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gojoluvs · 27 days

Text

J’adore

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

summary, “her world turned upside down when her boss announced that he was the father of her unborn child. To make matters even more complicated, she found out that she was expected to marry him as part of an arranged marriage agreement. As she navigates this unexpected turn of events, she finds herself struggling with her feelings and what the future holds for her and her child."

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, violence.

Genre; angst, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader, modern au!, business au!

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message.

10k words

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it felt like a fever dream.

Your thoughts were racing as you sat there staring at the positive pregnancy test. You never imagined that a casual fling with your boss, Gojo, would result in this. You were filled with a mix of emotions - fear, confusion, and excitement all at once. You knew you had to tell Gojo, but the thought of his reaction scared you.

Would he be angry? Would he want you to keep the baby? These questions filled your mind as you tried to figure out the best course of action. Ultimately, the decision was yours to make and you knew it wouldn't be an easy one.

"Fuck." Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, you wrapped the positive pregnancy test and shoved it inside your pant pockets.

Immediately washing your hand, you exited the restroom to face your dear friend and co-worker. With her back against the wall, you could see her biting her nails in anticipation.

You could tell she knew something was wrong, as she anxiously asked, "What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, you slowly let out, "I'm pregnant." As the words sank in, you could see the shock and worry on your friend's face.

You knew this wasn't the ideal situation, but you also knew that you had a supportive friend by your side. Her eyes widened in shock, and she slowly began to walk towards you. She looked at you with a mix of surprise and concern, her mouth agape as she tried to process the news.

You could tell she was trying to find the right words to say, but in the end, all she could manage was a quiet, "Oh."

"I'm sorry, I can't believe this," she gasped, her eyes filled with worry.

"What are you going to do?" You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed and uncertain.

"I have no idea," you replied honestly. "I wasn't planning on this."

Your friend placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We'll figure it out together," she said with a reassuring smile. "You don't have to go through this alone." Grateful for her support, you took another deep breath and nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the fear and uncertainty. You began walking back towards the office while everyone was in lunch.

As an employee at the national elect industries estate that the Gojo's had owned, you were fortunate enough to work closely with Satoru Gojo, one of the most well-known and influential CEOs in all of Tokyo. Witnessing his leadership style first-hand, you found him to be an inspiring and motivating leader who always pushed his team to reach their full potential. Despite being just one of the many employees in the building, you felt valued and appreciated under Satoru Gojo's leadership. His positive and encouraging attitude made it a pleasure to work in the office and you always felt inspired after a conversation with him. It was an honor to be a part of the team.

Unfortunately everyone knew that Satoru was a sex hungry man. All he needed to do was just point at a woman and they would come running to him because everyone knew he was the most attractive man in the building. However, Satoru was not looking for love. He was focused on his career and was determined to be successful. No matter how many women tried to win his heart, he kept his eyes on the prize and refused to be distracted.

"Y/N." Seeing the tall white haired male you immediately grabbed the report you stayed up all night redoing.

Your heart raced as you walked towards him, clutching the report tightly in your hands. You could feel the sweat in your palms as you nervously approached the tall white-haired man. Despite your anxiety, you stood up straight and confidently handed over the report, hoping it would impress him.

You were relieved when he smiled at you, and you managed to smile back handing him the report you had worked so hard on all night.

"Here you go Mr. Gojo, I also decided to put the sales graph from last weeks advertisement," you said with a sense of accomplishment.

As he glanced through the report, you couldn't help but feel proud of your hard work.

You stood there, watching him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing and regret. If only things were different, if only you could share the news of your pregnancy with him. But you knew it was better this way, to keep your distance and avoid any potential complications.

You couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would have been, and if his parents would have accepted you and your child. But ultimately, you knew that this was the best decision for everyone involved. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked away, knowing that your secret would remain just that - a secret.

Despite your admiration for Satoru, you couldn't help but feel inferior to him. Being considered a low life and not as successful as him only added to this feeling. Your dad owned a small restaurant down the street where the building was, while Satoru's family lived in a lavish mansion. You were just a commoner and Satoru was like a prince. You had grown up in a small town, and Satoru had grown up in a wealthy family.

The differences in class between the two of you were stark and you were constantly reminded of your social status. You knew that his family wouldn't approve of the two of you together, and deep down, you knew that your relationship was doomed from the start.

"We should go eat, it's on me since your eating for two." Grabbing your arm she held it, you both walked towards the lunch area where the food was at.

Seeing the rest of the workers in the building you wondered who else Satoru had sex with. Knowing you weren't the only one because he once had a long lasting hookup with one of his secretaries but once his dad found out he fired her.

You were feeling uneasy knowing Satoru's history with other women. He was a notorious playboy, always looking for a new conquest. You couldn't help but wonder what his true intentions were. He had always been kind to you, but that could easily change if he got bored.

Despite your doubts, you couldn't help but be drawn to him, his charisma and charm were hard to resist. But you also knew that getting involved with someone like him could lead to heartbreak and disappointment. It was a risky game to play, and you weren't sure if you were willing to take that chance.

"Y/N?" Tilting her head you could see that Utahime was waiting for you to come back to reality.

Nosing you sat down with her, feeling overwhelmed by the thought of raising this child alone. However, you knew that you were strong and capable, and you were determined to give your child the best life possible.

You looked into Utahime's eyes and saw a reflection of your own sadness. You knew that she was feeling your pain and loneliness, and that you were in this together. You sighed and steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead, but with Utahime by your side, you knew you could make it through.

"Can you order me a sandwich please? I'm too tired to go," you said, feeling exhausted from the long day.

With a nod, Utahime quickly got up and left you alone at the table. As you took out your phone, you hesitated before texting Satoru. You knew he had a right to know about the child.

Taking a deep breath, you type out a message to Satoru:

"I need to tell you something."

After sending the message, you lean back in your chair and wait. You feel a mixture of emotions and fear of how he will react. You immediately got a text back. Surprised to see that Satoru would reply to you during a meeting.

The message said:

"What is it? I'm in a meeting right now but I can talk later."

You took a deep breath, relieved that he isn't mad and that you can talk to him later. You respond with a short message:

"Well, if that's the case, we can talk later then."

This way, you can both have some time to calm down and approach the conversation with a cooler head. Plus, it's always better to discuss important matters in person rather than over text.

"Here," handing you the delicious sandwich you've been craving all day, you took a bite. As you bit into the sandwich, the flavor of the freshly baked bread and the savory combination of ingredients made your mouth water.

The juicy tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and perfectly seasoned meat all came together in a burst of flavor that satisfied your hunger and left you wanting more. You couldn't help but savor each bite, enjoying every last morsel of this delectable sandwich.

"Mm! This is so good." Smiling she drank her coke gazing at you while you devoured the food like if you hadn't ate in weeks.

You were so focused on the food that you almost forgot about the conversation you two were having. You looked up and met her gaze, and you both shared a laugh. She said, "You really are enjoying that, aren't you?" You smiled and nodded, taking another bite.

"Mm... did you see that the secretary that Gojo supposedly had a thing with is back?" she asked you,pausing mid-bite.

"She's back...?" After nodding, you couldn't help but wonder why she returned.

The last thing you remembered was her getting completely humiliated by Satoru's father in front of the entire office.

"I heard supposedly he gave her a check of one million dollars to leave the boss alone. God I hate him." Utahime rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

You couldn't understand why Utahime harbored such strong dislike for Satoru. Maybe there was more to their relationship than meets the eye.

"Why do you hate him so much?" you asked her, curious. Utahime sighed and shook her head.

"It's not important," she said. "But I can't stand people who use their money to get away with anything. It's just not fair. It creates an unequal playing field and allows those with wealth to escape consequences for their actions, while others are held accountable. It perpetuates systemic inequality and injustice."

You could also agree with that, paying someone to leave their loved one is such a dick move. Before you knew it everyone was already finished with their lunch except for you and Utahime. You looked around the canteen and saw that everyone was watching you and Utahime, with some of them grinning and whispering to each other.

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you quickly finished your lunch while Utahime still calmly ate her food.

"Let's go, I don't want to get in trouble," you whispered urgently to your friend.

You both stood up and quickly made your way back to the office where everyone else had gone to work. Utahime gave you a questioning look, but understanding the situation, she quickly followed you out of the canteen. You were careful to avoid contact with anyone as you walked back to the office, feeling like all eyes were on you.

As soon as you arrived, you quickly darted to your desk and started to work, trying to distract yourself from the embarrassment you felt. Despite your efforts, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being judged and the fear of getting in trouble for your actions.

You opened the first document and started typing, your fingers hitting the keys in a steady rhythm. However, as you continued typing, you realized that finishing the reports quickly would not solve the underlying issue that had been weighing on your mind.

You knew that you would still have to confront Satoru and address the problem head-on, no matter how much you wanted to escape from it. You took a deep breath and focused on completing the reports, determined to face the challenges ahead with a clear mind and a proactive attitude.

As much as you dreaded it, you knew it was unavoidable. You had been working late nights for weeks now and the stress was starting to take its toll. You felt exhausted and overwhelmed by the amount of work you had to do in such a short amount of time. You just wanted to take a break and relax, not have to deal with yet another deadline.

The pressure to come up with new ideas for the company to expand in the east coast was daunting and you were running out of creative energy.

You could say your position was important but it wasn't that much compared to what other people did. You wanted to be one of the members who would attend the meeting and present your own ideas without getting everything stolen from you. You had a role in the company, but your contributions were often overlooked or overshadowed.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and frustration. Wanting to be able to make meaningful contributions to the team in meetings and have your ideas taken seriously, but you knew you were far from that, especially now that you were carrying his child.

You wondered if Satoru's family would also give you a check to disappear, to act like you never had anything with Gojo. It was a harsh reality to face, but you refused to let it stop you from achieving your goals and proving your worth.

You thought of all the different scenarios that could happen, you felt helpless. You had come to the office to gain experience and learn from the best. But now you were in a situation you hadn't anticipated and you didn't know how to handle it.

You wished you had someone to talk to and get advice from, but you knew none of your colleagues could understand what you were going through. You had feelings of insecurity and fear. You were scared of being judged and looked down on by Satoru's family and his colleagues.

You felt that you weren't good enough, and that you didn't have the skills or the knowledge to make meaningful contributions. You were worried that if you stayed, you would be seen as a burden and a nuisance, and that your ideas would be dismissed.

"Y/N, sir Gojo is requesting your presence in his office." You were startled by the voice of the secretary, who you had only heard about before. Her beauty was even more striking in person - her long black hair cascading down her back and her piercing green eyes seeming to see right through you. Her pale complexion and rosy lips added to her ethereal appearance.

"Yes," you replied, feeling a bit flustered by her beauty. You followed her down the hallway to Gojo's office, admiring her graceful walk. She opened the door and motioned for you to enter, giving you a gentle smile before she closed the door behind you.

Looking out the window Satoru had his hands in his pockets. Snapping his head towards the door when he saw you enter. He smiled before walking towards you. His tall figure hovering over you. You hadn't realized despite your height, Satoru was super tall. You stepped back in surprise, taken aback by his sudden proximity, and your eyes widened as you looked up into his face.

His kind eyes twinkling and his lips curling into a warm smile. For a moment, you were lost in the moment, unable to remember why you had come.

"What did you want to talk about?" asked Satoru as you walked into boss's office. Grabbing his remote, he clicked a button and the window blinds slowly descended, providing more privacy in the office. He sat down and motioned for you to do the same.

You waited patiently for the right words, as he wondered what could be so important that they needed privacy.

Your mind was racing with all the possible outcomes, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. You fiddled with your hands, trying to calm your nerves, and felt the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

Would he support your decision? Would he be angry? Would he even want to be a part of this? The uncertainty and fear were almost suffocating. You mustered up the courage to meet his gaze, hoping for some sign of reassurance. But his expression remained stoic, leaving you to wonder what he was thinking.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. You knew Satoru didn't love you, to him you were just a one night stand. But you couldn't keep living in doubt, you had to tell him the truth.

A one night stand that screwed up and didn't use a after pill. You knew that the next few words that were going to leave your mouth was going to devastate Gojo. Maybe even ruin his life. But still, you wanted to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. You felt like you were caught between a rock and a hard place. Gojo was so kind to you and you had grown to care for him deeply.

But on the other hand, Satoru was the father of your unborn child. You were unsure of what to do and what would be the right thing for everyone involved. You felt helpless and scared.

Despite the fact that you wanted to tell Gojo the truth, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, knowing that the truth would have a devastating effect on him. You felt that it was better to keep him in the dark and live with the regret of your decision.

He was visibly anxious as he waited for you to explain the situation. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was set in a tight line. He clasped his hands together, as if in prayer, and waited for you to break the silence. Staring at him you could tell he was concerned as to why you weren't speaking.

His blue eyes stared back at you waiting for you to tell him the news. You were hesitant to tell him the truth, but you knew you had to. Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to explain the situation. You could feel your heart racing as you spoke, and you could tell his expression was slowly changing as he heard the news.

You took a deep breath and finally spoke, "I'm pregnant." Satoru's face turned to shock and then anger, "You're lying," he spat. You knew this was going to be difficult, but you had to do what was best for you and your child.

"Im not lying," You said back. He was speechless, his mind trying to process what he heard. He was frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do. He was in a state of disbelief, struggling to comprehend the news. Finally, he managed to speak, his voice barely above a whisper, "Are you sure?"

His heart was pounding in his chest, as he waited for the answer. He felt like the room was spinning, the world around him a blur. He was filled with fear and disbelief, as he tried to piece together what he had heard.

His heart raced as he waited for a response. He had never expected to hear this, and he felt a sudden wave of shock and confusion wash over him. He felt like he was stuck in a dream, unable to move or think clearly.

"Yes, here," you said, taking out the small piece of toilet paper and unwrapping it, revealing the positive pregnancy test. Satoru's eyes widened as he grabbed it, shock and disbelief washing over his face as he tried to process the news that would forever change his life.

He couldn't believe that he was going to be a father, and the thought of all the responsibilities and sacrifices that came with it was overwhelming.

His face fell and he stared at you in shock before his emotions turned to anger. "How could you be so careless? Do you know what this means?" he yelled.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. You knew this was going to change everything and it was a difficult situation to be in. You couldn't help but feel guilty for causing this turmoil but you also knew that the truth had to come out.

With a heavy heart, you averted your gaze, unable to face the man in front of you. "I understand the gravity of this situation, and I know that I am not from the same social status as you. If you think it's best for me to leave and raise our child on my own, then I will do so."

He put a hand on his mouth before rubbing it on his chin. "Shit," he muttered.

You could tell he didn't want this pregnancy as much as you didn't want it. "But you took the morning after pill?" he questioned, staring right at you with concern in his eyes.

Despite his hesitation, you knew he would support you no matter what decision you made.

"I did," you lied, feeling a knot form in your stomach. "But it wasn't 100% effective." You both knew the risks, but neither of you expected it to happen.

“What do we do now?" you asked, looking at him for guidance.

"I don't know," he sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Maybe we should consider all of our options." You knew what he meant, but you weren't sure if you were ready to make that decision.

"I'll arrange a meeting with my parents as soon as possible and we can discuss what we'll do then. But... how far along are you?" Gazing at Satoru, you could see the doubt and suspicion in his eyes.

He didn't trust you and it was understandable. You couldn't blame him for thinking you might be using this pregnancy to ruin his life. But deep down, you knew the truth - that you could possibly be carrying his child, and that thought alone scared you.

"I don't know what you think of me, Satoru, but I'm not here to ruin your life," you said.

"I'm not sure how far along I am, but I do know that I'm pregnant, and that's why I'm here. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything, I just wanted you to know the truth and I thought it would be better to do this in person."

“Despite the potential challenges and complications, I am committed to taking responsibility for my pregnancy and raising our child. I understand that this may not have been part of our plans, but I believe we can work something out.” Satoru looked at you with a mix of shock and confusion.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He just stared at you in disbelief, not knowing what to say. Finally, he managed to stutter out a few words. "Are you sure you want to keep it?”

"Yes i am, if you want me to I will raise this child but I need you to be here. My kid, our kid. Its not going to live without a father." Satoru could see the determination in your eyes. Clenching your fists you wanted for his answer in anticipation

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before turning to you. His eyes were heavy with emotion as he finally spoke.

"Yes, I'll stay. I promise. I'll be here for us and for our child." He got up and reached out, taking your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

It was a difficult decision, but you knew that the potential benefits for the child far outweighed the risk of getting your heart broken. You were determined to make sure that Satoru saw the potential of being a father and the positive impact he could have on the child's life.

You were willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that this child had a loving and involved father figure, even if it meant facing rejection or heartache. In the end, the well-being and happiness of the child was your top priority.

"For now I want you to stay here until I'm done with my last meeting then we can head out and go to my parents mansion." You knew how much it meant for his parents to know about this. To be honest, you were so fucking scared right now.

You knew that this was not going to be easy, not just because of the child growing inside you, but because of the potential backlash from Satoru's parents. You were fully aware of the cultural and societal differences between your backgrounds and how it could be perceived by his family. Despite your fears and concerns, you nodded and agreed to his request, determined to make it work and put on a brave face. With a deep breath, you tried to calm your nerves and prepare yourself for the challenges ahead.

Closing the door behind him just like that Satoru went to another meeting leaving you with your thoughts. While you were grappling with these thoughts, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and guilt. The image of Satoru with his secretary kept replaying in your mind, making you question your own feelings and actions.

Would it be right to sabotage their relationship for your own selfish desires? These moral dilemmas left you feeling conflicted and unsure of how to proceed. As you sat alone in the office, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever be the same between you and Satoru.

You felt a pang of guilt and sadness as you tried to push away the thought and focus on the task at hand. Closing your eyes you decided to lay down on the small sofa that Satoru had in his office.

Putting a hand on top of your stomach you couldn't really feel anything. You knew you were at least a few weeks pregnant. You stayed in that position for a few minutes, feeling the warmth of the sunrays coming through the window and calming your body. You felt safe and secure and couldn't help but smile, as you thought about the life that was growing inside of you.

You stayed there, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun and the comfort of the sofa, as your mind wandered through the possibilities of the future. You just wanted to savor the moment, to make sure you could remember it forever. You had taken the pregnancy test several times, but it was still hard to believe that you were actually going to have a baby.

You had so many questions - you were wondering if the baby was the size of a bean or if it was even smaller than that. You were filled with a mix of emotions - from excitement to fear. You were going to become a mom. Wondering how you were going to explain to your father that you got pregnant by your bosses you couldn't help but let out a sigh. You knew things were going to get more complicated now.

You had always been taught to do the right thing and you knew this was the wrong thing to do. You wanted to do the right thing and take responsibility for your actions but you were afraid of what your father's reaction would be. He had always been so strict and you knew he wouldn't approve of this situation. You felt so helpless and confused.

You were already in a difficult situation, having to work for a man that you felt attracted to and now being pregnant with his child. You felt lost as to how you were going to explain this to your father. What would he think of you? How would you even begin to explain what had happened?

“Oh yeah dad! I thought my boss was super hot and I slept with him and guess what? I'm pregnant!” Sarcastically you let out another sigh. You really screwed up this time. You shook your head and let out a deep sigh. You had just been telling your father about the problems you were having at work, and now this. You knew your dad was going to be disappointed in you. You could already hear the lecture he was going to give you.

However, you knew that you had to take responsibility for your actions and face the consequences. You hoped that your father would understand and support you, but you also knew that you needed to learn from this mistake and make better choices in the future.

You couldn't even tell your mother because she had died when you were born. Never being able to be raised with a mother figure you were all alone im this situation. You covered your face with your arm. Trying your best to forget about everything and just go to sleep.

Maybe a nap would help you process everything and get you in a better mood. You had so much on your mind and felt so alone. You had no one to talk to, no one to turn to. You wanted someone to just listen, someone who could understand what you were going through and be there for you. But there was no one, and you had to find a way to cope with your emotions on your own.

"How long was I out?" you groaned as you rubbed your eyes, still trying to wake up.

You were surprised to see Satoru standing there, wearing his casual black glasses and with his suitcase next to him. It was clear that everyone had already left the building and it was just the two of you. "Did I oversleep?" you asked.

With a deep sigh, you slowly stood up from the comfortable embrace of the sofa. You felt a dull ache throughout your body, as if you had been in the same position for hours. You reached up and rubbed your forehead, trying to ease the tension. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed one of your eyes with your other hand, blinking away the sleepiness.

Realizing that you must have been asleep for a while. Satoru replied , "Not too long, just a couple of hours. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you up." You were grateful for his thoughtfulness and couldn't help but smile back at him.

“You were asleep for three hours." Helping you up Satoru offered his hand. Taking it you thanked him silently before taking all of your stuff and leaving his office.

You checked the time on your phone and realized it was already past midnight. You had slept for the past three hours while Satoru was patiently watching you from his chair. You were embarrassed but grateful for his understanding and kindness. You thanked him as you gathered your things and made your way out of his office.

You walked outside into the parking lot, as you sat inside the luxurious Mercedes Benz, you couldn't help but feel a little out of place. Satoru barely acknowledged your presence as he started the car and drove towards his parents' mansion. It was clear that he was more focused on his own comfort and status, rather than making you feel welcome. Despite the extravagant surroundings, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

You took out your phone, your fingers gently tapping on the screen trying to send a text to your dad. Letting him know you might come home later than usual as you were going to meet Satorus parents. As you typed out the message, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. You couldn't resist the curiosity and ended up searching for Satoru's lover on Instagram. You typed her name into the search bar multiple times until you finally found her profile. As you clicked on it, you discovered that her name was "Asami Oba."

As you scrolled through her photos, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She seemed to have a perfect life - traveling to exotic locations, attending luxurious events, and surrounded by beautiful people. You couldn't believe Satoru was dating someone like her. It made you question your own self-worth and wonder what he saw in her that he didn't see in you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but continue scrolling through her profile, torturing yourself with images of their seemingly happy relationship.

However, it still bothered you to see the pictures of Asami and Satoru together. You couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, even though you knew she had nothing to do with the reason why he slept with you. It was a constant reminder that you were the other woman, and that their relationship was still going strong while you were left to deal with the aftermath. It made your stomach turn every time you saw one of their pictures with a caption that said "with my love."

The picture that stood out the most was undoubtedly the one featuring them in the Eiffel Tower. The breathtaking view of the iconic landmark served as a backdrop, capturing their joy and creating a lasting memory of their trip to Paris.

As you watched Satoru lost in his thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder about the consequences that would arise once his lover discovered the truth about your pregnancy. The situation seemed to hang in the air, heavy with uncertainty and potential conflict.

What felt like forever finally had come to an end, you couldn't help but feel out of place as you stepped out of the car. The house was even more luxurious than you had imagined, the expensive cars and perfectly manicured lawns. Satoru's parents were known for their wealth and you couldn't shake off the feeling that you didn't belong there. You knew Satoru's parents were going to judge you for not dressing more formally, but you were too exhausted from work to change.

"Listen Y/N," he said before ringing the doorbell. His expression suddenly changed, as if a wave of desperation had washed over him. His eyes were pleading, his hands trembling.

"I'm warning you my family is very old fashioned," licking his lips, that's all he said before ringing the doorbell.

You could practically hear your heartbeat, feeling as if your heart was going to jump out of your body. As you nervously waited for the door to open, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of traditional customs and expectations his family might have. Would they approve of your relationship? Would they expect you to conform to their beliefs? The unknown made your stomach churn with anxiety.

As the door swung open, a small click sound could be heard. A man, who looked identical to Satoru but slightly older, stood in the doorway. He quickly glanced at his son before his eyes landed on you. Raising an eyebrow, he muttered a few words under his breath, "Oh god, your mother is going to be ballistic."

"Father, please." pleaded Satoru as he held onto your hand, almost crushing.

"Please come in, it's a pleasure to meet you. My wife is in the living room, so please have a seat there." Said Satoru's father, gesturing towards the living room. He was a tall and imposing man, his deep voice echoing through the spacious hallway. You couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated as you followed him inside.

The intricate details, luxurious furnishings, and spacious layout of the Gojo mansion left you in awe. It was everything you would expect from a wealthy family's home. As you walked through the halls, admiring the lavish decor and elegant architecture, you couldn't help but utter a soft "Wow" under your breath. While you may have seen similar houses before, there was something about the design of this one that was truly impeccable and breathtaking.

As you sat on the silky white couch, you were met with Satoru's mother's gaze. It was intense and piercing, making you feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. She seemed to be silently judging you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and inadequacy under her scrutiny. You shifted nervously, unsure of how to react or what to say to break the tension.

"What's your name?" her strong voice practically echoed. Despite her age, she was still stunning, with striking features and an air of elegance.

"Y/N, it's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Gojo." You replied with a warm smile, trying to make her feel welcome and at ease.

"So, what business do you have with my son?" she asked, her tone icy and unwelcoming. "To be more specific, what do you want from him?" Her sharp gaze bore into you, daring you to give her an answer she didn't want to hear.

"Mom," he said, avoiding eye contact with his mother. "She's pregnant and the child is mine." Her gaze softened as she laid her eyes on Satoru, her future grandchild. She could see the worry and fear in her son's eyes.

"Are you sure it's your child?" She questioned, looking you up and down before sighing. Her disbelief was evident as she struggled to accept the news. Doubt and confusion filled her mind, unsure of how to react to this unexpected information. She took a deep breath before finally asking, "How can you be sure?"

"I'm not convinced that you are the father," she questioned, eyeing you up and down before letting out a sigh.

"Mom, she's the only woman I've slept with in a while. Please," he pleaded.

"Do you have anything to say to that?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Satoru's father who wore a disappointed expression. His son had made a mistake and it was clear that he was struggling to come to terms with it. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and it was clear that he had nothing to say in response.

"As long as it wasn't Asami," he said, your heart broke at the mention of his lover's name.

"I totally forgot about that girl," said his mother, chuckling at the memory of her. "She was so pretty, but unfortunately her background was not so great."

The atmosphere in the room changed as soon as her name was mentioned, satoru shifted his weight uncomfortably and it was clear that her presence had a profound effect on him. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and longing when her name was brought up.

Memories of their time together flooded his mind, causing him to nervously bite his lip. He knew he should move on, but the thought of her still had a hold on him.

"Well since you two are over here fucking and populating the earth like little bunnies, it's time for you to take responsibility for your actions," she said sternly as she interlocked her hands together. "I want you two to get married and commit to raising this child together." Her tone was serious and determined as she laid out her expectations for the young couple.

"Mother, I don't even know her that well, let alone love her," you side eyed Satory, seeing his eyes widen at the mention of marriage. You could tell he was visibly frustrated and not ready for such a commitment. It was clear that he needed more time to get to know this person before even considering marriage.

"You know her well enough to have sex with her, please Satoru, you're grown now." Shaking her head, she got up, "and I expect the marriage to be soon. Don't you know how ruined your reputation would be if they found out you got some lowlife pregnant?" she yelled.

"But Mother," Satoru pleaded, "I don't think I'm ready for marriage yet." His mother's face softened as she let out a sigh.

"I know, but it's important for our family's reputation. You know how strict society can be with these things." Satoru hung his head, knowing that he couldn't argue with his mother's logic.

This turn of events was completely unexpected for you. Marriage was never a part of your plans, and you never would have imagined that his mother would actually want you to marry her son instead of getting rid of you.

"I want you to be moved in his house by tomorrow," She said, her voice filled with anger as she glared at you. Satoru's father stood up and gently grabbed his wife's shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"Let's go now, you know how you get with these things," He said, leading her away from the situation. It was clear that their heated argument was not something to be taken lightly.

You couldn't believe how quickly she had dismissed you and Satoru from her house. Your mind was racing with questions and confusion from the confrontation you had just witnessed.

Satoru held his head low, not wanting to look at you anymore. "Fuck," he mutterd between his breath. Satoru's expression was cold and distant, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of fear. You knew he was capable of hurting you, and it seemed like he was about to.

"Gojo," You said timidly, hoping to break through to him. But before you could finish, he roughly pushed you towards the car. You stumbled, your heart racing as you realized that you were completely at his mercy.

"What did I do wrong?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Why did you have to get pregnant and not her?" He spat at your face, and you couldn't help but feel like it was somehow your fault. Despite the hormones coursing through your body, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer and you broke down in sobs.

You stood there, stunned by his words. You couldn't believe he would say something like that, especially when you were carrying his child. The tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn't know if it was the hormones or if it was just you feeling completely overwhelmed and hurt by his words. How could he be so heartless and insensitive?

"I didn't think this would happen..." You replied, your voice trembling with nervousness. You couldn't believe that this was actually happening. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, your gaze dropping to the floor. Your stomach was in knots and you couldn't help but swallow nervously, unsure of what to do or say next.

"Fuck!" He yelled, frustration evident in his voice as he passed his hand through his hair in exasperation.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" He yelled, frustration evident in his voice as he ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Gojo, please." You pleaded, desperately clinging to his arm. But he forcefully pushed you away, his expression hard and unyielding. It was clear he did not want to be bothered, and you could feel your heart sinking with each step he took away from you.

"Get in the car Y/N," he said urgently, "I'm taking you home with me. I'll ask someone to get your things." Your heart dropped at his words. You knew you weren't even allowed to go home, to see your father. The thought of leaving him alone by himself was almost too much to bear.

"But Satoru, my father," you said, protesting as you opened the car door and sat inside. You were hesitant to leave without saying goodbye to your father, but Satoru urged you to hurry as the car started to pull away from his parents house.

"I don't care about your father, you're my soon-to-be wife. You will listen to me, Y/n." His eyebrows furrowed, he sped up.

You looked away and just stared at the window. Watching as you passed by buildings. The moon had come out, shinning down on you. You wondered if maybe life would be better if you got to be the moon - free to shine and roam the sky without anyone trying to control or dictate your every move. But the reality was that you were stuck in this car, with a person who didn't value your thoughts or feelings. You wished you could escape, but you knew that marrying him would only trap you further.

It seemed so peaceful and distant, away from all the conflict and tension happening in your relationship. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards the moon, longing for its serenity. But as you looked back at your fiancé's angry expression, you knew you couldn't escape your reality. You were stuck in this tumultuous relationship, always having to put his needs and desires above your own.

"But can I still see him?" You asked, your voice trembling with worry. Satoru let out an exasperated sigh, feeling frustrated with the endless stream of questions you had. "Yes, you can still see him," he reassured you, hoping to ease your concerns.

As you sat there, deep in thought, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Was this truly the right decision for you and your unborn child? The weight of responsibility and sacrifice weighed heavily on your mind. You knew that this child would inevitably cost you everything - your freedom, your happiness, and possibly even your own self. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to speak up and go against Satoru's family wishes. You were trapped in a situation that seemed to have no good outcome.

You anxiously bit your lip, dreading the thought of having to meet new people and make new friends. There was also the added uncertainty of whether or not you would still be working for your fiancée once you moved.

Not to mention the press and newspaper would get ahold of this new engagement. The Gojo's were almost treated as royalty here.

"Do you want to stop for food?" he asked, quickly checking on you before focusing back on the road.

"No."

"What about the baby?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he slowly put his hand on your stomach. "Our baby needs to eat too, Y/N."

You licked your lips proceeding to ask him if he could stop by a nearby fast food or just anything at this point. The last thing you ate was the sandwich during lunch. He began driving towards the nearest place that sold Onigiri. To be completely honest you didnt have much friends beside utahime.

You were the last remaining original member of your team, and it was lonely at times. You missed the camaraderie and inside jokes that you shared with your former coworkers. But you were grateful for Utahime's friendship. Asami had joined two years ago. However, things changed when they discovered Satoru and Asami's affair almost a year ago.

It seemed odd that she would come back after everything that had happened. Was she truly that deeply in love with Satoru that she couldn't bear to be separated from him? Or was there another motive behind her return? It was hard to shake the feeling that something was not quite right.

You grabbed your phone once again only to be surprised to see so many people had followed you on social media. Confused you clicked on the news article that was labeled "Has the CEO of Berkshire found a new woman?"

You couldn't believe it - the news was spreading like wildfire. You had never expected your life to change so drastically after just one night out with Satoru. As you scrolled through your notifications, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and a little scared of the attention. You knew that this new attention could bring both positives and negatives, but you weren't quite sure how to handle it all.

"Satoru, there are already articles written about us." He parked outside the small restaurant.

Getting out he asked before leaving, "What do you want from here?" I'm not sure if it's worth the risk to go inside." Satoru hesitated, knowing that any action they took could potentially land them in even more scandals.

"Can you get me an umeboshi onigiri please?" He closed the door and walked towards the restaurant, leaving you alone in the car. You quickly dialed your father, hoping he could bring you an umeboshi onigiri as well.

"Hello Y/N? are you there?”

"Dad, I'm sorry for not answering your calls. I might not be able to come home today as I'm stuck doing paperwork at work. Please don't wait up for me, I don't want you to stay up too late." You could hear the relief in his voice as he responded to your message. It was important for you to let him know what was going on and reassure him that you were okay.

"Okay sweetie, just please let me know if you need anything," you said with a sigh as you said your goodbyes. Turning off your phone, you couldn't help but feel helpless, knowing that there was nothing more you could do to help.

Your mind was filled with a mix of emotions and insecurities as you read the comments on the Instagram posts of you and Satoru. You couldn't help but wonder what people were saying about you and if they were judging you based on your appearance. You looked around nervously, hoping to see Satoru inside. Thankfully, he was still standing in the restaurant, talking on the phone.

As you clicked through the comments, you couldn't help but feel hurt and disappointed by the harsh and derogatory words directed towards you.

"Shes way prettier than the other girl!"

"she looks like a commoner..."

"What a skank!"

You could already feel the fatigue and discomfort that came with being pregnant, and you weren't even showing yet. The thought of carrying a child for nine months and then going through childbirth was daunting and overwhelming.

Satoru came back with two onigiris, handing you one and keeping the other for himself. You quickly ate it, not caring if he judged you for having no manners in front of him. After all, you were too hungry to worry about etiquette.

"We're almost home yet so dont worry, I can ask my maid to make you something if you'd like."

"No thanks." you replied just wanting to go and sleep already.

The stars were shining brightly in the sky, and the moon illuminated your path as you made your way home. The cool air was refreshing after a long day, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the peacefulness of the night. As you drove, your mind drifted to the events of the day and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhaustion creeping over you. But the thought of finally being home, in the comfort of your own bed, kept you going. You leaned your head back against the headrest and let the darkness of sleep overtake you.

"Geto, did you hear what I said?" All Satoru could hear from the other line was laughter, making him feel frustrated and unheard. Despite his repeated attempts to communicate, it seemed like his words were falling on deaf ears. He wondered if Geto was really taking him seriously or not.

"No way," exclaimed Geto, who was currently at a business party on the other side of the world. "You got her pregnant? Talk about a major backfire!" He chuckled, amused by his friend's predicament.

He was about to ask for her number when his best friend called, desperate for his attention. Though he wanted to continue flirting with the hot chick, he reluctantly answered his friend's call.

"And now we have to get married," shaking his head, Satoru picked you up from the seat. His maid had helped him open the door to his house, and he was grateful for his strength.

"Hey man, I told you to just have a one-night stand with her, not to get her pregnant and marry her." Geto said in the other line, he picked up a pen and wrote down his number in the napkin handing it to the cute bartender.

" What about Asami? Isn't she the love of your life?" he asked teasingly, giving him a playful tone. “Have you told her yet?"

He slowly placed you on his bed, his gaze never leaving you. "Can you change her into something more comfortable?" he asked his maid, who nodded before closing the door behind her.

"I haven't told Asami," Satoru admitted. "She's still insisting we get back together." He grabbed a beer from his refrigerator and took off the cap with a small pop before taking a sip.

"But I don't think it's a good idea. We've been through this before and it never ends well." Satoru sighed, knowing that his decision would only lead to more tension and arguments with Asami. But he also knew that it was the right thing to do for both of them.

"I would pay to see her reaction, she's probably going to go crazy." With a sly smirk, Geto had already entered the bartender's contact information into his phone.

Satoru laughed and took a sip of his drink. "I know, but that's what makes her so irresistible," he replied with a grin.

"Besides, I like a little bit of crazy in my life." He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "You should try it sometime."

Geto chuckled and raised his glass in agreement. "Maybe someday, but for now I'll stick to watching your crazy love life from the sidelines."

"Maybe next time I suggest using condoms," he began, but his laughter interrupted him once again. "Man, you're so screwed. I just know your old lady had a tantrum." His words were met with a bit of amusement.

"What about you and Shoko, huh?" Satoru asked, taking off his shirt and laying down on his couch with a beer in hand.

"You guys have been spending a lot of time together lately." His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"It's complicated," said Geto who was practically eye-fucking the bartender on the other end of the phone. The tension between them was palpable, and their relationship was anything but simple.

"Complicated my ass," he thought as he took a sip from his cold beer and smiled. "I bet you're already thinking of having sex with someone else."

“And you’re absolutely right.” With a smirk Geto made his way to her. Satoru was able to hear his whole conversation start to finish.

“You know what i’ll call you later, you have fun.” Satoru took one last sip of his beer before going to the restroom to shower. He turned off his phone and threw it on the sink before undressing himself.

He regretted the night it happened and wished he could take it back. The thought of you now made him cringe, and he couldn't wait to move on and forget about it. He didn't think he could ever find anything about you interesting, and he just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened.

He couldn't believe his luck - or rather, his misfortune - when he found out that his arranged marriage was to be with someone he barely knew. He couldn't help but compare this stranger to Asami, the woman who held his heart. He couldn't shake off the feeling that this marriage was a mistake, and that he would never be truly happy with anyone other than Asami. But now, he was stuck with this random person who worked for him, pretending to be his wife. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made the wrong choice in agreeing to this marriage.

Despite the intense attraction he felt towards Asami, he couldn't deny that their relationship was tumultuous and unpredictable. There were moments where she seemed to understand him better than he understood himself, but there were also times when she drove him to the brink of insanity. Even now, he couldn't shake the memories of their secret rendezvous, the adrenaline-fueled sex that still haunted his dreams. But as thought of you, his heart aches with regret, wishing that he had chosen Asami instead of you, hoping that he could have created a family with her instead.

His mind would just wander off to when he would have Asami all to himself - skin to skin, after sharing a passionate night together. The way her hair would stick to her face when he was so close to cumming inside her drove him wild. He couldn't wait to have her all to himself again, without any distractions or interruptions.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, feeling his body react to the thought of her naked form pressed against his. The anticipation and desire grew, making him hard and unable to focus on anything else. He couldn't wait to have her in his arms and fulfill every fantasy he had been imagining.

He grabbed shampoo and shoved it all over his face, rubbing his face before rinsing it off. He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his torso. He grabbed his toothbrush and started brushing his teeth vigorously. After rinsing his mouth, he quickly dried off and went to his room.

Opening the door, he was met with your peaceful sleeping figure, dressed in shorts and a big t-shirt. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you looked. As he changed into his pajamas, he couldn't help but feel a bit regret on treating you so hurtful.

He felt a pang of loneliness as he snuggled up to you, his fiancée, and not the person he truly desired. He could feel your warmth and smell your familiar scent, but it only intensified his longing for someone else. As he whispered goodnight, he couldn't help but imagine it was his lover in his arms instead.

"Goodnight Asami," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Despite the fact that you were wide awake, Satoru cuddled up to you and drifted off to sleep. You could hear his deep breathing before you bit your lip and silently let tears fall down your cheeks. It hurt to know that he couldn't even say your name.

#arranged marriage #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jujutsu satoru #mean gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru angst #cheating gojo #gojo satoru #business au #jujutsu kaisen

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ramshackledtrickster · 11 months

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Major major MAJOR across the Spiderverse spoilers under the cut

Just an idea for Spiderverse 3 ,,,

Ok possible idea for Spiderverse 3: bc the spot is so powerful now what if he can manifest his own dimensions? So he utilizes that to break apart the spiderpeople that try to take him down he sends them into their own pocket dimensions, and Miguel gets trapped in a dimension where everything is right and he has Gabriella.

Miguel in this movie is a well rounded character but he hasn’t undergone major change in thinking or philosophy yet (though hints to towards the end). His major barrier in the film is his refusal to accept anything other than tragedy not only being inevitable but be an absolute defining trait of what makes a hero, even when tragedy can and could be prevented. He’s grieving, he’s guilty, yet refuses to call himself the first anomaly and shoves that title onto miles, and he projects all his grief and loathing out on a fifteen year old that has no control over what happened to him (wow what a hypocrite).

Miles’ unpredictability and limitless potential is in direct conflict with the philosophy that he maintains which gives him purpose, that makes his losses more acceptable.

And Miguel lets that pain completely define and rewrite him, instead of that acknowledging that pain as just a part of him— an essential part, like everyone else’s losses, but not the *only* part. Because the true core of Spider-Man that often comes with that pain is choice. And he has yet to internalize that for himself. Though he’s the leader of the spider society, he himself isn’t a true Spider-Man yet (note how while his suit is polished, his face and skin still carry a sketchy quality,, like construction lines and all that). I believe he should get closure in the third film, and his final design would reflect that.

So, in this pocket dimension, Miles and Gwen and maybe some other spider people have to find Miguel and show him the truth that none of this is real it’s a trap— but the onky person that can truly free him from the prison is himself. Miguel has to remember that while he shouldn’t forget this event or let this happen again, he should recognize life and the future is flexible, and not shut yourself or anyone else off from those chances, despite what the numbers or the canon dictates.

He finally understands, and sees Miles for what he represents— Free will, limitless potential, and the choice that makes a Spider-Man. And he has to follow in his lead to get out.

As the world around this pocket dimension is falling apart as the truth becomes clear though, Miguel is still holding onto Gabriella— and Gabriella, though she’s a simulation, feels so real to him. He senses her fear and confusion and he refuses to let his baby girl go.

But they exchange a few final words.

And miguel promises not to let her memory be in vain.

And she’s gone.

Miguel is alone with his thoughts.

Miles reaches out, offering him another chance to get back up— like Spider-Man always does

And Miguel does so and finally chooses that path.

Now they’re going to do it Miles’ way.

Alternative images In case Miguel is getting lost in that zone and he’s deteriorating art wise n getting broken down like Spot was if he’s there for too long

Or maybe he stays solid and Gabriella’s the one who degrades! Who knows!

Super tempted to board this out maybe but I’m not particularly good at dialogue so who knows

#spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spider verse spoilers #spoiler tag #major spoilers I’m not kidding #my art #fanart #marvel #spiderman spoilers

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oliversrarebooks · 16 days

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The Rare Bookseller Part 47: The Maestro's Diversion

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, kidnapping

Despite Alexander's attempt at soothing him, Oliver felt himself growing more and more anxious as the ballet continued. As much as he tried to focus on the dance, but now that he knew about the strange man's identity, he couldn't help but sneak glances over at him and fret.

Objectively, he didn't look that dangerous - a very slight older man with a sharp gaze -- but there was a certain something dreadful about him that Oliver could sense from across the theater. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, borne of the fact that Alexander was still very much on edge.

The ballet itself did not calm his nerves either. The dancing was growing more and more feverish and abstract, the costumes wilder, with bright red beads and ribbons that seemed to signify wounds. The climax was what appeared to be a human sacrifice, where the prima ballerina danced upon an altar, red ribbons tied around her hands and feet and neck, finally collapsing among raucous, atonal music.

Oliver's anxiety was reaching a fever pitch as the ballet came to a close. He clapped politely as the dancers took their bows, glancing over at the strange man.

He was clapping, but he wasn't looking at the stage any more. No, his eyes were trained directly on Oliver. They locked gazes, and Oliver felt a chill run down his spine.

"We will wait until most of the audience has cleared out," said his master. "Then we'll go attend to my master in his box. We may be in luck. He may be in an unusually pleasant mood."

Oliver had no idea how that icy gaze could count to Alexander as "unusually pleasant." "Must we meet him?"

Alexander didn't answer.

"Couldn't we just... leave?"

"No."

Oliver had never imagined he could feel so much dread simply watching men in tuxedos and women in fancy evening dress chatter and mingle as they made their way to the exits. His hands hurt, and he realized that he was gripping the arms of the chair so hard that they were making imprints. Alexander said nothing, stoically staring down at the empty stage.

Alexander was being so terse, so stiff, so unlike his normal self. But Oliver, of course, had no choice but to follow, no matter how badly he wanted to dig in his heels and not go. He feared that any struggle right now would not be met with Alexander's gentle spell correcting him, but with something far worse.

They made their way around the theater in silence, entering the box and entering the presence of Alexander's sire.

He looked upon Alexander with harsh judgement in his eyes, which Alexander took stoically, and then he looked upon Oliver with...

It was something like approval, perhaps even the ghost of a smile, and it was somehow even worse than his look of disdain.

"Good evening, sire," said his master with a practiced bow. "Was the ballet to your liking?"

"It was passable," the Maestro said, his voice like a musical instrument from another place and time. "While far from perfection, the bold direction was at least more interesting than what usually passes for art in this city. Unusually, I find myself craving the new more and more these days." He was staring at Oliver, not Alexander, as he said this.

"It seems as though you've spent the last few seasons confined to your chambers, sire," said Alexander, with measured words. "That may account for your desire for novelty."

"...A fair observation, child," he said. "Let's speak more of the new and novel, then. This must be your recently acquired thrall, young Oliver, is it not? I've heard that there was quite a stir at the auction house."

"He has very fine blood, sire, as you no doubt can tell. He is naturally docile and obedient, and has great potential."

The Maestro nodded slowly as he looked Oliver up and down. "Come, Oliver. Kneel."

Oliver's breath caught as he felt the tug on his body, puppet strings entangling his arms and legs, as he stepped forward. He remembered his master's words, and had been bracing himself for this, willing himself to relax and stay calm. Oliver would be unharmed, Alexander thought, as long as he behaved. So he didn't resist as his body fell to its knees before the Maestro, his posture straight, his hands clasped in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, demure.

Alexander's sire took him by the chin and brought his face upwards, his fingers delicate and cold. He examined Oliver as though he were a specimen under glass, searching every inch of him for something that Oliver didn't understand. Oliver could feel the control wrapped around him, as though his very heart was forced to beat in time with the Maestro's whims.

"You've made an appropriate choice for once, Alexander," said the Maestro after what seemed like an eternity. "This is a fine acquisition, and you were quite right to not let him fall into the hands of the likes of Jameson. Well done, child."

Alexander looked every bit as surprised as Oliver felt. "Thank you, sire."

"In fact, I find myself inspired for a new acquisition of my own. As you've correctly observed, existence has become ever so dreary, and I need a new diversion." He leaned back in his seat. "Which is why you're going to pluck the prima ballerina from her perch."

Oliver nearly choked on his breath as Alexander's eyes went even wider. "The ballerina from this show, sire?" he said in a strained tone. "I don't mean to question you, but are you absolutely sure? She's well known and her absence will certainly be noticed."

"Of course. Don't take me for a fool by stating the obvious." His glare was boring a hole into Alexander. "It doesn't matter how well known she is. Once she's in my grasp, she will not be found."

"Yes, sire. My apologies."

"You must fetch her for me. Your power is much gentler than mine, befitting a lovely flower. Bring her here, so that she may dance for me and only me."

Oliver couldn't help his gaze flitting over to his master, who seemed to be struggling to keep his composure. Was he actually going to do it? Simply kidnap the ballerina, on his sire's orders?

"As you wish, sire," he said, meekly. "Oliver, come along."

"No, that won't be necessary," said the Maestro, laying his hand on top of Oliver's head before he could stand up. "I will be content to watch over your thrall while you take care of business."

The hand on his head felt oppressive, and Oliver fought down the urge to beg his master not to leave him here, alone with his sire -- to not steal away a dancer with a bright future and plunge her into a nightmare. But he could already tell from the look on his master's face that he was going to follow his sire's wishes.

"Thank you for watching over him, sire. I will return with your new thrall."

With that, his master left the box, and Oliver was left alone with his master's sire, whose full focus had turned back to him. The Maestro ran his hand through Oliver's hair, and then tilted his head up to look at him once more.

"Hm, yes, a precious find indeed," he said, more to himself than to Oliver. "You will answer my questions truthfully, child. Do you fear me?"

The correct answer, Oliver thought, was to tell the Maestro that he did not fear him, that he was always happy to serve a vampire. But Alexander had warned him so strictly about being honest... "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're correct to do so," he said, apparently satisfied. "What do you fear from me?"

That question was far more complex, a half million nightmare scenarios crowding Oliver's mind at once. "Many things, sir," he said. "Primarily that I'm aware that you have the power to harm me at any time, in any way you wish. I hope you will be merciful, sir."

"Merciful, hm." He seemed as though he were considering an idea he'd never heard of before, and Oliver worried he'd overstepped. "Well, you have been honest so far, so I will be honest with you, child. If you continue to be as truthful and obedient as you are now, I will have no reason to do you harm tonight."

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, not feeling all that reassured. He felt the control over his body loosen, but before he could move, he realized what the meaning of this was when combined with his previous words -- this was a test, an obvious one at that. He steadfastly remained in the position the Maestro had placed him, trying to keep his posture straight.

"Perhaps I'm in a rare good mood from the fine night air and a half-decent ballet, but I find myself enjoying you, child. Do not take this as an invitation to be bold," he said in his musical voice. "Tell me, do you like being enthralled by my Alexander?"

Although his feelings on this were somewhat complicated, the first response that came to mind was both safe and sufficiently honest. "Yes, sir, I like it very much."

"Does he treat you well?" the Maestro intoned.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver with uncertainty, increasingly worried about this line of questioning. "I want for nothing, and the feedings are gentle and pleasant."

"I see. And does he afford you a great deal of freedom?"

So that's where this was leading. He was trying to get Oliver to admit to his master's soft treatment of him, no doubt so his master could be scolded or punished. His instinct was to protect Alexander -- to tell the Maestro that Alexander was very strict and kept him on a tight leash.

But Alexander had been adamant that Oliver must be honest, and he felt sick at the idea of disobeying a direct order from his master. "He offers me some freedoms, but not others, sir."

"Elaborate. What freedoms do you have?"

"I am not allowed to leave his manor, sir, but I am allowed to inhabit any part of it, except for my master's private chambers. When I am not feeding or waiting on my master, I am given free time to do what I wish." His heart thumped. He knew that was the wrong answer. He fought to keep himself in position, and felt the claws of control tightening around him again.

The Maestro's gaze drilled into his soul. "That is disappointing, but wholly unsurprising," he said after a long, tense minute. "Interestingly, that's the first time I've felt any sort of resistance against my control. You're otherwise obeying perfectly. Why choose that moment to struggle?"

"I want to be honest, as you ordered, sir, but I also don't want to say anything that could bring down punishment upon my master."

"Loyalty, then. An instinct to protect your master. Despite his continued shortcomings, he seems to have done a passable job when it came to enthralling you, especially compared to previous thralls," he said. "That's also my sweet Lily's work. I could sense it in you from the moment you opened your mouth. Obedient, loyal, but with too many thoughts in your head, as is her preference. Unfortunate, really." He gave Oliver a long look. "I suppose it can't be helped. For once my wayward children have brought me something worthwhile. You can always be perfected in time."

Oliver's heart filled with dread. "...Thank you, sir," he said, not knowing what else to say to that.

Before the awkward interaction could continue, Oliver heard a gorgeous, ethereal voice coming from outside of the box. He breathed it in deep, and it filled his mind with a sensation like morning fog, dampening the racing thoughts that the Maestro had criticized. The melody was beckoning him, wrapping around his limbs, enticing him to stand and follow.

Alexander. His master had returned. Follow me, follow me, he sang, a vampiric pied piper.

The pull of his song was strong enough that his master's previous command to obey the Maestro and not resist was completely overridden. He would have sleepwalked to Alexander's side in a heartbeat if it weren't for the Maestro's control preventing him, weighing down his body even as his heart yearned, and Oliver felt that he might be torn in two if this continued.

The struggle was ended when Alexander entered the box and bowed to his sire. Behind him was a young woman, thin but athletic, wearing a simple house dress that contrasted sharply with her dramatic stage makeup and the elaborate hairdo that was halfway to falling down.

It was, of course, the prima ballerina, who had apparently been ensorcelled in her dressing room, just after changing out of her elaborate costume. Her eyes were so far away, so dreamy, as she walked gracefully, a soft smile on her lips.

Oliver's heart sank. He knew from experience how hard it was to escape Alexander's power -- and even worse, she was being given over to the Maestro's thrall. She might never see the stage again, never dance for an audience, never see her family or friends, never laugh and talk with her fellow dancers after a rehearsal. She was to be locked away like a doll in a music box, rotating slowly on command, and she most likely didn't even realize her fate yet.

The Maestro rose from his seat and wordlessly examined her as he had done to Oliver. Alexander was still humming something under his breath, something intended to keep the ballerina calm, and Oliver let the spell soften his thoughts as well, all too eager to dissociate from this scene.

He watched as, with the slightest change in expression and quirk of an eyebrow, the ballerina struck one pose, then another. She was nearly up on her toes despite wearing slippers and not proper shoes, twirling so slowly, and although her face maintained a placid expression, there was fear in her eyes, now.

"Acceptable," the Maestro murmured, as she turned and assumed a different pose. "This will do for a diversion this winter, I think. Well done once more, Alexander."

"Thank you, sire."

"It's been a long time since I've come calling, hasn't it? I do believe I have the evening after next free. I trust I'll be offered quality refreshments?" He gazed at Oliver meaningfully, as the meaning of his words penetrated through the fog.

This strange, distressing vampire wanted to drink from him. Surely his master wouldn't allow that. Surely he was only for Alexander.

"...Very well, sir," said Alexander through gritted teeth. "You're welcome at my manor at any time, of course."

"Excellent. You're dismissed, then. Take your sweet Oliver home, and I'll take my new prize." He picked the ballerina up as effortlessly as he might a kitten, and she lay unmoving in his grasp.

"Good night, sire."

"Good night, child."

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Well, this went well.

Next week, Fitz has a plan.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme @strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #mind control #body control #vampire whumper #ballet whump #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver #maestro

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fortune-fool02 · 1 year

Text

A False Belief

Las Plagas Luis Serra x female reader

Summary: Despite what Luis believed, he was not purged of the infection. And all that borrowed time had reached its limit.

Warning: Spoilers for RE 4 Remake. Light angst. Blood. Rough-kissing. Plagas Luis being dark. Emotional manipulation. Potential yandere-themes? Oral-pleasure, reader receiving.

This came to my mind and I don’t know why but I need to see this precious man become a monster. I haven’t seen any content even hinting to Luis being dark so I decided to do it myself.

Please enjoy.

One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. This sequence repeated in her head slowly, methodically, as she inhaled and exhaled to its instruction, trying to calm her rushing nerves. A coldness coiled along her bones, tightening her veins like springs, making everything feel so ridged and tense.

The only sound that could be heard was the metal clinking of that lighter, flickering and spinning between his fingers with ease. A flame sparking every now and again before being snuffed out and returning to the spinning rotation. Fingers that held such a loving touch before, a soothing warmth that seemed to steal away pain and worries, filling their space with a comfort. A silent promise that no harm would come to her. Now, those fingers were cold, hard and hollow. Their mere touch enough to make her skin crawl and try to recoil back, only to earn a tight grip, keeping her in place.

Wherever Leon was, [Name] prayed both he and Ashley were safe, that they were able to find some form of cure for themselves. For Luis. It was something none of them expected, not even the Spaniard himself. Having believed to have purged himself of the Las Plagas parasite, Luis had offered to aid them to find Ashley and rid themselves of the parasite. Though, that plan turned South once he began to act strangely. The signs were there but they were too busy with other priorities. Perhaps if they noticed it sooner, they could have helped him?

That image was still burned into her mind. That small, brief moment of fear in Luis’ eyes when the blood spilled past his lips and he looked at her, splinters of crimson red piercing his smoke grey eyes. Those thin, black veins breaking across his face. In that moment, the Luis she knew died, and this..., this thing was what remained in place.

“Oh querida.” He called out, pushing himself up from his spot on the worn couch, moving over to her lightly trembling form on the floor, an almost pitiful look on his face as his red eyes glanced at the bear trap latched onto her leg. The blood had started to dry and coagulate on her leg, the small puddle that had gathered beneath staining the wooden flooring. Luis knelt in front of her, one arm propped onto his knee to hold his chin up as he looked at her. Amusement swirled in those eyes and it sickened her.

“What am I going to do with you, eh?” He hummed, his thumb and finger gently grabbing her chin but she pulled away, leaning away from his touch entirely. Something flashed in those eyes and a sharp, stinging pain blossomed in her cheek, her head snapping to the side. “Don’t you dare-!” His own words were cut off as his voice softened, his expression twisting into something apologetic as he gently stroked her stinging cheek.

“I’m sorry, [Name]. Lo lamento.” Those words fell from his lips so softly that he almost seemed genuine. As much as she wanted to believe that, hold onto that hope that her Luis was still in there somewhere, fighting to try and get out.

“No, you’re not.” She spoke quietly, her eyes refusing to meet his own. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him like this. With a roll of his eyes, that mask slipped off entirely, leaving a bored expression in its place.

“It’s not my fault you thought it was a funny idea to run away, [Name].” He pulled a cigarette from his packet and lit it, the smoke seeping out from his lips towards her. [Name] held her breath, trying to fight to urge to cough. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

“You could’ve unlocked the damn bear-trap.” The snap wasn’t intentional but the throbbing pain that pulsed in her leg was hard to ignore. His hand gripped her chin again, this time tighter, his nail digging into the skin on her chin, breaking it lightly and drawing little specks of blood.

“And let you run away again? Don’t be so silly.” His face was so close to hers, the scent of nicotine and his cologne filling her nose along with the underlying smell of blood. His lips brushed against hers, the smoke seeping into her lips and forcing her to pull away and cough, a dark smirk lifting his lips as he watched. Taking another deep inhale of his cigarette, Luis grabbed her hair tightly and forced his lips upon hers, pushing every bit of smoke from his mouth into hers.

The sharp, dryness spread all inside her mouth, scratching down her throat with rugged pricks, ripping hard coughs that burned slightly. A chuckle rumbled deep inside his chest at this, that smirk ever present. Pulling his hand back, he brought it up to his lips, his tongue lightly dragging along his thumb, lapping up the little specks of blood on his nail, a pleased moan spilling his lips as delight crossed his face.

“Oh Dios, you tasted delicious, my love.” He all but purred, a shiver running down his spine. [Name] tore her eyes away from him, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at such words. The way that delighted look sparked something in her that she didn’t want. His tongue slowly moved along his lips, savouring her taste before he finished the cigarette and slowly pushed the end of it down on her leg, his eyes pinning her in place as he did so.

A pained cry left her lips, her leg trying to pull up and away from the searing pain piercing her leg. Burnt skin filling the air and Luis sighed at the smell, a dreamy smile on his face.

“I love that smell, querida. I love you. Every bit of you.” [Name] yanked her leg back and tried to kick at Luis’ face, the first strike landing its mark, a pained grunt heard from Luis. She reared her leg back again to kick once more only for him to catch her by the ankle, blood trickling down his nose as the broken feature began to heal itself, the forming bruise vanishing before it had a chance to even fully develop. His eyes darkened as he pulled her leg up and over his shoulder,

“Now that wasn’t nice of you.” He tutted, his grip on her leg tight as he moved himself between her legs, his eyes roaming her body from the new angle. A spark igniting in his eyes as his hands moved down towards her belt, unbuckling it quickly.

“No, Luis! No, please! I’m sorry!” Panic had set in, rushing through her system as she squirmed under his grip. As much as she loved Luis, she couldn’t let herself be touched by him like this.

“Don’t fret, cariño. I’m not going to do anything like that. Yet.” It took a few moments before he slid off her pants, letting them bundle at the bottom of the trapped leg, his gaze turning back to her as he placed her leg back over his shoulder again. His lips lightly brushing up along her skin, a soft hum sending goosebumps along her flesh. Warmth shimmered in her body, threatening to spill down into her gut at his careful movement. Little kisses were placed on her thigh, his teeth finding a spot and biting down, suckling at the tender flesh.

Soft gasps escaped her, despite her best efforts to keep them back. The light scratchy sensation of his stubble only added to the feeling, sending a tingling warmth through her body, arousal threatening to seep in.

“L-Luis...” His name spilled past along with another gasps as he pulled back and moved along her thigh more, leaving more little marks and nips in his wake.

“See? I can make you feel good, [Name].” His voice was lower, huskier, almost a hushed, teasing whisper as she felt him move closer and closer to her core. Her eyes locked on the ceiling, unable to look down at him, knowing doing so wouldn’t help in anyway. “Say you’re mine~”

The feeling of her underwear slowly sliding down her thighs brought a shiver raking down her spine, a light chill brushing past her followed by the warm feeling of his tongue gently moving along her core, pulling a moan from her. She could hear Luis moan as he pushed himself closer to her, his tongue exploring slowly, savouring every second of her, as his hands on her thighs slowly tightened their grip.

“Who else can make you feel this good?” He purred between breaths, each little movement of his tongue spending a shard of arousal up through her, her body wanting more, wanting him. “Surely not that Yaqui. No, he couldn’t come close to how good I can make you feel, [Name]~” His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it lightly then slowly circled his tongue around it, making her arch her back and moan in pleasure. Her thighs shook lightly, pressing together against the sides of Luis’ head, earning a pleased groan from the man as he pulled his tongue back.

“Good girl~”

#luis sera #luis serra #luis sera x reader #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #yandere luis sera #yandere luis serra #infected luis serra #infected luis sera #plaga luis sera #plaga luis serra #yandere luis serra x reader #yandere luis sera x reader #yandere resident evil

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 7 months

Note

Hey! If youre still doing the ask game, would you mind the "I'll take care of you, promise." To "please come inside me" pipeline w/ Gale? 👉👈 (or you can choose your favorite if you don't want to do both! I love your writing, thank you so much💞)

aaaa ty anon!!

Send asks using this prompt

This is based on a line between Gale and Astarion as well as my neutral evil!Tav

Rated M

Warning: wacky magic and manipulation

Gale of Waterdeep has always fancied you, a fellow wizard and one who felt the pain of love, you were there for him. Encouraging him, leading him to your strength, and showing him his true potential.

Not the potential of the tadpoles but his own power both his natural talents and the power the orb allows him to tap into.

Though your heart is to another… You made room for him. He is not one to share or be shared, Mystra at the time was all he needed. Yet, in this chaotic turn of events, he finds himself slowly opening to the idea. Well, mainly to be able to be touched by you.

"I'll take care of you, promise." Your words like slik sliding across his naked skin, "Anything you desire. Be selfish, my little wizard." Your eyes looking into him with the shine he has only seen you give Astarion, desire.

It is not the desire to control or to see him crumble, but the desire for Gale to take all that is offered to him and more.

Astarion promised a night of hedonistic debauchery, Gale had not thought it meant by the end of the night you would be in bed with him under you.

The magic, your magic, is cold and unfamiliar– Ancient and forbidden. You draw him into the darkness with no stars or colorful nebula, you bring him into the void.

"Let us create our own paradise together."

Both in the material plane and this pocket of something beyond himself, you treat him as an equal. An… Equal.

You reach deep inside of him, your magic drawing out the power of the orb, you calm him with your presence as he fears what is happening.

The void is filled by light, his light.

Gale doesn't realize he is still alive until he is gasping for air in reality and you are still on his lap. Your aura, your power interlinking with his. He looks around and his body is transparent, full of stars and colors.

"How are you doing this?"

"You aren't the only one to use magic in the bedroom. I however use a different method: the soul. In our purist form, we bare our truths. Do not fear it."

How can he not!? The orb, his curse, his mistake could kill you!

"Heh, trust in yourself. You need not fear your beautiful power."

Beautiful. You told him once how you envied the beauty of his mastery of the weave.

"I… Trust you." He still doesn't know if he can trust himself.

You smile and nod, "Let us work with that for now."

And you do, in your hands, you hold this wizard who was broken by a Goddess who is undeserving of this man. A mortal who flew too high to the sun hoping to prove his love.

Now you have him, in your hands with claws caging him in your love.

You do not bind his soul tonight, instead, you bind his emotions and body to you.

You can taste the completion of the domination of Baldur’s Gate.

Sex is amazing, good old-fashioned flesh upon flesh. Gale is very repressed and you praise him for trying to keep up with your lust for him.

"Please cum inside of me." Sure he does not want to cum first but you want him to fill you with his seed. He deserves a good thing, a wonderful night, to surrender to bliss Astarion promised you can bring him.

His fine-cut nails leave crescent marks on your waist, his chest hurts from how hard his breathing. Your cold magic soothes him as you moan so deliciously, "Yes, let go. Fall, my love."

If you are some sort of devil of desire sent to steal his soul and mind; well you have it!

"Now that's a look." Gale looks drunk, dazed, happy, "Gale." Kissing him as you ride out your own bliss.

There is a triumphant grin on your face as you both lay in bed, Gale fast asleep and his magic tainted by your influence. You have broken Mystra's hold over him. Impossible but you lived long enough to break and bind oaths and puppet strings of Gods. You trace his chest, the orb slumbering.

Astarion will join you later, Gale still needs time to get used to this sharing concept.

#anon ask #reader insert #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x mc #gale x you x astarion

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years

Text

Three little drabbles featuring Geralt "Horse Girl" of Rivia and different animals, from Jaskier's POV.

---

1. Horse

Jaskier realized it a few weeks into this new witcher-following, song-composing venture. Specifically, when he went to eat the last apple and was told in no uncertain terms that it's for Roach, even though their food rations were running worringly low and they were a day's ride from the next village. Even though he's a fragile human. Even though she could literally just eat grass.

The mare outranked him. She had seniority.

He tried to befriend the horse, with middling success.

He tried to befriend the witcher, too.

At least Roach could be bribed with a carrot or a handful of raisins.

People project a lot of their own feelings onto animals, he supposed. It's a relationship designed to be unequal. As complex or as simple as a person wants it to be.

For a while, he had started to resent her a little, as pathetic as that may sound. That is, until he woke in the middle of the night and overheard a murmured, rather one-sided conversation.

"I worry about him, though," Geralt was saying. "Can't exactly just find a new bard and start calling him Jaskier if something happens, can I."

What?

"Wish he'd shut up sometimes, but... I guess it's been kind of nice having someone around who talks back."

Jaskier's heart felt like it might burst or break. Or both.

"Not that you aren't good company, old girl."

Roach gave a quiet snort.

That was all years ago, now. The horse is different, but still somehow Roach.

He is different, too, but somehow still Jaskier. Still the reliable bard his friend needs him to be.

Now, he watches from his spot by the campfire as Geralt brushes through Roach's mane. The witcher's got drowner brains in his own hair but gods forbid he has a wash before his trusty companion is completely tended to. He's very gentle with her, which is probably why she tolerates it as well as she does. He's heard tales of stablehands losing fingers to routine grooming before.

Jaskier wishes he could write a ballad about this without potentially damaging his fearsome reputation-- the unbreakable bond between a witcher and his horse. The unexpected tenderness of hands made to kill.

He reaches for his quill to jot down a few ideas. Something something the mighty wolf and the wild horse, loyal and brave companions defending their forest home together. Keep it vague enough. Maybe a folktale vibe.

Besides, Jaskier thinks with a touch of bitterness, the wolf's tongue is the real danger. His jaws that snap at anyone foolish enough to get too close, to offer help when he's caught in a trap.

...Maybe he still has some feelings to work through.

The wolf also has a heart he tries so hard to bury. Jaskier can see it. Always has.

"You spoil her rotten, you know," he remarks lightly, plucking on his lute strings. "She eats better than we do."

"It's like sharpening my swords. I have to keep Roach in good condition, or we don't eat at all."

"Mhm. And it's very sweet."

He no longer begrudges Roach her well-earned place at Geralt's side. The witcher had been alone out here for such a long time before he came along, probably will be again after he's dead and buried. Even if Jaskier does wish that he could be the one Geralt trusts with his innermost thoughts and secrets and sleepless night fears, he is glad the man has someone in whom he can confide.

They all have their roles in this story. Perhaps he ought to accept his as its scribe, and let that be enough.

But Jaskier's greatest fault, he knows, is an always has been his refusal to accept things as they are.

2. Cat

"Oh, look at that. Someone's cat has gone missing. Poor thing."

"We're here for real work, Jaskier," Geralt says, scanning a contract notice. Recent plague. Graves disturbed. Ghouls. See alderman for details. Bit dull.

"They're offering a reward. See?"

"Somehow I doubt a small child has enough coin to justify ignoring the ghouls."

"Says here you'll get their eternal gratitude and-- oh! The lady of the house will darn your socks free of charge for a full year. Any additional mending at a discount. Now that's a good deal."

"Hm."

"Geralt, as you know my favorite doublet is in a sorry state after that minor werewolf incident--"

"I told you to stay with Roach."

"--All water under the bridge now, of course, and what an adventure! Worthy of a fine ballad--"

"Jaskier."

"--as this would be. Can't you at least keep one keen witchery eye out for the cat?"

"And risk a ghoul catching me off guard? Sure."

"Well, now you're just being silly. Don't tell me you're a dog person. Or are you allergic?"

Geralt sighs, realizing now that only the truth will free him from this conversation.

"Don't mind cats," he mutters. "But they don't like me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Cats don't like me," he repeats. "They start hissing whenever I get too close."

Jaskier's expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. "Why?"

"I insulted their king. Why do you think? They've got more sense than certain humans, I guess."

It's a veiled remark. Jaskier sees right through it.

"You're not a monster, Geralt," he says, achingly sincere. Then, in a lighter tone, "Does that mean you've never pet a cat before?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I was very young. I can't remember."

Jaskier mercifully drops the subject after a quiet and thoughtful walk back to the village's tavern.

He doesn't fail to notice Geralt buying extra scraps of meat from the innkeeper, or how he sneaks away at night to set them like snares in promising locations near the village. He'd probably say it's for the ghoul contract if asked, but Jaskier knows better.

Even if he didn't, there is really no other explanation for Geralt returning to the inn on the second night, covered in claw marks, carrying a ghoul's severed head in one hand and a bag containing one squirming, hissing feline in the other.

3. Spider

"GERALT!"

Every witcher in Kaer Morhen hears the bard's scream, but Geralt reaches the room in moments, his silver sword already drawn.

"Jaskier, what--"

"Kill it!"

The bard is standing on his bed, pointing frantically at something. Geralt follows his panicked gaze and sees--

"Really, Jaskier?" He sighs.

"What are you waiting for? It's a monster! Kill it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not a monster. Just a spider. Not even poisonous."

"How do you know?"

"I read." Geralt crouches down for a closer look at the spider. "Might look scary but it's harmless. Probably sought shelter from the cold."

"Well, then it can go right back outside."

"Jaskier, be reasonable."

"I am. Either the spider goes or I do."

The witcher looks thoughtful. Says nothing.

"Oh, thanks, Geralt! I feel so loved."

The spider crawls onto Geralt's hand and Jaskier almost screams again, shrinking back even farther. Gods, it has so many legs!

"Pretend it's a kikimora or something," he pleads. "Why won't you kill one little spider for your very dearest old friend in the world?"

"Because kikimoras have no niche. They're invasive, and need to be dealt with to maintain balance in the ecosystem. Spiders aren't like that; they do belong. A monster, fundamentally, is any creature that doesn't."

Jaskier just stares at him, speechless. He's not sure he has ever heard Geralt say that many words all at once.

Geralt's eyes remain on the spider. "Witchers aren't sent out on the Path not knowing why we kill; we're not soldiers."

"I never thought of it like that," Jaskier admits. "That spider's still fucking terrifying, though."

"Hm. I'll take it outside."

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I know what scared, stupid people say about witchers sometimes. But I-- You do belong. You're important. Just want you to know that."

"...Thank you, Jaskier," he says. Then, quieter, "You too."

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier fic #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher fic #I'm sad i can't pet cats in witcher 3 okay #horse girl geralt

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Text

Once again putting on my weekly Teddependent tinfoil hat...

Alright, with the ever important disclaimer that no, it's not likely to happen and it's never been likely to happen and it won't in any way be queer baiting when it kinda-inevitably doesn't happen out of the way, LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW "STRAIGHT" IS A MEANINGLESS DESCRIPTOR IN THIS CONVERSATION.

It's all about the ✨context✨

First off, as numerous posts have already pointed out, Ted is technically speaking in the past tense here: "back in the early days of my coaching career" was when he was a "straight fella." This obviously doesn't eliminate the possibility that Ted is still straight, but if he has come out as queer since then, acknowledging that would defeat the whole purpose of his story. He's not looking to come out during the halftime of an important match, but rather to emphasize how "normal" he was back then and, as a result, the ways in which he got creative trying to express his individuality. If Ted had instead gone, "Back when I thought I was straight but wasn't able express that part of my identity because I hadn't realized it yet and/or had been too afraid to come out in midwestern America" that's not only an iffy way to out your protagonist in a show that has treated queer rep very delicately this season... but also totally derails his story. Both in-universe (you want to give the characters time to react to this, especially a potential love interest like Trent who is in the room) and from a writing perspective (the whole point here is for Ted's story to impart the moral of the "right idea sitting behind a couple of wrong ones") then a coming out moment is going to fit awkwardly here and detract from the anecdote's purpose.

Thinking more broadly, do we honestly believe that Ted hasn't changed since those early days? This show is all about growth, so - for me anyway - describing a young, new-to-coaching Ted doesn't imply, "That's still a descriptor that fits him" but rather begs the question "How much has he grown since then?" Notably, two-thirds of what else Ted lists about himself is no longer accurate. He's not working in middle America anymore. In a linguistic twist, he doesn't have a career in "sports," but "sport." And though we have no idea (as far as I can recall) if Ted is still afraid of tattoo needles, he certainly strikes me as the kind of person who would work to overcome that fear, whether he actually wanted a tattoo or not. The Lasso Way, by default, impacts Lasso himself. And here I'm admittedly reaching, though I find it intriguing that Ted's potential growth is couched in a 'Close, but not quite' metaphor with that comparison. Meaning, Ted's point about his goatee is that he went too far and had to pull it back into a "Foxworthy." Kinda like how, living in midwestern American with all its expectations and homophobia, he might have gone too far into a 'I'm definitely, 100%, absolutely-no-doubt-about-it straight' identity only to later pull back into 'Actually? I'm bisexual.'

Notably, this is metaphorical change comes about when his best friend - Ted's closest confidant and the man he trusts most in the world, someone who is INCREDIBLY queer-coded - tells him a hard truth about what's "not a good look" for him.

On his wedding day.

Which he then proceeds to compare to eating Bigfoot's ass.

Like I said, reaching, but given the loaded metaphors in this show (Oh hey, what does it mean to label "sport" the metaphor and then gift Trent that nickname?) I honestly wouldn't be surprised if this was later reframed as more than just a passing joke.

However, the real point is that Ted has changed, a theme that's at the very heart of the whole show, but has been particularly prevalent the last two episodes. Trent freaking throws himself after Ted (WHAT A DORK) in an effort to explain how all these small, incremental changes have led to a monumental outcome - notably one that explicitly allows footballers and their associated club members to feel comfortable expressing all aspects of their identity, sexuality included. The idea that Ted has remained near-static since those "early days," growing only when it comes to what we've seen on screen (therapy, coaching, divorce, etc.) feels antithetic to the show as a whole.

Which brings me to the meta-y question of, "Why now?" Why, after nearly three whole seasons have we suddenly had Ted drop the "straight" bomb? Why is this coming after an explicitly queer episode with not one, not four, but FIVE queer characters re-affirming their queerness, coming out to each other, or coming out to the audience? One of whom is an older, thought-he-was-straight man who has only recently come out after being married to a woman? That's not at ALL the backstory fans were expecting for Trent and it just feels like a mighty big coincidence to me, giving us that surprising trajectory alongside a casual claim the next week that, 'The straightest straight character to ever straight has randomly reaffirmed that he's DEFINITELY straight (but with plausible deniability).' After all, the show never needed to address Ted's sexuality - the marriage and midwestern everything implied enough - and certainly his speech about individuality didn't have to use that as an example. Given how completely unnecessary it was, I'm inclined to figure that a) the writers - who I assume are fairly knowledgeable about fandom trends and fan expectations/desires - tossed it in as a way to let us all down easy (which is totally understandable and I'm sorry it didn't work on my part lmfao) or b) ... they want to lay the groundwork for a plot about Ted's sexuality. They want that nugget of implication to either undermine the, 'He's still straight!' assumption later, or take Ted through the process of questioning his sexuality now.

"But, Clyde, we only have 5 episodes left!" Yeah, fair, but the show also has a tendency to race through some development (in still satisfying ways) while allowing other aspects to simmer. Basically a Roy and Trent vs. Jamie situation. Jamie has had a series long journey, slow and steady to the point where it sometimes shocks you just how much he's changed. In contrast, outside of a little groundwork in season one, we introduced Roy's personal hatred of Trent, the motivation for that, their conflict, reconciliation, and budding friendship all in one episode. It is possible to do a lot of important work very quickly, especially when the show is potentially laying down hints along the way. That's why to all us queer folks, Trent coming out last episode wasn't in any way a surprise: we recognized the coding that was happening in the background. If Ted/Trent did somehow happen - either as an end-game romance or Trent acknowledging an unrequited crush - we'd likewise have a wealth of analysis going, "See! This has been in the works since 'I like your glasses'!"

(Btw, none of which is even getting into Trent's absolutely FERAL adoration of Ted this episode that reads like a crush the size of Kansas)

If I'm being honest, at this point in the series I don't think Ted is going to wind up with anyone. I never came into this show expecting my (back then) teeny tiny ship to have any chance of sailing... and really, I still don't. But I am surprised by - and excited by! - the potential the show keeps giving us, in a way that doesn't feel at all malicious to me. If (when) Ted and Trent part ways as just friendly dorks, I'll have come away from the series not feeling like I was delusional, but rather that the writers were saying, "Here, this is a cool concept. We like it. We support it! It's not what we personally wanted to write, but we're going to give you the tools to keep playing with that possibility." Which, you know, is pretty much what I'm doing right now.

So if hearing Ted say he's straight produced a little nugget of disappointment, take heart! Even if I'm just talking out my ass here, it makes for good canon-compliant explanations in fic :D

#Ted Lasso #Ted Lasso spoilers #Tedependent #Trent Crimm #Ted/Trent

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 days

Text

Today we are all “free” to aspire to any height, we have the hero’s necessary alternatives. My moral object, therefore, is to attempt to direct the efforts of men toward the clear appreciation of reality, exposing the illusory in order that man may realize his creative potentialities.

In another context, Shakespeare was attempting the same thing, as in the history plays where the catastrophe derives from the impossible ambitions of the monarch or those of the subjects against the monarch. A certain ideal order is therefore implied as having been violated in his work, and in mine. His ideal was feudal; it supposed that life would be good when men behaved in accordance with their social position and neither lapsed into a lower level, (Prince Hal), nor created havoc by attempting to crash into one above them, (The King in Hamlet ). My ideal order is less easy to formulate if only because it does not yet exist, while he was writing within a society whose theory was sufficient for him.

I see man’s happiness frustrated until the time arrives when he is judged, given social honor and respect, not by what he has accumulated but by what he has given to his society. This ideal is posited not for itself, but because I know that the frustration of the creative act is the cause of our hatred for each other, and hatred is the cause of our fears. We reward our dealers, our accumulators, our speculators; we penalize with anonymity and low pay our teachers, our scientists, our workers who make and do and build and create. And so the urge that is in all of us to give and to make is turned in upon itself, and we accept the upside-down idea that to take and to accumulate is the great good. And whether we succeed in that or not, we are sooner or later left with the awareness of our emptiness, our inner poverty, and our isolation from mankind. When a man reaches that knowledge and has the sensitivity to feel the loss of his true self deeply, he is a tragic figure; but not unless he tries to find himself despite the world can he raise up in us the actual feeling that something fine and great and precious has been discovered too late. The history of man is his blundering attempt to form a society in which it pays to be good. The tragic figure now, and always, is the man who insists, past even death, that the stultifying combinations of evil give way before the outpouring of humanity and love that is bursting from his heart. This is why tragedy endures, and this is why it has really never changed excepting in its superficial aspects of rank etc.

I hope some of this has been clear. I write at such length because there are not many who have taken the trouble to examine the matter at all.

Sincerely yours, Arthur Miller

#the Atlantic #Death of a Salesman #plays #Arthur Miller

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a-fluffer-nutter · 4 months

Text

Dragon Darts

A/N - Hey @gladdygirl18 sorry it's taken so long, but I'm your Squealing Santa! I may have made the wrong turn and missed your chimney, but I am finally here with your present! I tried to get this done before the new year, but I've been sick for three weeks and my car just got broken into, so I'm super sorry about the delay! I hope you like it and I want to thank @squealing-santa and @hypahticklish for all of this!

Word Count: 1,260

Playing hide-and-seek with a man who owns two ghost-types was a poor choice, Raihan realized quickly into their game. He didn’t really expect Leon to cheat – well, yes he did, but he had some sort of hope for a fair game – and his smile slipped off his face once he heard Dragapult’s cry from the other room.

Raihan’s turn had gone perfectly. He had no need to use his Pokémon, it was just a simple game of hide-and-seek.

He didn’t quite remember how this little game came about, something about Leon boasting to be the best at all games played by children or something like that, but in an instant, Raihan wanted to call his bluff and Leon was scurrying off to hide.

For a man who had the worst sense of direction, Leon was actually fairly capable at finding a hiding spot. It took Raihan a good ten minutes to find him. It mostly took this long as Raihan had absolutely no idea that Leon could wedge himself behind the washing machine and the wall, but by golly did he do it. Raihan must have passed him a good twenty times before spotting him. After that performance, Raihan knew he had to up his game to beat Leon’s time.

Leon using his Pokémon was definitely cheating though.

Raihan took pride in his height, standing at a good six and a half feet. What people didn’t know is that despite his tall frame, he was incredibly flexible thanks to his slight build, which made clambering over the fridge and into a small cabinet not too difficult. He knew Leon would never check here, but all bets were off once Dragapult entered the game.

“Dragon Darts,” Leon whispered, while pointing down the hall. “Find him for me, if you will.”

Dragapult let out a low cry as he shot two Dreepy from his head. The duo cheered in delight as they sped through Raihan’s house, phasing through the walls as they flew. Leon chuckled as they went off, Dragapult still at his side.

“Am I cheating?” Leon asked, looking up at Dragapult. The Pokemon nodded with a grumble, which made Leon smile. “Well, I guess. Oh, well.”

Raihan could hear the Dreepy coming closer. The duo had split up to cover more ground, and one of them was making a beeline to the kitchen.

Raihan’s hands shook as the Dreepy flew around, zooming back and forth in front of his hiding spot. As anticipation swelled through his veins, Raihan threw his hands over his mouth, fearing the noise he could potentially utter if spooked by any sort of sound. The Dreepy paused after a few minutes of pacing the small kitchen. It let out a groan, which gave Raihan some hope that the ghost-type would just fly on into the next room, but of course he couldn’t be that lucky.

“Hi,” Raihan mouthed as the Dreepy phased through the cabinet door with half of his body. Eyes widening, the Dreepy let out a scream, flashing a toothy grin at the man. Sighing, Raihan reached out a hand to pet the darling Pokémon, knowing that it wasn’t its fault that Leon was playing dirty.

“Found you Raihan,” Leon called and Raihan could just visualize his cocky smirk he had as he walked into the kitchen. “Raihan, where…oh in Arceus’ name,” Leon let out a chuckle as he looked up at the Dreepy, which had now spun around so only the wispy back half was visible to Raihan, “How, Raihan, how?”

“Arsehole,” Raihan simply remarked as he heard Leon trying to scramble up the side of the counter. The door swung open; Leon’s face brightened sweetly once he saw Raihan in his tight hiding place.

“Well, that’s not very kind,” Leon prodded Raihan’s side while wearing a fake pout.

Raihan recoiled into the side of the cabinet, slamming his shoulder with all his weight. His lips quirked into a frown when he looked back at Leon, whose shit eating grin took over half his face.

“I’ll bloody stab you, mate. Leon!” Raihan let out a yelp once Leon poked him again.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Leon laughed as he brought both hands down on his best friend’s torso.

Raihan definitely did not shriek, no. He could never do that. Never.

Cackling laughter poured from his lips as Leon skittered his fingers along any sensitive parts that he could reach. Due to Raihan’s positioning, he had his knees bent up and his feet pressed against the other side of the cabinet. This allowed all access to the backs of his thighs, and Leon was going to have a field day.

“You arsehole!” Raihan screamed as one hand scratched the underside of his thigh and the other wormed its way under his arm. In no position to move, Raihan just sunk as far back as he could and laughed.

“You’re not fighting back,” Leon mused, shifting his weight slightly. He was sitting on his knees, and while his legs were starting to ache, Leon could not let this opportunity pass. “What’s wrong? Are you stuck or do you just like this?”

Dragapult and the two Dreepy let out small huffs of amusement as Raihan just cursed, wiggling as much as he could. One of the two Dreepy had a brilliant idea, so he smacked his brother with excitement. The other Dreepy grumbled, frowning from being distracted from the delightful show they were watching, though he brightened up once his brother revealed his plan. Flapping his arms, the Dreepy let out a wail, following his brother into the cabinet right next to the one Raihan was in. Both phasing through the side of the cabinet, they appeared beside Raihan’s head, one on each side, and began to nuzzle into the trainer’s neck.

“Okay! Stahahp!” Raihan exclaimed after a few more minutes, his deep belly laughs were becoming hoarse and weak.

“Fine by me,” Leon snickered, pulling his arms back and jumped off the counter. “My arms were about to fall off!”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Raihan growled, though he still had a wobbly smile.

The two Dreepy flew down to Leon and purred, rubbing their bodies against his shoulders. Dragapult just rolled his eyes, though he had thoroughly enjoyed watching the shenanigans. This scene wasn’t too uncommon. Leon was always sweeping Raihan off his feet and throwing him onto the couch or against a wall to tickle the hell out of him. It was the big brother energy that he was always exerting, though Raihan was six months Leon’s senior. Dragapult often had to drag the two apart, along with Leon’s other Pokémon. Of course, Raihan’s Pokémon were usually present, but they never tried to help him. Only Flygon really cared, wanting Raihan to be victorious in these little fights, but her favor was usually won over by Leon rather quick, as he always kept little mints in his pocket that she loved.

“You are the absolute worst,” Raihan glared, looking down at his best friend.

“But that’s why you love me,” Leon batted his lashes.

“You know I’m going to kill you, right?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna make this easy or hard?”

“Bye,” Leon replied as an answer, as he darted off, blowing a raspberry as he ran.

“Of course,” Raihan rolled his eyes, then glanced over at Dragapult. The two Dreepy had returned to their spots atop Dragapult’s head, where they looked eager for more action. “Can you by chance to me a favor?”

Dragapult nodded, grumbling in amusement.

“Alright. Dragapult, use Dragon Darts.”

#tickle fic #rose writes #squealing santa 2k23 #squealing santa #pokemon #raihan #champion leon

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nerdy-talks · 1 year

Note

I agree with your opinion and thoughts about Solomon and him asking us to side with humanity... I love solomon, and his ideas and priorities are admirable, really! But I'm pretty sure his ways of execution to reach those ideals and fulfill his goals, for humanity to be seen as a race worthy to be seen as an equal, isn't the only plausible way.

Not to mention that humanity can still be seen as a strong race without us having to hover at each other's throats and without instigating into an all out war. We can still reach a middle ground through our peaceful and understanding approach. Like us giving the grimoire to Lucifer, man was seething at Mc out of worry and fear for his brothers, which was completely understandable, but us handing out the grimoire could possibly give us brownie points into regaining Lucifer's trust back. I'm pretty the MC isn't THAT stupid.

So maybe the MC's approach through peace and trust is better than any of other race's approach, which is guided by their own power, biases, prejudice and preconceived notions, etc...

And sure let's say that Solomon is 100% on our side, the way he acts with us sometimes could really tip off our perspective towards him from good to bad and vice versa. And this man has the balls to warn us about time paradoxes and shi when he chose to make a pact with Asmodeus early than supposed to... you're the strongest sorcerer... just use ur powers to kill the spider bro or summon Barbatos instead early on instead💀 (Lesson 7?)

I apologize for my late response, precious anon! Yesterday was a little hectic, so I didn't see your ask until now ^^"

But I have a LOT to say, so hopefully this long-winded reply makes up for the delay lol

Let me start by saying that I genuinely appreciate your insight and I also agree with you 100%

I feel like there's still so much that hasn't been revealed to us yet, especially regarding Solomon's past. I've already given my own theories thus far, but I am particularly curious why Solomon thinks that war is even a viable option. What makes him feel this way? What exactly caused the last war he fought pretty much on his own?

Potential Spoilers

What I do find interesting is the information we have been given, though.

In 9-A, some of those prejudices and biases are shown when Solomon ends up in what is clearly an illusion of sorts.

And personally... I would absolutely love to debate and counter all of these assumptions and misjudgments.

In comparison to demons and angels... humans may be more prone to illness, injuries, and death. But that's literally what makes us human.

Despite this, I argue that it does not make humans fragile or weak. We are resilient. We rebound and recover from all sorts of terrible experiences. We survive and overcome trauma. We suffer loss yet do our best to keep our heads up. We fight and push forward through life. We may be human, but we are not to be pitied or underestimated.

I also argue the point of humans needing angels to "protect" us. Yes, there are humans who believe in guardian angels because that is what many of us were taught growing up. Humans want to believe in an afterlife, of a peaceful paradise after this life.

But what about humans who don't share those same beliefs? What about tragic events that occur every day where humans end up dying through no fault of their own? What about humans who feel as though God has forsaken them for whatever reason, whether it be due to illness, loss, or other unfortunate circumstances that have negatively impacted them? For those humans, it seems like no angel is looking out for them or "protecting" them.

My first argument to this mindset : What could a demon possibly understand about a human's path in life? That's like us telling Diavolo how to run the Devildom. It's a topic we are completely ignorant of, therefore we have no business calling the shots.

Not only that, but every single human being is different and unique in their own way. While one path may be good for one person, it may be detrimental for the next person. Also.... I believe that sometimes, humans need to lose their way in order to grow and become wiser.

Speaking from personal experience, I became "lost" more than once to the point where I used to cry and wish that it was possible for someone to come save me from the pain I was experiencing at that moment in time. But even if a demon magically appeared and offered to lead me someplace where I'd be able to find happiness... I would be highly skeptical. What is their definition of "happy"? How do they know I even have a chance at finding happiness? Where exactly would they be leading me? What would they want in return?

For argument's sake, I will admit that I may take a demon up on that offer even now. But it would be out of pure curiosity, not because I actually think I'd be able to find happiness. Which leads me to my next point : demons deceive humans with sweet words in order to drag them into the darkness

I have heard this saying and similar ones numerous times before (Luke even said something along the lines of demons using honeyed words to get others to do their bidding), and I feel like it is perfectly accurate in this scenario too.

Diavolo would be promising a lost, confused, and more than likely desperate human the chance to be happy, and all they would have to do is follow him to some unknown place. Seems way too good to be true, in my opinion.

So that's not "helping" humans.... That's confusing them even more and leading them further away from their path in life (at least within the Human World, since it sounds like Diavolo would take them to the Devildom/Hell. Though I'm just speculating there)

Then in 10-A, it is revealed that this illusion was conjured up by "Nightbringer".

Side note : since this is where Barbatos sent Solomon when he teleported him, it makes me question if Barbatos has connections to Nightbringer... or is somehow Nightbringer himself?

Either way, I found this question interesting :

Solomon is convinced that we share his beliefs and viewpoints, that we'll agree with him and help him fight for the sake of humanity despite saying that he is "not trying to make an enemy" out of either demons or angels .... Which as Nightbringer pointed out, is an awfully overconfident statement to make.

I found this both interesting as well as funny.

Solomon is against demons and angels judging humans, yet he is acting like he knows us inside and out. Don't get me wrong, I love Solomon too. But isn't that a bit hypocritical?

He may have a very close connection/relationship to us, but he obviously doesn't know our heart well enough if he honestly believes that we would turn our back on the brothers and support the idea of a war against them.

As you pointed out, anon... Solomon's delusions beliefs definitely tip the scales when it comes to us wondering if he's genuinely on our side or if he has some kind of hidden agenda that he needs our cooperation with in order for it to come to fruition.

And I absolutely agree with you! I don't know if Solomon has become senile in his old age or what, but he really went out of his way to warn us about the dangers of potentially altering the present if we do or say anything untoward.... Yet he goes and makes a pact with Asmo WAY sooner than he was supposed to. Uh, Solomon? What's with the double standards, buddy?

I really hate to say this, but it honestly does make me question if he used the whole "time paradox" spiel as an excuse to precipitate a conflict with Diavolo, Lucifer, and the others... Because Solomon must have known that if any of them found out MC was lying to them or keeping secrets from them, they would react accordingly (and yes, understandably so).

The latter was pretty much proven already, considering Solomon arrived right on time to save MC from Belphie once the brothers found out MC is actually human, then immediately proceeded to take them to a place where he thought they would be safe. It almost seems like it was planned from the start, if you ask me.

Another side note : And let's not forget where Solomon brought us. He was conveniently in reach of a grimoire that could successfully control Lucifer. Who has been wanting to make a pact with Lucifer for a very long time? Solomon. So I'm curious to know if Solomon did indeed plan all of this. If not to start a war, then maybe to try to force a pact with Lucifer? Because Solomon obviously knew that Lucifer was going to pursue MC and himself, hence why he brought MC to the Reaper's Cave (to get a bargaining chip... AKA the grimoire)

Side Note Number 3 : I find it especially interesting that the brothers threatened Solomon to bring MC back safe and sound. Is that because they suspect he might be up to something, too? Maybe they're worried that Solomon may try to use this opportunity to appeal to MC and have them side with him to escalate a war in the past, and that's why they basically used the promise of bodily dismemberment if he doesn't return with MC in the same condition they both left in.

Anyway, onto the next very important part :

I firmly believe the peaceful and understanding approach is the absolute best way to prove that humans are just as formidable as demons and angels.

My main reason for this belief is in regards to something Lucifer said :

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

MC knows the brothers better than anyone else. I'd even argue that at this point, MC knows the brothers even better than they know themselves.

MC can reach them in ways they aren't expecting, because MC can use their knowledge of the "present day" boys to properly handle them now. This has been shown numerous times already when MC helped them, encouraging them, and comforted them.

Even when MC gave Satan a few little tidbits about cats, it was a special moment between the two. MC knows that present!Satan loves cats, so they knew past!Satan would instantly be fascinated to learn more. Plus... What better way to quell the Avatar of Wrath's anger than an adorable, fluffy, purring little kitty? ^u^

MC also knew that Lucifer wasn't angry when he cast his spell and was lowkey threatening them. Instead, MC knew Lucifer was scared and worried about his brothers, that he didn't want to risk their safety because of some human who's intentions are currently unknown to him.

But I'm starting to get a little off topic here.... Let me go back to the statement Lucifer made.

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

MC can choose to blindly follow Solomon and side with humanity like he asked them to do, which may potentially lead to a war between humans, demons, and angels.

Or MC can choose to do things their own way.

As I said before, MC knows the brothers better than anyone else. So MC can reason with them and help them understand that MC only wants what is best for them.... Because MC loves them and cares about them (whether that's romantically or in a familial way is up to you, but it still remains true regardless).

And if MC chooses to do things their own way, which I predict is what will happen especially after the whole grimoire incident.... if that choice means that MC will have to go through a series of trials and tribulations, overcome obstacles and hurdles, and use every ounce of energy and effort to find common ground between the three worlds while avoiding war at all costs.... Isn't that the perfect way to prove just how strong, driven, tenacious, and capable humans are?

MC can open the eyes of both angels and demons to exactly what they, a human, can accomplish through sheer determination and willpower.

It can also be a wonderful opportunity to show both Simeon (an angel) and Lucifer (a demon) that MC (a human) is able to accomplish what neither of them did.

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

Lucifer made choices that resulted in war. MC can make choices to avoid a war.

Simeon regrets not speaking up back then, not reaching out and actively trying to get through to Lucifer. MC can do the opposite. MC can push and fight to prove their loyalty and dedication to the brothers, they can strive to enrich everyone's lives in a peaceful and nurturing way.

Knowing those two, I am absolutely positive that MC will unequivocally earn their respect this way if they choose this path. And if so... Not so weak and fragile after all, eh Simeon?~ ;D

Most importantly :

If MC makes their own choice to deliberately avoid a war/conflict because of their genuine love for the brothers, it will prove that being a human, demon, or angel is completely irrelevant when there is a mutual level of respect and understanding between two (or more) individuals.

Because let's face it.... We all know every one of the brothers is weak for us and will support us in any way they can. Even Mr. GrumpyPants Lucifer has a major soft spot for us. We just need to work towards rebuilding our relationships, strengthening our bonds, and reforging our pacts with them in this timeline.

But I'm sure MC will accomplish that, in their own way, on their own terms ^ᴗ^

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massivewaffle · 2 years

Text

On Top of the World

Paring: GoodTimesWithScar x Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 3080 Warnings: Character death/respawn mechanic (in game Minecraft) Rating: PG13/Teen (some heavy making out is all!), very fluffy AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40105275

Summary: Scar, your longtime crush, asks you to test out his newly constructed roller coaster for his Hermitcraft Theme Park. Only problem is your immense fear of heights.

A/N: This has been a rough week and we all need some good, incredibly cheesy fluff.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this." You say, sighing deeply. You've not even stepped onto the loading platform, yet you can already feel the vibrations from your heart throbbing down the expanse of your limbs.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a very persuasive and charming man! This is going to be so fun; I promise you that!"

Scar's enthusiasm is an infectious disease at this point, polluting your brain and convincing you to step outside of your comfort zone for the umpteenth time. You're not sure what you're more ashamed of; that Scar has a pull on you that no one else can match or that he is fully aware of it, using it to his advantage repeatedly. You're sure that those sparkling eyes of his will bring about your destruction.

"The potential of falling to my death from atop your homemade rollercoaster isn't exactly my idea of fun, but I'll take your word for it, Mr. Imagineer."

Scar laughs at your words, his giggles again setting off those annoying vibrations.

"I like that one! Mr. Imagineer! Think I could convince everyone to use that from now on?" Scar muses, pausing for a quick moment, distracting you as his long fingers tap against his pouting mouth. "Well, I can confirm this Imagineer has conducted several tests into this particular attraction, and I promise it is structurally sound!"

You and Scar reach the platform's top, just far enough from the surface to feel a difference in the wind.

"Mhm. And how did you test this?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow as Scar flips switches and levers.

"Oh, you know, sent a few test subjects around to see if they took damage. And I am happy to report everyone returned in one piece, safe and sound!"

"Uh-huh. Did you test this on any humans or just…what? Jellies?"

"Heaven's no. I would never put Jellie at risk like that! I used-" Scar reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a small spiral-bound notebook and flipping a few pages- "three wolves, a pig, two sheep, and one particularly cantankerous bird."

"Ah. So Grian gave it a test run for you already?" You ask, peering around his arm to read the labels on the aforementioned switches.

Scar gives you a look from down the sharp angle of his nose, raising his brows at you in amusement.

"…oh. Actual birds."

Scar laughs again. "Indeed. Though, to be fair, these parrots were unsurprisingly better behaved than Grian would have been. But I digress; all the tests have gone perfectly so far, nothing to fret about! Plus, do you not trust my superior building skills?!" Scar huffs, and while you can tell he's only teasing, you momentarily feel compelled to make sure he knows what an incredible builder you know him to be.

"I promise it's going to be fun! I'll even give you a cut of the profits for being my test dummy! I mean, uh, test person!"

Scar leads you through the iron gate he's constructed at the entrance. Now that you're standing at the top, fear is squeezing tightly around your heart.

"How will it stop?" You ask, fully aware of the shake in your voice.

"It’s on a timer! Once we get back to this point, it will automatically stop for us! Safe and sound, of course.”

Scoffing at your weakness, you find yourself shaking your head. Scar’s beaming smile is too overwhelming. You want to say no; you know he’d understand, but you haven’t seen him this proud of a build in ages. Sad, disappointed Scar is the absolute worst, like a bouncy castle that’s sprung a leak. You know he would never let you get hurt, especially not if he could prevent it.

“Let’s do this.”

“Wonderful! I swear this is going to be so much fun. Much more fun than the waterslide of death; I haven’t really figured that one out yet. Somehow the waterslide to death ratio is just very, very off. I suspect sorcery.”

Your face immediately betrays you, contorting into a look of horror and amusement. Scar laughs as he ushers you into the small cart at the start of the track, buckling you in before taking a seat himself.

“I’m kidding! The waterslide is fine! It only culminates in a death like 20% of the time.”

“Scar…”

“Okay, okay, more like 40%. But I’m working on it! Anyway, we’re riding this one now, and this one is death free! Hold on tight.”

If you could hold the bar in front of you any tighter, your fingers would snap. White knuckles cloud your vision as you look down below the coaster. The start isn’t that high, really; you’ve definitely survived falls from higher up, but it wouldn’t exactly be a pleasant tumble. Looking up, you see the twists and turns of the rollercoaster stretching high around the mountain, diving in and out and culminating in one giant drop.

Scar’s voice breaks you from your reverie, quiet and low.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t want you to feel coerced; I can pay one of the others to take the first ride with me. I swear on Jellie, this is safe, but there are no hard feelings if you want to step away right now.”

Scar’s eyes bore into you, clearly concerned. This is the Scar you find yourself in love with, disregarding safety procedures and all.

“No, I want to help you. I’m just a bit scared, is all,” You admit, eyes closing as you take a deep breath.

“You? Scared? You’re never scared!”

“Well, it doesn’t happen often, but even the greats have a fear! The Deep Dark, drowning…snakes.” You offer, shooting him a knowing look. Scar shivers at the mere mention of snakes, making a face of disgust.

“How about I hold your hand when it gets scary? I can guarantee that besides being a world-class builder, wizard, and forest elf, I am also an excellent hand holder!”

Damn him and his enthusiasm. You nod, accepting his offer and steeling your gaze forward.

“I’m ready.”

Scar leans out of the car for just a moment, enough time for his long arm to reach over to the console and flick a switch. Suddenly the rollercoaster comes to life in a way you’d never seen when he was building. There are light, almost airy tunes floating from note blocks hidden among the terraformed sections of the design. Immediately you put together why Scar had been so desperately searching for Etho a few days ago; he needed his expertise to take the design up a notch. Lights flood the track, highlighting portions Scar must consider important. Froglights illuminate the rail under you, the dim glow they emit adding a new layer of ambiance the coaster lacks in the daytime, but now, at dusk, you understand why Scar felt so compelled to create this. It truly is magical.

“Amazin’! At least that’s all working.” Scar says, more to himself than anything, as he reaches over to flick the last switch.

The track begins to shift at his touch, propelling your cart forward at an average pace. The breeze starts to weave through your hair, mussing the style you’d spent time adjusting. Usually, you wouldn’t see the point, but you willingly put in just a bit more effort when Scar is around.

Etho’s note blocks shift tunes depending on the area of the coaster, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling as you realize Scar has recreated smaller versions of builds on other parts of the server within his coaster. The track speeds up as you drive into a dark tunnel within the mountain, your eyes widening as you realize he’s recreated XB’s base theme inside. Coming out the other end, the cart leaps into the air as it flies through the mouth of Xisuma’s skeleton, landing lightly on the other side.

Glancing to your left, Scar has a pen in hand, feverously taking notes directly onto the back of his other hand. You quirk a brow at him as you elbow his side, drawing his attention.

“Notes! My notebook would fly off at this speed!” He yells over the noises surrounding you. The coaster takes a steep turn to the right, not enough to throw the cart off balance but a bit of a shock. Scar immediately makes a note of it on his hand. As the coaster continues, you realize Scar has section names for every ride segment and notes down the ones that need adjustment. It calms you to know how seriously he’s taking his creation, making you slightly less afraid of the journey ahead.

Your new calmness is immediately shattered as the coaster takes a turn. You can spy the end of the track up ahead; the only thing standing between it and your cart is the giant drop from the mountain's peak. The iron bar in front of you is your new best friend, providing a semblance of comfort and grounding as you hang on for dear life.

“Are you alright? I can stop the ride if we need to!” Scar yells, pen now nowhere in sight. His eyes are only on you, scanning over your face. He looks so genuinely concerned it’s sweet, but you have to face your fear sometime. This seems as good of a time as any, especially with him at your side.

“I’m fine. Just y’know. Heights!” You respond, tightening your hold as the coaster ascends.

Scar nods and breaks his gaze. He looks around the world below, a small smile blossoming. His hair looks lovely like this, and you make a mental note to tell him to muss it up once and a while. It blows in the cool air, askew from his standard style, and he looks far freer and younger than usual. It hits you that this ride he’s built isn’t just his dream build; it’s an escape. Scar looks so content here, high among the mountains and landscape of your world, almost as though he is floating alongside the cart.

You close your eyes for a moment, chasing that same feeling yet coming up empty. Closing your eyes makes the ride feel even more perilous than before, and you open yours in a hurry, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Scar reaches over, pausing for a moment before resting his hand on top of yours. You react immediately, yearning for something physical to keep you grounded through the fear. Entwining his fingers with your own, you tighten your grip, scooching closer to him on your shared seat. He squeezes your hand twice, so you know it’s okay, you’re okay, and your right-hand passes over your body, grabbing at his bicep. The cart has reached the ride's peak, and you must admit, the view from here is incredible. Everything the Hermits have built this season is on display. You only wish you had more moments of calm to appreciate it truly.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got you.” Scar whispers directly in your ear as the cart begins its descent and your heart flies into your throat. Your body shakes, and you can’t quite pinpoint if it’s a result of the anticipation for the drop or the effect Scar’s voice has upon you.

Your fingers squeeze around his bicep, and Scar tightens his hold on you. Leaning back, you bury your face into his upper arm, ready for what’s to come. Scar allows himself to fall into the moment, screaming with a joyous smile as the cart tips over the peak and descends at breakneck speed down the track. Your stomach is in your throat, your heart beating uncontrollably, but it’s not inherently as awful as you assumed. You can’t bring yourself to scream along with Scar, but his hold on you is a welcome distraction from fear, and you are surprised at how fun it is to fall.

For all the anticipation you bottled up, the ride itself is incredibly short after the last drop. A few smaller drops and curves later, the beginning of the track comes into view. The speed lowers upon approach, and adrenaline courses through you as the cart comes to a stop, just as Scar said it would. You’re energized, proud of yourself for facing your fear, and impressed by your lack of death.

“Told you I’d keep you safe!”

Scar’s face is broad with a smile, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes from the exposure to the wind and speed.

“You alright? Can I get you anything?”

Scar has yet to move, waiting to see if you’re alright before turning his magnificent creation off and leaving the cart. There’s nothing you want more at this moment than to share these experiences with him forever, to see that exuberant look on his face daily. There’s so much joy running through you there’s only one thing you can think to do with all this energy: kiss the life out of him.

Leaning forward, you catch his eyes before allowing your own to fall to his lips. His expression changes, eyes widening as his brows raise just a hair, but he doesn’t shift away. Instead, his hold on your hand drops. For a split second, you worry, but then you feel the press of his calloused fingertips along your jaw, cupping your face. His touch is light, fingertips barely brushing the skin they dance across. His head leans in toward your own as his gaze lowers. You hear him whisper your name just before your lips meet, his warm breath on your lips sending a shiver through you. His lips press against yours moments later, calm and firm. The kiss is far from the light, soft first kiss you have spent hours daydreaming about as you worked on your base. You imagined Scar would kiss softly, wanting encouragement before he continued, but you were wrong.

Scar kisses you like he’s been daydreaming about this moment in an entirely different context. The adrenaline from the ride must be contributing as Scar’s lips capture yours in a desperate kiss, his hand holding your face in a firmer position. He pulls away for a moment and begins to speak as he kisses you, words spilling onto your newly swollen mouth. You can barely make out what he’s saying between his whispers and your heartbeat humming through your ears.

Your name sounds more beautiful than ever as he whispers it against your skin, pairing it with mentions of how wonderful you are, how sexy, and how long he’s waited to kiss you. You open your mouth to tell him how you feel, but he captures your open lips between his, silencing you aside from the moan that raises in your throat. His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip before his tongue soothes the area, not yet making its way into your mouth. He’s merely teasing you, making you whimper for more as your hand falls from his arm to pull at his shirt, drawing him closer to you. Scar kisses you until you feel your lungs burn, utterly unaware that you’ve been holding your breath for who knows how long. Breaking away from Scar’s kiss is devastating, but you yearn for air, and Scar pulls away once he realizes you need a moment. Dropping your head to take a few gulps of oxygen, Scar’s lips find their way to your forehead, kissing above your eyebrows and the middle of your forehead until your breathing pattern evens out.

He removes his hand from yours, holding your fingers close and raising them to his lips. Your face is burning with excitement, attraction, and embarrassment all at once, but you can’t help but look up to catch Scar’s eyes.

“Hi.”

God, you adore him. Scar’s the most handsome man in the world on a typical day, but now, with his outfit, messy hair, and reddened lips, Scar is the most beautiful person to have ever lived.

“Hi.”

Silence overtakes you as you blush in sync, both a bit overwhelmed by the last few moments.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Scar confesses. The blood pumping in your ears turns to birdsong, joy radiating you from within. “This whole test run was just a ploy to see if I could hold your hand,” he admits, scratching at the back of his neck and running the hand through his hair, messing it up further.

“Well, I’d say it was a successful test run then! We lived through your theme park coaster, AND you held my hand, so I suppose dreams come true, huh? The happiest place on Earth or something like that, right?” You tease.

“Happiest Hermit on Earth, that’s for sure,” Scar says, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your mouth.

“Now,” Scar says, leaning back to finally turn his creation off, “what do you say to indulging in this theme park’s other highlights? Notably, the cookie stand and the pop-up mattress store?” He asks, eyebrows waggling exaggeratedly.

“Oh, you charmer.” You retort, rolling your eyes. “I’d love to.”

Scar grins as he stands from the cart, stepping out and planting his feet before reaching for your hand. You place it in his, quickly realizing how small your hand feels in comparison. With Scar’s hand around yours, you feel safe and cared for in a way you haven’t before.

Scar guides you back to the ground, offering you his arm as you wander down his re-created Main Street U.S.A. He stops momentarily, reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It’s a small Redstone device, too small for you to understand, but one button push later, and the park comes to life. Lights turn on in every window, the soft glow adding to the ambiance.

“I always wanted to be locked in a theme park overnight.” Scar says, eyes darting from building to building. “This is the closest I could think to get.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Scar turns to face you, his eyes teary.

“I’m so glad I get to share this with you.”

Your face is burning red again, swooning at his comments.

“Me too.”

Scar shoots you one last smile, pressing another short kiss to your mouth.

“C’mon, there’s so much for you to see!” Scar exclaims, grabbing your hand and dragging you down the flower-lined road.

Perhaps Scar’s theme park isn’t Disney, but for you, it will always be the happiest place on Earth.

#hermitcraft x reader #goodtimeswithscar x reader #GoodTimesWithScar x Original Female Character #WaffleWrites

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apneicodette · 1 year

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Corvus corax I

ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ

A scaramouche x reader [gender netural] story

♫ When you want to escape, say the word. Well, I know that getting you alone isn't easy to do. With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room. ♫

You were desperate,

you were dying.

The weather did not care for your restless mind that kept you from succumbing to death. The cold air breezing through your wings. Your eyes were slowly giving up on you. It was too much for you, yet you still treaded on.

You were lost for the first time of your life, separated from your family and friends. You had no idea if we're alive or not.

You were selfish. You didn't even turn back to see or even help. You just fled the scene.

Your wings gave up on you as you crashed through trees of an unknown forest. No leaves to help break your fall. You tumbled out of your bird form and into your human one.

Groaning in pain, you clenched your shirt that hid your wound. You were still bleeding. It was but a small wound.

However, you were poisoned, and it was rapidly reaching your heart.

You surveyed the area in which you had landed in, snow covering your lashes. You searched and searched till your eyes landed on a man from a distance.

He had violet hair and a dark colored kimono with a kasa on top of his head. He was staring down on a gravestone. The name was not visible.

You hadn't realized you crawled your way to him, till you heard your own raspy voice call out to him.

"Please" you begged.

The man turned around to look down at you.

"Help me. I'll do anything," your voice now barely audible.

"Anything?" The man jested. He kneeled down to get a better look at you.

He touched your arm, feeling the black feathers that were there. Because of your injury, you weren't able to properly transform into your human body.

"A raven, hm?"

You felt pathetic. You did not know if this man was a potential enemy or if you should even put your trust in him. Usually, you'd never let anyone even get this close to you, let alone touch you.

However, weren't you dying? You'd take your chances.

"I'll save you, but you must swear your life to me," the man offered.

The snow storm was picking up.

"I want your utmost loyalty, I want you to kill for me. Swear it, and I will save you"

The man lifts your face up to meet with his cold eyes that matched the hue of his hair. You managed to open your mouth. It was a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear.

"I swear"

The crunch of snow alerted the guards of the entrance to Tenshukaku.

They immediately kneeled.

"Lord Scaramouche, we haven't realized you left." One of the guards had said.

Their purple haired Lord that was in front of them hummed.

"You look a little bit ill, my Lord. Are you alright? -"

"Silence, I did not permit you to ask any questions." Scaramouche spat at the other.

"Y-yes, my Lord"

Scaramouche groaned in annoyance, "Pathetic, how long are you going to kneel on the floor?"

The two soldiers immediately got up, fixing their attire out of embarrassment and fear. Scaramouche sighed as he gazed down on the raven, cradled in his arms sound asleep.

The two soldiers looked at one another in confusion but didn't dare to question their Lord.

"Alert the Divine Priestess in Watsumi Island that her presence is needed now. She has work to do here"

"Yes, my Lord, we will send a message -"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you miss when I said her presence is needed now?" The impatience in Scaramouche started to rise every passing second.

"N-no my Lord"

"So then why are you still here?"

"But with this weather, its-"

Scaramouche waved his hand up in a circled motion. Silence. One of the soldiers felt for his mouth only to find he had none. He turned to the untouched soldier with a grim look,

"Should I do the same to you?"

The other soldier shook their head no, as he hurried the other to take their leave and follow their Lord's order.

After the soldiers left the area, Scaramouche opened the doors to his palace. It was quiet, just how he wanted it, how he needed it.

He was feared, even his comrades [the few] that formed an alliance with him coward in his wrath.

He was told he takes this part of himself from his recently deceased mother, The Raiden Shogun, who, too, was once a formidable sorceress.

His pacing to his quarters was slow, fuck, he cursed underneath his breath. His mind wondered about the raven he held in his arms. The main thought came in a form of question, though deep down he already knew the answer.

Will I regret saving this damn raven?

A few months later…

Sounds of horse trotting in the snow were the only thing Scaramouche could hear as he and 3 of his soldiers trailed behind him.

Tsk, where are they? He eyed the gray sky in annoyance.

"My Lord, it seems those traitors are nowhere to be found, I think it'd be best to alert everyone in the Palace of this -"

Scaramouche scoffed a laugh, "I'm not in the mood for such stupidity, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and continue searching, incompetent fool."

Scaramouche averted his eyes back to the sky, where he finally spotted who he was looking for, you, in your raven form. He had a satisfied sigh as he watched you fly down to the ground and into your human form already in a kneeling position.

"My Lord," your voice was very pleasant to his ears.

He got off from his horse to stand in front of your arms crossed. "You're late"

"Apologies, but I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear I found your traitors"

"I trust you've dealt with them?"

"Naturally -" You reached into a bag that was not yours. "-your crown my Lord," you presented to him.

He hummed, very pleased with your actions. "Carry it with you".

"Ofcourse," you picked yourself off from the ground, pocketing back the crown. But to your dismay, your job for today was not quite done.

Scaramouche leaned into your figure. "You don't want your Lord to be made a fool of, do you? There are some mouths you need to hush for me," you eyed your Lord's crazed smile as he twirled a strand of your hair.

"As you wish, my Lord. You don't mind if I get your sword a bit dirty, do you, it's for your sake after all," you gave Scaramouche dirty eyes, not waiting for a reply as you reached towards his hips unsheathing his sword. You sighed at what you needed to do.

"Raven?" One of the soldiers questioned your darken expression as you approached them, completely oblivious to you and Scaramouche's conversation.

You were often called Raven by the people in Inazuma per Scaramouche's order. "Only I can say your name," he claims.

The other soldier to your left was about to flee on his horse, he clearly had put two and two together.

Unfortunately for him, you were faster.

Common birds of the forest flew from their trees at the sound of your comrades, screams, and pleads for mercy, to which you did not heed. The horses of the once soldiers long runned away.

Now, all that was left was a bloody scene with you in the middle of it and your Lord simply watching it on his horse.

You held your face, trying not to show any emotions. Otherwise, you'd get a lecture from Scaramouche as to how your anger and guilt from these "insignificant beings" had it coming.

"Isn't this quite a disadvantage for you? Having me kill your top 3 soldiers, " you asked with your back facing him.

"The least you could do is look at me when asking a question. It's quite disrespectful." He brought his horse closer to you.

You turned to face him, and he eyed you as though you were a masterpiece, regardless of the blood that painted your body. You were visibly pissed and he enjoyed that fact.

"Oh, come on, my most devoted and precious Raven. People talk, and I can't have them tarnishing my name because of this incident. Besides, if they were truly my strongest soldiers, they would have least put up a fight now, wouldn't they?"

It was disgusting to you how he tried to put up a reason as though it was so justifiable.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, "Let us return, so you can clean yourself. The snow will bury their bodies."

You sheathed his sword back onto his hip, transforming back to your raven form and resting yourself on his shoulder.

"What? Didn't want to hold onto me," Scaramouche laughed, to which you cawed at. "Oh yes, tell me how much you love me"

Oh, if you could just poke his eyes out, you would.

Once Tenshukaku came into view, you flew off of Scaramouche's shoulder to enter through one of the windows, but not before he called out to you. "I want you in my quarters after you get yourself cleaned."

You left out of his sight, flying into the window of your room. A bath. You needed a bath. You reverted back to your human form, heading straight to the bathroom.

You caught yourself in front of your mirror.

Did I always look like this?

So inhumane, you didn't even feel like a true Raven. Your life was almost the same as it was months ago before you met Scaramouche, but it felt more morbid.

You blamed it on being homesick.

You undressed yourself, entering the shower. You slowly scrub your arms, your legs, your face, everywhere you could. You let the water get hot just enough so the mirror would get foggy. Just enough so it could feel as though you were burning.

You watched the watered-down blood seep down into the drain. You hated him, you hated him so much you had to refrain yourself from screaming or even scratching your face off.

You also hated the fact that though you could very well at least attempt to kill him or, at most, run away, you did not.

You hated him, but he saved you.

You hated him, but he gave you a home.

Where else would you go?

A knock came from your bathroom door. "It's me, Sara"

Kujou Sara was once a loyal right hand under The Radien Shogun's reign, but now under Scaramouche rule, she has been demoted to a mere servant, at times she would be called onto the field.

"Come in," you hear the door open, seeing Sara's figure pass by behind the shower curtains.

"Your specialized dedicated designed uniform that matches perfectly with that of our Lord's is right here for you to wear. Perfabally today before you meet with him, in his quarters, alone, just the two of you," you can practically feel the sarcasticness and spitefulness that comes out of her mouth.

"Is there something you want to say to me, Sara?" You ask as you start to wash your hair.

"Yeah, why are you still here doing his bidding?"

You groaned, "You know exactly why, and watch what you say. You seem to forget that I can easily get you killed."

"Wow, you say that as though we're aren't friends"

"We aren't. Just one word I can say to him about you talking shit and your life is over. Matter, in fact, just your name alone is enough"

"I'm so terrified!! If you wanted to, you would've done it ages ago."

"True. Ugh, can you just get out? Before you get me killed for talking shit with you."

"Raven, we both know that would never happen."

You stayed silent as you turned off the water. Sara pushed her hand through to hand you your towel.

"Thanks" you started to dry off your body.

"How are you feeling?"

"Same as usual, fine." Here we go again, you thought. As much as you appreciated Sara checking up on you, it feels as though you're going insane. A repeated cycle, and the only thing that you can physically see a change in is that you're only getting worse and worse.

Sara sighed at your empty response. "I won't pry, but you are clearly not fine. I'll let you do your thing. But whenever you have the chance to talk, let me know. There's something I need to talk to you about."

And with that, Kujou Sara left your space. You opened the curtains and stepped out the tub. The attire did, in fact, match Scaramouche. Dark colors of purple, red, and black. The measurements of course were perfected, as this isn't the first time he has gotten something tailored just for you.

He confused you so much when he did things like this. You remembered Kujou Sara saying it's because he likes you.... romantically. You immediately denied that idea.

"What does he know about love?"

"And what do you know about it?" Kujou Sara had countered.

The thought of it even being anything remotely close to love sickened you. You didn't even know how to describe your relationship with Scaramouche.

You were obviously his right-hand man, though he calls you "his raven." But there were times where-

You sighed. You didn't have time for this. You buttoned up your clothing and headed out of your room into the dim halls. You didn't want to keep him waiting, did you?

You always noticed how quiet it was in the Palace. Not that nobody worked here, but because they made sure to keep themselves hidden unless Scaramouche asked for their presence.

You made it to his doors, wasting no time to knock. "It's me," you announced.

"Enter"

You opened the doors to his quarters closing it behind you, he was staring outside his window, well was, now his eyes were glued to you. "Do you like your clothes?" He smirked.

Oh, so that's how it was. He knew you would stain your clothes, so he already had something prepared in advance. Your fist tightened for a second before you let them lose.

"They fit, my Lord."

"Such a boring response as expected. I, for one, think it compliments your complexion quite well. You should thank me." It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.

"Thank you for the gift, my Lord."

"Now stop being so awkward standing there and sit down."

And so you sat down on one of the two chairs near the bookshelves adjacent to the window. You eyed the sweets he left on the coffee table as well the two cups filled with tea.

Scaramouche took a seat on the vacant chair on the opposite side of the table. He smiled at your not so hidden expression. "You can take one, they are your favorite aren't they?" He gloated as he grabbed one of the cups of tea and took a sip.

You suppose this time you can stop playing your game of bitterness. However, taking a bite of one of the sweets did not help the swellness in your heart for even indulging in it.

"As much as I love seeing your face. I did call you for business matters, " Scaramouche said seriously. You are giving him eye contact showing you were giving him your utmost attention.

"As you know I'm quite loved by many-"

"-My Lord."

"It was a joke."

You crossed your arms, and he cleared his thoart before continuing. "I have many targets on my back, as you know. And it seems as though someone in our nation, specifically, a part of this Palace, is trying to dethrone me."

You took a sip out of your cup tea. "Who?"

"For once I do not know, I do have a list of suspects." He looked at you, and you raised an eyebrow at his strong stare.

"I must apologize. A tiny bit apart of me wants to say it's you. But I strongly believe you wouldn't cross me."

"Of course I wouldn't, I owe you my life," you said wholeheartedly. Even though you'd cursed his name at times, you meant every word.

You missed how his eyes went soft for a second.

"Yes, you owe me your life. And don't you ever forget that," he sighed. "Anyways, I need you to look over the list of people. It goes from most to least likely based on my judgment." He handed you a folded sheet of paper which you took.

"Should I kill any one of them if caught?" You said way too quickly for your taste. You cursed yourself for even saying that. Why did you even suggest that?

Scaramouche eyed you closely, letting out a light laugh. "No, my dear Raven. I would rather have them alive. I will deal with them personally. I just want your own judgment on the matter."

You nodded in understanding.

"I've told no one else, so it's just between me and you as always. You should feel honored that I place all of my trust in you. Don't betray it. " Though it's seemed like a threat to your ears, you almost had mistaken it as a plead.

Almost.

You grabbed the door about to take your leave till Scaramouche lightly shut it behind you, whispering. "Also, from now on, do not let yourself be seen changing in or out of your raven form."

You wanted to question the last part, but you closed your mouth out of hesitantance. Scaramouche opened the door for you, "Its getting late, yeah? You had a long day, so get some rest, we have work to do later in the afternoon. "

"Yes, my Lord, have a goodnight."

You walked back to your room and sat yourself on your bed, looking over the list Scaramouche gave you before you left:

Kujou Sara

Yae Miko

Shikanoin Heizou

Kamisato Clan

Sangonomiya Kokomi

Kaedehara Kazhua

To be honest, you thought it'd be much longer. Though you suppose it had to be someone with some sort of close connection to Scaramouche to want to go against him.

Then again, it's not a surprise that someone even wants to go against him. Scaramouche is a powerful king and sorcerer who is hated by all, even his people. Yet, seeing Kujou Sara's name at the top sends some worry in you because if you need to,

You would have to kill her, even if she is your friend.

#genshin impact #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #radien Shogun #angst #Spotify

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rustic-space-fiddle · 1 year

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ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

(Warning: absolutely no structure to this, this is a rant, this is “POV: you asked me what I thought of Sarah Hawkins while on my lunch break and I spent the entire lunch break rambling at you)

So, Sarah Hawkins. Let’s establish a few things about this woman that are very obvious: she is an exceedingly patient mother; she runs that inn almost entirely alone; Leland’s leaving hurt her just as much as Jim; she loves her son to the moon and back. Now let’s establish a few things that, while not explicitly stated, are kind of assumed: she built that inn herself out of her own home; she doesn’t resent Jim despite his selfish behavior; she fears for his safety, and that he’ll leave her the way Leland did.

According to the art book, Leland and Sarah settled there because the mining on Montressor was supposed to be pOPPIN’. That was Leland’s plan, to make money on Montressor. Plan SUCKED. But Sarah stuck with Leland for eight years, probably listening to his promises that he’d make it big and get them off this rock, and that he’d be home to stay one day. And then one day, he was gone, and he left her with their little Jimbo and that house. She was probably heartbroken, not just for Jim. Just watching her face in the flashbacks and the way she cried when he finally left, she loved that man (trash though he be). But what did she do?

She looked at her little boy, rolled up her sleeves, and turned her house into a way to support her little family. She planted a garden in the back, turned the other rooms into guest rooms; her own little kitchen into a place to make meals for guests, and hauled tables into the main space. She she did all of this presumably alone, maybe with Jim’s limited help (he was freakin 8) and maybe Doppler’s help, though I think they became friends a little later judging by the way he interacts and talks about Jim. From what we see, Sarah works all day and probably well into the night, still finding time to look after Jim and watch over her. And she did this for SEVEN YEARS. The entire time, watching her son slip away and become secluded and sullen and lose his spark. She probably tried to encourage him and prod him in the right direction, but every one of her efforts seemed to fail. STILL, she woke up every day and ran that inn and looked out for her kid. Never a word of complaint. The closest we get to hearing her “complain” is telling Jim that it’d be super great if he didn’t get himself arrested and add to her list of things to do. When she vents to Doppler, she says: “I’m at the end of my rope.” She doesn’t mean she’s fed up with running the inn. She means she’s run out of ideas for reaching Jim. She doesn’t care how much work she has to do, as long as it keeps Jim cared for and on the right path, but it doesn’t feel like she’s done enough or any of the right things.

Then the inn was burned down. Seemingly a freak raid, potentially brought in by Jim after he dragged some unsavory character inside. That was her ENTIRE life, built so carefully out of the rubble and tended for years, and it was burned to the ground in seconds. If any of that was gonna keep Jim steady, it’s gone now. The look of DEFEAT on her face after she looked back at it makes me wanna die every time. When Doppler puts that blanket around her shoulders and she just sits, not hearing anything he’s saying, refusing to look at Jim. WHAT’S SHE THINKING IN THAT SCENE?!? Is she angry with Jim? Just a little? Angry that he couldn’t just for once leave well enough alone?? Or does she think she FAILED??!!?! Like her last effort had been snuffed out and she’d failed Jim?! I hope not. But who knows.

AND WHEN SHE LET’S HIM GO ON THE JOURNEY?! You can tell that even after Jim promises that he’ll come back and make her proud, she isn’t truly convinced. You can tell she wants to be! She wants to believe that. That’s probably what Leland said to her. Jim’s probably made similar empty promises to turn it around in the past as well. She wants to believe this time it’ll be different, but she always believes that, and it never is. But she smiles at him and lets him go anyway, because maybe it will be. She loves him, and she knows she has nothing left to give him. Whatever it is that will help him, she doesn’t have it.

So then, Sarah is alone. Doppler is a bachelor. There’s no one else there for her to talk to. There’s no more inn, which was her life for seven years. No Jim, who was basically all she had for even longer. Now she’s just stuck in this observatory with nothing to do but wait. Maybe she even watched the stars through that massive telescope, wondering where Jim was, and if he’d come back. I’m not sure how long the journey was, but I’m assuming a few months (much shorter cuz of their instant zoom back). I wonder if she was surprised when she got notice of their return, and not just because of how fast it was. When we see her at the spaceport and she sees Jim, she genuinely looks surprised, even before he hugs her! How big had the part of her that feared he’d never come back become?! Either that he’d die out there or take for the distant stars like her scumbag husband.

BUT HE CAME BACK! For the first time in ages it’s her HOPES that are confirmed instead of her fears! And then when he hugs her—how many years had it been since he’d done that? You can see on her face that for the first time in forever, she knows everything will be okay. The weight come off her shoulders. The years of work are made worth it. She looks at him and he’s so different. Taller, a new shine in his eyes, a smile she hasn’t seen in years, but older. She sees that her boy is back and now he’s a young man who KEEPS his promises. Maybe whatever he needed was out there and not with her, but everything she did was exactly what she needed to do, even letting him go, and we see she knows it and it brings youth to her face. She had never failed—she’d done everything he needed.

AND THEN, SHE STILL RUNS HER INN! As a passion now! With that new inn Jim has built for her, she has a new life! She runs it with help, to keep giving that place to the community around her, safe and secure in the knowledge that she did good and will keep doing good.

Basically, Sarah Hawkins is a powerhouse. She is faithful, strong, persevering, clever, loving, and selfless. Never demanding anything for herself, only for her son, and receiving everything she could ever need in turn. She held on for the boy that needed her most, even when she feared she would be left behind for her troubles. She’s a wonderful person, and I wanna be like her.

The real treasure in Treasure Planet was Sarah Freakin Hawkins.

#treasure planet #long post #Sarah Hawkins #sorry this is so unintelligible and rambling #I just #I love her okay #I probably didn’t even touch on everything but I’m exhausted from work #people keep driving our ATVs into crap and it’s raining again so the mud is awful #the stables are ROUGH #ENDLESS PAIN #but I had to ramble about her #she is my Queen #underrated disney mom #underrated disney lady in general #I love her #I will not shut up #rusty rants

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asirenscream · 1 month

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a shrimptastic picnic | wren & felix

TIMING: current

LOCATION: the common.

PARTIES: @asirenscream & @recoveringdreamer

SUMMARY: wren's bad attempt at potato salad leads her to the lions & lambs picnic and felix is kind enough to taste test, until they're interrupted by a man insisting they learn more about the well respected shrimp. a totally normal picnic, right? right!

CONTENT: mentions of the potential of food poisoning.

The Lions and Lambs picnic seemed pretty daunting to Wren. Well, not just because she had to subtly find out that there weren’t actually going to be any lions or lambs, but because of how many people would be there. Standing in the grass of The Common, Wren tried not to sweat too much. Her fingers were gripping the tupperware container she had put her potato salad in. She hadn’t ever made potato salad before, but someone had mentioned how that was a common picnic food. She had taken hours attempting to boil the cubed, unevenly sized potatoes and mixing them into the mayo mustard mixture. The website on The Google she had found said that anyone could put what they wanted in potato salad! The comments were very helpful so Wren threw onions, celery, raisins, and walnuts in it. Hopefully people liked it.

Shifting on her feet, Wren tried to coax up the nerve to approach the crowd of people in The Common there for the picnic. This would be a good way to step over her anxiety and fear of humans—of people in general. Should she have brought forks or spoons? She didn’t own many of them… Or plates. Or bowls. Should she have brought those, too? Oh, she was definitely spiraling now. Brown eyes squeezed shut as Wren tried to take a steady breath and ignore the racing of her heart. Maybe if she pretended people weren’t there for a minute then it’d be okay. It’d be fine. Right? Right!

Wren slowly opened her eyes and tentatively started walking across the grass, the slightest tremor in her form. She accidentally bumped into someone and squeaked, looking up with wide eyes. “Sorry! I’m—wait. I know you, right?” She got out in a rush. She felt like she remembered him from online. “You have the cat? Um, right? I’m not misremembering.” Cats didn’t tend to be birds' biggest fans. Wren hadn’t met a cat before so she wasn’t sure how they’d in turn take to her. “I’m Wren! I think we talked before, hi!”

—

For years, Felix had felt fairly isolated. First, they’d had their father as their well-meaning warden in that house in the woods. Then, there’d been Leo and his less-than-good intentions in the apartment they’d shared for years, where Felix made themself smaller and smaller by the day in order to allow Leo space to be big. Felix had never really had the chance to branch out and meet new people until after their breakup with Leo and, by that point, they’d been so nervous that it seemed a herculean task just to start a conversation. But they were working on that. They were doing better now. They were reaching out to people, they were making friends.

They were going to picnics.

It had seemed like a good idea, in theory. They’d even managed to talk themself out of the tempting idea of dragging Mona or Natalia along for the ride, reminding themself that they needed to be able to meet people without the security blanket of someone they were already close to being there to help. They could do this on their own. Just Felix, the muffins they’d brought, and… a whole lot of people. Like a lot of people. Were there always this many people at things like this?

Someone bumped into them in the crowd, and Felix stiffened a little. “Sorry,” he said, at the same time that they apologized. Then, blinking down, they realized they recognized the girl. “Oh! Hi! You’re, um, the bird girl. I mean, the girl who likes birds. I mean, person. Bird person. Person who likes birds.” All right, Fe, reel it in. “I’m Felix! Um, what did you…” The trailed off, looking down at the tupperware in her hand and what they could see of the… substance inside. “...make?”

—

Bird girl. Well, they weren’t wrong. It caused Wren to let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. That felt a little too on the nose, even if they didn’t realize it. “Yup! Yeah, bird girl seems… fitting.” Her laugh strained just a tad bit more before she reeled it in. “Big fan of birds! That’s me, yes. Um, anyways!” She rocked onto the balls of her feet as she tried to ignore her own anxious, awkward tendencies. “Hi Felix! I’m happy to see a friendly face.” He really did seem friendly from their brief conversation. It did little to ebb her already overwhelming anxiety, but it was something at least.

Looking down at the container, Wren had to take a moment to remember the name. “Uh, potato salad!” She looked back up and smiled. “The recipe said to just add whatever I wanted! So I did that. I’ve never made potato salad. I didn’t even know what it was! I had to search what picnic foods were, because I don’t think people would like my go to foods.” Raw meat, raw fish may be more accepted, but she didn’t know how well either of those would hold for human consumption.

There was plenty of activity around Wren and Felix. It was overwhelming, so Wren did her best to ignore the push, push, push of it all. “Um, did you bring anything? Or just come for the fun? Would you want some potato salad? I didn’t bring forks! Should I have brought forks? I don’t know how picnics work, I’ve never been to one. What do you think?” She blabbered on. Wren could tell when she was spiraling and it was definitely happening. “Oh god, sorry. When I start I just kind of can’t stop! Ha.” She winced.

—

She seemed nervous, and Felix wondered if they’d said something wrong. They had a habit of that, they knew, of speaking out of turn and generally making a mess of things. They were trying to do better, trying to improve, trying to… be the sort of person that people wanted to talk to, but it was an uphill battle. Spending most of your teen years living off the land in a murder cabin tended to make social interaction a little more difficult. Trying to save the interaction, Felix nodded. “Uh, yeah! Birds are great. I like birds, too.” They didn’t. Not more than the average person, at least. In fact, some birds freaked them out a little. But, hey! They could pretend, in the interest of friendly conversation. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s nice to, uh, know somebody.”

Glancing back down to the container again, Felix tried not to let their… surprise show on their face. That was not potato salad. Felix had seen potato salad. Felix had made potato salad. Felix had even enjoyed potato salad. That was not potato salad. But it was her first time making it, and she’d found a recipe that apparently wasn’t very helpful, and wouldn’t it be unnecessarily mean to point that out? “It looks great!” Felix lied, flashing her a bright smile. “I can’t wait to try it!” They hoped they had remembered to put anti-nausea meds in their jean pockets.

“I brought muffins,” Felix replied quickly, holding up the muffins and offering one to Wren. They liked to think they were some quality muffins, but they might have been a little biased. They glanced back to the ‘potato salad’ Wren was holding with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah. I’d love some potato salad. I think, uh — I think there’s forks where the other food is. So we can go over there and get some forks. And then. Eat this potato salad!” They felt a little like they were tying a noose for their executioner here, but it was fine. “No, hey, it’s okay! I kind of do the same thing. It’s cool. Come on, let’s… go find a fork.”

—

Wren’s smile was shaky at best, but it was getting easier to breathe through the anxiety when she just focused on Felix in front of her instead. They seemed really nice and dealing with one person in comparison to several was always going to be preferable to Wren. Especially when they seemed to be as kind as Felix was. “I don’t do this kind of stuff often,” a pause as Wren tried to figure out how to word it, “go out, I guess. Being around a lot of people kind of freaks me out.” An understatement, but she could lighten it a tiny bit. There was no harm, right?

“Thanks! I tried really hard, so I hope it’s good.” Wren smiled, holding up the container briefly to observe the potato mixture in there that had taken her way too long. Humans were really strange in what they could eat and couldn’t. She didn’t want to make something she’d enjoy, but would make humans sick. That was the quickest way to give away the fact that she was very clearly something else entirely. The constant fear and itch to not be found out was persistent enough.

Baking! That was another thing that Wren was eager to try. “Oh wow, these look amazing! Thank you!” Wren took the muffin excitedly. “Do you bake a lot? Or cook in general? Baking seems really hard, but so fun. Do you have a favorite thing you like to cook or bake?” She practically bounded alongside Felix to go near the other food. Someone was going to eat her food! She was way too excited. “Fork adventure! Hah,” Wren giggled almost nervously and could feel the heat from her embarrassed blush travel all the way up to the tips of her ears.

There was a table full of other dishes and cutlery, plates, anything you could think of. Wren made work of setting down the tupperware container and popping off the lid. It didn’t look awful, at least. Or to her, anyway. It looked like vegetables and sauce? That was normal, for sure. “If you hate it, it’s okay! Don’t worry.” Wren added quickly, resisting the urge to grimace. “Rome wasn’t painted in a day or whatever the saying is. I heard that one on TV.”

—

Given her overall demeanor her words — that this wasn’t a thing she did often — felt unnecessary to really say. It was clear that she was uncomfortable, out of her element. But that was okay. Felix was a little out of theirs, too. So they smiled back at her, they shrugged their shoulders. “I don’t really do this often, either,” they admitted, wondering if they were this obvious. Being around a lot of people was pretty scary, but they’d found it was a lot better when you were around one you trusted. They could be that one for Wren, they thought. Or… try to, anyway.

Even if it meant eating her potato salad. They spared it another look, careful not to let the uncertainty shine through in their expression. They weren’t sure she would have picked up on it, but they didn’t want to take any chances. “I’m sure it’s great. I think, um, the first step to cooking and being good at it is to try your hardest. Right?” Wrong. Very, very wrong. The first step to cooking and being good at it was not making anything like what she had in her hands. Felix’s stomach was not going to be happy with them after this.

But Wren was happy, or seemed to be. That made it feel kind of worth it. She took a muffin, and Felix offered her an encouraging smile. “I love baking. It’s something I do a lot. Um, I do more of it when I’m stressed. I like to think I’m pretty good at it, because of all the practice.” They paused. “Baking, I mean, Not being stressed.” Though they got plenty of practice at that, too. “Yeah! Yeah, let’s go on a fork adventure.”

It didn’t feel like much of an adventure. They walked to the table and grabbed a fork, trying not to sigh as Wren popped open her tupperware. It smelled… interesting. Like a lot of things at once. Felix, unsure where to start, stuck his fork in. “Yeah. That’s — That’s totally how it goes. Um, I think.” They tried to remember that meal at the Raven, the one that looked terrible but tasted fine. They did their best to convince themself that Wren’s potato salad would be the same as they brought the fork to their mouth.

—

Wren swallowed hard around the small lump that formed in her throat. Ever since all but crash landing at Wicked’s Rest she had been endlessly surprised by the kindness people showed her. She hadn’t ever really considered before that this may be the norm for humans and their society. Felix was offering her kindness simply because they wanted to. She couldn’t say it made her any less perpetually terrified of those around her, but at least it was comforting to know that kindness was the go to for a lot of people she had, thankfully, already met.

“Oh, yes! I think so, too. Something about being bad before you can be good at it,” Wren agreed cheerfully. She peeled carefully at the wrapper around the base of the muffin before taking a bite. One of the things that Wren had also come to love was all the various foods humans had to offer. The muffin was sweet and the sugar went right to her head with how ready she felt to bounce all around. “Wow! This is amazing, Felix!” Maybe baking was something people were just good at off the bat. Felix seemed to be at least.

Nodding along, Wren took Felix’s words into consideration. So they weren’t good at it off the bat then. Practice was the key. She’d have to keep that in mind for herself. All wasn’t lost. “I get that, though. I’m always stressed—especially about things I can’t control, which I’ve been told isn’t great for me, but it’s hard not to and all. Do you make cookies or anything? Or cupcakes? Those are baked goods, right?” Okay, reign it in, Wren. That wasn’t a normal thing to ask someone—a fellow human. It took her best efforts sometimes to not look like a fish out of water.

Wren clapped her hands together and smiled expectantly. She hoped that they didn’t feel too pressured right now, but this was a big step for her. Cooking and trying to offer it to people without having an anxiety filled meltdown. She thought she was doing pretty well so far. “So? Thoughts? Concerns? Comments? Questions?” She asked, trying to do her best to not look over eager, but failing.

—

She was right about that, at least; the first step to being really good at something was being really bad at it. Felix’s mother had been particularly fond of that saying, smiling each time one of her children came to her to admit to some mistake. That’s how you learn, she’d tell them. So… maybe Wren’s potato salad was effectively poison. Maybe Felix would regret eating it. But this was how she was going to learn, wasn’t it? Their mother had helped them with that, so maybe it was their duty to pay it forward and help Wren.

They smiled as she took a bite of the muffin, pleased that she seemed to enjoy it. “I’ll give you the recipe, if you want. Um, baking is — It’s about being precise, but knowing when to improvise. My mom used to say it was like jazz music. There’s notes, but some of it is you making it up as you go.”

It was easy to see themself in Wren. In her stress, her anxiety. Felix had a pretty good idea how she was feeling right now, and they wanted to help. If that meant eating bad potato salad, they’d eat it. “Yeah,” they confirmed with a nod. “I make cookies a lot. Cupcakes sometimes, too, but I’d rather just make a normal cake. I don’t know why, but I like normal cakes better than cupcakes. Those are baked goods, yeah.” Man, Wren wasn’t kidding when she said she was new to cooking. Maybe she was a sheltered kid, someone who’d just moved to town for college or something. She was about the right age, and Felix had heard that some college kids didn’t even know how to do laundry when they first got to their dorms.

The potato salad sat on their tongue, and it was… wrong. All of it was wrong. The texture, the taste. It was hard not to make a face as it settled, and when Felix swallowed, it was… a little too hard of a gulp to pass for neutrality. They opened their mouth, now blessedly free of “potato salad” and tried to think of something to say.

Luckily, they were rescued by an approaching person. The man wore a red shirt and red shirts, with a red had sporting claws on either side. He came to stand beside Wren, the smile on his face a little too wide. “Shrimptastic day we’re having!” He greeted, and Felix, eyes wide, nodded.

“Um. Yeah?”

“Have you seen our booth? We’re just over there. We have pamphlets. Would you like a pamphlet?”

—

Jazz music. Wren wasn’t quite sure what that was, but she could figure it out. The website Google had been her best friend since stumbling right into the thick of human culture. “Sure! That would be really nice.” She nodded, “improvise… kind of like how I did in the potato salad!” She supplied, looking proud of herself. The website did say that you could throw whatever you wanted into it and it’d more than likely work.

“A normal cake! Like the big ones with a bunch of layers? I saw that on a TV show.” Wren gasped, trying to refrain from getting more muffin crumbs all over her sweater. She wasn’t entirely successful, but that was fine. “Do you have a favorite flavor or anything? I’ve heard that you can’t go wrong with chocolate. I like chocolate loads.” She informed them. Taking another bite of her muffin had her head bobbing along happily as if there was music she was dancing to.

Mouth full of muffin, Wren didn’t get to hear what Felix thought of her potato salad when someone came up beside her. She did her best not to choke on the baked goods in her startled state. Thankfully with that came not shrieking out loud like the impulse had been. Wren quickly chewed and swallowed, wiping at the crumbs on her face. ‘Shrimptastic day’... what did that mean? Shrimp were delicious, she’d allow that.

“Um, yes?” Wren wasn’t sure if that was the right answer. “What is your booth about? Shrimp?” Someone did say that they had been given a bunch of shrimp they didn’t want. Her brown eyes flickered over to Felix to see if they had any earthly idea what could be going on with this shrimp enthusiastic person. “I didn’t realize so many people here liked shrimp that much.”

—

Felix didn’t want to encourage more potato salads like this one. They really didn’t. But saying, no, nothing like what you did with the potato salad, do the opposite of whatever you did with the potato salad would probably hurt Wren’s feelings, and that wasn’t at all what Felix wanted. So they grit their teeth together in a forced grin and nodded their head. “Yeah! Like that!” Surely not every attempt would be as bad as this one, right?

“Yeah, like that. I like chocolate a lot, but I have to be careful how I make it. I’m lactose intolerant — uh, which means I don’t process cow’s milk well — so I have to, you know, use other ingredients instead. But you can make it work! And if you don’t have allergies to worry about, they make a lot of boxed good cake mixes. Pretty much all you have to do is add the wet ingredients!” Maybe that should be Wren’s first stepping stone if she wanted to be a baker. It was hard to mess up a boxed cake mix, wasn’t it?

It was strange, feeling grateful for a stranger approaching to talk about shrimp. After their experience at the theatre with Mona, Felix had little desire to talk about shrimp at all. But talking about shrimp would give them time to think of something nice to say about Wren’s potato salad, wouldn’t it? It was… was sticky a compliment? No, right? She probably hadn’t been going for sticky.

The man smiled at Wren, something strange behind his eyes. “Isn’t everything about shrimp? If it isn’t, it should be.” His eyes flickered down to the potato salad. “I spotted you from across the way. Your food looks very good. I think we might have similar ideologies.” He reached out, putting a hand on Wren’s arm in a way that was strange; like he wasn’t quite used to having hands. Felix blinked.

“Um, actually —”

The man continued as if they hadn’t spoken. “Of course people like shrimp. Who would deny shrimp? You wouldn’t, would you? Would you deny shrimp the respect they deserve? The fear? The awe? Be honest.”

—

“My friend Van is like that! She offered me medicine once when I cried at her work then got raw meat.” Wren informed Felix. You’re supposed to share stories with friends or people who would become friends, right? She was totally nailing this. Boxed mix sounded a lot easier than trying to bake from scratch. Maybe she’d have to give that a try. She could make something for her friends and hopefully they’d like it! “Oh, that sounds like a nice idea, thank you! I’ll give that a try. I can follow instructions, for the most part. Sometimes I like to do whatever I want since that’s more fun, but I’ll do my best to try to follow it all without too much change.” Jazz, jazz music. Had to follow it to make it work best, but with some changes is what Felix said.

The man had a certain look in his eye that was making the hair on the back of Wren’s neck stand up. She didn’t have a good gut feeling, but when did she ever? This could just be her anxiety talking, knowing her. Poppy always poked at her mercilessly for her fear over the smallest things that she wouldn’t be able to sense real danger if it smacked her in the face. Was this one of those situations? She wasn’t equipped to be able to handle this, she was sure.

“Oh, ha! Um, thanks!” Wren laughed nervously, the brief grimace on her face quickly being hidden by an equally as uncomfortable looking smile. “I didn’t think everything should be about shrimp, to be honest. Isn’t there other things to enjoy like… I don’t know? Nature? Um, stuff that isn’t shrimp? Right, Felix?” She quickly looked at them with a wild look in her eyes. She didn’t want to do this alone.

Shaking the man’s hand off as casually as Wren could manage, she looked at a loss for words. “Aren’t shrimp usually just eaten instead? Is that what your pamphlet is about? A shrimp eating contest sounds like fun!”

—

“Oh, hey, I know Van!” And… they also knew that humans weren’t supposed to eat raw meat. Felix could handle it — the jaguar was built for digesting raw meat, and they did share a body — but it made human sick. Maybe Van didn’t know that, or Wren didn’t, or both; either way, Felix felt it was their responsibility, as an adult in the equation, to say something. “You cooked the meat, though, didn’t you? You really need to cook meat before you eat it. I mean, um, there are some kinds you can eat raw, I think — like sushi and stuff — but for the most part, you’re really supposed to cook it.”

At least she seemed willing to accept boxed cake mix. Felix thought it would be a big step for Wren, the kind of thing that could really push her in the right direction. Boxed cake mix would be so much better than this potato salad, because anything would be better than this potato salad. Not that Felix was going to say that. They were not breaking kids’ spirits. “They usually put the instructions on the box with the cake mix. But, um, you know, you can still add stuff to it! Like… chocolate chips.” And not onions, they wanted to add. Definitely not onions.

They wondered what had drawn this shrimp-loving man their way. Surely he didn’t really want Wren’s potato salad, did he? He kept looking at it, something like hunger in his eyes. Felix moved to grab him a fork when Wren spoke, drawing their attention away. “Um, yeah. Shrimp is cool, but it’s not everything. Haha.”

It was like a flip had been switched. The more Wren spoke about shrimp, the less friendly the man seemed. His hand dropped from her shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Eaten? You would eat them? Shrimp are to be adored! Worshiped! Eaten, perhaps, but only after a natural death. Only to keep them close, to make them a part of you.” He reached into his pocket, retrieving a pamphlet which he shoved into Wren’s face. “You will educate yourself. You must.”

“Hey,” Felix took an uncertain step forward. “Look, you’re being a little —”

The man turned to them, reaching out and shoving them. It wasn’t a particularly hard shove, but it caught them off guard enough to send them stumbling backwards and make them drop the tray of muffins they were holding. “You cannot possibly understand,” the man mumbled, seeming to grow more and more frantic. “You could never. But you!” He turned back to Wren, gesturing again to the potato salad. “You must! Come with me. Come with us.” As he said it, he reached into his pocket again, this time producing… a shrimp.

—

“Oh, wow! She’s great, huh?” Wren smiled happily. Oh. Right. Humans didn’t eat raw meat. Sometimes she forgot how far away from human she was the longer she was in her human form. Though, then stuff like this would happen and she’d be very much reminded how human she wasn’t. “Um, sure! Yes. I definitely cooked the sausage. Don’t worry. I am very much a food safety expert. I watched two videos on the site YouTube about it. Especially since I didn’t want anyone getting sick from my potato salad!” She looked it up after realizing that human stomachs couldn’t handle what a siren’s stomach could.

Wren really wished that they were still talking about boxed cake mix instead of shrimp. Which, that was something she never thought she’d think. She loved eating shrimp. This whole shrimp loving man seemed to take it to another level than her casual enjoyment. Casual enjoyment of shrimp was also another thing that Wren didn’t think she would ever think to herself before. The longer Wren is in Wicked’s Rest, the more she is convinced it’s an odd place to live. It worked out, though, she was pretty sure she also was considered odd to most people.

Blinking owlishly, Wren merely stared at the man with wide eyes. This… was so bizarre. She flinched back with the pamphlet being shoved in her face. At least this wasn’t as distressing as Regan taking her to see a dead bird. Wren had almost transformed in front of the woman with how upset she was, so she would take the building anxiety over that any day. Especially when it was with some man insisting that she educate herself on the worship of shrimp.

“Hey!” Wren said sharply the moment that he shoved Felix. “That was mean! Don’t touch my friend!” She shook her head rapidly as he seemed to get more frantic and set his sights on her instead. Snatching the shrimp out of the man’s hand, Wren bit off the shrimp leaving only the tail. She chewed thoroughly and shook the tail around, “that’s what I think of your shrimp! Go away! You touch my friend again and I’ll claw a chunk of you and your shrimp! Again!” Wren scowled at the man, shoving his shoulder hard to get him away from the pair. “Get out of here, weirdo!”

—

“Yeah! Van is great. And, um, so is cooking sausage. Before you eat it. Which you should do!” Did watching two YouTube videos make you an expert on something? It was hard to judge without knowing the length of the videos, Felix supposed. They’d seen videos on YouTube that were up to eight hours long, though they’d never ventured to watch any of them. There was every possibility that Wren was an expert on food safety, even if the content of her potato salad made them doubt that she was an expert at food anything.

In any case, she was probably better with food than… this guy. This guy who was so angry at the prospect of them eating shrimp, a popular food item! Felix didn’t mind the shove, really — they’d suffered far, far worse, after all — but it was nice that Wren was so upset about it. They offered her a small, grateful smile. “I’m okay, Wren,” they assured her, glancing down at the muffins. At least they’d managed to let one person eat one before they were ruined. And Wren had said they were good!

They glanced back up, away from the muffins and back to the situation at hand. The situation which saw Wren… eating the man’s pocket shrimp. That couldn’t be healthy, could it? It had been in his pocket! Shrimp needed to be stored at certain temperatures, probably! Felix took an uncertain step forward, faltering when the shrimp man’s wail cut through the air.

“You would dare? What makes you think you’re worthy? What makes you think you’ve earned this?” He pointed a finger in Wren’s face, wagging it around. His own face was red with fury, growing impossibly redder as he was shoved away. He looked from Wren to Felix and back again, eyes narrowing. “We won’t forget this,” he said lowly. “You’ve made our list now. You!” He pointed to Wren. “Are an enemy of the shrimp.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, stomping away and tossing the pamphlet behind him.

Felix knelt, picking it up and flipping through it. “Um, that was… weird,” they admitted, shoving the pamphlet into their pocket. They’d find a garbage can to dump it in later. “It was nice of you to stand up for me, though. I really appreciate that. Are you okay?”

—

Felix insisted they were okay, but Wren felt so angry. How dare this man think he could just shove people around because they don’t like shrimp? All Felix’s hard work was on the grass. It made Wren’s heart hurt and that only increased her anger. She let out a shaky breath and managed a small smile in Felix’s direction. “I’m glad you’re okay, Felix. That wasn’t okay what he did! I’m very sorry for your muffins. That’s so mean of him. Mean people don’t deserve good things!” She turned her sharp glare to the man in question.

“I would dare? No, you dare!” Wren threw back in return. Though it wasn’t the best comeback, but she was too mad to think of anything better. “Get your dumb finger out of my face, weirdo! I hope you stub your toe every morning when you wake up and every night when you go to bed! It hurts really bad and you deserve it!” Wren shrieked back at the man. “That shrimp wasn’t even that good so I’m not that worried about being on your list! List of bad shrimp recipes and storing, I bet!” She huffed. “Watch some long YouTube videos and maybe you’ll be a better person after!”

Enemy of the shrimp. Wren would eat shrimp for breakfast if it meant telling that man what’s what again. She huffed and knelt down to carefully pick up the now ruined muffins. “That was really weird. I don’t think normal people keep shrimp in their pockets.” Her head shook as she held the muffins with a sad sigh. “I’m sorry about your muffins, Felix. They were very yummy and he ruined them.” The younger girl sniffled, feeling the tears start to well in her big, brown eyes. “I’m fine! Sorry, I cry at everything.” Wren hiccuped weakly. “I’m just so sad that he was so mean to you! Maybe we could make muffins some other time? Ones that won’t end up on the grass.”

—

The anger on her face was a familiar thing. Felix didn’t get mad often, didn’t tend to rage against any machine or whatever it was that people did when they were upset with the world at large, but the jaguar did. They felt his anger in their chest sometimes, burning and directionless, upset at a situation he had no control over but was stuck in all the same. Did Wren’s feel similar? Felix wondered, sometimes, how things felt when your body was only yours. Was it preferable? Or was it good to have that ‘out,’ that thing inside of you that you could point the finger at if things went too far?

The shrimp man stormed off, not bothering to respond to Wren’s words. He’d said his piece, it seemed, put them both on some… list that Felix hoped wasn’t a literal thing. (He didn’t know their names, did he? Felix had called Wren by hers, but only her first name! You couldn’t do anything with just a first name. Could you? Anxiety ebbed in their chest.) Felix watched him go, unable to relax even after he’d disappeared into the crowd.

Turning to Wren, they tried to offer a comforting smile. They wanted to be a force of good, a steady thing to lean upon. It was hard; Felix hadn’t felt steady in years now. But Wren was clearly upset, even if she said she was fine. “I can make new muffins,” they assured her. “And, um, yeah. You could help. If you wanted to. Um… I don’t know about you, but I’m not really… feeling the picnic anymore. If you want, we could go back to my apartment, and I could show you how to make muffins? Maybe we can come back tomorrow and bring them. Does that sound okay?”

—

Using her free hand, Wren wiped beneath her eye where a tear had escaped. She felt like a tsunami inside right now. Everything was a swirling mix of chaotic emotions that she was having a hard time tampering down. She couldn’t remember a time she felt so angry and so upset in one breath. That man was just mean and he was mean to her friend. That wasn’t okay. She didn’t want her friends to be upset or hurt because other people didn’t know how to be kind. Part of her contemplated actually going flying for the first time in… well, ages, but immediately decided against it. She wouldn’t be any good flying like this, even if she already wasn’t the best flier there was.

Wren managed a small smile in return. “That would be fun.” She agreed after a moment and a small sniffle. “I don’t think this picnic sounds very fun right now, either. That sounds like a lot more fun.” She sighed shakily, standing to her feet to reluctantly throw away the newly ruined muffins. Wren wiped her hands on her jeans and contemplated whether or not she wanted to take the potato salad with her to Felix’s apartment. Maybe people would enjoy it and she could come back for the tupperware container tomorrow when they brought the new muffins.

“Okay! Okay, muffin mission time. We got this.” Wren did her best to be optimistic after the torrent of emotions that had been swirling throughout her. “I’m thinking we make sure to taste two of them, one each, that way more than just one person gets to have them.” She reasoned, practically skipping beside Felix as they headed away from the picnic. The picnic definitely hadn’t gone like Wren envisioned, but she got something out of it regardless. More time with a new friend and apparently on the list of the shrimp… Whatever that may mean she could only hope for the best and be optimistic for what could come. Not everything had to be scary, right? Right.

#para: a shrimptastic picnic #wickedswriting #para: felix #recoveringdreamer

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