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ly-canthropewrites · 4 years

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Love or War

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 2998

Rating/Warnings: SFW. Brief mentions of previous season drama.

Summary: “I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage”

You can feel the heavy gaze from across the field. Intense eyes fixated on your figure as you rattle the chain-wire fence that surrounds the newest section of Alexandria. The post-apocalyptic town has been thriving since the end of Negan’s reign and with the undead being the town’s only consistent antagonist, it has given the community an opportunity to expand their borders. The chain-mesh fence was scavenged from the Sanctuary before the community fell off the map and serves as a strong protector as the new plot of land gets tilled. But it remains fragile when leant against and it has become a daily task during guard duty to rid the walkers that stumble near the temporary fence, a job you jump at to vent your frustrations.

The deliberate noise draws the attention of the few walkers close by and they turn, growling as they catch your scent in the wind and they shuffle your way. It’s second nature now, muscle memory, to shift your grip on the knife handle and strike at their heads, using the fence for leverage and stability. The motions do nothing to quench the frustration and fire that rages inside you and you growl, yanking your knife from the last walker’s head with more force than necessary. The bloodied blade gets cleaned on the rag that is tied to your belt loops and then you are left with nothing to do, no more walkers to distract you from the boredom or the swirl of emotions that fester inside.

You find yourself glancing over in his direction, succumbing to the gravitational pull of the universe and you don’t find yourself surprised at all to find him still staring at you, a dark scowl painted across his face. You sneer back at him, standing strong with your own gaze.

“Stupid, fucking redneck,” you mutter under your breath and the fire that burns in your chest grows hotter, feeding off of your anger.

The swishing of grass on your left distracts you and you are met with Carol only a few feet from you. You nod at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile as well before turning to look at the perimeter, finding nothing in the wilderness has changed and you sigh.

“I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage,” Carol says lightly, walking to your side and mirrors your stance; arms crossed and back straight.

You scoff, openly showing that you aren’t in the mood for her banter today but it doesn’t deter the older woman.

“Most definitely murderous rage” you grit.

“See, I don’t know about that - I see a lot of passion,” She teases.

You throw her a withering look, disdain heavy in your eyes and if Carol isn’t careful; some of that murderous rage will be pointed at her soon.

“So if it is murderous rage, how long are you going to remain angry at him?” Carol tries a gentler approach, obviously getting the message and you wince, guilt beginning to set in as you mentally chastise yourself about your unrestrained attitude.

Shrugging, you refuse to make eye contact with your old friend. “I don’t know Carol, he humiliated me,” you breathe.

“He didn’t mean too, he was worried,” Carol begins to defend him but when she sees you shaking your head and the flash of hurt across your face, she stops herself.

“But he did it anyway. He humiliated me, he berated me in front of everyone, undermined me, treating me as if I am some soft fucker who hasn’t been beyond the walls” you spit and you render the woman silent, unsure about what to say next.

When the silence between the pair of you becomes stagnant, Carol realises it’s time for her to leave and she steps back a few feet, mulling over her next words.

“Talk to him,” she pleads and you snort, “Fuck no,”.

Carol says your name in warning, making you roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking submitting. If he wants to talk, then he can man up and come to me with a goddamn apology,”.

You hear her heavy sigh behind you before her retreating footsteps, leaving you to stew in your malcontent alone. It is your stubborn pride and bruised feelings that prevent you from talking with your old companion, from making amends and burying the hatchet, an ideal that is important in this world because life is too short and unpredictable to be so petty. And yet, you cannot help yourself this time. He hurt you, deeply, a stinging wound that will take time to heal.

It’s not like you have done anything wrong in the first place. With the apocalypse a decade old, resources are unimaginably scarce, leaving only items that are grown, hunted or handmade to be used. It was commonplace for you to be the first person out of the gates in the morning and the last to return in the evening, spending hours and even days hunting, refusing to go back to Alexandria empty-handed. You are too stubborn for your own good, too arrogant in your capabilities to survive and adapt to the dangerous world. As a repercussion, your last run was almost the death of you.

Enemies are like hydras; one falls and another takes its place. Negan was once considered Alexandria’s greatest threat, but that fear was usurped by the latest peril; the Whisperers. Negan ruled with fear and violence. The Whisperers rule with death. Their ability to influence herds is an obstacle that the community does not know how to overcome. The capricious nature makes every run, every scouting mission, every patrol dangerous and life-threatening. Therefore, it became law that no-one is to go outside the metal walls without a group and without informing the council. It should have been expected that you would struggle with this rule, never been one to abide by strict regulations, but the thought slipped the minds of the council and you kept slipping outside the gates.

Your last run is a perfect example of why the rule is in place; you got caught by the herd with Whisperers dotted within. Perhaps they tracked you down or perhaps it was just shit luck that you ran into them, but it resulted in a fight for your life and an injury that planted fear on sight. It was sheer, dumb luck that allowed you to escape with your life; an old tree fell whilst you were in the midst of swiping at walkers and humans alike, and caused a great enough distraction that gave you the opportunity to bolt. You damn well shocked Rosita who stood on guard duty that evening as you came sprinting towards the main gates, coated in two types of blood and clutching at your side, out of breath with wild eyes.

That night you had Siddiq inform you that you got lucky the knife wound at your abdomen was free of infection but he was stern to chastise that only one hour more and you wouldn’t have made it, wound too deep to be stemmed by only pressure and the combination of exhaustion and blood loss would have defeated you. His words didn’t shake you that night, instead, you shrug nonchalantly and smirked, telling him that death in this world is inevitable and you would greet it like an old friend.

You refused to stay in the infirmary that night, scrunching your nose at the thought of being surrounded by sick people in a sterile environment, rather opting for the privacy of your own place. He was unable to stop you, letting you go with an armful of supplies and a sigh, watching you stagger down the pathway. You made it only halfway home before you were halted by a loud yell, the noise capturing the attention of not just you but the other residents that were milling in the nearby courtyard.

“What the fuck wer’ ya thinkin’?” Daryl yelled, storming towards you with a glare that would frighten Hades. “How fuckin’ stupid are ya?” he adds.

He berated you in public that night, practically screaming in your face about your stupidity, your lack of respect to the council and their rules, your selfishness and conceited attitude. He didn’t let you get a word in to defend yourself as he raged, words becoming harsher by the second. You could handle the words but it was the venom in his voice that surprised you. It was filled with so much anger, so much hatred and spite that you lost the words that you wanted to scream back at him. Instead, when he took a moment to catch his breath, you just walked away, your eyes on the ground as you stifled the bewildered cry that ached in your chest.

The incident happened two weeks ago and you haven’t spoken since, avoiding each other like the plague but the distance hasn’t stopped either of your from directing heated glares at each other, consequently deepening the rift in your friendship.

----

The guard changeover occurs on dusk and when your replacement comes, you greet them with a tight smile as you pass over the unused rifle before quickly leaving the post. You don’t head home after the shift and instead, you go down to the armoury with hopes that working maintenance on the weapons will distract you from the words Carol has lodged in your mind. Daryl worried? You scoff at the thought. In a previous time, those words would have made sense - you and Daryl have been partners in crime since the fall of the world, similar in too many ways and it made sense that you were friends. But after seeing the pure acrimony he directed at you, you fail to believe it stemmed from a place of compassion.

It was well past midnight when the doors to the armoury creaked open. It was probably someone on shift wanting to pick up more ammo or something alike. What you didn’t expect was to see the rugged hunter ease into the room. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a twist in your lips, hands paused on the shotgun you were working on.

“You weren’t home when I knocked,” Daryl states simply, gruff voice a melody to your ears after the long radio silence.

“You know I don’t sleep when I’m alone,”

It’s true; you struggle to rest when there is no-one watching over you, a position that is usually filled by the man in front of you.

Daryl nods, biting down on the inner side of his cheek as he reflects. Of course you don’t, you never have and he knew that. The poignant silence weighs heavily between you and Daryl shifts uncomfortably, moving further into the room to take a seat on the chair that sits in front of the sole workstation. You never sat at the workstation, preferring to sit on the floor so you had more space to work with but at this moment, you hated how you were positioned lower than the man.

“Yer gonna use that thing on’ me?” There is a ghost of a sly smirk upon his lips, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes but you aren’t having it, you won’t befall to his sparse charm.

“Don’t tempt me, Daryl Dixon,’’

The full use of his name and the stern attitude makes Daryl wince, the severity of damage he inflicted to you now evident before him. He nods silently, gnawing anxiously at his lip as you both fall back and stew in silence. You resume cleaning the weapon in your hands, needing to keep busy in an attempt to distract your mind from the chaos that sits in front of you. Daryl watches you, this time without the hatred and disdain, but his gaze is just as heavy as before.

“Why are you here, Daryl?”

He notes the tiredness in your voice, not the physical exhaustion that is a permanent state in this new world, but the emotional weariness that burdens you.

“‘M here to apologise,”

“Are you here because Carol told you to or because you actually want to?”

His hesitation is a loud answer and you scoff, glaring up at him with your teeth bared.

“Of course not. Daryl Dixon never apologises because he actually wants to, no, someone else has to puppet him. You are so fucking incompetent,” you growl, “You can’t even do the right fucking thing. Whatever ‘apology’ you have concocted to make this all better; forget it, Daryl. I don’t fucking accept it!”.

You take a predatory satisfaction in seeing the raw hurt flash across his face at your words. Your words are harsh, digging at old wounds that the man harbours but you can’t even conjure up the guilt or regret; hungry to dish out the same pain that you have received. Vexation and wrath raise its ugly head and you furiously rub at the long barrel of the shotgun, as if you would be able to transfer your rage through kinetic energy.

“Yer keep sacrificing yerself for the group ‘n’ and I fuckin’ hate it,” He breaks the icy air. His voice cracks despite his whispered tone but you catch it the little hitch.

Your cautious gaze meeting his is the signal he needed because he keeps going, as if the dam inside breaks and the words come spilling out; unrestrained, pure and honest.

“You’v’ done it since the beginnin’. Take the burden of the group on yerself ‘n’ takin’ all the risks. We’v only survived this long b‘cause of ya. You’v always kept us goin’. When the prison fell, you wanted ter round everyone up ‘n’ then Terminus happened and..” he breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as he recalls the horrible and degrading things the savages there threatened you with; how they held the machete to your neck and how powerless he was to stop everything. You were so close to death that afternoon as well, mere seconds away from being just an empty vessel.

“Then all the shit that's happened since. You’ve never stopped, never broke down. Just kept trudgin’ on. But it all caught up and you could’ve died out there… without me. ‘N I wouldn’t have known until it was ter late”.

“But I could have died in here and you still wouldn’t have been able to do anything, Daryl - that’s life,” you argue.

Daryl’s head whips up so fast, you are sure he could have suffered whiplash, but you get distracted by the flames in his eyes.

“It’s not life. You ‘ave no fuckin’ idea what yer do to me, woman,” Daryl groans, looking at you so helplessly, almost insulted at how you don’t get it.

“Apparently I piss you off!” you retort, “Ya know, with my selfish attitude and lack of respect” you parrot his own words back to him, a glare resituating across your face. “You yelled at me, Daryl. You screamed in my face, in front of everyone, and then gave me the cold shoulder. Me, out of all people, your fucking friend”.

He shakes his head while you speak, an action that only infuriates you more. You are ready to attack him about that, mouth already open as you reveal your disgust, “Stop fucking shaking your head as if I’m playing the vic-”.

In your rant, you don’t acknowledge the scrape of the metal stool along the concrete, given barely enough time to react to the new stimulus of rough lips upon yours and a hand that grips your chin. Daryl swallows your surprise, mouth unyielding as he crowds into you, pushing you back against the back leaving you no room to run. He kisses you desperately. Frantically. It is messy and unruly, a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head spin. You can taste every single secret that has ever danced across his lips, taste the fear that dwells within him but has never been uttered to another soul. You learn more about Daryl in this instance than you ever will in a lifetime.

You both are slow to break apart; lips barely separating as you catch your breath, greedily sucking in as much oxygen as you can to sate the burning of your lungs.

“‘M so fuckin’ sorry,” he cries against your lips.

His hand still has a firm grip on your jaw, which is sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in its wake, but like his kiss - his touch is desperate as well.

“You’v neva been a victim. I was just so fuckin’ scared that I would lose ya. I can’t lose ya,” he stresses, a voice that sounds so pained and winced; it sounds as if the wounds were personally inflicted upon him.

He drops his death-like grip on your chin, bowing forward to rest his head against yours, never straying too far from your space. Your arms wind around his hulking form; bringing him closer and Daryl lets himself slump against you, his head slipping to rest on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck and his body, although heavy, feels like comfort from a warm blanket. You can feel him utter endless apologises into the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your skin and you memorise the soft tone of his voice as he echoes “‘M sorry,”.

You hush him, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the dark tresses, whispering “I know,” to every apology he mutters. Eventually, the apologises fade and you are submerged in peaceful silence, curled into each other. You don’t need to ask why he couldn’t have just told you all those words at the beginning, to save you both the agony and trauma of the last few weeks. But your Daryl is complex, a stunning mosaic of intricate emotions that aren’t easily given and you accept that this is who he is. The man would go to war for love; for you.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 5

Hello all, and welcome back to another exciting rendition of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Eda grumbled, shifting her weight as she hunkered through the crowds, King prowling along beside her. She despised the Night Market, as it was basically a physical embodiment of justification for Bonehead’s rule; hard to stand up against the person who’s keeping you and your family safe from scummy criminals selling shady and dangerous stuff, even by the standards of the Isles!! She snorted. If only those same people knew that Bonehead’s goons were perfectly aware of the Night Market and could shut it down and round up its proprietors whenever they liked, and kept it around BECAUSE it was a convenient, tangible justification.

“Ugh! This place smells like failure and backstabbing.” King complained, warily scanning the surroundings, a spell prepped and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

Eda huffed. “Yeah, but if this ‘Grimm Hammer’ guy has Curse-Suppression potions, I can’t afford to stay away.” And didn’t it burn that she had to deal with scum like this for her health? She liked Morton, he was a good kid, but DAMN if his habit of testing his products, particularly the dangerous ones, on himself wasn’t grating at times like this. At least when he did it before he still had something in stock for her to use until he got back in shape.

King nodded solemnly, by his standards at any rate. He glanced around, idly taking note of the various comers and goers wandering the market, all doing their best to stay at least partially inconspicuous; it was probably pointless, considering just how unique and diverse appearances could get on the Isles, but at least they were putting in the effort. ‘I wonder if this is how Lilith got that curse.’ King wondered, his temper boiling at the thought of Eda’s sister stabbing her in the back like that. Aloud, he said, “You think this guy will try and screw us over?”

Eda laughed bitterly. “Oh absolutely! But,” She added with a feral grin, “If he does, we can always wreck the place.” She and King cheered at the thought of destroying private property.

With a snort, Eda glanced over the directions Mort had given her, comparing it to the shop before her. It wasn’t anything really special, just a stand aiming to draw the eye and lighten suckers’ wallets, but it had the signs of wear and tear you only got from long-term use and dedication. The owner was probably a scumbag, true, but they were a scumbag with pride in their business and property. Raising an eye at King, and getting a raised eyebrow in return, the two headed inside. A tall figure landed onto the ground in a crouch behind them.

Odalia marched down the halls, burying her worry under maternal fury. This was absolutely unacceptable!! She could not believe Amity was acting so disgracefully, cutting her off like that! With a huff, she finally crossed into the room, primed and ready to start shouting, heedless of the damage her outburst would do to her daughter’s social standing, only to blink in numb surprise at the sight of the humans, Amity’s guard notwithstanding, now in the room. “Um, Mittens? What is going on?” She asked as diplomatically as she could.

Amity sighed, and what proceeded was another rapid-fire round of introductions between the group and Odalia. Odalia’s eyes sharpened at several key points, namely that Neon was an heiress, and had been granted guards as a result of her magic, important details. “So,” Odalia drawled, a calculating gleam in her eyes, “You mentioned that you gave predictions, Miss Nostrade?” She stated more than asked; as annoyed as she was at Amity’s antics (and it was definitely annoyance, absolutely nothing more), this was admittedly an opportune moment to gain a better look into Human Magic, particularly in an area of overlap such as Oracle magic and predictions.

“Yeah, it sounds super interesting!” Selena piped up, engaging in the conversation. “I LOVE Oracle Magic, so seeing how Humans do it is like Oracle Magic times two!” She cheered, scooching close.

“Okay, if you really want!” Neon agreed, oblivious to the sudden tensing of her guards. She quickly pulled out a sheet of paper and a cat-themed pen. “I just need your names, date of birth, and your blood type!” She hummed, a blissful grin on her face. Odalia and Selena blinked, but both complied, much to the interest of the others, save Luz who’d seen what was coming in action before. The group reared back, startled at the deep blue aura that surged up around Neon, her normally bright and clear eyes fading and turning glassy, like a doll. Her hand pulled back, a winged thing manifesting around it, intoning “Lovely Ghostwriter.” In a blur, Neon rapidly inscribed a series of poems upon the paper, her hand blurring across the page that they couldn’t make out the actual words she was writing down. Suddenly, her hand stopped, a total of eight stanzas composed before her on two seperate sheets, which she promptly handed over to the correct recipient. “And there you go!” She beamed.

“Wow, what do they say?” Skara asked, powering through the confusion and shock that had come over her at the sight of Neon’s spell.

“No idea!” Neon blithely replied, causing all the Witches to blink in shock, save Odalia and Selena, who were busy going over their poems.

Luz snorted at their surprise. “Yeah, Neon’s magic is totally involuntary after the activation point. She has no clue what she writes, isn’t aware that she was even writing until after the fact, and is physically incapable of reading whatever prediction she gives.” Luz clarified, admittedly relishing the looks of confusion she got in response.

“How does that even work!?” Amity asked, utterly bewildered. It was completely outside any known form of Oracle Magic, and she couldn’t help but notice the blanching faces of her mother and Selena.

Neon gave a pout, trying not to feel insulted at the slight at her skills. “Predictions are for the people, not for the predictor!” She childishly stated, huffing in displeasure.

They turned to Luz, a look screaming for an explanation upon their faces. “Hey, it makes as much sense to me as it does for you all.” She lightly protested. Seeing they weren’t convinced, she ultimately relented, clarifying, “I’m not sure why it turned out like that, but Neon is completely self-taught, but no one has ever said she’s not good at what she does.” She fixed them with a strong stare, almost daring them to question her. “Neon’s predictions always cover the month of when she gives them, offering insight as to what will happen later, with advice being given for dangerous or difficult moments coming up, and clarity as to what led to events that have already happened. And Neon’s predictions are always perfectly accurate to boot.” She sat back, letting that sink in.

Willow was the first to recover. “B-But that goes outside any known example of Oracle Magic!” She stammered, shock coloring her eyes. “Even the best Oracles have some level of failure or inaccuracy!”

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know what to say, but that’s never really applied to Neon.” The girl in question merely beamed in pride at that, puffing out her chest.

“Neon is the greatest! Ohohohohoho!” She cheerfully laughed, pulling one hand to her mouth in a look of haughty delight, only for Luz to playfully chop her on the head. “Ouchie!”

“Please don’t strike my charge again, Miss Noceda.” Kurapika sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, even as his fellow guards just snorted at the by-play between the two mages.

“Yeah, the lassy needs her brain intact, you know?” Basho called out, a cheerful smile on his face. He winced at the swift jab to his rib Baise gave him.

Baise snorted. “Maybe don’t insult our boss, idiot.” She drolly stated, arms crossed.

“I’ve honestly been wondering, but if you guys are guards for a mage, are you mages yourselves?” Gus asked, tone casual, if you discounted the notebook primed for writing held before him that is.

“Well, as a matter of fact, we are.” Kurapika cordially replied, showing the chains affixed to his hand, small steel rings linking a separate chain to each finger. “I myself employ Chain Magic, allowing me to manipulate and command my chains for a variety of effects.” He gave a mysterious grin. “Though, some of my best spells are unfortunately kept rather limited.”

“Huh, why is that?” Gus asked, furiously scrawling down the enigmatic blonde’s answer.

“Well, I won’t go into the specifics, but it is possible to augment one’s spells, particularly complex or unusual ones, by infusing them with limitations as to how and when you can use them, or giving them conditions as to when they can be activated.” Kurapika explained. “A solid example would be, say, creating a spell that would allow you to defeat a specific foe, and then altering the spell so it literally cannot be used on anyone but that foe. Doing so would make that spell all the more powerful and flexible to use, but only when it’s conditions are fulfilled.”

The Witches paused, staring in shock at Kurapika, whereas his fellow guards and Luz just looked at him in amusement. Luz shrugged. “He’s not wrong, but most mages don’t usually do that, unless their magic works best under specific circumstances to start with. It’s usually something found in more exotic forms of magic, or with people who are self-trained.” All the Witches carefully took note of that for later.

Willow cleared her throat. “And what about the rest of you?” She asked politely.

Tolico puffed out his chest, grinning. “Well my magic is almost ideal for bodyguard duties, and just for messing with people. Observe!” He cried, swinging his arm up, before clapping it against the ground. “Thankless Soldiers!” From the point of contact, a dark purple aura billowed up off the floor, flexing and morphing into the image of 12 dark figures in robes, standing at attention. “Now, you guys go outside and patrol the area, we don’t want any intruders, alright?” He stated, and the constructs moved out, silently and without issue.

“Wow! You can create soldiers to fight for you!?” Gus exclaimed, stars in his eyes.

“Yeah, but they’re fragile to any trained mage, can’t move very fast, and their only solid advantage is numbers.” Baise said, instantly taking the wind out of Tolico’s sails. Baise smirked at the pouting glare Tolico shot her. “As for myself… my magic isn’t something kiddies like you should learn about until you’re older.” She stated, the aimless leer on her face sending nervous shivers down the group’s collective spine.

“HA! My Haiku Magic allows me to compose poetry, and gain effects based on those poems by sacrificing them!” Basho proudly stated, crushing a tablet of paper in his fist, causing it to erupt in flames, to the awe of the crowd.

“My magic isn’t really anything special,” Squala stated bashfully, rubbing his head. “I can manipulate and command dogs, but not a whole lot else.”

“And I can create effects by playing my flute.” Melody added in a soft tone. The Witches pondered that briefly, but accepted it, not every form of magic was going to be out there and radically different from what they knew.

“W-What is this!?” Odalia whispered, drawing the group’s attention to her and Selena, who were both shuddering over the predictions Neon had given them. She whipped around, wild eyes staring at Neon, who cocked her head in confusion. She marched over, oblivious to the stares her actions were garnering from the group, and the level glares of Neon’s bodyguards, all prepped to intercept her. “Are you certain this is accurate!?” She demanded, almost rabid fear in her eyes, waving her prediction in emphasis.

“Hmm?” Neon made a questioning noise, uncomprehending? “What do you mean? Neon’s predictions are always right!” She huffed, confused and annoyed at the idea of her predictions being wrong. Didn’t this old lady know anything!? Whatever was written would happen, completely true! Silly old lady! ...Why was she still getting closer?

With a scowl, Odalia drew level with the childish girl, her temper and fear mixing into a recklessness-inducing cocktail. “Now listen here!” Odalia hissed, reaching out towards the girl, oblivious to the mounting anger of her guards, as well as the fear flickering in Neon’s eyes. “Do you have any idea-”

“Miss Blight.” Luz called out sharply, drawing the woman’s attention. Glancing around, she blanched at the scene; her daughter’s guests were staring at her in a mix of fear and disgust, while Amity and the Park girl were glaring at her in a mixture of disappointment and rage. Her daughter’s guard, the human girl, Luz, was watching her with a carefully blank face, idly flipping a glowing knife in between her hands. The Neon girl’s guards were preparing to attack her, she noted with dread, and when she turned her gaze back to Neon, she finally noticed the way she was trembling, along with the faint tears in her eyes. Flushing, Odalia quickly pulled away. “Oh my dear, I am so sorry, child! I-I have no idea what came over me-” Odalia hastily explained, twitching slightly.

“Save it.” Luz said flatly, subtly moving in between Neon and Odalia, and also between Odalia and Neon’s guards. “Don’t worry, people have reacted a lot worse to Neon’s predictions in the past, they just usually aren’t in the same room as her when they do so. I would recommend heading back to your husband for the night.” She ‘suggested,’ idly cocking her head to the still upset group surrounding them.

Odalia flushed, but didn’t argue. “I believe you are correct in that respect.” She gave a shaky bow. “I bid you all a good evening, and I hope the Conjuring goes well.” And with that, Odalia beat a hasty retreat, mind swirling over what to tell Alador.

Skara cleared her throat, wanting to dispel the tension in the air. “Well then! Unless I’m wrong, the Moon should be in position for the conjuring to start!” She said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. The Witches grumbled, still tense after Odalia’s little scene, but no one argued, wanting to move on from the uncomfortable moment. Amity sent a worried glance towards Neon, who quickly waved it off after noticing the attention.

“Oh, go have fun! I’m fine!” She said, a shaky grin on her face. With a scowl, Amity relented, heading over to the others. Amity, Cat, Amelia, and Selena formed a circle of four, while Gus, Willow, Bo, and Skara formed another, each surrounding one of Amity’s old dolls. As they started chanting, the guards, Neon, and Luz watched on.

Kurapika turned an inquiring gaze towards Luz. “Do you know what’s going on?” He asked, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Luz snorted. “Apparently, this is supposed to be a Lunar Ritual that animates an object through the magical power of the Moon.” She explained flatly, her blank face showing how good of an idea she considered that.

Tolico stared, his dumbfounded expression mirrored by his fellow guards. “Are… they insane?” He croaked out, even as Neon cocked her head, not understanding.

“From what I’ve seen, the Isles has a very loose understanding of safety and wellbeing, beyond healthcare.” Luz replied, staring off into the distance. She leaned up against the wall. “Plus, from what I can tell, the Ritual is pretty minor stuff, and some cultural drift has more or less shot it in the foot.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “Hmm? What do you mean by that?” He asked.

Luz jerked a thumb at the ceiling, a smirk on her face. “The Ritual works by calling the power of the moon into the target through its Light, or at least that’s my understanding of how it works.” She gestured around. “Kind of hard to draw light into a target when all but a fraction of it ends up colliding with a building first.” Her smirk shifted into a thoughtful expression. “Although, it would probably be a different story if the house was possessed or merged with an animate existence; then the spell would probably just use the house itself as the target instead.”

Kurapika gave a wry grin. “I imagine you won’t be telling them until after they fail, correct?” He asked rhetorically, Luz’s mischievous laugh being all the confirmation he needed.

Luz, growing serious, sidled up next to Neon. “Hey, NeNe, you feeling okay?” She asked softly.

“Huh? Of course I am, LuLu!! She just got a little m-mad is all.” Neon said in what she must’ve thought was a reassuring tone of voice, a few alarms starting to go off in the heads of her guards.

Luz arched an eyebrow. “Oh? But you flinched when she reached for you.” She said, slowly sliding closer.

“T-That’s because I’m not used to people t-trying to hurt me ‘cause of my predictions!” Neon blustered, eyes shifting back and forth.

Luz eyes glistened. “Neon, show me your arm.” She said softly.

“Nono! I don’t wanna!” She cried, yanking away from Luz. Her guards glanced between themselves. Technically, they were required to do something, but if their and Luz’s suspicions were correct…

“NeNe, please. I can’t help if you don’t let me.” Luz said in as kind but as firm a voice as she could manage, gently trying to coax Neon close, worried she might scare her.

Hesitantly, fearful tears in her eyes, Neon allowed Luz to creep closer, and slowly pull back her sleeve. Luz did her best to keep from hissing at the sight. Neon’s arm was coated in bruises, blotchy and smeared, running the length of it, with a few looking as if they were cuts! Luz had a sinking feeling that Neon had many, MANY more all across her body. The tears flowing now, Luz glanced up to Neon’s sorrow-filled face, the image of burning rage branded across her guards’ faces in the background. “How long has this been going on?” She said softly, trying to keep Neon calm.

“S-Since *Hic!* m-my-y 11th birthday.” Neon confused, hiccups breaking up her words as tears started spilling out. “I-I d-don’t know-w w-why he *Hic!* keeps getting m-m-mad! I try to b-be a g-good-d girl, b-but he k-keeps getting angry!” Neon cried, her tears staining hers and Luz’s shirts. “I-I just want P-papa to be happy, but I can’t! A-and he gets mad, and hurts me… is something wrong with me?” She asked, almost begged, as snot started bubbling up from her nose, her face covered in red blotches of tears.

“No.” Luz stated firmly, tightly pulling Neon into a fierce hug, pressing the sweet girl’s face into the crook of her neck, uncaring of the snot and tears that would end up staining the outfit. It didn’t matter nearly as much as the hurt girl in her arms. “You did NOTHING wrong. He’s your father, the man who’s supposed to raise you, to protect you, and he betrayed that. He’s the one with something wrong with him. Not you… never you.” With that, what little self-control Neon had kept vanished, and she pulled fully into Luz’s embrace, tears surging as she silently wailed into her friend’s clothing.

‘She feels… like Mama’s hugs.’ Neon thought to herself.

‘She feels… so fragile.’ Luz wondered at the feeling of the delicate girl clinging to her, previously in joy… but this time in sadness and heartbreak. Luz’s thoughts shifted into rage. ‘If I EVER see her bastard father again… he’s not walking away.’

As Neon cried, Luz turned to her guards, mindful of supporting Neon’s weight while she did so. “So… what’s the plan?” She asked, fully prepared to rip the group apart if they were even considering bringing Neon back to that man.

The guards exchanged glances, before nodding in unison. Kurapika stepped forward. “We are not letting Mr. Nostrade getting his hands back on Miss Neon.” He said gravely, his voice brooking no argument. “We all accepted this job knowing it would bring us into contact with unsavory individuals, and that we may end up being required to do rather horrible things. But we all have lines we will never cross; enabling an abuser is one of them.” He stated, the other guards nodding in agreement behind him.

“The fact that our contract states that we’re supposed to be protecting the lassy from anything wanting to harm her just adds extra incentive.” Basho said, giving a humorless laugh. “We never expected that meant keeping her safe from her own father!” His grin shifted, showing all teeth. “We let the little miss down, ignoring the signs. If that piece of trash even comes near her, he dies.”

“Good.” Luz said flatly, turning a tender look towards Neon, who peaked her head up. “Hey, NeNe? You mind answering a question?”

“Okay.” Neon said timidly, cuddling up against Luz’s side. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, why did you come to the Isles?” Luz broached.

“Because… I didn’t want Papa to find me. I wanted to go somewhere he could never take me back.” Neon said softly, glancing away. “I wanna live like a normal girl. I wanna have friends.” Tears started pricking her eyes again. “I want to wake up, and see sunshine.”

Luz gave a heartbroken smile, clutching the girl tighter. “Don’t worry, you will.” She pulled Neon tight again. “I swear it.” She whispered to herself.

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thefreakishmuffin · 4 years

Text

Hetalia is coming back, and I have some thoughts...

Alrighty everyone, here we go! As if 2020 couldn’t get more insane...

(This is a longer post, so I’ll add fun gifs to separate the walls of text so it isn’t so exhausting to read).

So, if you’ve been on the internet since the early 2010′s, you’ve most likely seen, or at least heard, of an odd show called Hetalia. This anime, with the manga originally created by Hidekaz Himaruya, was later adapted into an anime. For those who are either new to the internet or have been living under a rock for the last decade, Hetalia, first going under the name Hetalia: Axis Powers, is a show about different events in world history and world politics, all being portrayed by people who represent different countries. Each country - or character, you could say - is essentially the embodiment of all their respective country’s stereotypes.

For example, Germany is extremely strict, loud, militaristic, and often angry or stubborn. Italy is an absolute coward who is obsessed with pasta and beautiful women. And America is an over-the-top, loud, bombastic, arrogant dork who is constantly downing fast food and calling himself a “hero.” The list goes on and on, but you get the idea.

Hetalia was, and still is, an extremely weird show. And with season seven on the horizon, coming to us in Spring 2021, I feel like I ought to talk about it. And why am I taking the time to talk about it?

Because I am a veteran Hetalian.

(Me laughing but slowly dying inside)

You read that right. Throughout all of middle school and the first few months of high school (almost four years), I was an absolute obsessive Hetalia fangirl. Outside of the internet, I was the biggest fan I knew, along with the guy who was my best friend at the time. We’d binge watch the show, read and write fanfiction, bring others into the cult fandom, talk about it almost constantly, draw fanart, watch the funny mmd video compilations on YouTube, delve really deep into world history, quote and reenact all of our favorite scenes - we even cosplayed England and Prussia one year for Halloween! This was the show that made me the HUGE history nerd I am today! I even got a book on the complete history of Prussia one year for Christmas.

Yep. We were those kind of fans. (Not gonna lie, as a now twenty-year-old woman, I still kinda cringe looking back at my middle school years. But I was having fun, so who cares?)

So when I heard we were getting another season after a five year hiatus, you’d think I’d be super stoked that a show I was once madly in love with was coming back from the dead, right?

(The part of me that is thrilled about Hetalia returning)

Well... It’s a little complicated. I won’t lie that I am really excited for this new season, and I’m of course gonna watch the entire series over again in preparation for it. But I have some hopes, worries, and mixed emotions about everything happening, and everything that may or may not go down when the season eventually airs, including the time leading up to it. I even have a particular topic I want to get to, but you’ll see that later in the post.

To address my worries, we first have to go way back to the early days of the fandom. For the most part, the Hetalia fandom was just really weird, fun, nerdy, and quirky. Nothing wrong with that. I feel like the fandom already had an odd reputation, but at least it wasn’t a bad one. That is until we had some... How should I say... Toxic behaviors and incidents start to take place.

Allow me to explain. How I see it, every fandom has some kind of toxicity level. The toxicity level is from the fans who are, well, toxic. We all know who they are, and you’ve likely met at least a few here and there. And the toxicity levels vary from fandom to fandom. In some it’s very low, and in others it’s very high. I wouldn’t say the Hetalia fandom’s toxicity level was super high, but it wasn’t incredibly low either. We had the usual problems, like some intense shipping wars and people debating on different ideas and headcanons, but the Hetalia fandom had something a bit different going on.

(My two personalities trying to coexist in peace)

You see, a lot of people didn’t like - or even hated - Hetalia, because they saw it as racist and offensive. If you admitted you liked Hetalia outside of the fandom, you ran a definite risk of getting either shunned or degraded for it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you had a group of fans - a rather small group of fans, mind you - who did some pretty insensitive things that ended up landing the fandom in some serious hot water.

You’d have people in that small group of fans who’d openly do the Nazi salute while cosplaying Germany at conventions, and there was even the incident where you had fans cosplaying as Nazi Germany to the holocaust museum, where they decided to pose doing the Nazi salute. I even saw a cosplay of Germany and Prussia pointing guns at the Star of David, which is a well known symbol of the Jewish faith. Not to mention the fans who seemed to fetishize Nazi Germany and Prussia. Now, I may not know about everything these people did, as I was pretty good at staying on the light side of the fandom, but these were some pretty well known and disgraceful problems that everyone would find out about sooner or later.

Sadly enough, it was that small, tiny percentile of the fandom that did things that were so offensive, so wrong, that it was greatly magnified by others, thus giving the fandom its toxic, even cringey reputation. And I really hope we don’t have to relive that all over again.

(Me singing songs about punching Nazis and eating pasta)

So what I hope is that we are able to leave all of that behind us. Though I’ve already seen some Twitter users try to start drama all over again by reposting the offensive cosplays, and Tumblr users getting their panties in a wad because they apparently have nothing else better to do. But because a vast majority of the Hetalia fans are like me in that we’ve grown older and matured, I’m hoping we can help guide the younger, newer fans in the right direction.

And I won’t deny that I am very worried about the newer fans getting harassed and bullied on social media. I don’t have a lot of advice when it comes to the haters, other than the usual ‘ignore them and don’t respond’, tactic. But just know that if they don’t leave you alone, you can always block them.

And here’s another bit I want to touch upon. While I can completely understand why people see this show as racist and offensive, I honestly don’t think it is. If anything, I think it actually teaches us something. And no, I’m not talking about history right here. I’m talking about the stereotypes, and how they are portrayed. I think this show helps us to understand that all of these different stereotypes we have about different people and countries are all stupid and silly.

Do we actually know a German who is exactly like Hetalia’s Germany? No. Do any of us know an Englishman who is identical to Hetalia’s England in every way? Of course not. This series helps us to understand that the stereotypes so many of us hold onto today are nothing more than just stupid, silly old ideas that have been blown far out of proportion over the years.

Many people try to claim that this show is overtly racist and tries to divide, but in my opinion, I think it ties us together.

(My last two braincells writing up this post at around midnight)

At the end of the day, I’m incredibly excited and eager to see the new season of Hetalia, and everything that it will have in store for us. And it’s fun too look back on all the nostalgic memories I have of this show. This is all I have to say for now, but I may or may not be coming back to this topic in the future. Might even make another blog for Hetalia while I’m coming back to the fandom. After all, this is known as the fandom you can’t escape from.

Now if you excuse me, I’m gonna go press play on Hetalia: Axis Powers episode one, and let myself spiral into insanity once again!

#aph #hetalia #hetalia is back #hetalia 2021 #aph thoughts #hetalia thoughts #hetalia analysis #aph analysis

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Treasure- Part 4

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Kim Hongjoong (Ateez)

Genre: Fantasy AU, Pirate AU

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut at the end, language throughout

Tag List: @ pastel-crystals @ purpleprincesslea @ x-lilyofthevalley-x @ baekxhwa @ bootysand @ suju-hit-me-like-a-wreckingball @ yunderfullthings @ dreamshopesforward @ kiara-reighns @ fivesecondsofsarang @ speedilyunadulteratedcandy @ sansugar @ xxhzxqhxx @ erica-kay @ teeztheflag

Despite his promise, Hongjoong never demonstrated more than a comfortable camaraderie whenever he requested my time. I was always expecting the command to which I would willingly obey, but the Pirate Captain usually offered me a quiet dinner with surprisingly civil conversation. He often asked about my life back on the island, posture relaxed while he listened to me speak. It was a surprising shift in character considering Hongjoong’s initial attitude when I was brought on board. Now, he treated me less like a prisoner and more of a possession to be treated with care.

As for the rest of the crew, I enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with the other pirates. In the mornings, Yunho would always prepare breakfast, ensuring that I was fed before his members. When the sun was at its highest point, I sometimes assisted San and Wooyoung with their chores down below the main deck. And at night, I envied the mysterious Yeosang who kept watch from atop the crow’s nest for potential threats. On occasion, the younger boy would allow me to join him up there amongst the stars, looking out over the ocean and listening to the splash of the water against the hull.

At other times, the crew gathered together in the evenings to play a rather unique card game. On the first night, I had watched them from afar, learning through observation how to play the correct hand. Because there was a certain science to the game that involved a lot of wits and careful planning. It was also important to keep a close eye on San and Wooyoung who were more than willing to cheat their way to victory. When I finally felt confident enough to join them for the very first time, I sat in the middle of the troublesome boys and joined the chaos that was becoming a very competitive gambling tournament.

I had also become well-acquainted with the other crew members on Hongjoong’s precious ship, like the brilliant Jongho who demonstrated on more than one occasion his uncanny strength. There was also Park Seonghwa who was in charge of navigation. He liked to find the strangest places to unfold his maps, charting our next course with precision. I admired his careful organization, keeping attention to detail as he explained his work to me with a passionate tone. And I was almost positive that he was a certified genius.

Finally, there was Mingi, the older pirate who still regarded me with an air of contempt. It was obvious that he didn’t like me very much, but I think he tolerated my presence since the Captain still allowed me onboard. Because that was the one thing that all these interesting characters had in common, their profound loyalty to the baffling Pirate Captain who had proven to be nothing like I initially believed.

In the end, everything always came back to Hongjoong who I had slowly started to feel comfortable around. He was deeply affectionate with his crew members, and I was starting to become a recipient of his caring nature. It certainly made life more tolerable on the ship, especially when it was obvious that I had earned their respect.

Currently, our crew was set to sail for the fabled British waters. Hongjoong intended to keep his promise to the Pirate Lords and lead a series of attacks against the naval vessels. He wanted to set an example, hoping to demonstrate his power in an effort to dissuade future Commodores from attacking innocent Pirate crews.

We had been sailing for almost a week without reprieve and I was starting to feel the effects of being away from land for so long. I never complained because I felt like I had no reason to voice my discomfort when Hongjoong never forced me to work like the others. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to sit still throughout the day and watch everyone else move about the ship while I had nothing substantial to do for fun.

This is why I decided to create my own special version of the card game, twisting the rules of what the rest of the crew had already established. Thus, I settled against the side of the deck that morning, organizing a blank set of cards that I had procured from Yeosang who always possessed the most interesting objects. Hongjoong found me later that day in this predicament, resting in the shadows as I shuffled through a deck of cards. “It’s not a game to play alone,” the Captain greeted me.

“I’m trying something new,” I told him in return.

“New?” he chuckled, leaning against the banister. “I’m impressed.”

“Just wait,” I grinned. “I want to try it tonight with the other guys. I think it’ll keep San and Wooyoung from trying anything nefarious.”

“Obviously you don’t know them very well,” Hongjoong said. “They always find a way to break the rules.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said determinedly. “Was there something you needed?”

“A request,” he replied. “If you’ll accept?”

“I guess it depends on what you want,” I said.

“Just your time,” Hongjoong said. “Tonight in my cabin.”

“Oh?” was all I said in return, remembering the last time I had visited Hongjoong’s cabin, expecting him to act on his promise from a month ago. Instead, the Captain had me sit on his bed while he busied himself with Seonghwa’s maps, occasionally asking for my opinion on a particular route. I was surprised that he wanted my input but entertained his questions until he quietly dismissed me without another word.

“We might reach British waters as early as tomorrow evening,” Hongjoong said.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Don’t think less of me, love. There are difficult decisions ahead of us.”

His words confused me, but I knew it was impossible to figure out Hongjoong’s intentions. “When should I come?”

“Midnight,” he said, sparing me a quick, fleeting glance before he returned to the helm.

“Hello, boys,” I grinned, shuffling through the stack of cards in my hands while observing their current game.

“What do you want?” Mingi grumbled, barely paying me any attention while shoving a cigarette between his teeth.

“I have something fun for us,” I said. “A new game I made.”

“A new game!” Wooyoung perked up, disregarding the favorable selection of cards in hand to look at me with wide eyes. “What is it?”

“Something I spent all afternoon working on,” I said, dropping the cards onto the edge of the table. “We should play this instead.”

“No thanks,” Mingi said, rolling his eyes while he attempted to return Wooyoung’s attention to their game.

“It might be interesting,” San spoke up, abandoning his cards to retreat around the table, standing over me with his chin tucked on my shoulder.

“Thank you, Sannie,” I grinned, grateful that the younger boy had always been there to lend me his support since I first stepped aboard the ship. When he wasn’t causing all sorts of mischief with Wooyoung, San was a pretty remarkable person who was incredibly intuitive.

“I want to try Y/N’s game,” Wooyoung said, leaning against Yunho for support. “Please?”

Despite his tough appearance, Yunho was actually warm-hearted and he held a soft spot for Wooyoung. “I don’t mind,” he said.

“Whatever,” Mingi grunted, kicking back his stool with more attitude than necessary. He glared at me as he passed by before disappearing below the deck with a muttered curse. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Yunho were already clearing the table of the discarded bottles of alcohol while Seonghwa politely sorted through everyone’s cards.

“Okay,” I said, sliding into Mingi’s abandoned seat. “The rules are simple.”

In actuality, I did my best to make the game as convoluted as possible. Because it left no room for Wooyoung and San’s cheating if they could barely grasp the concept of our card game. Plus, I was still determined to challenge Park Seonghwa who was far too smart for his own good.

For the most part, the game was very similar to the cards the boys had taught me when I had been first welcomed. Back then, I often sat next to Yunho or Jongho and allowed them to talk me through every move and careful decision. I learned rather quickly and started playing on my own, even though it was often difficult to emerge victorious when it came to Wooyoung and San. Still, it was nice to feel like they wanted me around with the exception of Mingi who continued to insist on ignoring me whenever I happened to come around.

“What do the dice have to do with anything?” Wooyoung asked now, obviously quite irritated as he struggled to understand the rules.

“It depends on the card you draw,” I explained. “Certain cards allow you the opportunity to roll the dice.”

“Oh, whatever,” San huffed. “Let’s just play.”

“No problem,” I agreed, shuffling the cards before distributing seven to each player who had joined our small circle while the other crew members lingered in the background.

I held up my stack, passing my eyes across each card. “I’ll start with this,” I said, turning over one of my cards.

Wooyoung studied my card with intense scrutiny. “Okay, I’ll put this down,” he said, somewhat hesitant in his movements.

After everyone played their first card, I carefully explained how betting would work during each round. “Two chips each,” I said.

“How do you come up with that?” San asked, clearly perplexed as he watched me slide two of my tokens into the center pile.

“I told you at the beginning,” I said, laughing at the look of utter confusion on his face.

I waited for each player to select a new card. “Does anybody have something that can complete a hand?”

“Me!” Yunho yelled, swiping a golden-tinted card from his stack. “An automatic completion.”

“No fair!” Wooyoung protested, watching Yunho drag the pile of chips in his direction.

“I don’t see a problem,” Yunho quipped in return. “Who draws next?”

“Me,” San quickly interceded, reaching for a card from the shrinking deck at the center of our table. “What the hell does the horse mean again?”

“Take another two cards,” Seonghwa replied, an intense look of concentration sharpening his features.

“My turn!” Wooyoung grinned, but I knocked his hand away before he could take a new selection.

“We have to wait for San.”

“This is so confusing,” Wooyoung whined, slamming his cards down against the table with a pout.

Meanwhile, San examined his cards with narrowed eyes. “Four of a kind,” he grinned, presenting the cards in overdramatic fashion. “I get to roll the dice now!”

“Let me check,” Wooyoung insisted, snatching San’s cards away with a heavy sigh. Meanwhile, San was already throwing the dice across the table.

“Six!” he said, holding out an expectant hand. “Pay up, assholes.”

With a grimace, Seonghwa reluctantly pushed his chips in San’s direction. “This game makes absolutely no sense.”

“Of course it does,” I said. “I spent all afternoon working on this.”

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job,” Wooyoung muttered.

“You’ve been complaining all night,” I said while observing my remaining cards. “Nobody forced you to play.”

“Yeah? But there’s nothing better to do,” he complained. “You’re gonna win anyway because you actually understand what’s going on.”

“Really?” I smirked. “Since you can’t cheat now!”

“I never cheat,” he lied smoothly. “Sometimes, I try and help my situation.”

“By cheating,” Yunho said, shuffling through his cards as he tried desperately to find what he was looking for. “Fine, I don’t have the stupid Dragon so Seongwha wins.”

The ship’s navigator grinned triumphantly while dragging Yunho’s chips into his rapidly accumulating pile. “It looks like Seonghwa understands.”

“But he’s a genius so it doesn’t count,” Wooyoung said.

“Are you saying that you want to give up?” I challenged the younger, but Wooyoung was never one to turn away from an obvious taunt.

“I’ll figure it out,” he insisted, even as his chip pile continued to grow lower and lower with each subsequent round of play.

Eventually, despite Wooyoung’s best efforts, it came down between me and Seonghwa and I was suddenly more determined than ever to win. “My heart completes the hand,” I said, exposing the card so that he could clearly observe my victory before reaching for the pile of chips.

“But I draw first,” Seonghwa said, eyeing his new card with interest.

I frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled, tucking it away before adding an extra chip to our new betting pile.

But I knew Seonghwa better than that at this point in time. And I was on edge the longer we continued to exchange cards and chips, waiting for the finishing blow. “I have money on you Seonghwa,” San said, growing impatient as he started to pace back and forth.

“I hope it wasn’t a lot,” I said, finally securing the card I had been waiting for, playing it shamelessly as I sat back in my chair with a smirk. “I win.”

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, fingering the edges of the familiar card he had previously drawn. However, he eventually released a dramatic sigh, returning his cards to the pile before pushing his chips across the table. “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Wooyoung squealed from behind me. “That’s the first time Seonghwa has ever lost!”

I felt a warm pride settle in the center of my chest as I counted the chips in front of me. “He can’t be good at everything.”

“I guess I’m not,” Seonghwa said, offering me a quick wink before giving up his chair to an eager crew member who was demanding that we play a new game. I was quick to acquiesce, grabbing the cards to start shuffling while watching Seonghwa from the corner of my eyes. He was talking to Yunho, smiling brightly despite his recent loss, which confused me because I didn’t think Seonghwa would take to losing so generously...And I couldn’t help but think that Seonghwa had let me win on purpose.

I knocked on Hongjoong’s cabin door at midnight, prompt as usual since the Captain emphasized organization and timeliness to the rest of his crew. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be willing to make an exception for me. After all, Hongjoong rarely raised his voice around me anymore, even if I did something mischievous like raid Yunho’s store of chocolate with Wooyoung.

“Come inside,” Hongjoong said when he answered my call, taking a step back to allow me enough room to slip in through the doorway.

“You know, this is rather late even for someone like you,” I remarked, admiring the display of candles on the mantle.

“Yes, but the crew are asleep,” Hongjoong said. “We’ll have privacy.”

I arched a brow at him. “Is there something you want, Captain, that necessitates privacy?”

He smirked knowingly. “I just want a promise from you this time, love.”

“A promise from me?” I repeated.

“Yes,” Hongjoong nodded. “It might not make any sense now, but it’s important to me that you keep your word.”

“Of course I will,” I affirmed, even if I wanted to point out the hypocrisy behind Hongjoong’s words.

“There might be a moment when you feel like I’ve treated you unfairly,” Hongjoong began, and his serious tone suddenly seemed out of place. “I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you. Even if it might seem like I did, you have to remember this moment.”

I simply stared at the Captain. “What’s going on?”

Hongjoong sighed like the entire weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“It doesn’t seem that way,” I said, watching him sit down at his desk. “I’m worried.”

“Don’t be,” Hongjoong said, grabbing a pen from its ink container. “My intentions for you, love, always take into account your well-being.”

It didn’t seem that way to me, especially since Hongjoong seemed burdened by everything he was saying. “You seem sad,” I observed, reaching out to curl my fingers into the fabric of his jacket. “Have I done something wrong?”

Hongjoong chuckled. “If anything, love, you’ve been too perfect.”

I shifted backward, watching as he removed the jacket to reveal a thin cotton shirt underneath. “Is that the only reason you asked me to come here?”

“Not exactly,” he said, turning his head to the side as if to make sure I couldn’t possibly misinterpret his words. “I think it’s time I keep my promise to you, love.”

“T-tonight?” I stuttered, clearing my throat because I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt so nervous.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Hongjoong said, finally dismissing the stack of papers on his desk. He stood tall over me, cornering me back against the frame of the bed. “I won’t force you.”

“I know,” I said, hesitantly reaching out to steady my hands against his chest. “But it’s been so long and I didn’t know if you were even interested in me anymore.”

He tilted my chin up, forcing our eyes to meet. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, Y/N. Never think otherwise.”

It was strangely emotional, the way he spoke to me. “I won’t,” I managed to say because my heart was racing in my chest and he was very close to me.

“Lay down,” he instructed me gently and I wordlessly complied, making myself comfortable against the sparse sheets. Meanwhile, Hongjoong had grabbed the hem of his shirt, bringing it over his head before tossing it into the floor. My breath hitched in my throat, admiring his lean torso, muscles building his frame from years of hard work aboard the ship. “You’re beautiful,” he told me earnestly. “Can you take off your clothes for me?”

I nodded in response, trembling fingers making quick work of my pants, fingernails scratching the skin of my thighs as I quickly forced them down my legs. I toed them off on the floor, reaching down for my shirt before allowing it to join the pile of clothes we were accumulating against the hardwood floors of the cabin. I slowly exhaled when I was fully naked, resisting the urge to cover myself because Hongjoong’s gaze was intense, eyes moving up and down my figure with barely constrained lust. “Perfect,” he whispered, weight dipping along the edge of the bed. I was a complete mess, barely holding back when he was hovering over me, all sinewy muscles and hard lines from the crest of his shoulders to the curves of his legs.

“Please,” I groaned, tangling my hands in the soft strands of strawberry hair before forcing his mouth against mine, kissing him with an urgency resulting from an entire month of covetous glances on the main deck.

“I want you so much,” Hongjoong said, voice husky as his words made me feel nothing short of desired.

“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting,” I teased him, despite the Captain’s crooked smile.

His kisses were scorching, igniting a flame of desire in the parts of my soul that had never been touched before. I felt his hands trail down my legs, parting my thighs so that I could finally feel his hot erection. “Yes,” I moaned, breaking our kiss to look at the place where he was sliding inside, bringing us together intimately while he started to nose along the side of my neck. “I can’t trust myself around you, love,” he said. “You make me a very dangerous man.”

His cock hit deeper. “You were already dangerous, Captain.”

Fingers brushed teasingly down the sides of my waist, thumbs digging into the jutting bones of my hips. “Let me try again,” he insisted. “I can’t control the way I feel and that makes me dangerous to everyone, including myself.”

I moaned when his teeth followed the curve of my neck, arched back against his ministrations. “Which is a bad thing?”

“Very,” he agreed. “When I would sacrifice everything, even my own life, just to see you safe.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said, gasping at an aggressive thrust that nearly knocked the air out of my lungs.

“Look at me,” he growled, a sound that went straight to my growing arousal, but I still forced my eyes to open. “I do mean it,” he said. “I would do anything for you.”

I started crying, the weight of his words and the heavy presence between my legs were all playing with the delicate string barely anchoring me to reality. He was a master of seduction, breath hot as he moved in closer to my ears. “I’ll ruin you.”

That was all that I needed to tip me over the edge, losing myself completely to Hongjoong. I cried into his shoulder, gripping tighter to the smooth skin of his broad shoulders, riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure and verging on overstimulated. “Hongjoong,” I gasped, feeling his grip on my thighs tighten as he pushed in harder, barely allowing me any room to breathe. His lips were messy as they demanded long, passionate kisses.

“Hold on for me, love,” he said, hips rocking against mine for a moment longer before stilling completely.

He collapsed next to me, chest moving up and down to accommodate his exhaustion. “You weren’t a liar,” I commented with a delirious giggle, crowding even closer to him with one arm wrapped over his waist.

Hongjoong was quiet, the only indication that he was still awake being the slow way his fingers traced along my spine. Finally, he gripped my chin, tilting my head to meet his gaze. I was surprised to see the sadness there, despite our previous coupling. “I love you,” he whispered earnestly while a few stray tears fell from the corners of his lovely brown eyes.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

To Challenge The Flow Of Fate PT. 4

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: So, AO3 counts the words on your stories and stuff, and if you add up all the parts I’ve written so far plus this, it’s like 11K words. Which is impressive to me. Enjoy! -Thorne

She had just fastened the last belt when his voice reached her. “(Y/N)! Get over here!” She stuck her head out from the side of the shelf and called out,

“Gimme a minute, I’m still getting dressed Trevor!”

“Are you seriously taking the armor?” (Y/N) scoffed and attached the cape around her neck.

“Uh, yes? This armor is the greatest creation to ever be made.” She eyed the sword next to the armor stand before grabbing it and fastening it next to the other blade down her back. She walked over to where the others were, smiling at Adrian as he sat atop the bookshelves. Trevor glanced at her, examining the armor.

“It looks very…ostentatious.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes before placing her hands on her hips.

“Trev, just say ‘showy’. Your brain will explode if you think about words that big.” Her insult drew a chuckle from the vampire, but she continued with, “The armor itself is made from dragon scales, and the accents are pure silver.” She turned, showing the silver armor lining her arms. Trevor crossed his arms and asked,

“I thought dragons went extinct?” (Y/N) shook her head.

“Not necessarily. While it’s true that a great deal of them were slain and harvested, a great deal more went into hiding. They’re still out there, you just can’t find them as easily as you could centuries ago.” Impressed, he nodded before acknowledging the sword strapped to her back.

“And the second sword?” (Y/N) grinned, pulling it out and showing it to him.

“It’s called ‘Starfang’.” He took it, admiring the runes carved into the metal. “It was forged from ore that fell from the heavens.” Trevor blinked, running a hand up the flat side of the blade.

“It’s…beautiful.” Her grin grew and she added,

“It’s deadly too.” She pointed to the runes. “The carvings are enchantments.” He handed the sword back, watching as she returned it to its scabbard. “What did you want me over here for?” He nodded at the shattered mirror.

“Do you know what this is?” (Y/N) momentarily glanced at it before looking back at him and nonchalantly replied,

“Seven years back luck?” He huffed a laugh.

“Probably…but what the hell is it?” Sypha looked up from a book she was reading.

“You two don’t know?” The siblings shrugged and shook their heads. “This is your house.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that neither of us have been in for almost a decade and a half.” Trevor smirked as he wiped a hand across it, looking over his shoulder at the Speaker.

“Do you know everything in your house?” Sypha moved closer to the mirror, turning to him with a sarcastic look.

“I don’t have a house.” A voice sounded from higher above them.

“She doesn’t have a house.” The three looked up and Adrian. “She’s a Speaker. She’s a nomad.” Trevor glared at the vampire as he hopped down from the bookshelves.

“It was rhetorical.”

“Rhetorical house that she doesn’t have.”

“Just, tell me what it is.” Sypha glanced back at it.

“It was a magic mirror.” Adrian pointed at it.

“Also known as distance mirrors.” He ran his gloved hand down the side, feeling the runes. “Some of them even allow matter to pass through them, but…” He paused a moment. “No. No this is a simple remote viewing mirror. A little of the activating language is chipped.” He looked back at the trio. “A few of the runes need re-cutting but workable.” Adrian smirked at her brother. “You have the most fascinating family junkyard, Belmont.” (Y/N) internally sighed as her brother got in the vampire’s face and fired back,

“You’re a cock wart, Alucard.” Sypha pulled his hand down, tugging him away.

“Stop it.” She pulled Trevor around the shelves. “You are an adult. You do not have to rise to his every barb.” (Y/N) couldn’t see his expression, but she knew it was one of irritation.

“He’s pissing me off like it’s his job, Sypha.” Before the Speaker could get a word in, (Y/N) quipped,

“Oh no, someone else knocking my brother down a few pegs besides me. What ever shall we do?” The two ignored them, going off into their own conversation, leaving her next to Adrian. When laughter sounded from behind the shelves, she watched Adrian’s expression change, then he looked over his shoulder towards the noise; she gave him a sad smile. “You didn’t have many friends growing up, did you Adrian?” He turned his head back around, staring at her with careful eyes.

“What makes you say that?” (Y/N) hummed, running a finger down the mirror.

“Every time the two of them start laughing, you get this…confused expression on your face, like you can’t understand what’s so funny.” He continued to watch her with his guarded look.

“Maybe I don’t understand.” She huffed a laugh, turning to him.

“Oh, don’t even go there. You’re smarter than the lot of us, and you definitely know when someone’s making a joke.” (Y/N) paused, thinking of her next sentence, then she murmured, “It’s because you’re too guarded.” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“Too guarded?” She nodded.

“You’re too cautious. You won’t allow yourself to get close to us because you’re afraid of what might happen.” Evidently, he didn’t like the way the conversation was headed, because he narrowed his eyes into a glower.

“And what am I afraid of happening?” (Y/N) gazed at him and challenged,

“You’re afraid that if you let yourself get close to people, what happened to your mother and father will happen to you.” She watched Adrian’s expression morph from anger, to shock, to realization, and she placed her hand on his arm. “You’re scared that something will take what you care about away, and you’ll be left alone.” He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but no words came out, and the sound of a tolling bell reached their ears. He looked up, listening to the chimes.

“What was that?” She moved her eyes to the ceiling.

“The tower clock. It strikes at twelve times at midnight.” (Y/N) looked back at him, leaning close to nudge him in the ribs. “Adrian Tepes, I’ve officially known and been your friend for four days now.” He looked down at her, golden eyes boring into hers.

“And that means?” She flashed him a smile, nudging him again.

“Means that no matter where we are, or what roads we take in these lives, I will always be on your side.” He blinked in stunned silence, and she reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Now come on. There’s a whole bunch of weird shit in here that needs to be seen by the two of us.” Adrian complied, letting her tug him around.

“Why does it need to be seen by us? We’ve both agreed that we’re not overly fond of what your family does.” (Y/N) nodded as she dragged him to a shelf full of things she didn’t even know how to name.

“Well yeah…but all the more reason for us to go see the weird shit my family hoarded and take the piss out of them. Like…that!” She paused, pointing to a plant that was lined with rows of sharp teeth. “The fuck kind of mutated Venus Fly Trap is that?” She then pointed to a stone head sitting on another shelf. “And that! Who the fuck keeps a stone head in a case? And over there!” (Y/N) turned to another shelf, starting to pull him along when he tugged her to a stop. She spun back around, looking at him with a questioning gaze. Adrian gave her a small smile and shifted their hands, lacing his fingers with hers. When she glanced down at their joined hands, then to back his face, she noticed a faint pink dusting his cheeks, as he murmured,

“So I don’t lose you.” (Y/N) grinned and squeezed his hand, pulling him along.

A Few Hours Later:

She rested her head along his arm, leaning her body against his as he flipped through the index. She had her own book in front of her, occasionally flipping through the pages, reading the various entries. “For a monster hunter that hates monster hunting, you sure do enjoy reading about them.” (Y/N) hummed, adjusting her head against his arm.

“It’s not that I ‘hate’ hunting per se. There are some creatures that cannot be dissuaded from evil or cured of their circumstances. Those creatures are dangerous to innocent life. Regardless, I might dislike hunting them, but it can’t hurt to be knowledgeable about them.” She turned the page and nodded at it. “Take the ‘Revenant’ for example. It’s a term that’s been used interchangeably to describe vampires and ghosts, but most agree that it’s the basic term for the undead. There are various descriptions of them ranging from the Nordic countries to all of Europe.” Adrian paused, looking down at the book.

“How so?” She flipped through the pages.

“See here?” (Y/N) pointed to a page with a drawing. “That’s a Revenant, but in the Nordic countries, they call them Draugrs or Aptrgangrs. It translates to ‘again-walker’, or one who walks after death.” She flipped back to the original page. “The entries are even different. In Nordic indexes, the Draugrs are emaciated, with their skin stretched out over their skeletons. But they still retain their strength, and are extremely difficult to fight and destroy, as they’re impervious to many types of weapons. Here in Wallachia and the surrounding countries, indexes describe Revenants as the corpses of the dead that have been reanimated by powerful demons, capable of killing entire squads of even experienced warriors. They’re…” (Y/N) trailed off, shifting her head so she could see his face. He looked at her, waiting for her to finish, and she laughed nervously. “Sorry…I talk a lot about stuff like this.” Adrian smiled, shaking his head.

“No, please continue. It’s interesting to learn the differences of the creatures of the night between countries.” (Y/N) nodded, moving her eyes back to the book.

“Okay, well…even vampires are considered different in other countries. They’re also mistaken for other creatures too. In Wallachia, the term ‘Strigoi’ was used until the term ‘vampire’ and ‘vampirism’ came into being. Others call vampires ‘Vrykolakas’ or ‘Pricolici’, but that’s incorrect. Vrykolakas, while sharing characteristics with vampires, engage more in cannibalism as they prefer to eat livers, and Pricolici are werewolf and vampire hybrids, living life as a werewolf, but once dead, returns as a vampire. Actually, that’s where the belief that vampires can turn into animals such as wolves, dogs, owls, and bats, came from. In other coun-” (Y/N) cut herself off as she raised a hand to her mouth, yawning. “Mmm, sorry. As I was saying-” This time, Adrian cut her off.

“How long has it been since you slept?” (Y/N) glanced up at him, shrugging her shoulders.

“Dunno. Yesterday morning, I think? A few hours before we left.” He frowned at her.

“You think? You didn’t sleep in the wagon?” She shook her head.

“I was trained to sleep only in places where there was no movement.” He arched an eyebrow and inquired,

“Why’s that?” (Y/N) pulled away, stretching her limbs.

“Sleeping on a surface that is immobile allows to hear and detect things that are approaching you. I get on wagons and I become too alert to sleep.” He gestured to a bookshelf, and they sat down next to one another.

“When we fought the night creatures after we left Gresit, you said you could sense them. You could also hear their footsteps.” (Y/N) nodded, reclining against the shelf.

“At Ravensguard, hunters and huntresses undergo extensive training and experimentation to enhance their bodies. As a result, we achieve the ability to wield magic, our bodies are stronger, and our senses are enhanced greatly.” Adrian glanced down at her and wondered,

“The processes sound dangerous…I can’t imagine that many survive.” With a grimace, (Y/N) nodded.

“Very few make it…even fewer are able to handle the stress it takes on the mind and body.” She paused then whispered, “…I almost didn’t.” For a moment, he didn’t respond, then he leaned close, gently taking her hand.

“What made you fight to survive?” (Y/N) sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“My brother.” Adrian grunted, but she smiled and added, “My parents learned at an exceedingly early time that I wasn’t going to carry on the Belmont name like Trevor was. And while they loved me, they couldn’t take me continually refusing to adhere to it. Our family has always had a tie to the Order, so as soon as they could, they sent me to the fortress.” She went silent, then said, “I don’t think my parents knew that only a few people survived coming out of there alive, so I know they didn’t send me there hoping I died.” Adrian squeezed her hand and asked,

“How old were you when they sent you away?”

“I was nine. I trained until I was eighteen, and when I left and traveled back home, I was met by a ruin.” (Y/N) clenched her jaw, trying to suppress her hurt. “The only thing that kept me alive during my training was the thought of coming back home to see my brother, the one person who respected that I didn’t want to be a supernatural hunter, and I returned to a burned down home and no family in sight. I travelled for a year and a half before I ran into him. And it was pure luck that I did.”

“What happened?”

“Hunters and huntresses aren’t exactly ‘given jobs’, we simply protect and bring justice where it’s needed. In my search for Trevor, I’d heard of a town that was being plagued by supposed dead men walking. I travelled there to see if I could help, and I was run into by a drunkard who was stumbling out of the inn.” She gazed up at him, a grin on her face. “Three guesses on who the drunkard was.” He chuckled, and she thought back to the moment she re-met her brother.

The militia seemed happy to see another fighter amongst them, especially one who was trained. She walked down the street after leaving the mayor’s home, intent on finding the inn so she could get a meal before going to search for the origins of the undead that plagued the town. She paused, waving over a young boy who couldn’t have been older than ten. “You there, young man!” He walked over, looking at her as she waved a gold coin. “Got a coin here for you if you tell me where the inn is, and any other news you’ve heard.” The boy’s eyes grew as he stared at the coin in her hand, and he nodded excitedly.

“Go to the end of the street and take a left, there’s the inn. I haven’t heard much, but I heard the militia saying that old man Thompson was the one making the dead come.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

“Why’s that?” The boy shrugged.

“I don’t know but Ma says he dabbles in the dark arts like the Belmonts did.” Her jaw clenched at the rumor, but she pushed it aside and asked,

“One more question and the coin is yours. Where’s old man Thompson live?” The boy pointed to a house far outside the town.

“He lives in that house over there. He doesn’t come out much since his wife died a year ago.” (Y/N) glanced at it and frowned, then turned and tossed the coin to the boy before heading off towards the inn. She’d just reached the doors when they slammed open and a figure stumbled into her. She caught him, holding him up right.

“Hey. You okay there?” The man nodded and rambled,

“Y-yeah…just had a few drinks.” (Y/N) tipped her head to the side as she stared into his face; the man frowned at her. “Somethin’ on my face?” Realization hit her and she whispered,

“Trevor?” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her, then his eyes went wide and he breathed,

“(Y/N)?” She smiled, laughing tearfully, and exclaimed,

“I can’t believe I’ve run into you! I’ve been looking for you!” A smile grew across his face and it held for a second, then he grimaced. She felt her heart sink as she asked, “Trevor? What’s wro-” Her words fell short as he bent over.

“And he threw up all over my feet, then went, ‘wow, I feel so much better now.’” (Y/N) watched Adrian cover his mouth as he laughed. When he calmed, she laid her head back against his shoulder and mused, “We’ve been together ever since.”

“You two are remarkably close for not exactly growing up together. And extremely protective of one another.” She nodded.

“We’re all the family we have…it’s our job to look out for each other.” (Y/N) grunted. “Other times I want to push him off a cliff because he’s the biggest pain in my ass I’ve ever had.” Adrian snorted and she yawned again, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Personally, I make it…my job…to…return the…favor…” Adrian felt her go slack against his side, and as he looked down at her, he realized just how exhausted she was. He smiled, gently placed his coat over her body, enjoying the way she snuggled closer, and closed his eyes too letting himself rest his head against hers.

#adrian tepes imagines #adrian tepes imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x reader imagines #adrian tepes x reader imagine #adrian tepes #alucard #castlevania #castlevania imagine #castlevania imagines #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #vlad dracula tepes

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carelessgraces · 3 years

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@potterstillstinks said: 🎉 ( new year’s kisses | accepting )

There’s something to be said for the Frostback Mountains in the winter. The whole world around them is still, smaller animals hibernating through the winter while their larger cousins walk soundlessly across the snow. She’s made unexpected eye contact with a deer twice tonight, first with a faun that had scrambled back to his mother at the sight of her, later with a stag, twice her size and infinitely more graceful, that had gone along his way, unwilling to be deterred. He’d come so close to her that she could have reached out to stroke his side, and she’d shivered, in part from the cold, in part from the reminder that even with their quest, she is still so very small.

They are perhaps a day’s walk from Orzammar; she’s so excited she couldn’t sleep, and she knows this is a visit with a serious purpose but the thought of being allowed into the city’s halls makes her almost giddy. The part of her raised to never miss an opportunity for diplomacy wonders if they’ve ever considered trading with Antiva. The part of her that’s never felt closer to the stars than she is right now simply wants to see, to know.

She’s staring up at that sky, at those stars, when she hears him; his footsteps are familiar to her by now, after the tortuous days spent in the demon-infested Circle tower, when she’d had to learn the sound of his steps quickly. After weeks of travel, walking beside him and laughing. He and Morrigan had ended up with the first watch, the first time the two had been left alone since then. It’s part of why Astoria’s come so far from camp. Their separation had been ugly; if they’re rehashing that argument, she doesn’t want to hear it, and if they’re working things out, she wants to hear that even less.

Astoria turns to face him and offers a smile, something soft in place of her usual expression. Draco smiles in return, coming to stand beside her, just close enough to touch. “Is your watch finished, then?” she asks after a moment, and he tips his head back to look at the sky.

“Just about,” he says, and he casts her a quick look and a crooked grin. “But if Morrigan and I are to finish the night without arguing, perhaps some space is best. I thought I might investigate a noise I heard.”

“Oh?”

“Yes; sounded like the soft steps of some Antivan assassin or another. All I found is a girl — too small to do any damage, and with hair too red to hide in all this snow. Surely Morrigan won’t mind if I investigate further.”

Astoria laughs despite herself, the sound quiet enough not to break the stillness and peace of the night. “We reach Orzammar tomorrow,” she says after a moment. “Are you ready?”

Draco’s eyes don’t move from the night sky, but his jaw clenches for a moment, and she thinks he’ll lie to her but instead he lets out a long, slow breath through his nose. “No,” he says finally. “No, I’m not ready. I haven’t been ready for any of this. But it must be done, mustn’t it? Whether or not I’m ready doesn’t change that: we must seek out the dwarves to fulfill their end of the treaty. The Blight isn’t going to wait for me.”

She nods, and she takes a step closer to him, as if to guard from the cold. His eyes flicker towards her, but he says nothing. When she speaks again, her voice is softer still. “I’ve been counting the days,” she says. “Today — this morning — is the first of Wintermarch.” The start of a new year; normally there would be feasting and celebrations, First Day revelries in any town, in any city. Now, they’re trudging through the mountains, cold down to their bones, preparing for a task for which none of them are ready.

Still. Still, she thinks, the company is better this year than it has been in the past.

Draco lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “And what would you be doing to celebrate, if you were home, Princess?”

“Dancing,” she says immediately. “We would all be dancing. There would be a banquet — wine overflowing, more food than anyone could ever need, the entire city welcomed into the palace grounds. Celebrations lasting for days. My great-grandfather, he invited the elves, too, but there was violence the first year, and none came the second, so he sent wine and food and musicians to the Alienage instead. And when the clock struck midnight, and a new year began, the revelers kiss, to invite good luck in the coming days.”

“Not a bad way to celebrate.”

“Not at all. What would you be doing?”

“My mother would be planning a feast — for the nobles, and the wealthier merchants. Some token show of charity for the poor in the bannorn. My father would be leaving it all in her hands. Midnight spent in the Chantry, in prayer — ” He pauses, wrinkling his nose. “ — and when that charade was passed, we would walk past the celebrations in the taverns and the inns, back to our quiet estate, and celebrate the following day. All propriety. All good manners. No wine flowing, no dancing, certainly no kissing.”

She takes another step closer, and she knocks her shoulder lightly against his. “You should consider going to Antiva for your holidays,” she says, tone teasing.

Draco turns to face her, knocks two knuckles lightly under her chin. Astoria pretends not to notice the way her face flushes at that, hopes it’s too dark for him to see the change in color. “If I had good company,” he concedes, “I would go anywhere. And when you are queen, you can bring your Antivan traditions with you; I think the people of Denerim would enjoy some real revelry, after all of this.”

“We’d have to import nearly a thousand barrels of Antivan wine,” she teases. “But the whole city would transform — there would be explosions of color, and music, and even your constant rain and fog wouldn’t send anyone indoors.”

“And who would you kiss, to invite good luck in the year to come?”

Astoria pouts in mock seriousness. His hand shifts, fingers gripping her chin lightly, and she tries — and fails — not to shiver. “It depends,” she says.

“On?”

“Well, where is my husband during the celebration?”

“He’s nowhere to be found — in the crowds, let’s say, trying to reach you in time.”

“Then a kiss to a laborer; a gesture of acknowledgment and appreciation.”

“And if your husband is beside you?”

“What is he doing?”

“Waiting to be kissed, of course.”

Astoria laughs, and she bites her lip, but his eyes are on hers with a surprising heat and her palms are tingling at the closeness of him. After a beat she leans forward, pushing herself on her toes until she can reach him, and he immediately rests his free hand at her waist, as if to steady her. When she speaks again, her mouth is barely a breath from his, lips brushing his as she speaks. “We would have been dancing, then,” she murmurs, “and the clock would strike midnight, and the people would turn to watch their king and queen. We would need to set a good example, of course. So I would smile, and step closer, and I would kiss you. Very gentle. Very chaste. We are being watched, after all.”

She leans forward to demonstrate, the slightest brush of her lips along his, and she grins when he chases after her, even as she rests two fingers over his lips to stop him.

“Those good Fereldan manners,” she teases. “Everyone would be so proud of your restraint. But I’m Antivan, you remember, as Antivan as I am Fereldan, and so when you wrapped your arm around me to pull me closer still, I would simply have to throw that restraint out the window, and kiss you properly. It would be a bit of a scandal, of course, the queen behaving like this, but after a civil war and a Blight, it would be the welcome sort of scandal.”

Obediently, the hand on her waist shifts, skating across her back and around her, and he pulls her as tightly against his chest as he can. She doesn’t move her fingers from his lips. He has the most wonderful mouth, she thinks absentmindedly. He hasn’t shaved since they left Haven, and she’s been fascinated by the sight of it, the way it sharpens his features. She’s wondered what it would feel like, with his face buried in her neck, his hands on her much like they are now, but perhaps wandering more —

— she moves her fingers and kisses him again, properly this time, hand moving to card through his hair, hips pressed to his. And he responds, hungrily, appreciatively; his grip on her tightens, almost as if he can tell that her knees are starting to feel a little weak, and the hand at her chin moves to curl possessively against the side of her neck. When he draws back from her, he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, then the corner of her jaw, then the curve of her neck; he drags his teeth along the skin there and when she lets out a whine, quiet and strained, he bites, hard enough to make her shudder against him, hard enough to leave a mark.

After a beat he traces the indentation of his teeth in her skin with his tongue, before pressing a kiss, as gentle and chaste as her first, just below her ear. The scratch of his scruff against the raw skin of her neck makes her shiver again.

And then he releases her, taking a step back, and she very nearly stumbles into his chest. Draco’s lips twitch into a smile, the expression shockingly fond, and he bows his head to kiss her once more, this time slow, sweet, lingering. After a beat he speaks, his voice low, a little hoarse.

“The first time you were kissed like that in public would be a scandal,” he promises. “The fifth time, it would be... expected. Unremarkable, to them.” His fingers brush the red skin of her throat, press lightly against the bite mark; there’ll be a bruise there in the morning. After a moment he takes in a breath, and he looks at her, really looks at her. “Would you find it unremarkable, too, if it happened enough?”

She takes in a shaking breath. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she pulls, only just, but enough to knock a sound of surprise and satisfaction from his throat.

“I couldn’t say for certain,” she tells him, a little breathless. “Perhaps we should try.”

#v. all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. ( main timeline: dragon age | origins )#potterstillstinks #i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#iii. i want you the way i want the sea: wildly. recklessly. gloriously. ( draco x astoria )

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holdmekhh · 4 years

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I Like You, Do You Like Me? -Pt.1 (Jealous!Seungyoun / Enemies to Lovers)

Artist/Person : Cho Seungyoun/WOODZ

Group/Crew : UNIQ/X1

Genre : SMUT/ Semi-Angst/ Fluff

Words : 3.6K

Requested: “ hi can you please write a super jealous seungyoun smut w daddy kink 🥺 i love your writing sm 💕💕”- Anon

A/N; I’m soooo sorry this was posted so late, I was on the road... But enjoyyy!

____

If looks could kill, Seungyoun would’ve been a goner. Her eyes were set ablaze at his grinning face. He stuck his tongue out, laughing obnoxiously when she stuck up her manicured middle finger. “Fuck off, Cho!” She hissed, her friends grabbing at her arms when she started to march towards the boy and his group of friends. “Is princess angry?” He mocked, a fake pout on his lips making her growl softly and fight against her friends’ hold. “Just let it go, he’s dumb.” One of her friends muttered, making the other one nod. “Let’s go get some lunch.” They nodded, glancing to each other and forcing her around as they led her away from the area. “Have fun, princess!” She heard him call to them, making her groan softly.

“Why do you idiots do that shit? Just fucking ignore him.” Her friend, Kendall rolled her eyes. “You know why.” Her other friend, Erin, laughed as she wiggled her eyebrows. “They’re gonna end up fucking. We all know it’s gonna happen eventually.” The look of absolute irritation took over her face. “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “But, nevermind that topic, are you guys gonna help me with my art assignment?” She muttered, half focused on pushing the bobby pins back into her hair to keep it neat, but keep them well hidden. “Of course, we’re helping you. The only person I’d let paint my fat ass.” Erin laughed, head falling back. The three were best friends, all having met in middle school and stuck out together up until now, their second year of college. There was Kendall, a dark chocolate goddess. She was tall, standing at 5 '11, and thin. 100% stereotypical model material but was a complete tomboy, top it off with a genius scientist brain. Then, there was Erin, a gorgeous Mongolian queen. She was average height and was curvy as hell, though she wouldn’t agree with that statement. And, last but definitely not least, there was Y/N. She was introverted and didn’t like many people, and usually looked at people in the light of an art piece. Which isn’t always the best, or healthy way, to look at others when she didn’t fancy them too well.

“Yeah, stay like that.” She muttered softly, looking at her friends through her camera lense before snapping away. “Turn your right side in just a little more. Shoulder forward. Yes, just like that.” She whispered at the end, adjusting the camera before snapping away for more photos. “Why’re we taking pictures instead you painting?” Erin muttered, raising an eyebrow at Y/N just as she snapped another picture. “Because if I just painted you guys and had y’all standing there, then it would take too long of y’all standing. With pictures-” She moved around and got close, snapping a few more before stepping back to look at the shots on her camera. “I can search through them and find which one I like the best and want to paint. We’re done by the way.” She stated, making the two rush over and look at the pictures. “Ugh, I’m so fat.” “Shut up, Erin. You look good as hell. Like, yo-look at that ass!” Y/N laughed and Kendalls words, nodding along silently as she glanced to her blushing friend. “Alright, go get dressed you two. Y’all can stay here and chill, order food and watch me paint, if you want.” She sat at her desk, connecting her camera to her desktop and transferring the photos. She’d become a master at these motions, getting the pictures transferred and a couple of them printed onto large pieces of photo paper in no time. Standing, she moved to set the photo down on a part of her eisel, against the canvas. “We’re gonna head out. Skype sesh in a few hours, so we can see how far you’ve gotten.” She hummed out in confirmation, looking back as her friends left. Overly exaggerated waves and blown kisses were exchanged until they disappeared, leaving her all alone in her studio.

It’d been almost 7 hours since Kendall and Erin had left, and she still hadn’t gotten to the actual painting. Melanie Martinez was blasting in the room, here eyes focused intently on the canvas as she continued to sketch the body and attire of her friends. She’d decided to make it into a greek renaissance kind of style, draping the drawn figures in soft strokes of silks. She was so into her painting, she didn’t hear the knocking on her studio door until the song ended and left a pause before the next one started. Her head whipped around to stare at the intruder through the glass barrier, eyebrows furrowing. Moving over, she lifted the needle from the vinyl and halted the music. Standing to make her way over, she pulled open the door with a soft grunt. “What?” She deadpanned at male in front of her. Wooseok was his name, he hung out with the asshat Seungyoun, but for the most part never gave her issues. “H-Hey...um, I wanted to ask um- I was told by the professor that you would be a good art history tutor...and I need a tutor for this upcoming test.” He stuttered along his whole speech, cheeks getting redder and redder the longer she stared at him. She nodded softly, “Okay. My pay rate is 10 an hour, so if you’re cool with that, I’m down to help.” Her voice was still emotionless, stable and clear as she stared at him making his stomach do backflips. He nodded, hold tightening on his backpack strap. “Would it be a problem if we did our first session now? It’s okay if not! I don’t want to intrude...I know you don’t really have the best impression of my character.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as it heated up. She merely looked at her watch and shrugged. “I planned on being here for a few more hours, so why not.” She opened the door wider and stepped to the side, allowing him in.

The look of pure wonder took over his face as he looked around the room at all of her paintings. They were masterpieces. Pieces that could easily go for thousands. “You can pull out a chair from over there or you could sit on the couch.” She sat back down in front of her eisel, starting to sketch again. He watched for a few heartbeats, eyes intently watching how she held the pencil and stroked it lightly across the fabric of the canvas. “So, what level are you on? 101, 102?” Her voice made him jump back into reality, rushing to grab his material out his backpack. “U-Uh...101.” He stated, ear heating up in embarrassment, and nervousness. She was one of the top art students, he didn’t want her to look down on him because of his level in the subject, especially because he was a year above her. But, she simply nodded, asking him questions about the topic of the test. She stayed neutral throughout the whole session, explaining things that he needed extra understanding of. She even halted her drawing to give visual examples a couple of times. Then, she looked to her watch and stood from her seat and stretched. “Well, Wooseok, it’s almost midnight and I have to get back home.” She stated, watching the male nod and start to pack his things. Grabbing her bags of books and materials, she led him out of her studio, shutting off the lights and locking the door. “I’ll have the payment for you in cash tomorrow morning, promise.” He smiled after walking her to her car, making her nod as she got in. “Okay, see you around.” She started the vehicle and pulled out, going back to her apartment.

“Oh, look who’s here. Did you miss me, princess?” Seungyoun’s grinning face almost made her regret walking over, but the awaiting payment in Wooseoks hand made it worth it. “As if. I just came to get my money, then I’ll be out of here.” She deadpanned, walking to Wooseok as he slipped it to her with flaming cheeks. “My studio, tomorrow at 6.” She stated, making the blushing boy nod, before turning and walking away to her other class. “And what the fuck was that?!” Seungyoun stared confused as Hangyul started to poke at their friend for answers. “She started tutoring for my art history test…” “Since when?!” “Last night…” Seungyoun felt his face contort into one of disbelief. “Look, my professor suggested her to me and told me where to find her. She said she’d do it, and her pricing isn’t that bad. And, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass with her helping me.” And though Wooseok’s words made sense, Seungyoun couldn’t help the intense feeling of irritation as he clenched his jaw.

“So you do tutoring?” At the sound of the familiar voice breaking the silence that surrounded her, made her huff in annoyance and roll her eyes. “I’m doing work right now. So, kindly, fuck off.” She stated bitterly, keeping her eyes trained on the books and laptop that sat in front of her. But, her eyes squeezed shut as the chair across from her was pulled out and he plopped in it. “What do you want, Cho?” “For you to tutor me.” The laugh that slipped through her lips was genuine as her head fell forward. “Fuck off.” “I’m serious.” He deadpanned, making her raise an eyebrow as she looked at him with complete amusement. “Is this because I’m tutoring your friend?” The chuckle that left her as his ears turned pink was soft. “I’m only tutoring him for the cash. And because it’s easy shit that I know. We’re on the same intellectual level, you and I, surprisingly. You don’t need my help, and even if you did, I wouldn’t help you.” She spoke so softly, he almost didn’t process her words because the tone made his heart flutter. “Now, leave me alone. I have work to do.”

As expected, the male never left from his spot across from her, but he did stay silent as she worked. She could feel his eyes on her most of the time, but he didn’t speak another word to her. At one point, he’d even started on his own tasks, headphones covering his ears completely as he worked diligently on his activity. When she looked up from her computer screen, her eyes red behind her glasses as they rested low on her nose. Stretching, her lips parted in a satisfied whimper as her muscles pulled and bones popped. Her eyes shut as she rolled her neck and cracked her fingers. She’d been sitting in the same position for hours, working sedulously and unmoving, so the tug and snap of her body was very welcomed. Both to her, and to the male across from her. The soft sounds that slipped from her lips didn’t go unnoticed by him, having stopped the track he’d been working on to add some more things. His heart fluttered and his stomach did backflips as the sounds flowed to him, making his breath catch in his throat.

Days had gone by, Y/N and Wooseok becoming a bit closer through the process making it easier for her to tolerate him and his friends that sometimes came to pick up their friend. Today was the final tutoring session, ending the two weeks, and to say that Wooseok was nervous was an understatement. Y/N could tell, immediately trying to talk down his nervousness, even getting a few words of encouragement from Seungyoun who’d invaded their session. Y/N didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t interfere because this wasn’t just a hang out, she wouldn’t allow people who weren’t her best friends into her studio just to hang out. She was doing business in the situation, and also helping out an art-ignorant fellow student. “Look, think about it this way… As long as you get a 75, you’re not a complete failure.” She states simply, eyes still focused on her canvas as she slowly stroked her brush over the material. The piece was almost done, needing a few more finishing touches before she would put the finishing gloss on. It’d taken so long to get the piece done, as she had actual work for school to finish between painting sessions. But, the time was worth it to get the perfect result.

“Okay! Well, I have to get out of here. I have night shift tonight.” Wooseok muttered, standing and stretching before packing his things. “See you.” Y/N called over her shoulder, barely pulling her focus away from her art. After the door shut, it was silent for a long time. She’d even reached over and placed the needle of her record player onto the vinyl that rested on the inside, letting the soft jazzy instruments fill the space of her studio. The lights were dim, she had a couple candles lit, and she had incense burning in a small corner of the room where she kept a few gems. Soft hums left her lips as she swayed softly to the tunes, completely in her element. She thought she was alone, until she felt breathing on her exposed shoulder making her freeze. Slowly turning her head, a loud gasp left her lips as she came face to face with Seungyoun. “What the hell, Cho?!” She squeaked, hand resting over her chest as her head fell back, giving the male an heart fluttering view. “What?” He muttered, smiling gently as he eyed her. “I thought you two left!” “Wooseok did, I wanted to stay back and watch you finish. It’s intriguing, seeing you in your element.” He stated, straightening himself to go look around at all of her works. She was still settling back after the scare he’d given her, merely watching him with shaky eyes. “You’re really talented.” “Thanks.” She muttered, feeling her insides twist as he studied each piece. “Can you explain these to me?” He asked gently, making her stand and walk over. She was nervous, stomach doing backflips as she approached his figure, because no one had ever asked her to explain her art work to them. “Which one?” She muttered, standing next to him as he pointed to a piece of two people morphing into one another. “That one...I did my freshman year, I think. I was going through a really hard time, figuring out who I was at the time and who I was becoming.” The soft hum of acknowledgement made her look to him as he pointed to another one. “That’s my sister...my favorite person. She was reading in the middle of the libary and looked so intrigued with the book she was reading, which peaked my interest and I had to capture the moment. I sketched it and later on resketched it on a canvas and painted it like a greek sculpture.” She chuckled at the end, making him smile as he pointed to another and another before finally turning to her and eyeing her. “And what about your outfit for today? What inspired this one?” The shock was evident in her features as her ears started to heat up. “M-My outfit?” He nodded, “I always notice your outfits are usually dark and very grunge-like. Today, though...seems super sexy and elegant…” She cleared her throat, looking down as her ears heated more. “I had a showing today…” “M’okay...tell me about your outfit. What fabrics? Tell me about the pieces you chose.” Suddenly she felt small under his gaze, clearing her throat again. “So...my top is actually a silk slip dress that I thrifted for like 3 bucks. My skirt is a silk, a vintage piece I got from my granny...and the shoes that I wore with it were a treat to myself, because they were almost 200. Oh! I also wore a cute pinstripe blazer over it, so I could cover all of my tattoos.” He nodded, smiling as he watched her, “You also left your hair out.” She subconciously ran a hand through her afro of curls, humming softly. “I like them…” He muttered, having moved closer to tower in front of her. She gasped softly as she looked up to him. The way he was looking down at her made her stomach twist and heart race; it was filled with such adoration. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, making her nod without hesitation as he smiled gently.

His hand raised slowly, burying into her curls as he leaned down slowly to gently brush his lips against hers. Finally, pressing their lips together completely, he stood still as he waited for her react. The slight pressure of her pushing her lips closer to his made his heart swell and his other hand to move to cup her waist, pulling her to his body. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, like beautiful, full clouds. And her hair, so soft and bouncy as it curled around his palm. Pulling back slightly, he smiled against her lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, princess.” The nickname, along with the kiss, made her head go fuzzy. “Princess…” He muttered softly, chuckling when she whined softly. “Stop calling me that…” “Why?” He smiled as she pushed face into his chest. “It makes me tingly…” She muffled out. “Now it does....after all this time.” “Always has.” At that, his chest tightened and his stomach knotted, body stilling as it heated up. “Really?” He squeaked, making her nod as she chuckled into his shirt. “Why were you always so mean about it then?” “Because it made me tingly…” The loud laugh that ripped through him shook her, making her whine.

The days after that were mutually less aggrivation filled, and she’d almost thought that he liked her until she saw him flirting with another girl at a frat party the weekend after. She knew that shouldn’t be so hurt, because they just kissed and everyone just kisses, but she was. Add that to her being high as hell, and petty as hell, it was a big uh-oh moment. Walking up to Wooseok, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her to the dancefloor. “Woah...you okay?” He asked making her nod, though a soft pout played on her lips. “Is it because of Seungyoun-ie?” He leaned in to mutter in her ear, unknowingly giving her the advantage of seeing over his shoulder slightly. She made eye contact with Seungyoun, a sly smirk finding purchase on her face as she silently nodded to Wooseok’s question. Pulling away to look her in the face, he kept his face close enough for her to hear him. “She’s been flirting with him all night, but I don’t think he’s really interested.”He stated just as they heard a throat clearing, pulling away to turn to the interrupter. And there, in all of his fuming glory stood Seungyoun. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” She shrugged stubbornly, rolling her eyes as he gently grabbed her hand and led her to one of the bathrooms. Shutting and locking the door, he turned to lean against the door. She sat on closed toilet, his low gaze on her form as she looked to him with reddened sclera. “What was that about, princess?” His voice was stable, calm and relaxed. “I don’t know, ask your little girlfriend.” She snipped back with an icy tone, eyes rolling when he chuckled softly. “You saw that, huh?” He pushed off the door, and crouched in front of her. “Is that why you acted out with Wooseok, princess?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes again making him clench his jaw. When she turned her head, he caught her chin between his fingers gently to turn her back to look at him with a couple of soft ‘tsk’s. “Listen, princess, she was nobody. She came up to talk to me, but I wasn’t interested. Wanna know why?” He made her stand up by slowly pulling her to him by her chin. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered, leaning down to peck her lips. “I’m only interested in fucking, kissing, and loving my princess. M’okay?” He muttered, kissing down the column of her neck to latch onto her throat as she whined. His hands cupped her butt, rubbing it gently before gripping it and lifting her up. “You’re so light, baby.” He chuckled, nipping at the skin of her neck softly, smiling when she whined. “So cute…” He cooed, sucking at the skin with a grin.

Setting her on the sink, he pulled her head back by her hair. “So pretty.” He hummed, staring down at her before running his nose over her jaw. “I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” The growl in his voice set waves of arousal to her core, causing her to whine as she clenched around nothing. “Daddy…” She cried as he tugged on her hair a little, making him freeze. “What’d you call me?” He muttered, feeling his adrenaline spike and heart speed up. “D-Daddy…” She muttered, face flushed and eyes blown as she stared at him wide eyed. His head fell back, eyes squeezing shut, as he growled lowly. “You’re gonna make me ruin you, princess.” He stated, voice having dropped a couple of octaves in a raspy groan. “Let’s go back to mine?”

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worddevdealswithml · 4 years

Text

Failed Step 1 (And 2 (And 3))

Chapter 24: Dear

The handwriting was… off. Kagami’s handwriting, as she’d learned, was thin, and precise, all sharp corners and careful lines.

This… This wasn’t, exactly. The writing looked like she had been… Tired? It seemed like she hadn’t been as composed as usual. There was a faint, brownish smudge, that looked like it could have been long-dried blood.

‘Dear Kagami,

How dare you try to imply that I have anything less than the utmost ability to stomach unpleasant things when I need to. If I didn’t, I would never have even considered stepping into your house, and I definitely wouldn’t have been willing to dance with you. If you really want to remind yourself what I’m capable of withstanding, then by all means, I’ll grab my foil and drag you a bit closer to losing to me at fencing, too.

In fact, I think you already know how much I can put up with, since I can only imagine that your refusal to fight me stems from the fear that sooner or later, I would surpass you.

And just so we’re clear, I would.

-C. Bourgeois’

‘Dear Chloe,

I’m not surprised that you took offense to an insult I didn’t make. I didn’t say or imply that you couldn’t put up with difficulties outside of your food. If you took offense at the idea, I can only assume that it’s because of your own self-doubt.

As for why I refuse to fight you, I assure you, it’s not because I believe you would ‘surpass me.’ In reality, it’s because you are beneath me, and I see no reason to humor you by allowing you into my house. What would I gain by fighting you, except for a pointless drain on my time? How much would I improve by fighting a girl who had only been fencing for a few months, when I have been fighting since I was a child?

More to the point, even if I could find some gain in fighting you, it would be vastly overshadowed by the option of facing off against any number of far stronger opponents, who would actually challenge me.

-Tsurugi, Kagami’

Kagami was in… a bit of a state, when she got home, and the reason, as always, was Chloe.

In the past few days, presumably since Kagami’s letter had arrived, she’d seemed practically incapable of doing anything but staring daggers at her. It seemed like every time she stepped out of a classroom, she only needed to tilt her head, and there, in the corner of her vision, would be Chloe.

Kagami had enjoyed it. The idea of Chloe staring at her with all the fury she could muster was… satisfying.

And then…

She’d been in her car on the way home, earlier today, when she’d found the article that Chloe had been unable to miss when she’d gotten home on New Year’s. By some terrible twist of fate, it had been on her recommended page.

She’d seen the picture, read the title, and almost hadn’t comprehended what she’d been looking at.

She’d clicked, in almost horrified fascination, and…

She hadn’t felt anything as she’d read the article, nor, indeed, as she’d clicked the ‘back’ button. She had stared, numbly, at her computer screen until her fingers, seemingly by themselves, clicked into the search bar and typed ‘Kagami Tsurugi Chloe Bourgeois.’

The top result was the article she’d just read, followed by a few more just like it. None of them, when she’d read through them, seemed to have any particular basis in reality, and all of them, without fail, showed that same picture from the moment just after midnight, when…

That was when the numbness had vanished, with all the subtlety of a battering ram punching directly into her stomach.

She didn’t know if she’d purposefully forgotten about what she’d been thinking, or whether it had simply been lost in all the excitement, but it was back now.

She’d been about to kiss Chloe.

As the thought appeared in her mind with an ease that suggested it had just been buried, her face had almost instantly flushed, bright red, and she’d pulled herself back into the corner, in the hopes that her driver would have less of a chance of looking at her.

She had stared at her phone, hoping that somehow it would turn out that she’d just misread something on her phone, which had put the idea in her head, or…

She’d been about to kiss Chloe.

The thought had pounded in her head like a heartbeat, or a headache, and even as she’d carefully kept her motion composed on the way back to her room, she couldn’t quite lift her eyes from the ground, for fear of someone catching sight of her face, or, perhaps out of shame at the fact that she had so little control over her own thoughts.

She shut the door behind her, and, not even looking around, dropped into her chair.

She leaned back in her chair, the heels of her hands pressed into her forehead, hoping that somehow, she could force the thought to resolve itself into something else.

But nothing happened.

Seconds passed, and then minutes, and she finally opened her eyes again, and…

There was no apt description for what she felt when she saw the envelope on her desk, unless it be the existential dread that most people would treat an eldritch abomination with.

She stared, and, for a long second, her mind seemed frozen, whether by terror or something else, she didn’t know.

Finally, with a shaking hand, she reached out, and slipped a thumb under the flap of paper holding it shut, barely even wincing as the paper cut her enough to draw blood.

Slowly, she extracted the letter.

‘Dear Kagami,

Who, exactly, says I’m not a challenge? I’ve hit you. You know, for a fact, that I’ve hit you. So please, tell me where exactly you get the nerve to talk about me like I’m some easy win.

I would have expected you would have learned by now that treating me like anything less than your biggest threat is not an option. Ignoring me is not an option. If you think that the New Year’s Ball was a one-time thing, then you’re even dumber than I thought.

You’re going to lose this fight, Kagami. Maybe when your back’s to the wall, you’ll understand that.

I’m going to find out.

-C. Bourgeois’

‘If you think that the New Year’s Ball was a one-time thing…’

‘You’re going to lose this fight…’

Kagami knew, of course, that on some level, Chloe had no idea what exactly was going on inside her head, but right now, it felt like her mockery was jabbing at something deeper than usual, and the idea…

She felt sick.

The first thing Chloe noticed as she picked up the envelope was… It wasn’t quite right. That was to say, the fold of paper that was meant to hold it in place was… less perfect than usual?

It was improperly sealed, was the point.

She opened it, and, extracting the letter inside, almost thought that this must have been from someone else.

The handwriting was… off. Kagami’s handwriting, as she’d learned, was thin, and precise, all sharp corners and careful lines.

Chloe would almost have thought that this wasn’t Kagami’s writing, yet, at the bottom, it was still her name.

She looked back at the top, and started reading.

‘My Dear Chloe,

Where has Queen Bee been when the heroes needed help? Why have they only called on her when they can’t afford to leave even the smallest asset off the table? I believe it’s for the same reason that you are incapable of acknowledging even the slightest possibility that you’re anything less than a goddess in human form. You truly believe you’re better than anyone else, and it makes you think that setbacks are coincidences, and successes are natural.

You have not won. You will never win, and your assertions about being my biggest threat are, to use your favorite word, ridiculous. You are far more of a nuisance than you are a threat, and in large part, the reason you are annoying is that you completely refuse to accept your circumstances.

You say that I’ll ‘understand’ when my back’s to the wall. You have no idea what you’re talking about. If you continue to force my hand, I’ll put your back to the wall, and teach you a lesson that might finally shatter your pride for good.

Kagami’

Chloe’s brow furrowed, as she scanned down the letter.

Parts of it seemed familiar, like things that Kagami would have said anyway, but parts of it…

Take the handwriting, for example. Kagami didn’t underline things. Her handwriting should have been better.

And the bit about Queen Bee… She could be offended about it in a minute, but right now, it was just weird. Kagami had never brought it up, and…

It felt like Kagami had grabbed whatever she could find and just flung it at Chloe.

She put the letter down.

She’d seen Kagami today, right? She’d seemed… Normal? Of course, it was hard to tell, since she was always so expressionless, and, of course, it was the 24th, so she had that tournament tomorrow, but still, if anything, she’d seemed less inclined than usual to return Chloe’s stare.

That didn’t seem right, if she was really that angry over the letter.

So… What?

Chloe scanned the letter again.

Again.

And…

She’d almost missed it, eyes focused on the words below, full of fury.

At the very top…

‘My Dear Chloe.’

She stared at the paper.

That…

Chloe furrowed her brows, and went to pull out one of Kagami’s older letters.

‘My Dear Chloe.’

There was something strange about that. It was at odds with the rest of the letter, and it didn’t match the others she’d sent.

‘My Dear Chloe.’

It was…

When she’d said just, ‘Dear Chloe,’ it had seemed perfunctory. That was just the way that polite people started letters. Anybody would have ignored it, but… ‘My.’

The rest of the letter seemed to fade into a blur, as she stared at the top of the letter.

It… If she hadn’t known better…

It was clearly meant as a… a condescending insult. ‘My dear’ was the kind of thing you’d call a child, wasn’t it?

Yeah…

Yeah, that was it.

This was just another insult.

Well… Chloe knew how to handle insults.

Now… she just needed some paper.

#ML #Miraculous Ladybug #ML fanfic #Miraculous Fanfic #Failed Step 1 #Chloegami #Chlogami #Chloe Bourgeois #Kagami Tsurugi

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years

Text

Love Shot [1]

Pairing : Do Kyungsoo / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Some Fluff, Smut, Character Death? , Detective! AU, Mafia! AU

Words : 2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I jumped out of the car, ignoring his calls as I chased after the woman. I weaved my way through the crowd, keeping my eyes on her as she ran. I yelled at everyone to move out of the way, watching out for the gun she held in her left hand. I prayed she wouldn’t aim it at an innocent bystander. I cursed, the crowd of people getting denser as I was beginning to lose her. Suddenly I heard the sound of a gun firing, knowing it was her. As soon as everyone heard it they began to scatter. I did my best to directing them to the exit while looking out for the woman but everyone was panicking, quite a few of them bumping into me and shoving me out of the way. I almost fell to the floor a few times with everyone pushing past me. As the crowd dispersed I was finally able to spot the woman once more but she had her gun pointed at me this time. I froze at seeing that, putting my hands up. I cursed at myself for letting her get the upper hand, thinking of a way to reach for my own gun and shoot off a bullet of my own. The smirk on her face had my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. The next thing I heard was the sound of the gun firing, the wind being knocked out of me.

“Why would you just stand there like an idiot?”

His voice brought me out of the trance I was in as my eyes focused on his face, seeing him hovering over me before getting up. He looked over to where the woman stood only to see that she had already taken off. I groaned, punching at his chest lightly, sitting up.

“You should’ve tackled her instead you-” I cut myself off with another groan, “Now I have to write a whole report on how and why she got away.”

“I wasn’t just going to let you get shot.”

“Kyungsoo! I’m wearing my vest!” I exclaimed, unbuttoning my shirt and showing him the bulletproof vest underneath, “The most I would’ve gotten from that bullet is a bruise.”

I sighed heavily, rubbing my face with my hands roughly before looking over at him to see the worry that was still in his eyes. I inhaled deeply before exhaling, reaching over to cup his face in my hands gently, leaning forward to rest my forehead against his.

“The job always comes first, Soo…”

He shook his head firmly, “You always come first, no matter what.”

I couldn’t help but smile softly at his words, closing the space between us to plant a quick and soft kiss on his lips.

I ground my teeth as I stared straight ahead as the chief chewed me out. I was getting all the blame for letting that woman get away, simply because I was the one with more experience. I had only been an officer a few months before Kyungsoo joined but the chief insisted that I was the one to blame because I should know better. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at his words, clenching my hands into fists behind my back tightly.

“Don't ever let this happen again do you understand me? Now she's back with the fucking mafia and all the leads we had are useless.”

“Yes sir.” I answered in monotone voice.

The chief simply turned his attention back to his computer, not even dismissing me. I waited a few seconds before giving a bow of my head and turning on my heel. As soon as my hand touched the door his voice sounded out once more.

“I don't remember dismissing you.”

The hold had on the doorknob tightened as I flared my nostrils, screwing my eyes shut. I knew exactly what those words meant. He wanted me to stand at attention in front of his desk for the rest of my shift. I set my jaw and walked back over to him and took my position, placing my hands behind my back once more as I stared at the wall above his head. The rest of the day passed by with the other detectives and other officers lower than me coming in and out of the chief’s office. By three my feet were starting to feel it, my legs on the verge of giving out. My stomach had been rumbling but the chief still refused to dismiss me. I grew annoyed at seeing a smirk playing on his lips. The son of a bitch was enjoying this. I knew he wouldn’t let me go when my shift was over at six since his didn’t end until midnight. I ground my teeth back and forth at the mere thought of it but before my anger could get the better of me I heard the door open. I didn't dare turn my head to look who walked in but his cologne hit me seconds before he walked by me. I couldn't help but let the corners of my lips start to curl upwards.

“Sir, you've been requested at the precinct in Daejeon.”

“What? What for?”

“I don't know sir I was just told to inform you.”

The chief sighed heavily before rising from his seat. He didn't even spare me a glance as he grabbed his coat and walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him I let out a deep breath, relaxing as my legs gave out. Before I could hit the floor Kyungsoo grabbed onto my arm, somehow moving me to lay against his back, my chin on his shoulder. Within the next few seconds he had his arms hooked behind my knees.

“If he wasn’t the chief I would’ve beat him senseless for treating you like this.” Kyungsoo said in a low voice.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and nuzzling my face into the side of his neck, “I’m fine. I’ll just be sore for tomorrow.”

He scoffed, hating how I was the only one to get punished for letting Sooyoung get away. The chief simply held me at a higher standard than the other detective. He would tell me time and time again how I was the best the detective he’s seen in his thirty years on the force. He expects great things from me and when I meet anything below his expectations his punishments for me are harsh. If he knew it was Kyungsoo that allowed her to get away, though it wasn’t his intention, the most he’d do to Kyungsoo was give him a slap on the wrist, maybe take him off the case to make an example out of him. With the chief punishments for the others varied from simple to extreme but mine were always on the extreme side which only set to piss me off. I know deep down the chief means well but I never asked him to put me on such a high pedestal.

“I’m telling you the old man is obsessed with seeing you live up to every one of his expectations of you.” Kyungsoo grumbled out, grabbing our things from our desks while still carrying me on his back.

I said nothing as I listened to him complain about the chief until we reached the car. Once there he stopped talking to put our things in the back seat, opening the passenger side door and setting me down. I stopped him from leaving as I reached out to grab his forearm. I moved my hand down his arm to his hand, intertwining our fingers.

“Next time-”

“Next time I’ll do the exact same thing. I don’t want to hear you telling me that I should’ve gone after her instead and let her shoot you.” He cut me off in a firm voice, “I knew you were wearing your vest the whole time. Seeing you get shot even if I knew you’d only be bruised-”

He cut himself off, looking down at our hands before bringing them up to his lips and placing a lingering kiss on the back of my hand, “I knew you’d be fine after taking that bullet with your vest on...but...just seeing you take it would’ve been more than I could handle.”

I said nothing after that, understanding where he was coming from completely. I know he’s always wearing his bulletproof vest when we go out and canvas for cases this big but to see him actually take the bullet and go down like it pierced his skin was a different story.

[2 Weeks Later]

I threw the stack of paper on the desk roughly, rubbing my hands over my face in frustration. The mafia was getting braver and braver, committing bigger and bigger crimes the longer they were left unchecked. If we didn’t catch the majority of them soon all of Seoul would be in their control soon. First they started out with mugging people and robbing a few stores here and there but as months passed by everything started getting bigger; they were selling drugs, killing people, robbing small banks and we still have yet to capture any of them. Even one of them would make a huge difference but those bastards were elusive. I was no match for them, my skills not even comparing to theirs.

“Everyone listen up!” The chief yelled from the front his voice, drawing all of our attention, “It’s time to take these sons of bitches down and we’re going to do it from the inside.”

All of us shared looks of confusion, the chief elaborating, “We’re gonna send in our own inside man...well more like woman.”

Uttering that last word everyone in the precinct looked over to me, Kyungsoo rising from his chair abruptly. I stared at the chief wide eyed. I knew if he actually sent me in there if I was found out they’d kill me but not without torturing me first. To say I wasn’t at least a little afraid of being sent in would be a lie but before I could even dwell on it longer than a few seconds Kyungsoo spoke up. It was no secret to anyone in the precinct that Kyungsoo and I were a thing. I think the only one that was unaware was the chief so when he stepped up it came as no surprise to anyone.

“Sir if I may I’d like to volunteer to go in instead.”

I gave Kyungsoo a look to shut up but he ignored me, not even making eye contact with me as he stared directly over at the chief.

“She’s the best-”

“And because she’s the best I don’t think she should be put directly into danger like that. If something happened to her we’d have no one to take her place but if I go in and things go wrong I’m easily replaceable.” He said, showing no emotion to the chief while he spoke.

I marched over to him but before I could tell him to shut the hell up the chief spoke up, “Alright. Have it your way. Do Kyungsoo will be the one infiltrating the mafia. If he fails we send in another, Y/N will be out last resort.”

Without another word the chief went back into his office, everyone else pretending to busy themselves as I confronted Kyungsoo, “Soo you fucking idiot-”

“I don’t regret stepping in for you.”

“I never asked you to do that. I’m as replaceable as you are. We’re no different.”

“I couldn’t let you go in there on your own…especially after knowing Sooyoung had already seen your face. The moment you showed yourself before them they would’ve killed you. I’m a nobody to them. They shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my hair as I took a step back and away from him. There was no reasoning with him and the chief looked like he was perfectly okay with this. I just hoped they’d buy into whatever lie he’d tell them to get accepted in.

“If you’re found out and something happens to you I swear I’ll bring you back and kill you myself.”

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dreadlock-detective · 6 years

Note

How hard is it to choose colours for your (and my favourite) art style?

Eheh, well I canonly speak for myself, not for whoever you’re flattering by callingyour favorite, so I’ll stick to that! ;)

I suppose theliteral answer is “Usually not too hard?” but that’s boring solets see what I can ramble about color choice and such! Also I’ll put some links to James Gurney’s stuff because he is amazing and I cannot recommend his books enough!

(This’ll be in 3 sections - Color schemes, Contrast and leading the eye, and picking colors for shadows~ from longest to shortest too)

Part 1: COLOR SCHEMES

So I used to bereally bad at this until I got really into pixel art where I learneda few important lessons. First, the entire color palette workingtogether is what’s most important, not any single color, and second,colors work together in surprising ways COMPLETELY dependent on what’s around them!

For example, this isthe color palette for the Commedore 64 from back in the day. All whopping 16 colors the system could possibly display:

Individually thosecolors look pretty muddy, muted, and dull. But when you put them alltogether in an image they actually work pretty well together, because none of them completely break from the others. Usingmy own stuff as an example, I used the C64 palette to challengemyself with remaking a very colorful, very saturated screenshot from the Nintendo 64game Mischief Makers (because I love that game and both systems have“64” in the name so why not~)

So I turned this: (Nintendo 64 version, with waaay more colors available)

Into this:

Now, there’s clearly a BIG difference in the colors used, but I feel like everything still looks fine on its own. The muddy colors look a lot more harmonious when seen in an image than individually, with the brighter colors, such as the gems, even popping quite a bit.

For that second point I mentioned about colors working differently based on the colors around them, look at the character’s green hair, the green gem, and the green on the top of the blocks. They are all the exact same color. The green gem and hair, though, are shaded with a deeper, more saturated green and contrasted with a bright white, making it appear more saturated than the exact same green on the platforms, because the platforms’ green is surrounded by duller colors.

So it’s important to keep in mind that not only is each color important in the context of the whole, but also that what’s immediately around a color will massively impact how they appear, even when they are the exact same!

Important things to consider when picking colors is how close/far they are to each other in hue (the color itself, represented by the outer wheel in the image below), the saturation (how much gray is in the color, which effects how vibrant it is, which is the left->right in the box) and value (how much black is in the color, which is the top->bottom in the box).

Essentially the further away two colors are from the each other in any of these 3 directions the more they will stand out from each other. I’m not much of a teacher for color theory in general, so the best advice I can give is just to practice and to check out limited palettes other people have made and see how they handle it. In general, though, I try to keep most of the colors relatively close to each other in saturation and warm/cool colors, and then use one accent color that stands out in small amounts to make certain bits pop~

Links time!

Gurney’s post/video on Color Gamut, or manually limiting colors and how surrounding colors alters our perception of them (check out what appears as yellow in the cool colored image as opposed to the warm)

Gurney’s post on color in context and how many colors still register as bright yellow

Fun little tidbit about old cartoons made with limited palettes

Part 2: Contrast, and leading the eye!

Okay, so these other two might be a bit shorter. Basically, when you’re picking colors you want some to stand out and some to fall back. If everything is competing for attention it can be really hard to look at and the eye doesn’t know what’s important! One of the main things to look out for with this is contrast, as the eye is easily drawn to areas that are different than their surroundings.

Let me use two designs I’d had for my character Caelia - the left is her old color scheme and outfit and the right the new one:

Now, aside from minor differences in saturation, they’re actually pretty similar, but the one on the right I think works a lot better. In both of them the yellow acts as a strong accent color that can pull the eye, but on the old design on the left it pulls your eye in two directions - towards the headband and the coat trim, neither of which are actually important. Almost the entire rest of the design lacks that yellow so your eyes are actually drawn -away- from the character’s face and body. Imagine the coat being blown behind her as she’s doing an action pose and, yeah, the accent color doesn’t actually help anything.

The new design, I think, fixes that. Even though it remains an accent color the yellow now appears throughout the design. Her hair is now a lighter shade of yellow which is distinguished from the yellow on the clothing while also framing her face. Her torso now has a yellow accent on it so it draws the eye and, combined with the hair, has a strong distinction between her upper half (which is more yellow) and her lower half (which is mostly red). And finally what was the coat now wraps around her with an additional little strip on a waist sash. Now the yellow trim can easily allow the eye to figure out how her legs are positioned by how they wrap around them, instead of just hanging behind them.

It’s also important to point out that the hair is less saturated along with being lighter than the rest of the yellow - it both looks a bit more natural, blends with her skin color more, and also doesn’t compete with the high saturation in the clothing.

None of this is to say the left one is necessarily a bad design or conveys information poorly, just that the right one is a more unified design that is easier to understand at a glance. It’s something to keep in mind, but not a hard rule or anything. But remember that if EVERYTHING tries to stand out you’ll just end up with a mess.

LINKS!

Gurney on leading the eye with contrast and why what everything I just said might be bunk but might not be and also I think what I said applies better to simplified, cartoon forms as opposed to realism, since lines and blocks of color read differently than natural forms and lighting.

Spokewheeling - a composition technique that can be applied to character design as well.

Shapewhelding - another composition technique to think about, and can be important to AVOID at times (happens a lot in pixel art - dont want things melding together accidentally)

Gurney on why all of that might be bunk for general art composition anyway but might not be, but again I believe is still important for more stylized art

Part 3: SHADOWS!

Okay, so it’s nearing 1am as I write this and I’ll be honest I have the absolute least technical knowledge on this part, so I’ll tell you how I go about it but I STRONGLY suggest reading Gurney’s information on it (Again, seriously, I love his books, and “Color and Light” in particular is amazing and contains many of these posts and more)

When it comes to shading I have a pretty quick and dirty way to figure out what to do:

in case the text isn’t legible:

Choose a color for all shadows to move towards (usually a purple or blue)

Grab the base color for the thing I’m adding shadow to

Shift the color towards the direction of the shadow color I chose, and then make it darker and more saturated

And I do the exact opposite for highlights - I move away from the shadow color and then make it lighter and less saturated

Usually, anyway. And this method works best on the kind of color wheel I have there, but it can be adapted to most anything. And how far you move towards the shadow color and how dark/saturated you make the shadows will change the mood of the piece a lot. The colors in the screenshots are for a pretty light colored, low contrast piece.

I would go on more about it but I don’t actually have solid reasoning behind it other than it tends to look alright and I don’t want to spread incorrect thinking. Just… for the love of all that is colorful, DONT just shift the color towards black or white. It looks muddy and gross. Please. I beg you~

ON THE PLUS SIDE, Here’s a slew of awesome links!

Gurney and Chromatic Shadows Part 1!

Chromatic Shadows Part 2!

Relative color on skin tones!

Complementary shadows!

Induced colors! (or how our eyes can make highlights appear as different colors)

And I cant stress enough how great Gurney’s Color and Light book is for this stuff. I just can’t explain much ‘cuz I’m bad at actually studying this stuff well enough to talk about it!

Anyway, that about does it for my waaay longer than I thought and hella reply to a single sentence question! Hope that helped you, or SOMEONE at least! It was fun to ramble on about regardless~ (oh geeze yeah maybe rambling after midnight was a bad plan? Hopefuly this actually makes sense lol. If anyone needs any clarification just let me know!)

Cheers! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#artist advice #tutorial #color #shadow #dreadlock detective #ask

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inkognito97 · 6 years

Text

Effort

He was standing on his usual spot near his hut, that he now called his home. The twin suns of Tatooine had almost vanished from the horizon, the only light came from the countless stars on the night sky. But there would not have been much to see anyway, just sand and dunes, everywhere you looked. It didn’t seem to bother the lone figure whatsoever. In fact, Qui-Gon believed that his former Padawan was not really here, perhaps physically, but certainly not in mind. The dead Jedi Master wondered, what was the ginger haired male thinking about? Was he thinking about the fallen Jedi Order again, perhaps about his dead comrades, the clones’ betrayal or was he thinking about Anakin or Luke?

Whatever he was thinking about, it definitely had to do with the Skywalkers, that much was clear to the deceased Jedi. Qui-Gon sighed, not that Obi-Wan would notice, not in this state. He was still learning how to converse with his former Master. There MIGHT be a time in the future, when he would be fully aware of Qui-Gon again, but the time was still relatively far away. But what was time to a dead man? The long haired Jedi was sure that he wouldn’t care as much as he did, were it not for Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry Padawan, if I could change things…” he trailed off. Obi-Wan would not hear him and if he could, then he would not WANT to hear his apology.

In the ginger haired man’s eyes, he himself was the one to blame. Little did he know that it had been Qui-Gon’s fault from the very beginning of their partnership. The deceased Master had realized that. His cold teaching and his denial of their bond, as well as his rejection of Obi-Wan again and again, had made the young man act like he did. He too had done much wrong in Anakin’s apprenticeship, but only because he had been so young and he had only Qui-Gon’s teaching as example. In the end, the blame rested on Qui-Gon’s shoulders.

The Force ghost sent a last glance at his former student. He could see his pain clearly and he felt it in the Force, as if it were his own. It says that time would heal every wound, but Qui-Gon was not so sure about this one. He himself had never really healed after Xanatos had fallen. The proof stood before him, with tense shoulders and glassy grey eyes.

The long haired ghost turned away and allowed the Force to claim him for now. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day… at least for his dear Padawan…

Qui-Gon groaned while he awoke. That in itself made the Master freeze. He was dead, he did not sleep, he did not eat, he did not drink. Such mortal needs did not apply to him anymore, at least in theory.

Qui-Gon began to harbor doubts however, because he was absolutely certain that he was lying on something very soft and comfortable. As a Force ghost, he should not have a physical form and he certainly should not be able to touch, let alone rest on something. He was sure that something was definitely wrong here, if that was good or bad, would remain to be seen.

The Jedi Master took a deep breath, which should not have been necessary, and he opened his eyes, only to shut them again when he was greeted by a VERY bright and VERY familiar light. Why in the name of the Force was he in the halls of healing? It did not make any sense to him.

“So you are finally awake,” Qui-Gon knew that voice all too well.

“Tahl?” Tahl was dead, she had greeted him after his death, followed by the worst scolding of his whole life, or rather, his afterlife.

“Yes you big dummy,” it was meant to be teasing, but he could hear the worry in her voice.

“What happened?” he carefully peeked between half opened eye lids.

“You collapsed,” another voice spoke up, before Tahl could answer. Midnight blue eyes darted towards the door, in which Mace Windu and Yoda stood.

“Excuse me?” he was confused and were it not for the reassurance from the Force, he would have freaked out by now.

“You collapsed in the middle of an argument with the Council,” Tahl explained, while the two Council members entered.

“I did… was I winning?” he grinned dumbly and his two friends could only shake their heads in amusement. Yoda simply huffed and hopped onto one of the empty chairs that stood next to Qui-Gon’s bed.

“Winning you was not, finished with you, I was not,” said the Order’s Grandmaster.

“A pity,” he let his head fall back into the pillow. Could it really be possible? Was this really a second chance? The Force made no move to deny his thoughts.

“What can you remember?” the Korun Master stood at the foot of the long haired Master’s bed.

He thought for a moment and decided that ‘the destruction of the Jedi Order and his Padawan’s grief and self-blame’ might not be an answer that would be well received. He settled for something else instead, “Nothing if I am being honest.” The three visitors shared concerned glances. “Discussing your return to the temple we were.”

“We asked you to take on another Padawan learner,” added the dark skinned male.

“Ah,” so it was THAT time. Well, he could work with that. “And what did I say?”

Mace shared a quick glance with Yoda. “For one, you were insulting the Council and second, you said that you did not want to take on another Padawan and therefore it made no sense for you to watch the Initiate tournament.”

“I see… well,” he cleared his throat and avoided everyone’s eyes, “it can’t hurt to take a look, right?”

“Honestly Qui-Gon,” the female’s voice sounded annoyed, “I have never met someone so stubborn and thick headed and… wait, what did you say?”

“I will visit the tournament, if it will keep you from bothering me that is,” he had quickly added the last part. Of course he was going to watch the Initiate fights, his future Padawan was among them after all, at least if he was correct.

A moment of silence passed, then, “I am going to call a healer, there is something clearly wrong with him.”

The female with the unusual eyes had halfway risen from her chair, but Mace stopped her. He whispered something into her ear that sounded suspiciously like, “Let him, if this somehow influenced his mind, then we have to take advantage of it… as long as its lasts.”

Qui-Gon pretended not to have heard any of it. Instead, he chose to change the subject.

Qui-Gon was actually enjoying himself. He had been on time to the tournament and watched the youngest of the Order spar and compete against each other. Now that he was not surrounded by the darkness of his own heart, he was actually able to feel the joy, the healthy rivalry and the eagerness in the young ones. The Force felt alive and he as a Master of the Living Force, he strived in it.

He was even able to ignore the incredulous stares he was receiving from his two best friends and from other fellow Jedi, who were relatively close to him. He silently grinned to himself. Would they know what he had seen and gone through, then they would understand. Or perhaps not.

Finally, after the whole morning and most of midday was over, came the fight Qui-Gon had actually came for. He made sure not to fidget in his seat, but he did lean forward, elbows resting on his knees and chin resting on one of his hands. His Padawan looked just as he remembered him, unsure, yet still full of hope. But what really hit the long haired man, was how bright the boy really was and Qui-Gon began to wonder. Had his Padawan always been so bright and if so, what had happened? Perhaps his constant rejection and the doubt the boy had began to harbor during their twelve years together, had dampened his bright presence in the Force. A wave of guilt crashed over him, but he quickly pushed it deep into the Force. He waved away the concerned eyes of his two friend’s and turned to look back at his Padawan, who would soon fight against his greatest rival, a white haired boy names Bruck Chun.

The fight began and Qui-Gon’s midnight blue eyes followed every move his Padawan made. Everything they observed, was analyzed and cataloged. Mistakes were spotted and plans to correct them were already crafted. It was in this moment, that Qui-Gon realized that he had never done so previously. He had seen the mistakes and he had made Obi-Wan repeat the exercise until he got it right. Hours without a break had been spent in the training halls and immediately, his deep rooted guilt arose anew, but this time, he did not push it aside. Instead, he kept most of his attention on the ongoing fight. He was actually able to catch the moment, in which his Padawan’s graceful fighting style had changed into an almost mindless brawl. The long haired Jedi Master scowled. He may not have heard what Bruck Chun had said to his Padawan, but he could think of enough things that would have broken Obi-Wan’s concentration and had brought forth his temper. That was one thing they had to work on, but not solemnly with a lot of meditation, but with understanding. He now knew that the problem was deeply rooted and that the anger came from fear and pain. They could work on that, he knew they could.

The fight finally ended and at least to Qui-Gon, it was no surprise that the ginger haired male had won. Obi-Wan was the better fighter and the better human, there was no doubt about it. He let himself draw back against the seat, his midnight blue eyes resting on the two boys that were now leaving the training hall. He did not even notice the strange and curious looks Mace and Tahl were sending his way.

A hum escaped the long haired Jedi and without another word, he stood up and left, intending to get to Obi-Wan. It was about time that he acted, he had already waited long enough.

Qui-Gon eventually found himself waiting right outside the public showers, where the two boys were cleaning themselves. He was fidgeting just a little bit from impatience, but who could blame him? After all, he was finally able to make everything right again. He was finally able to give Obi-Wan the apprenticeship that he deserved.

The door to the shower area opened and the person that stepped outside, brought a cloud of steam with him.

Qui-Gon eagerly pushed himself away from the wall he had been lazily slumping against – he may be a Jedi Master, trained to always look strong and serene, but he was also a rebel – but he stopped dead in his tracks as he found himself facing white locks instead of copper ones.

“Master Jinn,” the smile on the boy’s face was too much and too plastic.

“Initiate Chun,” Qui-Gon returned the greeting calmly.

“I trust that you have watched the sparring?” the boy continued, his mind was set, that much was clear.

“I did indeed.”

“And what did you think?” he was probably thinking that he was charming.

“I think,” Qui-Gon began hesitantly. This was the boy, who had repeatedly hurt HIS Padawan and would undoubtedly continue to do so, if allowed. “You will NEVER be a Padawan, if you cannot conquer that anger and arrogance of yours.”

The boy blinked, definitely taken aback by the harsh words. His surprise quickly faded into the previously mentioned anger. “How would you know?” he challenged.

Qui-Gon leaned close, VERY close and in a calm and collected voice, he threatened, “I will make sure of it.”

When Obi-Wan exited the public showers, he was surprised to see Bruck Chun still there, but he was even more surprised to see the white haired Initiate talking with Master Jinn. Though ‘talking’ might be the wrong term for this situation. Master Jinn had leaned down closely and was speaking in a low voice and even though Obi-Wan could not hear what was being said, he could very well see the reaction.

Bruck paled and where there had been anger hidden in his eyes, was now fear. The long haired Jedi Master stood straight again, his mouth was set in a firm line and his blue eyes were colder than Illum in winter season.

Bruck chose this moment to make a run for it, leaving Obi-Wan with the clearly angry Jedi Master behind, as angry as Jedi Masters could get. The ginger haired boy almost deemed it better to take a leave as well, but before he could move, did the taller and older male turn around, pinning him with a single look. At least his eyes were not as cold and threatening anymore.

“Initiate Kenobi,” Qui-Gon greeted.

“M…Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan quickly caught himself and bowed in respect.

“I saw your fight today,” continued the Jedi Master, from the look of his face alone, Obi-Wan could not read his mood or his emotions.

“You did?” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “What did you think?”

It was interesting how the same question could sound completely different, when it came out of another mouth, mused Qui-Gon. “I thought that you fought very well for someone your age… though that changed, when you were provoked.” He raised an eyebrow, daring the Initiate to challenge him.

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped and he looked at the ground in shame. “Yes Master… I know.”

“You need to control your anger, don’t let anyone provoke you like this.” Obi-Wan nodded. “But I should probably not complain too much. After all I want a student, not someone, who is already perfect.”

“Master?” blue-green eyes looked up at him in silent confusion; there was the tiniest spark of hope hidden in them.

Qui-Gon allowed himself to smile, while he slowly sunk to his knees, with a pair of wide blue-green eyes following his every move. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, would you do me the honor of becoming my Padawan?”

For a moment, the long haired male feared that the boy’s eyes would fall out of his skull, so wide and round were they. Also, Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words he wanted to say. The Jedi Master took it with humor.

“This is not a hard question, either yes or no,” he teased and it appeared to get through the baffled boy.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “Yes!” this was louder and before the older male could as much as blink, had the former Initiate literally thrown himself into Qui-Gon’s chest, clinging on with everything that he got.

The bearded male smiled down at his charge and slowly wrapped his arms tightly around him. His chin came to rest on ginger locks and he also allowed himself to close his eyes and bath in the pure and untainted joy that ran through the Force. It was making him feel dizzy and he had to be careful not to get lost. But there was so much joy and that all from such a young boy, it was astonishing.

“M…master,” Qui-Gon adored how his Padawan said ‘mostah’ instead of ‘master’, due to his accent. It were the little things that made him love his boy even more.

“My Padawan,” retorted the older male.

Obi-Wan pulled back, “I promise you will not regret it, I’ll be the perfect Padawan and,” he was stopped, when two hands framed his face.

The Master silently marveled at how small Obi-Wan still was. “Easy there. I know you will make me proud and that I won’t ever regret my decision,” he began calmly. “And I don’t want the perfect little Padawan, I want you, with all your quirks and talents and even with all your faults and mistakes.” He gently wiped away a single happy tear that had escaped ever changing eyes. This was Obi-Wan’s biggest dream and this time around, his dream had not been painfully squashed by him, this time there would be no Bandomeer and certainly no Melida/Daan.

“Thank you,” it was barely above a whisper, but Qui-Gon understood it and the hidden meaning nevertheless. Without a second thought, did he pull his Padawan into a tight hug again and he stood up, while still holding him in his arms. It was in this moment that the Jedi Master made a silent vow to himself.

“I will not make the same mistakes again. This time, Obi-Wan will be happy…”

Meanwhile, the unlikely pair was being observed by a honey skinned woman and a Korun Master. Tahl and Mace exchanged glances. This was not the Qui-Gon Jinn they knew, this was a changed man. And either it had something to do with his collapse, or something else was going on. One thing was for certain however, they would keep a close eye on the long haired man and his future Padawan, though they had to admit, that the Force had never felt happier before, than in this moment.

#star wars #The ABC of Obi-Wan Kenobi #answer to the anon prompt #effort #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #time travel #sort of #fix-it #padawan obi-wan #force ghost qui-gon #second change #qui-gon travels back #self blame #my fics #can be found on ao3

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septembercfawkes · 6 years

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Inconceivable! Dealing with Problems of Unbelievability

There are a lot of things that can go wrong in a story, and I've found that perhaps some of the worst feedback to give and receive is that of unbelievability. There is a kind of stinging and feeling of foolishness that comes with the criticism. I've had it, and I've given it--multiple times each. Most often, this criticism is given to new writers. Now when I say believeablitiy, I'm not saying your stories can't have any dragons or magic or advanced technology. Stranger Things Season 2 recently came out, and I've heard people complaining that KFC wasn't actually called KFC in 1984, or that no one had side parts until later years. Isn't it funny that we have no problems "believing" that there is a parallel world where monsters live and that a young girl can have psychokinetic abilities, but people can't believe that a character has a side part? What a funny life we live in our entertainment. If you've been told that something in your story is unbelievable, there could be a few different reasons as to why. It might simply be that what you put in the story couldn't actually happen in the real world--if you are dealing with a real world setting. Or it could be because the mechanics of fiction is different than our reality. Here are the different reasons and routes unbelievable content manifests itself in fiction. The Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

I recently read an article about a woman who got pregnant a second time, when she was already pregnant. It's weird right? That's not how nature works. However, this woman had a rare condition that allowed this to happen. Now, you can say this is a true story, because it is. But if you try to put this into your story, without proper explanation, or when you already have a lot of other unusual things happening in your story, it will probably ring false. Critics will say, "But what are the chances of that?" This is because fiction works off rules of probability, not what actually happened. The less probable something is, the more likely your audience will be skeptical. It's even worse if you stack up multiple improbabilities into one piece. This is one of the reasons you may hear about the "one impossibility rule," which is the idea that audiences can only believe in one impossibility per book. Of course, there are ways to break this rule, and it is broken in many works, but generally speaking: one impossibility. And this works off the suspension of disbelief that audiences come to a story with, which is a topic all its own. There are a few tricks to getting around the probability issue. One is validating the audience's skepticism, but it has to be done with care and not overused. Otherwise, it will still ring false. But almost always, Probability > Reality Tension is More than Conflict and Spectacle

Another avenue unbelievability takes to get in, is through conflict and spectacle. This usually happens when the writer is trying hard to make the story "really good" by making it intense, skyscraping stakes, and putting in massive hooks. The story may start fine, but suddenly, conflicts are going crazy, and the writer is throwing in intense scenarios that don't actually fit the story or aren't portrayed with real-life consequences. For example, you might feel that your romance story is getting a bit boring for the audience, so you throw in a serial killer. The protagonist knows about the serial killer, but has no problem walking home alone after midnight, or she encounters the serial killer, but decides (for no legitimate reason) not to contact the police, because that's not the direction, you, the writer, want to take the story. Or maybe your character gets accused of murdering someone (because crazy conflict is good, right?), but that's not actually what you want the story to be about, so you don't flesh that part out, and eventually get back to the main storyline. These sorts of things happen because the writer thinks the crazier the conflict, the better. They might be afraid their story is too boring, and so they are trying to liven it up for the audience. What they don't realize is that tension is what keeps the reader reading, far more than conflict. Tension doesn't necessarily need outlandish conflict. It doesn't need a spectacle to be interesting. Tension can happen in a conversation between a father and daughter. It can be present when a protagonist is deciding who to invite to a concert when she only has four tickets and six friends. Tension can be there in a job interview, where the characters are trying to appear cool and collected and professional, but inside are not. Tension > Conflict You don't need to throw in crazy conflicts to make your story interesting. You just need to learn how to take advantage of tension. Now, if you want to throw in crazy conflicts, fine, but the consequences, facets, and ramifications of such things must be spoken to, to be realistic. Some things you just cannot turn a blind eye to. And don't forget to incorporate the probability aspect. You can read more about tension vs. conflict here. Writing What You Don't Know

Sometimes something is unbelievable just because the writer didn't do their research. For example, if you were writing about the Mormon church at a part in your story, and you told me that Mormons worship Joseph Smith and have a golden Bible, as a Mormon, I'm going to giggle. Look, the research part of writing is perhaps my least favorite part of writing (others say it's their favorite), so I understand that it can be annoying, especially when you just want to write the story. But sometimes you've got to do the research. And honestly, research has never been easier to do than it is to do today. You can find much of what you need online or in books. If you can't find that, you can find knowledgeable people to talk to or ask. Try not to feel stupid about asking questions. Most people you will talk to will probably want to tell you more than you want to know. And of course, make sure you are choosing reliable sources to get your information. The other facet of this problem is inexperience, and in some ways, I feel that inexperience is its own topic.

Maybe you want to write about what it's like being a Chinese woman in the West, but you are a Caucasian teenage boy in a small town in the South. Maybe you want to write about an astronaut on Mars, but the furthest you got into your science career was high school chemistry and biology. Maybe you want to write a story about how a Christian helped convert an atheist--but you've never spent sincere time speaking with atheists about their genuine perspective and end up writing a two-dimensional caricature that turns a blind eye to the intricacies and complexities of the argument, "Is there a God?" Really, inexperience can crop up in any number of things. All of us are inexperienced in some way. Does that mean you should only write about what you have lived? Of course not. That's ridiculous. You think everyone who has written a female character has been a female? Do you think only straight actors portray straight character? We're writers--we are imagining things we haven't lived all the time. It's likely we'll all write something wrong from our inexperience at some point. In some situations, you can go out and gain the experience you need. If you've never been to the beach, maybe you can go to the beach. But if you've never been a Chinese woman, then maybe you need to speak and spend some time with one. And don't do anything stupid that compromises your moral standards just to gain firsthand experience. Even if we don't have personal experience of something, we can sometimes draw from past experiences that may be similar or relate to said experience, and go from there. In some cases, for very specific set-ups or information, we can bluff it as writers, but it takes practice to make such bluffs believable. If you have access to someone who may have experience with whatever you are writing, you can ask them to read over your passage. Convenient Human Behavior

One area in particular that audiences don't have a lot of patience for when it come to unbelievability, is human behavior. We will read about aliens and superheroes and not blink an eye, but when a character doesn't act human (or within the realms of whatever species he is, if you are writing speculative fiction), we won't believe it. In some beginners' stories, it may manifest itself in characters not having logical or probable reactions to certain things. For example, if your protagonist's child dies unexpectedly, and then the next scene shows us the protagonist still moving forward preparing a holiday party with no sign of grief or distress, the audience is going to be skeptical (unless your protagonist is villainous and was the one who killed the child). This sort of problem usually relates to the tension/conflict problem. The writer throws something big into the story to make it more interesting, but then doesn't want to actually include the ramification of such a thing, so out of convenience, they continue the story without showing the character grieving. It's convenient human (or "inhuman") behavior. Other times this happens because the writer simply doesn't know how to write a character who is in that particular emotional state. In my example, the writer may not know how to write a parent grieving for a child, and so, they don't. They continue on with the rest of the story. In that way, this problem can relate to the research and inexperience section too. In some cases, it's not so much about a character not acting logically human as it is a character acting out of character--out of the boundaries the writer has already set. If your protagonist is a huge pacifist that believes in the sanctity of all human life and then goes and shoots an innocent bystander, without explanation or development, the audience isn't going to buy that. Maybe it was convenient for the plot, but it doesn't fit the character. In general, problems in this area stem from the above three sections. However, unbelievability in human behavior can be so damning and so common, that I've put it as its own section. Now go forth and write believable fiction!

#writing #writer #writing tip #writing tips #author #writing tips and tricks #writing advice #writing help #writing helps #writing reference #writing lesson #nanowrimo #writeblr #writbler #writerblr #fanfic #fanfiction #editing

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boomerangst · 6 years

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steve-shoumaru harrington

the stranger things 2 au no one needed

title: it doesn’t fuckng need one just read it

summary: risking life and limb for your stupid imbecile of a half-brother and his crew of delinquent outcast friends, all because no one else could be bothered to provide adult supervision today. They should canonize you for this.

relationships: sesshoumaru & inuyasha, sesshoumaru & rin

rating: K+

major s p o i l e r s for stranger things 2

disclaimer: I haven’t slept in 48 hours, I’ve never written sesshoumaru or 2nd person pov before, I wrote this all in one sitting, I’m literally feverish and delirious, do I even need to tell you to Lower Your Expectations

So your father preferred Inuyasha. Big fuckin’ deal, as Inuyasha would say.

Big fuckin’ deal. Not something you would ever say—you’re nothing like Inuyasha, which is the point. You try not to associate too much with him or his bizarre friends—Kohaku Taijiya’s sulky sister, that idiot whose uncle runs the repulsively named XXXEmporium, and that other girl, the saccharine one who may or may not be Inuyasha’s girlfriend. Not that you care. Now that all of that Upside Down nonsense is over, you have more important matters to focus on, like getting the hell out of this pathetic, disturbing little town while you still can.

That is, until the day Rin tugs on your sleeve and asks whether you still have that not-purely-decorative sword from last year, “the one with the fancy handle.” She promises to explain “on the way,” and for some reason you find yourself allowing her to slide into the passenger seat. That’s how the whole ordeal begins again.

It seems another one of those things is loose, and she’s been feeding it chocolate. Or nougat. You’ve never learned the difference because you’re not fool enough to eat any of that shit. And Rin’s friends—“zombie boy” Kohaku Taijiya, the Higurashi girl’s little brother, and the obnoxious pint-sized ginger one—all know about the rogue monster, but none of them are answering the Code Red right now, so could you maybe help her catch it please?

Which is how you end up in a misty scrapyard at midnight on a Monday, trying to slice up a half dozen flesh-eating nightmare beasts with a sword that used to sit above the mantelpiece in your mother’s house. Rin and two thirds of her little gang are screaming at you to abort, abort, and the creatures are leaping out of the fog like a pride of rabid lions, unearthly shrieks echoing from every side, and all you can think is what the fuck am I doing here?

But it turns out you spoke—or thought—far too soon, because next you’re at the Taijiya house and it’s full of your half-brother and his pack of moronic friends, all hatching ludicrous battle plans in order to save the world. You probably should have paid closer attention to the battle plans, because when the smoke clears you somehow get stuck with babysitting duty, again, only now Inuyasha and half of his crowd have suddenly become your problem, too.

There are teary hugs exchanged and then the sex shop kid is off to old Kaede’s cabin with the Taijiyas in order to exorcise the boy Kohaku (whose luck seems to be even worse than yours, and that’s certainly saying something.) Then the eerie lab experiment girl, Kikyou, splits off with Kaede to “close the rip in spacetime using her telekinetic powers” and it’s just you and a gaggle of freshmen and middle schoolers who just tried to go up against monsters from another dimension with a slingshot and a very heavy spinning top.

Jaken (where the hell did he come from?) enlists your help stuffing one of the beast corpses into the Taijiyas’ fridge, and you’ve barely finished wiping the revolting slime off your hands before Inuyasha is proposing a ridiculous plan to go “help Kikyou” by setting some network of monster-infested subterranean tunnels on fire. You put your foot down. It’s bad enough that you’ve been saddled with these brats in the first place—you refuse to lead them on a harrowing suicide mission. At no point did you sign up for that. It’s not happening.

That is, until Naraku shows up demanding a rematch with Inuyasha. Far be it from you to fight your half-brother’s battles for him, but you do take your familial responsibilities seriously on occasion, and it isn’t as though Inuyasha stands a chance against Naraku anyway. Or that’s what you tell yourself as the bastard punches you in the face over and over until everything goes dark.

All things considered, the circumstances of your awakening could be improved upon. For example, it could happen somewhere other than the backseat of your own car, which smells like spilled gasoline and is being driven at 85 miles per hour by a redheaded preadolescent who apparently hasn’t figured out how to operate the headlights yet. As it is, you have no choice but to dig your fingers into the upholstery and shout directions (and obscenities) like the rest of them.

By the time they’re clambering out of the car and into an enormous pit of dark, writhing vines (because of course they are) you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. Millennia from now you’ll be known as either the best or worst babysitter in history, one of the two. You allow Rin and the Higurashi boy to cover your face with a scarf and your eyes with an old snorkel mask, but letting Inuyasha lead the way is where you draw the line. You’re the adult here. For better or for worse, this is your fucked up expedition now, and you’ll be damned if you aren’t going to do it right.

It’s close in the tunnels, and so dark, with your breath rasping in your ears and roots snatching at your ankles and strange spores sticking like snowflakes to your protective eyewear. Shippou screams bloody murder when some kind of sinister spout shoots a jet of slime at him, but for the most part your charges are frighteningly, mercifully quiet. No one knows what might be lurking around the next bend until the thin beam of your flashlight pierces the darkness, and frankly no one is too eager to learn.

It’s a relief to finally come upon the main chamber and drench it with gasoline—borrowed, stolen, siphoned, it doesn’t matter; these kids are way past petty concerns like legality. It’s a relief to drop your cans and hoses, to be able to grip your sword with both hands again.

Jaken hands you the lighter, and it’s somehow an even bigger relief to toss it down and watch it spin away like it’s nothing, like you aren’t all about to be torn apart and digested by faceless creatures from Hell.

All at once the walls are screaming, the air is alive with heat and smoke and writhing shadows, and the kids take off running without you having to open your mouth. Your sword makes short work of the ropy black shoots that wrap themselves around Kagome’s ankles, but now there are pounding predator feet in the distance, closing in on you from who knows which of these miserable tunnels. You’re almost to safety when Inuyasha, who’s in the lead, rounds a bend and practically trips over one of the damned nightmare beasts.

The air echoes with snarls and cries of alarm for a moment before Rin slips out from behind you, calling, “Ah-Un? Is that you?”

You make a grab for the girl but miss, and don’t dare abandon the others to go after her. They’re hissing out warnings and words of encouragement from behind you as Rin takes one step, then another toward the sinewy creature. She’s murmuring to it, apologizing, and it lets out a strange, chirping coo in response. “Ah-Un,” she says sweetly, holding out a candy bar, “will you please let us pass?”

Which works for you—you usher the other kids past one by one while the thing is distracted. Rin lingers, trying to bid the beast a tearful farewell, which there really, really isn’t time for. “Goodbye, Ah-Un!” she calls, and has the nerve to sound regretful as you yank her along behind you toward the dangling rope up ahead.

Home free, or nearly so. Each one of these brats seems to weigh more than the last as you boost them up, faster and faster as the stampeding footsteps grow louder, closer. Everyone shouting over each other, frantic hands reaching down for the next person, tennis-shoed feet scrabbling at the lip of the hole, kicking dirt into your eyes.

You’re shoving Inuyasha up and over when you have this bizarre, detached moment, an out of body experience, watching yourself from above, from safety, thinking how do you like me now, Dad? Risking life and limb for your stupid imbecile of a half-brother and his crew of delinquent outcast friends, all because no one else could be bothered to provide adult supervision today. They should canonize you for this.

Because you’re definitely going to die. All of a sudden the racing footsteps are drowned out by a chorus of otherworldly roars, massive shadows are leaping up the walls, and you and Rin still haven’t made it up but there’s no time, no time to do anything now but drop the rope and draw your sword, pull the girl against your chest and brace yourself for an agonizing, ripping, tearing death—

It doesn’t come. There’s a great torrent of sound, a jostling, thumping mass of cold four-legged bodies rushing past, bumping against you in the dark. You’re clutching Rin in a death grip but you don’t have to; the things aren’t after you or her. “Kikyou,” says Inuyasha from above, voice nearly lost amid the pounding of retreating footsteps, and then there’s silence and emptiness, and maybe, possibly, safety.

You always thought you’d go to your grave without ever willingly setting foot inside a school dance, but maybe there truly is a first time for everything. Rin’s mother doesn’t own a car, so here you are. You’re just relieved you didn’t have to give Inuyasha a ride—he’s been here for a few hours already, strong-armed into helping put up decorations by that girl of his. There’s no reason to come inside, but you do anyway, choosing a spot on the bleachers where you can watch inconspicuously, and then moving to a slightly less optimal spot when you realize Kohaku’s sister and Inuyasha’s irritating sex shop friend have chosen the spot directly beneath you to make out.

Kohaku, now entirely free of menacing interdimensional mind control, asks Rin to dance. She asked you on the way over whether dancing was difficult and you said no even though you have no personal experience in that area. You’re strangely pleased to see that it doesn’t look difficult for her now. Without really meaning to you take attendance, counting up each of the people whose lives were in your hands last month, one by one. You find Inuyasha last because you didn’t notice him standing just over there, at the bottom of the bleachers. He climbs up and sits across the aisle from you.

“Hey. Listen, uh. Thanks,” he sounds as though it physically pains him to say this. “For all of the…Upside Down stuff, I guess.”

“It was nothing.” Your father would turn over in his grave if you allowed his favorite to perish. Not that his opinion matters—he’s dead. You didn’t have to be his favorite to outlive him.

Inuyasha kicks at the bleachers. “Yeah, well. Thanks anyway. I know you didn’t wanna come.”

You really, really didn’t, you think, watching him make his way through the crowd of useless kids. But you might do it all over again, if you were ever offered the chance.

Strange.

#inuyasha #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #fic stuff #fic: mine #don't ask me what this is #it's just here

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review-that-film · 7 years

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Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Review - Spoilers

I am very proud to be part of the Potter generation, growing up as the books and films were released. I know my house, wand and patronus, so when the news that there would be another film allowing us to return to the wizarding world I was very excited. However, there were a few worries in the back of my mind: would they contradict any information already given to us? Would they be able to get us to care for characters that we’ve only just met? Would it live up to the phenomenon that is Harry Potter? So I approached “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” with a little trepidation but when the time came for the midnight viewing on a Thursday night with some of my closest friends, and Hedwig’s theme started to play, with the slight twist in the melody, I knew I was hooked once again.

It’s a great start to the film, seeing the back of Grindleward, alerting us to the looming presence of this famous dark wizard. It reminds us that however much fun the film will be there is an underlying darker nature to this new series. I enjoyed the flashes of newspaper articles from around the world, reminding us that even though we have only seen the wizarding world in the UK, there are wizards all over the world. It also allowed us to get an idea of the times that we are in – the 1920s. The soundtrack for this film is brilliant and rivals that of the original Harry Potter series. The interwoven sections of old melodies with the new is great, allowing us to feel as though we’ve already been to this place before.

When we are first introduced to the hero of our new series, Newt comes across instantly as a kind-hearted, loveable and slightly odd character. Eddie Redmayne is brilliant in the role, portraying perfectly how socially awkward Newt is but also how caring, especially towards his creatures, he is. Newt’s blue coat is a brilliant bit of costuming as it shows there is something a bit different about this character, it’s even different to the way the rest of the wizarding world dress, being such a bright colour in contrast to the darker colours used for the majority of the cast. On the boat we get to see him stroking his case and trying to calm down whatever creature, Doogle as he calls it, is inside. The clasp unbuckling itself a couple of times in Newt’s first few scenes are a nice touch as a forewarning of what chaos is to come.

Newt’s arrival at customs is a lovely scene but there is a little tension. He is obviously a little nervous when talking to the customs officer, especially when he asks to look in the case. However, magic saves the day with a very nifty “Muggle Worthy” switch to change whatever is in the case to show some of Newt’s belongings. This includes an old fashioned Hufflepuff scarf. I’m so glad that the filmmakers have gone in the direction to show us some notable characters from other houses. In the Harry Potter series, we had some great characters that were not in Gryffindor, such as Luna and Cedric, but our Golden Trio were all in the house of scarlet and gold. Most of my friends are proud Hufflepuffs and it’s nice for them that they are starting to get just as much great merchandise to show off their house pride as us Gryffindors. For casual fans of the Harry Potter series, there has tended to be a thought that Gryffindor is the only notable house so it is brilliant that we die-hard fans can prove them wrong with such a kind and brave character as Newt.

The scene at the bank is a great introduction to some of our other main characters. Tina Goldstein (Katherine Waterston) is trying to look inconspicuous whilst standing in the middle of a crowd listening to a woman, Mary Lou (Samantha Morton) preach that all the mysterious events occurring in New York are due to witches living among them. Newt arrives to listen to Mary Lou, then sets his case down. A slightly flustered man, Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler), bustles into the crowd, bumping into Newt’s case. This draws attention to Newt and Mary Lou homes in on him. The next few lines are some of my favourite in the film. You can tell Newt feels quite smug with himself. Mary Lou asks Newt if he is a seeker and Newt replies “I’m more of a chaser really”. It’s a lovely way to incorporate something to do with Quidditch and made even funnier with how oblivious all the Muggles are to this reference. We are also introduced to Credence (Ezra Miller) who seems a very sad and scared young man who we can’t help feeling instantly sorry for. Ezra Miller does a fantastic job as the beaten down character.

We are quite quickly introduced to our first fantastic beast – the Niffler. The design of the Niffler was just as I imagined in when I first read J.K.Rowling’s description in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He is just as mischievous and fond of shiny things as described and it was a lovely moment to finally see something that I had only imagined. I love all the scenes which involve Newt trying to catch his Niffler and the bank scene is no different. It is made all the funnier with Tina following Newt with confused looks from her and other patrons at the odd behaviour of this man. I particularly love Newt’s looks of disapproval towards Niffler as he tries to collect a gold bar from the bank vault and later as he tries to stay inconspicuous to Newt in the jewellery shop.

The lines in this film are brilliant. They range from very funny, Jacob’s confusion “I was there, now I’m here” after Newt disapparates with him being a great example, to nods to the world that we have already learnt about, such as spells we watch Harry and his friends learn, and even to slightly more thought provoking ones. One of which is a line my friend and I always say to one another during exams “Worrying means you suffer twice”. I love this quote as it is so true and definitely a mantra to live by.

When Tina refers to Jacob as a No-Maj, we are all a little confused just as Newt is. It makes sense though that throughout the world there would be different names for people with no magic. I liked how Newt didn’t start calling them No-Maj’s but continued with Muggle as that would have been what he grew up calling them. There could have been a temptation to have our hero start referring to Muggles in the American way since he was in New York but I was glad they kept the distinction between the two countries.

Seeing the MACUSA building is a great way to introduce us to the difference within the wizarding world. Here we meet Percival Graves (Colin Farrell), the Senior Auror and Seraphina Piquery (Carmen Ejogo), Madam President (the equivalent of the Minister for Magic in the UK). They are discussing the threat of Grindleward when Tina interrupts with Newt. We learn here that Tina used to be an auror but has been demoted to a position in wand permits. Graves seems fond of Tina, most likely from being a mentor to her. This, however later on, doesn’t stop him sentencing her and Newt to death on false terms.

On meeting Tina’s sister Queenie, we can tell that, just like Newt, she is slightly different to the rest of the magical world. Also like Newt and his blue coat, she has a coat of a very bright shade of pink. Queenie is a very kind character, who is quietly a very powerful witch, which we can tell after being told she is a legilimens (can read minds), a skill that only very powerful and talented witches and wizards can master. The magical community in America is very different to that in the UK, such that they don’t allow any interactions between themselves and Muggles. This is something that Newt and we, the audience, find very strange but Queenie shows us that not every witch or wizard in America feels the same way as we get to see her develop strong feelings for the Muggle Jacob. I particularly love the relationship between the two sisters, especially when hearing Queenie talk so proudly of her sister Tina being a career woman.

The wait to finally see inside Newt’s case was definitely worth it, the sight is absolutely breath-taking. This is the perfect time to talk about the special effects in this film. They are utterly outstanding. Being able to create very life-like creatures using VFX software is very impressive. The whole segment with the creatures is brilliant and you really get the feeling at just how fantastic this world that has been created it. Even the smallest of details, such as those creatures that are only in the background are superb and allow us to be completely immersed in the wonder of such strange creatures. Newt’s scene with the Thunderbird Frank was heart-warming and reminded me so much of the scene in Prisoner of Azkaban when Harry meets Buckbeak. The names that have been given to some of the creatures are brilliant and so obscure. We have Frank the Thunderbird, Pickett the Bowtruckle and Doogle the Demiguise. Newt cares very deeply for all his creatures, as shown that he carries Pickett around in his coat pocket because he has a slight cold. I think their relationship is one of the closest that Newt has with one of his creatures, close enough that some of the other Bowtruckles accuse him of favouritism.

A truly hilarious part of this film is Newt’s Erumpent mating dance. I have no idea how Eddie Redmayne would have been able to keep a straight face. It doesn’t matter how many times I see that scene; it always has me laughing out loud.

We get to hear a bit more about Newt’s background when he, Jacob and Tina are in front of all the leaders of each magical community. We learn that Newt has a brother, who is a war hero, and we get the sense that Newt has always been in his brother’s shadow. We also learn in his interrogation with Graves, that he was expelled from Hogwarts, due to an incident with a magical creature, but Albus Dumbledore was the only teacher that fought his corner. What actually happened has not been fully explained to us yet but I think it has something to do with Leta Lestrange and it wouldn’t surprise me if Newt had taken the fall for something that she had done. It was heart-breaking hearing Newt shout in pain at the thought of them hurting his creatures and hearing him insisting that none were harmful as they dragged him away, was painful.

The filmmakers did a great job at having us believe that the child, and as we later find out is an Obscurus, Graves was so intent on finding was the younger sister of Credence, Modesty. This was done via the editing where we would swap from a scene with Credance and Graves to one where Modesty was present. We saw that there was a bond there between the two siblings and since all we knew of Obscurus’ was they couldn’t live past the age of ten. So when the big twist in the film is revealed, the audience is left stunned that it was Credence all along. I definitely believe that Credence survived and I hope we get to see him again in the upcoming films.

The other big reveal in the film, is that Graves was not who we thought he was. In fact, he was Grindleward all along. This was a great twist and has made me quite excited about the story to come. The twist did clear up some of the earlier scenes such as Graves giving Credence a Deathly Hallows sign and why Graves was so intent on finding the Obscurus. The only thing that I’m unsure about with this film is the casting of Johnny Depp as Grindleward. On the whole I associate him in comedic roles such as Captain Jack Sparrow and, personally, I don’t think that sort of character would work for one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time. However, I will not write this casting off and I only hope that my concerns will not come true.

The final scene for our four heroes to be together is very emotional as they say goodbye to Jacob, who has to be obliviated. It was nice that Newt told him that he considered Jacob his friend. But the truly heart wrenching moment was after a final kiss from Queenie, Jacob opens his eyes, and his friends have been removed from his memory and we see that the antics that occurred over the past days is all forgotten. It was a lovely touch that Newt gave Jacob the Occumy shells to act as collateral to allow him to open up his bakery, also being quite fitting that their final meeting was a parallel to that of their first; them bumping into one another and switching cases. Newt and Tina’s goodbye is very sweet and gives us a glimpse of a potential romance to come between these great characters. The ending to this film is very uplifting and brightened all of our hearts after so many goodbyes. Finally seeing Jacob succeeding in his dream, by conjuring up baked goods in the designs of Newts creatures. They leave us suspecting that, maybe due to Jacob’s long exposure to magic, he may subconsciously remember more than the normal Muggle would and when seeing Queenie, we can only hope all these wonderful memories will return to him.

To sum up, I absolutely loved this film, with its instantly likeable characters, amazing special effects and a great story line, it definitely holds its own against the Harry Potter series. I could even say I have preferred this film to the Harry Potter ones, as there was nothing for me to compare it to and so it didn’t allow me to feel disappointed with the exclusion of any of my pre-existing favourite scenes and characters. It has been a wonderful introduction to the new wizarding world franchise, characters and time. I can’t wait for the next films to come out and will definitely be enjoying them once again at the midnight showing with my friends.

Mischief Managed

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fairytail-whathesays · 7 years

Text

How to Make An Intelligent Fighter or Strategist:

There really isn’t an easy way to describe to a viewer who doesn’t think critically how and why Mavis Vermillion fails as a tactician, her one famed trait. But I think I’ve figured out a way.

When you want to craft a character who is skilled in battle situations because of their intelligent means of fighting, their cunning, or their excellence when it comes to strategy, there are certain ways you have to show it for it to be believable. Showing characters like these is done several times in Fairy Tail and there are good examples, Mavis just isn’t one of them.

The keys are subtlety and, more than that, audience inclusion.

What I’m saying is, when you show how a character is a good strategist, the audience has to be able to come to the same conclusions they do. Not necessarily obviously or as soon as it happens, but the audience definitely needs to know what’s going on in a character’s brain.

Bad example: Mavis in “Fairy Tactician”, where Mavis accurately directed all members of the Fairy Tail team in the Grand Magic Game and, for the most part, accurately predicted who would show up where. This example is bad because all we can see is Mavis saying things will happen and then those things happening. She is promptly lauded for her great tactical thinking and we are told about her great reputation as a tactician, even scoring many victories in a war because of it. However, the audience cannot see how Mavis comes to these conclusions, nor the thinking behind them in any way--we simply see the effects. That makes this an informed quality--and informed qualities are not good. “Tell, don’t show”-- a reminder of the greatest rule of subtle writing.

Good example: Erza vs. Midnight. Jellal is at an absolute loss as to how to circumvent Midnight’s seemingly invincible and manipulative powers. Erza meanwhile, far beneath him in power level, figures out two crucial ones and successfully exploits them, leading to Midnight’s defeat at her hands. We aren’t told what these weaknesses are right off the bat, but when they’re exposed to us, we immediately understand how they work and how Erza was able to figure them out. The first weakness is not being able to manipulate the human body, and the second is only being able to manipulate one space at a time. While we’re watching the early stages of the fight, it doesn’t occur to us why Midnight doesn’t simply bend Erza’s body instead of his armor--his powers are still mostly unclear to us, and he isn’t pursuing a strategy of his own, just his sadism. After we realize why though, we also realize that this makes sense and was hinted at--when Erza requips into a different armor, Midnight doesn’t change tactics and bend her body, but continues bending her armors, hinting that he can’t affect her body directly. The second weakness is only manipulating one space--this one’s a lot clearer. When Erza manages to throw a sword past her twisted armor, Midnight uncharacteristically dodges it nonchalantly, coolly but still in contradiction to his recent refusal to move an inch from any incoming attack. It’s definitely meant to draw the eye, but it’s not clear to us why he does it until we’re told, and then we again realize that it was obvious all along: while he was bending her armor, he couldn’t bend the space around himself. Since Erza came to these conclusions before the audience did, but the audience can still come to those same conclusions after the fact with no issues, Erza comes off as an intelligent fighter who was able to spot and take advantage of weaknesses that others couldn’t or didn’t.

Bad example: Zeref in one of the latest chapters, and generally the entire Alvarez Empire arc. In his confrontation with Gray, he claims to know a lot about Fairy Tail’s individual members and not only their magic, but their interpersonal relationships with one another and the effects they’ve had on one another’s lives. Again, we’re told of this, but what we’re shown doesn’t really add up. If Zeref were as well-researched as he claims to be, he wouldn’t currently be badly losing the war--that, or he just doesn’t care. But putting that to the side, he clearly did not use any available knowledge of Fairy Tail’s magics or relationships to use when arranging the Spriggan Twelve to combat them. He says outright that he was expecting Jellal or Laxus instead of Gray, despite knowing what any simpleton would know about Gray by this point: that he has a sealing spell and a suicidal streak and a tendency to utilize both at once. Rather than use Jacob’s potential as an invisible assassin and hamstring Fairy Tail, Jacob is instead allowed to waltz into the area and announce his intentions. Whatever his lack of concern for Larcade, the fact remains that Larcade proved very vulnerable to Sting’s being a White Dragonslayer. It even extends to non-Fairy Tail matters. Despite knowing Acnologia is out to slaughter dragonslayers, he allowed Irene Belserion, one of his strongest assets and not really one he could afford to lose, around him and even to engage him in combat. The loss of God Serena can be attributed to the same lack of care taken when dealing with Acnologia and dragonslayers. Zeref’s intelligence and surveillance skills come off as another informed quality.

Good example: Hades’ utilization of Azuma when it comes to attacking Fairy Tail on Tenrou Island. Even assuming that his Seven Kin couldn’t wipe out Fairy Tail unaided (and they probably could have), he sends Azuma ahead first because Azuma’s unique and distinct abilities allow him to turn Fairy Tail’s greatest advantage into their greatest weakness. The Tenrou tree not only amplifies Fairy Tail’s magic power, but actually keeps them alive and breathing even if they’re on death’s door, effectively making them immortal as long as they’re on the island. But by merging with it and taking control of those specific magic effects, Azuma is able to cancel and reverse them. Even had Erza won the fight fair and square (she didn’t), her victory would have meant nothing had Azuma not returned Fairy Tail’s magic of his own accord, meaning if not for traitorous altruisim on Azuma’s part, Hades’ plan would’ve gone off without a hitch and he comes off as a smart strategist for it. Even the other Kin members, unlike Ivan’s woefully ill-equipped Raven Tail, seem almost tailor-made to take out Fairy Tail members. Zancrow’s godslaying flames are a critical weakness to Natsu, one of the guild’s strongest members. Ultear’s Arc of Time makes Gray’s Ice Make magic almost completely useless--and this would hold true also for pretty much any of the mages on the island, including Erza for instance, or Gildarts, or Freed, etc. Caprico/Zoldeo has already proven himself able to subjugate Celestial Spirits, proving to be a capable adversary to Lucy Heartfilia, another strong member, and her allies. Meredy’s ability to sensory link allows her to handicap almost any opponent, and her ability to induce blinding pain regardless of material or mass allows her to damage opponents like Juvia Lockser, who are normally immune to physical attacks. Going back to Azuma: again, the audience doesn’t pick up on this until it’s made clear to them, but once it is, it seems obvious. We know from the moment Azuma is introduced that he can merge with trees, and we know already that Tenrou Island has a massive tree at its center. It isn’t until we start to hear about the Tenrou Tree’s magic properties that we might even be suspicious of what Azuma’s really there for, especially as Azuma has no prior history with Fairy Tail and no overt motivation to arrive first.

If the audience cannot make sense of the conclusions your character comes to or how, then the character you are trying to play off as incredibly smart or tactical will come off as instead having an informed flaw: sure, we hear you talking about it, but as far as we see, they’re no smarter than anyone else. It will become especially blatant if, as in Mavis’ and Zeref’s cases, your characters do blatantly stupid things that go against their informed traits.

#writing criticism #character analysis

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