’t give it up for this”.

“For what? For being with the love of my life? I certainly can and will”, he smiled. It was a sad smile, you noticed. His eyes couldn’t hide what his lips tried to. He noticed you didn’t believe him. “We’ve talked about this over and over. I will bargain more. But as for now, I can see the most likely option will be this one. I propose we get comfortable. You once talked about a house by the mountains and cats, right?”.

“Don’t change the topic, mister”, you frowned and he laughed. You hugged him tightly, and murmured in his ear “are you sure you want this?”.

“So, so sure, my little darling”.

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zafirosreverie · 3 years

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Maybe it was me so I’ll send it in again I asked for a Agatha and reader where they go on a walk and they find something that dampens Agathas power so they go home to fix it but on the way there Agatha twists her ankle and reader has to carrie her back and on the way home Agatha makes a joke about how she didn’t know how strong reader was and reader comes back with a witty come back please.

i really don't know what happened with the other message. Tumblr is weird.

Anyway, here it is. Hope you like it!

Adorably irritating witch (Agatha x reader)

“Don’t” you scolded as you watched your girlfriend approaching the glowing stone.

Too bad she didn’t listen. Nothing new, to be honest.

Agatha and you have been together for a while now, having survived to both of your trials and decided you needed to be together. In the beginning, you used to fight too much, always wanting to be right in everything and to be the most powerful being. But you soon learned that it was better to let her be the one in charge. She was much bolder, curious and noisier than you, besides, you were a few years younger than her, so she always pulled the age card to win. Unfair move, yes, but it gave you a chance to make fun of her.

Over time, you became great friends, and shortly after that, something else. It was something surprising for both of you when Agatha kissed you for the first time, but deep down, you knew that sooner or later it would end there. Now, you just couldn't imagine a life without her, and you knew Agatha felt the same way.

Living in the forest was relaxing and productive, you had plenty of potion ingredients on hand, and you didn't have to worry about unwanted visitors or human nonsense. But it also meant that you got bored sometimes.

So this morning you and your girlfriend decided to go for a walk near the river. It took you a while to get there, but Agatha's tireless talk made it more entertaining. You would never get tired of her voice.

However, when you arrived at the river, both of you felt something in the air. A source of magic. Of course, Agatha wanted to look for it, even when you told her that it could be dangerous. When she didn’t listen, you sighed and helped her search the area. You turned when she yelled and saw a glowing stone on the grass. You felt something was wrong just looking at it.

Agatha crouched down, and laughed when you warned her.

“Don’t touch it” you scolded her again.

“It’s just a stone, love” she said and rolled her eyes, taking it. Her amusement didn’t last long, tho.

You gasped as you watched the stone glowing more and Agatha screamed. Her dark purple magic seemed to be absorbed by the stone. You ran to her and using a stick, you struck the stone from her hand, throwing it away. Agatha leaned against you, tired and shocked.

“Ags, are you ok?” you asked, taking her face in your hands and making her look at you “Aggie, answer me”

“I- I’m fine, dear” she said, but the way she grabbed your arms, told you she was scared.

And you knew why. You couldn’t feel her magic anymore. At least, not as powerful as it used to be..

“The stone” she whispered and you sighed. Yes. It took it.

“But i don’t think it is permanent” you assured her “ i still can feel some of it inside you. As if it was just sleeping”

“Then we have to wake it up” she demanded and stood up.

You blinked. Her fear was replaced by determination. You smiled and stood up too, knowing she wouldn’t rest until her magic was available again.

“I think it is just a matter of time, Ags” you said and she stared at you, looking pretty offended.

“I can’t wait, Y/N” she frowned.

You just shook your head, smirking. She was adorable.

Agatha walked quickly through the woods, wanting to go home as soon as possible so she could fix this. She already missed her magic.

“Hey! Agatha! Wait for me!” you said, almost running after her.

“Move my legs, Y/N” she said, but stopped until you were by her side anyway.

“Your legs?” you frowned

“Yes, those legs are mine” she winked and you laughed. Good to know the stone didn’t take her ability to flirt at any given moment.

“Be careful” you said as you walked again “watch where you put your feet”

“yes, yes” she rolled her eyes “as if I haven't walked these woods for years”.

You were about to comment something when she fell in front of you.

“Agatha!” you kneeled beside her and saw her taking her ankle.

“I’m fine” she said, but when she tried to stand, she fell again.

“Twisted ankle” you sighed

“Of course not, i can wal-”

“No you can’t” you said firmly, putting your hands on your hips “Really? I told you not to touch the stone and you got your magic blocked, I told you to watch where you step and you got your ankle twisted, how hard is it to listen?!”

Agatha blinked. You haven’t talked to her like that in a long time . And she cursed herself for finding it hot. You sighed as you crouched down and and you put one arm around her waist and another under her legs.

"What are you doing?" she asked

"I'm going to sing and dance with the forest animals to see if they bring me a prince charming to free me from the adorably irritating witch" you replied sarcastically.

You didn't give her time to answer anything, because at that moment you took her in her arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. Agatha squealed in surprise and instinctively wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Y/N!”

You chuckled at her surprised face and started walking carefully.

“How- When did you become this strong, darling?” she asked when her surprise faded away “I didn’t know the dove has been working out” she joked and you smirked.

“You see, my love, the dove was the one helping Cinderella and making sure she was able to go through the day” you joked back.

When you arrived at your home, you carefully placed her on the bed and started to wash her ankle.

“Seriously, how are you so strong, Y/N?”

You smiled. Agatha seemed to be really impressed by that and you knew she wouldn’t let it go any time soon.

“Well, I've spent years caring for an old woman who thinks she is always right but who frequently forgets to eat and cannot even cook without almost burning the kitchen. I surely hope to become stronger for carrying this whole house on my shoulders"

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agnes imagine #agnes x reader #kathryn hahn #marvel #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #request

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phoenixtakaramono · 3 years

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Character Design Thoughts for Shen Yuan & Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky in ‘The Untold Tale’

(This is a Follow Up to This Post)

Hello, @averydrearydiana! Loved reading through your tags! I’m excited that you’re excited! Since I’m also seeing comments on AO3 speculating about how our transmigrators are going to appear as in The Untold Tale, I might as well give my current thoughts and have this archived on tumblr for future reference.

A fun fact about TUT is that a lot of the imagery in the story is inspired by Chinese PVs and popular C-dramas and literature. Since TUT is conceived as a lovestory to SVSSS, one element that I’d wanted to incorporate is playful attempts at satirical genre deconstruction. With that comes with me playfully poking fun at some clichés or things I’ve noticed in Chinese works.

Shen Yuan’s Celestial Design

Before I talk about his mortal appearance, I have to give a lil context about his celestial design in the story. We already know what he looks like as the celestial fortuneteller in TUT’s cover art that I’ve already posted on tumblr. As everyone knows, I was heavily inspired by this Chinese PV:

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(TUT ch1 - Excerpt)

Among the things I’ve noticed are the fictional characters with white hair. We have a whole subculture of fans liking male character designs with white hair in anime and animation. Taking that a step further, they’ve even shown up in C-dramas, i.e. Teng She from Love and Redemption (technically more blond than platinum white, but shhhhh, just let me have this), Dong Hua Dijun from Eternal Love of Dream aka Three Lives Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (rest assured, I’m aware of the source material’s controversy, but let’s not get into that here), etc. One of the tags for TUT is Opposites Attract. Luo Binghe’s color coordination is aligned with black and red mostly. Now, visually speaking, what’s the opposite of that?

The yin yang symbol.

Fun fact, besides black vs white, green (SY) is the complementary color of red (LBG) on the color wheel. Now taking everything I’ve said, to take it even one step further, my thought process at the time was, “why not go the extra mile then and just have SY be albino? Within context of the Heavenly Realm, that character design makes sense.” TUT is me subtly riffing off what I can (for the good ol’ meta humor), but making the content come across as a legitimate story experience. As Protagonist A and Protagonist B, LBG and SY have to look visually striking together. With all that said, let’s talk about....

(In reference to the original tumblr post)

Shen Yuan (Mortal)

I’ll keep some elements of his albinism from his celestial form (light sensitivity and pale skin mostly), but SY’s mortal form is essentially SY pre-transmigration but within context of the xianxia genre.

For his appearance, let’s just keep this Author’s Note^ and TUT’s summary in the back of our brains. This is the fanvid I was originally inspired by for SY’s mortal appearance:

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(TUT Summary - Excerpt)

For what he wears, I’m currently feeling very heavily inspired by this PV:

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His mortal appearance wouldn’t be considered as “strange” or “otherworldly” compared to the “ethereal fairy-like beauty” SY retains in the Heavenly Realm, but as a side-effect of the 【PROTAGONIST’S HALO】 and his +20 CHARISMA stat, he would still be considered attractive to people even when he takes on a mortal appearance. (Mainly, I like the idea of Bing gē taking large shots of vinegar seeing SY turning heads no matter which appearance SY takes on, and Luo Binghe glaring at these “insects” for even “daring to lay their unworthy eyes on his fated person.” The thought of it just makes me laugh.)

What I mean by how SY’s mortal form being very much based on how SY appeared pre-transmigration but in the xianxia genre context, I mean he’ll have his dark hair (but longer), a “scholarly air” (as a nod to his novelist background), dark eyes, and even his glasses technically (the divine monocle mentioned in ch3, which is also a subtle nod to Sha Po Lang and a riff on men wearing monocles in other Chinese works andit’salsoforeshadowingbutshhhh).

(TUT ch3 - Excerpt)

Shen Yuan originally was an author in his forties pre-transmigration, so I like the idea him having a mature air about him in the Cultivation World as well. So for both our Protagonist B’s celestial and mortal appearances, the idea is that you can look at him and immediately recognize him as a protagonist of the danmei setting. My only two prerequisites are that his appearance screams “hello, I’m Protagonist B” and that he appears in “scholarly” attire.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky (Mortal)

Keeping in mind the original tumblr post where I wrote my thoughts on who I’m transmigrating him as, currently I’m thinking it’s a combination of these two PVs for his mortal form:

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As a nod to him being a successful novelist, I wanted him to also appear scholarly. A scholarly crown prince, if you will. For his attire, imagine all the C-drama clothing you’ve seen actors wear in period dramas, and you already have a good idea already of the direction I’m heading down.

As the prince of the cannon fodder emperor, I very much like the idea of Airplane perhaps having a baby face and brown hair (as a small nod to fanon!SQH from SVSSS) but with a great body (a huge source of inspiration are clothing worn by Prince Yu and Prince Jing of the three princes from the C-drama Nirvana in Fire). Since Airplane will also be able to select his Character Creation stats like Shen Yuan had, one thing I’m fairly certain is that he will max out his CONSTITUTION—because “game logic” and not wanting to die. (For those who don’t know, the CON stat in tabletop RPs essentially indicates a person’s overall health, wellbeing, and vigor checks...so him maxing it out is equivalent to him being as invulnerable as a cockroach. A high CON means overall healthiness, which means your character probably is full of energy and vitality, can heal rapidly, and will rarely get sick—if ever. Low CON usually means a higher susceptibility to sickness and disease, wounds that fester and linger, and a general fatigue would haunt you, etc.) Like how SY zeroed in on his CHA, Airplane would have prioritized +20 CON (+5 modifier), especially knowing the fate that’d await him as a prince and the vicious environment that is expected for palace intrigue plots (the harem is a big factor, with concubines and consorts and even the empress sabotaging each other—just to win the favor of one man). Against poison or whatnot which is a cliché in palace intrigue plots, rather than relying on luck, you typically stand a better chance of passing the CON check if you have a high modifier aiding your checks. He’s basically become impervious to illnesses, most poisons (probably being able to spring back quickly), and is considered the healthiest prince in all the mortal imperial line. <- This could be taken both seriously and humorously simultaneously.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky (Deity/ Celestial)

For Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī’s “actual divine body” that is currently asleep and won’t be awakened until Airplane completes his mortal trial to “regain his cultivation powers,” the face should obviously be similar but, as Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī, he would appear regal and dignified as a god of this world:

Imagine something along the lines of mortal Airplane as the man on the right, celestial Shen Yuan in the center, and deity/ celestial Airplane as the man on the left. I envision a respectable appearance that would knock the air out of Mobei jūn and make him recognize Airplane despite any visual dissimilarities, and in a way we have the Four Beauties of China: Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan, Mobei jūn, and Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī.

I will say I currently have an idea of making Airplane have “golden” eyes in both his celestial and mortal forms. (Spoiler alert: in my notes, I’d written down to give Airplane yellow eyes as an Easter egg to Yanxi Palace, I believe, where there was an episode where someone of the imperial harem schemed against the empress and almost had the newborn baby killed because that and the yellow skin was an inauspicious omen. We later find out through a timely intervention that the true reason was due to jaundice—because of the diet/ pregnancy cravings she ate for a period of time which resulted in her son’s symptoms. With Airplane’s high CON and another trope I’m bringing in which’ll have to do with the Medicine King’s Valley/ Valley of the Medicine King, his yellow eyes are the only side effect that lingered from that traumatic event which would have killed him had they gotten away with their scheme. A lot of palace dramas have to do with the vicious harem plots, so this would potentially be one such example.) The reason being that this is the identifying marker for MBJ to clue in that they’re the same man he will have loved. And I think that has romantic potential.

Misc.

Now addressing the other tags, yes, essentially speaking, Mobei jūn might just very well experience his very own Big Damn Reunion trope that Bing mèi had suffered from SVSSS. Poor MBJ. He’s in a tumultuous ride of his own with him considering Airplane as his own fated person, hahaha. But for the Moshang dynamic, I want him—a demon—to find himself taken with Airplane in his mortal guise—and subsequently his true celestial appearance once he finds out. I very much also want SY to jokingly snark to his fellow transmigrator-and-writing-colleague about him getting in a relationship with his own “creation” (MBJ). And Airplane would jokingly snark back about SY “ruining his ‘first son’ as well” (LBG). If you can read between the lines of that, then kudos. I’m glad to hear you’re looking forward to the palace intrigue.

I’m especially very happy to hear you’re looking forward to the descriptions! I personally love worldbuilding in the stories I consume I’m an interior designer and realtor irl, so I’m glad my love of house details and landscape, etc shows in TUT. For the pseudohistorical vibe, in the Mortal Realm, I will be referencing the Forbidden City of our Chinese history and a couple popular period C-dramas. Take the settings of period C-dramas like Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace, Yanxi Palace, and Nirvana in Fire as examples for what will be awaiting us when we finally meet Airplane in his mortal body. In the Heavenly Realm, the descriptions will be heavily referencing shows that contain aesthetics such as those of Ashes of Love, Love and Redemption, and Eternal Dream.

Take this with a grain of salt just in case I change my mind later on, but in the chapter when we meet Airplane for the first time, I probably won’t say which character he is in the first scene. I’ll give plenty of hints in the first scene so that you all can make your guesses before the big reveal, but I’m fairly confident you all or most of you will be able to pinpoint who he is among the cannon fodders. We’ll meet the emperor, who is discussing with his sons about the matter regarding the approaching calamity that is Luo Binghe. Then when we transition into the second scene, we’ll know exactly which “royal prince OC” it is that our beloved Airplane has transmigrated into, hahaha.

(*Keep in mind, for everything written above, some details are subject to change. Nothing is official until it appears in the story, or I’ve actually drawn my ideas out and posted online to both my tumblr and twitter. These are just my current thoughts.)

A goal of mine for TUT is to make the story widely accessible, meaning it doesn’t matter if the reader is new to the SVSSS fandom or aren’t familiar with the Easter egg references or meta jokes or subtext or even the Chinese culture, or even if English is not their first language. Having knowledge beforehand might help someone notice more hidden details in TUT, yes, but it is a humble wish of this writer for her esteemed readers to be able to dive into the story and get the enjoyable feeling like they’re reading a genuine danmei novel. It really makes me smile whenever I hear feedback that I am able to emulate that experience.

Very exciting developments indeed are in store!

#svsss #bingyuan #moshang #mobei jun #bingqiu #the scum villain's self saving system #the untold tale #phoenixtakaramono #phoenix talks #ask #averydrearydiana #technically not an ask #but i like to categorize it there #it’s very much like we have 2 forbidden romances ay?#There is so much I wanted to reply back to #so just know I read them all #and treasured everything you wrote in your tags #there will indeed be a transmigrator reveal bt SY and Airplane #to their bfs they can only come so close #SY will come REALLY close but of course the System will filter his words #so SPOILER ALERT an example would be SY saying I remember things in my past life clearly #In Chinese reincarnation mythos you don’t typically keep memories of any of your past lives #in some tales and C-dramas you basically drink a potion/ cup of forgetfulness to wipe your memory #before you are allowed to reincarnate into your next life etc #ah yes war strategist SY will make plenty more appearances in TUT lololol #I love your tag about LBH showing off the pelt and being like LoOk At WhAt My Bf GaVe Me aka My Bf iS BeTtEr ThAn YoUr Bf/Gf #the scene when Airplane finds out his fellow transmigrator has screwed him over will be one for the history books #meaning I will derive so much amusement from it but we will be nice and help him escape the brunt of LBH’s malice #MBJ connecting through dots will be fun too bc HeY tHiS iS mY bAe JuNsHaNg #Jūnshàng meaning the Great Exalted One aka replacing Huangshang aka emperor

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