#especially the part where one black character describes himself like

[llatimeria]

Just finished The Santaroga Barrier by Frank Herbert (my dad likes to play audiobooks in the car on trips) and I didn't like it much (and there's quite a bit of Yikes in it, because frank herbert and the 1960s in general,) but the aspect I found most interesting was the concept of like. A world's subconscious desire to kill The Other.

In the book an investigator visits a small cultish town in order to investigate it for a market study after a few other researchers mysteriously died. he gets into a frightening number of "accidents" while he's there (like the former investigators) and starts believing that there was a conspiracy among the townsfolk and all of them were intentionally trying to murder him.

tl;dr, it turns out it actually was a subconscious yet intense phobia/hatred they had of The Outside they had as part of their personal traumas, childhood indoctrination into their local cult, and the LSD-like drug they were constantly on. They didn't mean the investigator any harm, if anything they were extremely welcoming, kind, well-meaning people, but this background radiation of fear and rage kept making them accidentally do things to kill him - mixing up insecticide and spices in his food, gas fumes being pumped in his hotel room after a botched maintenance job, a torn carpet tripping him off the railing of the balcony, and Many Other subtle attempts on his life that he just happened to avoid by sheer chance.

But all the townsfolk don't really think anything of it - the town doctor, especially skeptical, "diagnoses" him as "accident-prone" until the investigator begs and pleads with him for days after several brutal accidents in a row, and only then does the doctor start believing him but even then only comes up with the theory that all of this supposed malice towards the investigator is "subconscious" - later shown to likely be correct when the investigator himself, after overdosing on their special drug, "accidentally" shoves his colleague off a roof, killing him, but the investigator physically cannot see it as anything but an accident anymore. it simply doesn't reach his mind that he killed a former friend of his. it was just an accident. he just fell, all on his own.

the idea of A Town That Wants To Kill You, But It's Nothing Personal resonated with me from the perspective of being a disabled person, especially one in a generally welcoming, accepting environment. when you're disabled, not a lot of people will come to you bearing their ableism between their teeth. They'll be nice, insensitive maybe, but nice, and are often outwardly willing to accomodate you. But they also stick out their leg as you're walking along to trip you. They'll apologize, and you'll maybe even believe it, even though to you, from your perspective, it was obviously an attempt to harm you. You excuse it once, maybe twice, but after a point, you realize that this world, this community you have entered, is actively hostile towards you and everyone like you. so you start screaming it to the rooftops. you tell authorities that the world wants to hurt you, but they begin affixing labels to you like "paranoid" or "anxious". they know no one actually has it out for you, personally, after all. that would be ridiculous.

but you still keep getting tripped down the stairs. the rat poison and the sugar at your favorite coffee shop still keep getting mixed up, but only when it's your order. in the hospital, recovering from your previous "accidents", a nurse will still accidentally pump you full of saline instead of medicine.

after a point, doesn't the fact that all of these are "accidents", and that no one WANTS to kill you, just... stop mattering a little bit? Yeah, no one wants to hurt you, but they just keep doing it. They keep making stupid little mistakes. They know everyone like you who has visited their community has died or been seriously injured under suspicious circumstances, but the idea that they, themselves, could be a little bit at fault just doesn't even register to them. they don't even consider that they might have to change their ways in order to protect people like you. After all, you can't prepare for every "freak accident". Even when the solution could be as simple as "stop putting rat poison next to the sugar", every time it happens to you, or a person like you, it's just an "accident", that no one "meant" any harm, and "nothing could be done".

it doesn't cross their mind that a string of unfortunate accidents ceases to be accidents, but serious negligence. it can't cross their mind, because they're not the victims here. they only even begin to acknowledge something might be wrong when the victims are screaming in their face, day after day. even then, they come to the conclusion that even if you're right, and the community does want to kill you because you are Other, they won't immediately see anything wrong with that. To Them, the answer is clear as day: just become one of Them, and you'll be safe. They take care of their own.

#this isn't even really what the santaroga barrier is even about i just found this to be a useful structure for talking about disability #It's not... NOT what it's about?? #it's definitely got themes of Otherness #but it's more about like. #My dad put it as 'how much of your individuality would you give up to live in paradise' #which is also interesting to think about but . imo if i have to give up parts of myself it would no longer be paradise #But also a lot of what the cult-town tries to get you to 'give up' is. like. Believing in capitalism #And to me it definitely feels like Herbert was on the santarogan's side with that part at least but it's still interesting that that's like #it's still interesting that That of all things is what you have to give up in order to Become Santarogan. #Like. Personally i'd have to change very little to become a santarogan. the trade off for me is not that huge #which makes the protagonist actually seem a little unhinged and unnecessarily hostile #Does daesin just want to believe in capitalism That Badly even when he doesn't understand that that's what this is about #Is it like the scene from They Live where the protagonist tries to get his friend to wear the Anticapitalism Sunglasses but the friend #just refuses point blank even though he has no reason to? #idk. it's definitely an interesting premise. but the racisms. and the misogynies. it's really hard to look past that #especially the part where one black character describes himself like #'before [santaroga] i was an ignorant [n slur hard r]. now i am an educated n-gro“ #which was just. holy fucking shit. that is unspeakably awful. shut the fuck up frank #Also a part where a woman disrobes herself to prove herself to be no harm to the investigator [her fiancee] #and he says something like. 'you're so beautiful i just might rape you' and shes just like teehee thats sweet :) #Which. Bad. Very nasty. Don't say that. #And the general concept of potentially using that woman to lure the investigator into the cult. it's unclear how much of that was #on purpose on the part of santarogans but it does have this slimy Women Are Evil Temptresses That Trap Men In Bad Situations miasma to it #anyways. sorry for blabbing on and on about a 50 year old book by the same guy who wrote dune which is clearly an unquestionable masterpiece #/s. #I just had no choice in listening to this story while sitting in the back of a car on Very Empty Montana And Wyoming Highways #so I might as well rotate it just a little I guess. nothing better to do

[lilacsandlillies]

I was going through the anti Jason Todd tag because I hate myself and want to understand where people who dislike him are coming from and one thing I kept seeing was annoyance at Jason fans who claim that Jason is female coded and realized that the term “female coded” might not be the best term to describe what we mean.

A female coded character in literature and media typically means a character that has no specified gender or otherwise does not have a gender but is obviously meant to be a stand in for a woman or female. Kind of like how Starfire has no specified race (due to being an alien) but is still obviously black coded based on the way she’s drawn and treated by the narrative.

This is slightly different than what we mean when saying that Jason is female coded. It’s not that Jason is literally supposed to be a stand in for a female character, it’s that the way a lot of characters treat him and a lot of the tropes used on him are things that usually saved for female characters, not big buff men like Jason.

To start with, being Robin is narratively (or at least was) very similar to being a woman in a story. Robin is a role made to complement Batman (who we all know is basically the ultimate male power fantasy). Robin’s role is to be an accessory to Batman. Robin can be smart, but not smarter than Batman. Robin can be strong, but not stronger than Batman. Hell, Robin is often kidnapped and used as a literal damsel in distress, a role often regulated for women as a whole.

What sets Jason apart from the other robins (except for Steph) in this regard is that they were allowed to be characters outside of Batman. Dick might not have been the “man” of the story when he’s with Bruce, but when he’s with the teen titans suddenly he’s the smart one who has all the answers. Jason’s Robin was never really allowed this.

Then we get to the most, controversial, part of Jason’s female coding. The fact the he was effectively fridged. Fridging is usually only referred to as frigding if it’s a female character, but Jason’s death checks pretty much all the other boxes needed. An incredibly brutal death that was more about Bruce’s feelings on it than Jason himself.

This is especially apparent when compared to the other Bat characters. For all the female coding, the only other Robin to actually be fridged was Steph (and we all know about the misogyny surrounding her death). Barbara was also kind of fridged during the killing Joke. The only female character to escape this is Cass (to my knowledge). When you look at it through this lens, the fact that the only other characters to be permanently damaged like this for Bruce’s story are female, it’s not hard to see where the idea that Jason is female coded comes from.

You can even find this in Jason’s origin story. Poor little orphan is saved by benevolent billionaire is a role usually saved for little girls, like in Annie.

Despite what you might think, this even continues after Jason’s revival. Jason is still used less as a character and more as a motivation for Bruce. He’s regularly called emotional and hysterical (terms usually used to refer to women).

Jason is first and foremost a victim. A role performed by women in most media. Men are expected to be stoic and “rise above” the things done to them as to not be victims, as continuously shown by the way characters like Nightwing are not allowed to be effected by the horrific things they go through. The fact that Jason is shown the be angry, and sad, and emotional, constantly, and the fact that he’s punished and vilified for it puts him in a place much more similar to a female character.

There’s a reason that so many Jason fans (that like him for a reason past “antihero with guns”) are female. For most characters, when you swap their genders there would be a pretty clear and big difference in the way their story takes place. If you swap Jason’s gender, the story takes place identically.

A lot of this is best shown in men’s reactions to Arkham Knight’s version of Jason. In that game, Jason is similarly angry and emotional, albeit for slightly different reasons. He is also still unmistakably a victim. You’d think the men playing would like him. After all he’s a big cool angsty guy with a lot of guns and muscles. Instead, a lot of men’s thought that he was whiny. That his feelings were annoying.

There’s also something to be said about how his autonomy is regularly undermined by Bruce (specifically in Gotham war) and how his decisions and feeling are constantly treated as if they’re worth less than Bruce’s, but that’s a discussion for another day.

#jason todd #dc #red hood #for the record this is probably all unintentional on the writers part #and people who feel differently about Jason’s character and the role he represents are (mostly) completely valid #a lot of what I said honestly probably plays in a lot into the obvious classism surrounding his character

[rendy-a]

amh if possible could hoy make hdcns for the dorm leaders ( separately ) reacting to their mc fem explaining the marvel universe and then puts them to watch the movies hehe ( ..also mc's fav hero is dead-pool ;) bc it gives me laugh imagine their reactions about this xd) , thanks in advance and take care<33

This certainly ended up being a little bit of a crack fic but it ended up amusing. Hope you enjoy it.

At first, he scoffs as such a time-wasting thing as wanting to watch dozens of movies.  Where is the educational value in this?

He is just too polite to refuse to listen, so he’ll end up letting you describe all your favorite scenes to him.

You are better off if he doesn’t take an interest because, if he does, he is going to turn into the worst sort of comic book geek.  Be ready to have him quote lore from issues of source material at you during any discussion on this from now on.

What do you mean who would win?  In Volume 3 #3, Thor clearly defeated Iron Man.  Don’t get upset Prefect, I don’t write the lore, I just recite it.

Doesn’t appear to be interested but, if you pause long enough, he’ll prompt you to go on.  It’s important to you, so he’ll try to care at least a little.

You’d never tell him this, but you love to banter with him because it reminds you of your favorite character.  Sometimes you wonder if he’d be pleased or offended to know who you remind him of.

Movie marathons?  Not only is he willing to do them with you, but he is also often the one who suggests them.  Don’t be deceived though, it’s not for the movie but for the quality nap time on the couch with you. 

Don’t turn that off, Herbivore, I’m watching it.  What do you mean I don’t know what’s going on?  This is the part where we learn her mom isn’t dead after all.  So quiet down and keep the lights off.

Please, he is in Board Game Club with Idia. You think this is the first time he has hmmm’d himself through a conversation about fictional characters?

Wait, you say that this makes a ton of money?  Tell him more about this merchandising and licensing.  Especially that, what do you call it…ah, Happy Meal.

You can eventually talk him into watching the movies with you for ‘research purposes.’  When you do, you can’t help but notice how teary-eyed he gets at the sad scenes.  He’s just so sensitive!

Deadpool is also his favorite character.  He feels a sort of connection to certain parts of his story.

So, she chooses to stay with him even though he looks like that?  No, I’m not blubbering.  No, I don’t need you to cuddle with me.  Ok, fine.  Just for a little while. 

He doesn’t get it, but he still loves it.  Sure, you have to explain everything to him three times, but he gets excited over your excitement.  Call him any time to talk about your theories on how things would have gone if Thanos had made a different wish on the infinity gauntlet.  He doesn’t mind if it’s 3 AM (just don’t let Jamil find out).

Movie marathons turn into parties.  Why just watch the movies when you can have themed snacks and dress up too?  Hulk smash cakes and Black Widow berry cobbler?  Yes, please.

His favorite part of any film is the soundtrack.  If he hears a song he likes, he gets up to dance along.  It’s pretty disruptive when you are watching the movie but when you see how much fun he is having, you find you don’t really mind after all.

Sorry Prefect, Jamil says we can’t have dance battles in Scarabia anymore.  Ooh!  But come by the Pop Music Club later.  I’m going to play all my favorite songs for Cater and Lilia. Ahaha!

You were worried Vil would dismiss your favorite Marvel films as inferior art, but he is actually rather generous about it.  He believes the film should suit the audience and, as so, there is nothing wrong with films like this that serve to entertain the masses.

Still, he can’t help but be critical of everything while you watch.  He doesn’t criticize the things you’d talk about with your friends but topics you’d hardly even notice while you watched like the set design and lighting.

You notice Vil seems secretly fond of Loki.  You think the idea of the Villain that survives the main movies to get his own spotlight series appeals to him.

No, Potato, I’m just saying the angle isn’t right for this sort of tone.  A shot from below would be more effective.  Plus…wait, are you having more popcorn?  I don’t think so, it’s past the time you can snack before bed.

You had expected Idia to be all in on the Marvel Universe but, at first, he is oddly resistant to it.  He’d rather recommend you one of his own favorite hero movies.  If you disagree on which is better, he is more than willing to fight with you over why his is best!

After a heated argument, he puts on some of the movies to watch so he can come up with targeted points about why his own shows are better.  This does not work out for him as he gets sucked in himself.  Next time you meet up, he wants to go over tiny bits of lore and speculate on future plot lines from hints in the past movies.

You might think his favorite would be Iron Man because they both are innovative engineers, but he is a fan of Ant Man.  Shrinking down to a size where you can hide from everyone; it’s an introvert’s dream!

Prefect, this is serious business!  I’ve drawn up plans.  So long as we sleep only 2 hours a day and avoid taking any breaks for food, studying, and showers, we can finish at least three seasons this weekend.  True fans like us need to be ready to sacrifice for the shows we love!

There are many things Tusnotarou doesn���t understand, and this is one of them.  For starters, he barely knows how to use his smartphone, let alone how to stream movies and shows.  So, before you can even start explaining the plot, you must explain the whole concept of series and interconnecting shows to him.

He doesn’t get it, but he is happy to watch with you.  Your reactions to the show are far more amusing to him than the actual show.  Plus, he feels like he learns so much about the human world from your conversations.  A subway, how intriguing an idea.  Humans are so fascinating.

Even though he watches politely, he isn’t very impressed.  They can fly?  Well so can he.  Magic, lightning, superstrength?  All just part of being a dragon.  Perhaps instead of being interested in these superheroes, you’d rather learn more about him?

 Lilia, do you think I am a superhero?  The Prefect has been explaining this concept to me in great detail lately.  I can’t help but notice the many things I have in common with these so-called heroes.  Why yes, Lilia, now that you mention it, I am wearing a cape.  Another point in my favor. Fu fu fu.    

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #kalim al asim #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit

[stargirlmaki]

Persona (PROLOGUE: OPERA GHOST)

Phantom!Nanami Kento x fem!Reader (x Gojo Satoru)

masterlist, next chapter: PART ONE- ANGEL OF MUSIC

synopsis: in 1880s Japan, there lived a ghost underneath the Japan opera house who brings terror to the opera company for the benefit of an opera signer who he trains and loves.

cw: Phantom Of The Opera AU (but Phantom gets Christine), minors do not interact, reader is afab and will use she/her pronouns, yandere, ooc nanami, every character is ooc, age gap, eventual smut, gore and violence, use of “YN LN”.

an: this prologue is dedicated for world building purposes, but I do hope that you will still enjoy reading it. If you have read the book by Gaston Leroux, there will certainly be familiarity in this prologue. No posting schedule, I will write at my own pace.

wc: 2.7k

The legend of the opera ghost has long lived within the walls of the Japan opera house; some say since the moment it was built. If you happen to ask any member of the company, the opera ghost’s real identity will certainly distort your imagination, and you might even begin to wonder if there is any truth to its existence at all. The ballet girls whisper that he is able to move through walls, that the naked eye is unable to see him, and that he could change his voice to mimic your loved one’s. The frequent guests of the opera house state that the opera ghost has the face of death himself, the most hideous and frightening, but dresses and moves exactly like any other person, making him able to freely live among us.

But the only time that a person has ever had a close encounter with the ghost, one where there is a close chance of verification of his existence, was through a man named Kiyotaka Ijichi. For twenty years, he worked as the opera house’s chief stagehand, and on one of the rehearsal nights, he claimed that he had seen the opera ghost and, most especially, his face! “As clear as I see you now! ”, quoting the words that came out of his mouth during his conversation with the past manager, Geto Suguru.

“His eyes are so hollow that they appear as just two black holes, like a skull’s. I could see the bones of his face peeking out of his skin; the skin around it had turned a nasty yellow. The black dress coat he wore hangs off him like he is nothing but the skeleton of a dead man. He is extremely skinny but taller than most men. His hair is the color of yellow, as yellow as the sun. And I assume his skin is cold to the touch from the color of it! ”

On the night of the departure gala for managers Shoko Ieiri and Geto Suguru, the body of Kiyotaka Ijichi was found hanging at the fly system of the main stage, a rope around his neck, eyes rolled towards the back of his head, and his skin had turned completely deathly pale.

—

Geto Suguru has earned the reputation of being an excellent practical joker, starting from his school days, and it has (unfortunate for others) increased the moment he became one of the managers at the renowned opera house. Shoko Ieiri has known this fact regarding her co-manager through years of maddening experience and observations. That is why, when Geto Suguru uttered the words, “We will be retiring as the managers of this opera house," Shoko Ieiri was confident that it belonged to one of Geto Suguru’s little jokes that he is extremely fond of doing every single day. Except this time, Geto Suguru clarified that it was indeed not.

Immediately, the woman asked her partner with a hint of disbelief and shock in her voice, “And who will be replacing us?” It was known throughout the opera that manager Shoko Ieiri was not capable of being in a state of anger for too long; she was described as the most gentle on and off stage, but that is currently hanging on by a thread.

Geto Suguru sighed deeply upon hearing his co-manager’s query; the expression on his face contorted like he had just been reminded of something he had been dreading to even think about it at all. “The Zen’in clan had recently purchased the entirety of the house.”

“The Zen’in clan! What do those selfish, money-hungry high-borns even know about opera? Do they even share an ounce of passion for the art that is made here? ”The sudden interruption of Shoko Ieiri’s deafening voice startled Geto Suguru. This wasn’t his first time seeing his partner this way, but this was certainly different from any other time.

“They only care about one thing, the one thing that would help make sense of why they even thought of the opera—and you, I’m sure of it, already know what I am talking about.” Geto Suguru’s voice has increased in volume as well; he hopes that the almost century-old walls are thick enough to make their conversation inaudible to outsiders.

Shoko Ieiri rubs her temple, calming the possible consequences of the overwhelm that threatens to come out of her. The Zen’in clan is well known in Japan to possess the most wealth, and nobody is able to acquire that much wealth with clean, spotless hands. One thing about the clan is that they will never stop until every dime and power is within their ownership, no matter which way they’re going to get it and how many get affected by it. The motivation behind the Zen’in clan’s sudden ownership of the opera house was apparent, maybe not to a regular civilian, but definitely to the managers of the opera, who fear that the essence of the Japanese opera house will be soiled in the hands of the wrong people.

Geto Suguru stands from his chair and adjusts his coat, reaching towards its inner pockets and pulling out an opened letter from one of them. He approaches his co-manager and hands it to her. “That’s the letter sent in this morning; it’s best if you read it yourself.” Shoko Ieiri straightens up and receives the letter in between Geto Suguru’s gloved fingers. She takes note of the residue of the Zen’in clan wax stamp found at the edge of the letter.

Before Shoko Ieiri begins to read the content of the Zen’in letter, Geto Suguru says: “And what will we do about Him?” There is caution laced in his voice, he said in such a low volume that if Shoko Ieiri was even a bit farther away, she wouldn’t have heard him. Geto Suguru knew that Shoko Ieiri understood perfectly what he meant and who he was referring to, and he could tell that his co-manager had been wondering the same thing as well.

—

The gala, celebrated in honor of managers Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri as they retire, commenced at six in the evening and was entirely prepared by the Zen’in clan themselves. Each single person who is part of the company was invited and is currently present: the ballet girls occupying the center floor with their dancing, the musicians showing off their talent with the various instruments on stage, and the actors mingling in their own conversations.

Towards the end of the room, there’s a round table fairly decorated in the colors white and gold. A number of people have huddled around it, surrounding and entertaining those that sat in the chairs. Towards the right side of the table, there sat the old managers, Shoko Ieiri and Geto Suguru, each dressed in their best clothing, their hair neatly combed and styled. On the other side sat the new manager, who introduced himself earlier to the entire house as Naoya Zen’in, son of Naobito Zen’in, the current clan head of the Zen’in clan.

Naoya Zen’in is 27 years old and looks like it as well. His complexion embodied the perfect adonis that the people of the opera had fallen for fleetly the minute he waltzed in the opera house. Though his arrogance made an unpleasant first impression on previous manager Geto Suguru, the Zen’in had reportedly refused to shake his hand during their first meeting. Shoko Ieiri took note of Naoya Zen’in’s condescending behavior as she managed to overhear one of his conversations with the woman he had brought with him; they had been shaming everything their eyes landed on. All of this drew the conclusion for the old managers that Naoya Zen’in would change the Japan opera house—in the most horrific way.

“He won’t take it seriously.”

It is eight in the evening. For two hours, the two had contemplated whether to spew the information they had been keeping or continue to hold their tongue about it. Geto Suguru urges Shoko Ieiri that they relay this message to the new beloved manager of the opera; Shoko Ieiri thinks otherwise; she says Naoya Zen’in will treat it as a joke.

“Well, that’s better than not telling him at all! ”Geto Suguru expressed himself, keeping his voice at a minimal volume, though it seems that the people around them are too focused on the new manager to take note of their conversation. Despite Geto Suguru’s apparent desperation, Shoko Ieiri does not succumb to it.

So, Geto Suguru continues: “Listen, we already know that the opera will decline with him as the manager, but if we fail to let him know of the real danger below there, the opera house will suffer even greater consequences! ”While he speaks, his head turns to look around him, fearing that someone may be eavesdropping on their conversation.

Geto Suguru suddenly remembered that he had something incredibly important to divulge to Shoko Ieiri. He remembers that he had placed the folded letter in his pocket before heading to the gala. He reached for it and handed it to the woman sitting beside him. “I have forgotten to give this to you. That may be his final letter to us. It arrived an hour after we'd gotten the Zen’in news.”

“You went to him? ”Shoko Ieiri asked. Raising her eyebrows in curiosity.

Geto Suguru shrugged. “It would be rude not to offer my farewells to the reason why the opera house is still standing.”. Shoko Ieiri breathes in and opens the folded letter. She is greeted by the familiarity of his handwriting. She reads:

My dearest managers:

Your departure upsets me. I will be expecting that the new manager is well informed of my conditions and will be equally acquiescent as you both have been for twenty years—if you wish for peace to continue, that is. I wish you good luck in your future endeavors.

Farewell,

O.G.

Shoko Ieiri huffs and falls into silence, perhaps entering once more in a state of contemplation, and then, after a moment, she finally speaks, “And if we do tell Zen’in, but he refuses to believe us? There is a high possibility of that, judging on how despicable he is.”

“He will know that he has made a mistake.”

Many of those who attended the gala that night recalled how there was a period of the night where the two previous managers requested to speak with Naoya Zen’in alone. The three entered one of the dance rooms outside of the event hall and had a discussion that lasted about ten minutes. Many have said that when Naoya Zen’in returned to his seat, he was laughing like he had been told a joke so hilarious. The two other managers, however, had an expression on their faces that looked like they pitied or were scared for the man that they had spoken to.

“A… ghost?” A grin began to show on Zen’in’s face like he had just been told of a good joke; the two other people in the room could tell from his expression that he was about to burst into laughter.

Candidly, if you were told that a dangerous ghost resides in the opera house that you recently purchased, it is normal to let out a laugh. Particularly if you were someone like Naoya Zen'in, who had been drowning himself in every alcoholic drink at the gala since the start of the night. His flushed cheeks and tipsy movements showed Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri that the new manager is nowhere near sober.

Naoya Zen’in’s laughter dies down, but his grin remains on his grotesque (according to Shoko Ieiri) face. “Are you both so enraged about the sudden replacement that you result in this pitiful act?”He ridicules the two predecessor managers in front of him.

“Oh, Jesus...” Shoko Ieiri rolls her eyes immediately upon hearing the man. Geto Suguru stiffens and says, ”This is not about that! This is real, Mr. Zen’in! You have to believe us.”

Shoko Ieiri instantly adds, ”This is for your own good.” said in such a stern manner, she didn’t mean to glare at the high-born in front of her, but she couldn’t help it at all.

Naoya Zen’in scoffs, “A ghost who demands a monthly salary and the box five reserved for him only? This is insanity! If you wanted me gone, you should’ve come up with a better act or whatever you actor freaks get on... Not this, made up—” he giggles in the middle of his sentence, “—ghost in the opera house.”

“He is not made up, sir. He is real, and denying his existence will have dire consequences for you and the Japan opera house.” Shoko Ieiri emphasized each word to him, trying to maintain her composure as she knows her anger won’t result in anything good.

“Oh! Now, the ghost is a man? ”There is a fake intriguement in Naoya Zen’in’s tone, his smile growing larger.

As Geto Suguru walks towards him, a sense of great urgency is evidently evident in his voice when he says, “We speak nothing but the truth; you can ask the rest of the opera, Mr. Zen’in, and they will tell you all about the opera ghost.”

”That is enough!” Naoya Zen’in shouts, filling Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri with despair.

Shoko Ieiri leans against the wall, near the wooden double doors, and Geto Suguru stands beside her as the both of them observe Naoya Zen’in, who had now sat at his table—still laughing at the conversation that had occurred just minutes before. They had not successfully convinced the new manager. At this point, Shoko Ieiri refuses to waste any more energy on being frustrated over the Zen’in. She looks over to Geto Suguru, and she can tell that he shares the same sentiments.

—

A month had passed since the gala; Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri’s offices are now empty, and Naoya Zen’in had taken over Geto Suguru’s old space. New manager: Naoya Zen’in still refuses the existence of the opera ghost despite numerous warnings that have already been sent his way, and on the night of his seventh day as manager, a letter is seen placed on top of his desk with a symbol on the wax seal that he has never seen before.

Naoya Zen’in slices the envelope open with a knife and pulls out the letter inside of it. Even with the handwriting, no familiarity reaches him; who is this from? He thought. Upon finishing the contents of the letter, he bursts into laughter, harder than he ever did today. Those two just never stop with this joke, do they? Do they really think I will succumb to this? So, I will be so frightened that I’ll hand back the opera to them? Naoya Zen’in chuckled as he downed his whiskey.

The letter reads:

Dear Mr. Manager

I apologize for bothering you at a time when you must be very busy with your tasks. I am very fond of the house’s annual production of ‘Faust’. It delights me that you have chosen it as your first opera during your first month as the new manager—a bold move. I know what you have done for Mei Mei, Ui Ui, and many others, whose talents and genius you have most definitely observed.

When I say “talents and genius,” I do not mean to apply them to Ms. Mei Mei, who has proven in every rehearsal that a dying cow ought to sound better than her. Nor to her brother, Ui Ui, who dances like a flopping fish fished out of water. If it is your dream to turn ‘Faust’ into a clangorous farm house production, this would make more sense.

Your jealousy has prevented the ballet girl, YN LN, from creating any impact on the production. She has proven her genius; you heard of it during the auditions, and I know that you and every person in this opera house were enthralled by her completely. Ever since her triumph in the auditions, all the main roles have been restricted for her.

Mr. Manager, I detest scandals, so I expect that this will be the last time you will treat me with such outrageous disdain.

Your most obedient servant,

O.G.

#dead dove do not eat #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x fem!reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #maudeatwork

[kyupidos]

08/??/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

when they textヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘when you’re not with them in the real world, how do they talk to you online?’

characters. ignihyde , diasomnia : idia shroud , ortho shroud , malleus draconia , silver , sebek zigvolt , lilia vanrouge ( separate ) ;; platonic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), idk what social media app they’re using, lighthearted character slander, kinda long, crack fluff

📡 _a/n. finally updating after * checks watch * two or so weeks!! haven’t done a romantic in a while..should probably change that.

idia

— now, i decided to base these thoughts on their respective valentine’s day cards..and oh boy is idia a LOSER!! respectfully. maybe. this man is going full discordian mode when he texts you and honestly when he texts in general.

— you know that one friend who sends one text message and all of a sudden you have to spend an hour and a half trying to decipher their message because it has three grammatical errors, twenty six misspells and eight random letters mixed in there? even though it was a five word message?

— that’s him. ESPECIALLY when he’s texting you while he’s gaming, unless he chooses to voice call ( a blessing sent from heaven if you don’t want to struggle when communicating with him ).

— he’s just a fast typer, he defends himself while you wipe a single tear from your eye trying to figure out how “btw can you bring me some sweets?” turns into “n btwcan u like brjgn me sm swts n. stuff thxxx” ( but worse, because..it’s idia and he’s probably gaming if he’s asking you this question. also i purposefully avoided looking at my screen for that ).

ortho

— now i imagine his texts are significantly more normal and relaxed..unlike his BROTHER!! his texts to you are far more polite and he uses big words often, which is such bot behavior tbh. i know he struggles with captchas.

— but overall, he is indeed a relatively normal typer, a sweetheart as usual. i also imagine that he talks in more simplistic sentences as well, and doesn’t really do run-on, if that makes sense. it makes his text messages a little longer if he’s typing paragraph style, but otherwise he’s doing just fine getting the message across.

— now he is naturally curious and relatively attentive too, so he’s probably going to ask you about your own texting style. actually, he might try to implement your texting style into his, if he’s interested enough. it’ll probably only last for a week or so though, before he’s back to his usual kindergarten homework texting style.

malleus

— social media? nah..he’s “texting” you through carrier pigeon. be sure to keep your window open, because whenever he feels like it, he’s going to send you a scroll type of letter that details whatever message he’s trying to convey at the time, and it’s a throwback. a throwback to like..the medieval era.

— whenever he does send these letters, his dictionary of words is sophisticated and informative, not a single itty bitty detail left out. it sort of feels like he’s sending the prologue of a book to you, when he does this. i can imagine him writing it all down with a pure black quill pen, too. and i bet that the first letter to the first word of each letter is also in cursive and enlarged like in those fantasy books, for some odd reason.

— and he’ll send the longest message as well, and you might think that he’s describing to you the entire plot of a trilogy where each part is the length of the dictionary, but no, it’s to describe how upset he is that he had to eat an entire cake by himself, or that he’s sick or something. he’s like me when i’m writing an english essay..except he does it with no purpose to it.

— when you do inevitably send him a reply, he gets all excited too. even if he sends a letter that starts with “Dear friend, I write to you to tell you a tale of a most quizzical recent events that has affected me of late, that has stumped me to no end..” and all you reply with is a scroll and a carrier pigeon as well, and he opens it up only to see an enlarged “K.” in the middle with your signature at the bottom. yeah, he’s completely fine with that. makes him happy.

silver

— someone else who is normal with their texts, on the normal scale would probably be ranked by ortho, if not normaler. he’s just your average texter i suppose, other than the fact that every now and then he adds this really long descriptive word that you have to look up in the dictionary to understand, and it’s completely unexpected.

— he’ll send you a message, and it’ll go “also, did you see the others in class today? i found it odd, they were more lackadaisical than usual.” like. for no reason whatsoever. random big word. not too bad though, so points for him. also, i imagine him to type in all lowercase just like me. i don’t know, i just see him doing it.

— on that note of random things i see him doing, and also random things in general, i see him texting you, and then randomly telling you this fun little fact he happens to know about whatever the topic is. “would you like to stop be the equestrian club? a domestic horse can run up to thirty miles per hour, you know.”

sebek

— hard to say if he’s using a phone, or if he’s talking to you via carrier pigeon like malleus..but i’m leaning towards him using a phone. actually, he might do both, and it depends on how mood how you receive the message. but, let’s just talk about how he tends to talks to you on social media for now.

— but still, no matter whether it’s social media or carrier pigeon, he’s a relatively dry person sadly. when he texts you, it’s rather simplistic, though unlike ortho he does tend to do run-ons. i think the only thing saving him from being totally dry is the fact that he actually uses emojis. his favorite emojis..are probably “😡” and “👍”, and you can take a guess when and why he uses them.

— his messages might actually come off as a little mean every now and then, but i doubt he’ll even realize it 99% percent of the time unless you tell him, and he’ll try his best not to text like that again, but it’s hard for him to stray from his usual texting style..introduce him to tone tags, those are probably a life saver for him.

— he does forget to use them every now and then though, so he haphazardly adds them after he sends the message. don’t worry though, he’s learning and figuring things out! slowly but surely, slowly but surely. doing his best.

lilia

— the old man himself! unlike malleus and sebek, he is of course 100% using a phone. though nonetheless, that old age is not subtle at all, even if he is gaming..not like he’s trying to be, the idea of being subtle probably doesn’t even come to him. surprisingly, other than his old man text tone, he’s a relatively normal texter.

— and by relatively normal, i mean normal for when you’re talking to your grandpa who was there for when the telegraph was still a popular use of communication. except..he was there for forms of communication much, much earlier than that.

— he regularly uses somewhat outdated words and then right next to said outdated word is like, the latest social media lingo that was created like a week ago. a very scary combination of i do say so myself. he could be gaming with you and all of a sudden through the chat logs he’ll text you something along the lines of, “Though, i must say..his ass is NOT making it😂😂”. a jumpscare almost every time.

#🦢 swan signed ! #kyupidos #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #fluff #twst fluff #crack #twst crack #twst hcs #twst headcanons #ignihyde #twst ignihyde #twst book 6 #diasomnia #twst diasomnia #twst book 7 #idia x gn reader #ortho x reader #ortho x gn reader #malleus x reader #malleus x gn reader #silver x reader #silver x gn reader #sebek x reader #sebek x gn reader #lilia x reader #lilia x gn reader

[faebaex]

Cursed with the Gift of Reincarnation

author note: I think I have a thing for soulmate aus (*ﾉ▽ﾉ) seriously give me a soulmate au prompt and i’m all over it. Will this become a soulmate au blog? Maybe. JK... Unless? ♡(>ᴗ•)

Please note that this is a female character.

characters: Lilia Vanrouge x F!Fae Reader

“... Lilia... Would you wait for me?” 

He gripped you tight, the front of his shirt staining crimson as your life seeped from you, your expression eerily calm in contrast to the despair that was blooming in Lilia. 

“My love... Please... I would hunt to the ends of the earth to find you again...” 

You gave him your final smile, the weight of your hand heavy as you used the last of your strength to cup his cheek.

“Don’t.”

The mirror chamber was eerily silent. Despite the coffins that danced in the air, almost merry in their rhythm, the only ones who stood in the room were you, and the Headmage of Night Raven College. This was your orientation, but instead of going to orientation with the rest of the incoming students, the Headmage had insisted that you have yours more privately. Very insistent, in fact. Even after the Regent had questioned it, and pushed for you to simply enrol along with all the others, the Headmage had smiled, clasped his hands and uttered how necessary it was for it to be a more private affair. Especially since the college had just recently gone co-ed, it would make you feel more of a student than a specimen to be gaped at, he had urged. So here you were, tuning in and out of the Headmage’s ramblings, alone. 

“... And as my kindness knows no bounds, this private ceremony should be most comfortable for you,” Crowley smiles indulgently at you, “now... I must apologise for the... short delay in beginning. There was an... unexpected issue at the previous ceremony. But! That will be of no consequence to you.” Again with his ingratiating smile. “Now... If you’d step up to the Dark Mirror, it will assign you your dorm. It’s more of a formality, at this point, I have a fairly strong idea as to where you’ll be heading...” The last part of his sentence was more hushed, as if speaking to himself. 

Did this man live and die through cryptic sentences, you wondered, as you stepped towards the ornate mirror in the centre of the room. It was black for but a moment, before a masked face slowly appeared, surrounded in billowing green flames. 

“State your name.” Came the smooth baritone from the mirror. 

“L/N, F/N.” You stated clearly, staring on at the Dark Mirror in wonder. It really was different from how you’d imagined it, you suppose the history books can only document so much. Alas, you are knocked out of your thoughts as the smooth baritone of the mirror starts up again. 

“The nature of your soul is... Noble. Diasomnia.” The mirror boomed. One side of your mouth crooked up. The Regent had been correct in his prediction. You’ll end up in Diasomnia, for they tend to stick all of the fae together regardless, he had advised, even if you were placed elsewhere, that Headmage would probably endeavour to have you transferred, anyway. But despite that, you couldn’t help but think the Headmage looked nervous when you turned back to him, a finger easing his collar open as he tried to fix on his signature smile. 

“As I expected, Diasomnia!” Crowley hummed, quickly removing his hand from his collar and clasping his hands together in what looked like practiced excitement. You stepped away from the mirror, re-joining the Headmage on the main floor. “Now, really... That’s your orientation finished! I’ll admit, this affair seems much more... longer, with more students. But I can promise, you have not missed out! Because I am so kind, I will escort you to your new dorm and see that you are settled in. Normally, the new students would follow their housewarden but...--”

Crowley’s speech was cut off by a sudden bang, out in the corridor. You both looked at each other, and then towards the door of the mirror chamber. Another bang, like a dry thump, before what could only be described as the desperate skittering of clawed feet on stone. 

“Don’t tell me--, that tanuki, again?” Crowley’s countenance changed entirely from the indulgent smiles he was giving you to a darker, more irate expression before lightening briefly as he turned back to you. “Ah if you wouldn’t mind... Waiting a moment more? There is just a small matter I need to deal with before I can--” Another bang, albeit further away this time,“... yes, please excuse me.” With no more ceremony, the Headmage fled the room, quicker on his feet than he looked. 

... What a strange man, you thought. Whilst it was becoming more and more apparent why the Regent had developed a distaste about the man, you weren’t sure he was that bad, just yet. Perhaps he was just... quirky? You shrugged, before picking aimlessly at one of the sleeves of your ceremonial robe. One of the gaudiest outfits you’d ever owned, not counting the attire reserved for you to wear when attending meetings with the Regent. You should probably head to your dorm room and hang it up safe, before something happened to it. You’d never hear the end of it, otherwise. 

Finding your way to the entrance of the Diasomnia dorm was easier than anticipated. Despite keeping an eye out for the Headmage and the ‘tanuki’ he was apparently chasing, you saw not a hint of either during your stroll across campus. But it was fair to say you were a bit distracted, absorbing the scenery. Everything here was so different from home, and so... So bright! You had ended up shielding your face within five minutes of leaving the college building, the light irritating your eyes and forcing them to squint. Eventually, you came across an ornate, domed building named the Hall of Mirrors, and finding the Diasomnia entrance mirror was simple. 

You sigh in relief as you are transported into the realm of the Diasomnia dorm,  your eyes watering as they adjusted to the natural, for you, darkness of the dorm’s setting. “Whoa...” you breathed out, eyes fixed on the castle before you. “So cool.” You exclaimed to yourself, completely taken by the powerful sight before you. You’d take some photos, you decided, once you had changed from your ceremonial robes. Not exactly the reason the Regent had given you the smartphone in the first place, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Plus, any documentation could be useful... maybe! 

You made your way up the pathway towards the drawbridge, and that is when you noticed a few students gathered there. Two were wearing ceremonial robes, a tall, light green haired boy who seemed to be lamenting something, from the way his hands curled on his hips, and a shorter boy with dark hair with pink streaks peaking through, who seemed to be listening serenely, if not faintly amused. From the sharpness of his ears peeking through, he was fae. Perhaps the robes meant they were new students too! The third student seemed to be wearing a uniform of some kind, his silver hair drooping across his face as he appeared to be struggling to stay awake, despite the green haired boy’s loud lamentations. What a funny little group. 

By the time you had reached the drawbridge, their attention had been drawn to you. You continued on closer, a warm smile spreading across your lips as you felt the first bubbles of excitement rise in you, excitement at meeting your fellow dorm mates, maybe even some friends. 

“Hello!” You called, giving a friendly wave. It took but a moment for the green haired boy to turn his attention to you and unleash, however. “Human!!” he bellowed, with a volume that had your eyes widening in entertained surprise, “why are you so late?! The mirror ceremony ended over an hour ago, how dare you keep Lilia-sama waiting!!” 

Lilia-sama? Waiting? It seemed like they were just hanging out out here to you!

“I wasn’t aware we were down a student,” the dark haired boy mused, his gaze on you watchful, “nor do I remember seeing you at the ceremony.” His words had the other two boys now staring at your warily. 

Were all Briar Valley fae so wary? 

“Sorry,” you raised your hands in a disarming gesture, taking the opportunity to push back the hood of your ceremonial robe. Perhaps a clearer view of your face would ease them, “the Headmage insisted that I have a private ceremony after the main ceremony, and we just finished up.” You flashed a fanged smile at the green haired boy, whose sputtering over your revealed pointed ears hadn’t gone unnoticed. A reaction you didn’t expect, however, came from the black haired fae. 

He stared at you like he’d seen a ghost, his wide eyes and parted lips a far cry from his previous mistrustful expression. Before you knew it, he began to approach you, as if in a trance...

“L-Lilia-sama!” “Fa-- Lilia-senpai...”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into... A hug? Now it was your turn to be surprised. And by the look of it, the other boys seemed to be just as surprised as you did. Perhaps he was a bit over-whelmed by everything, being a new student like her? With a sheepish smile, you patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, I think... he just needs a hug?” 

Were all Briar Valley fae this strange? Perhaps the Regent was onto something. 

“Miss L/N! Miss L/N!”

A breathless shout seemed to break the trance on the other fae, and he drew back, but his expression towards you was much softer now. The two of you broke apart, turning to see the Headmage coming towards you at speed. 

“Miss L/N, I do believe I asked you to wait...” To his credit, the Headmage was trying his best to hide his panting. Clearly he had run here after finding you gone. 

You couldn’t help your pout. “You told me to go to the Diasomnia dormitory.” 

“I told you I would escort you.” uttered the Headmage, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his brow. 

“Headmage.”

The black haired fae interjected in your escalating quarrel with the Headmage. His red eyes burned into the Headmage, his previously softened expression suddenly hardened and dark as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to tell me why we were not informed that a Sombre Wilds fae would be attending Night Raven College this year?”

You watched the Headmage visibly choke, and you tilted your head. So as well as a private ceremony, your entire presence had been kept a secret up until now? A rather bold move, considering the history. No wonder the Headmage had looked so nervous the whole time. Even now, he was re-arranging his hat and tie in an attempt to garner time. 

“Well, Lilia, I had every intention of informing the... proper authorities at Diasomnia... But of course, there was a chance that Miss L/N would be assigned to another dorm. Also...--”

The Headmage was cut off by a sudden ringing. You peered around, only to notice that everyone was, well, looking at you. The black haired fae - Lilia, it seemed - gestured towards your pocket, the softness in his eyes back a fraction, along with some amusement. “I do believe that is you.”

“Oh? Oh!” You thrust you hand into your pocket and pulled out your smartphone, which indeed seemed to be the source of the sound. The Regent’s name was flashing on it’s shiny screen, and Lilia hummed softly as he noticed, shooting a pointed look at the Headmage. 

“Um... How do I...?” You stared blankly at the ringing device, and Lilia’s partially gloved hand swiped elegantly across the screen before guiding your hand to your ear with the same softness that had been manifesting in his eyes. 

“...Hello?”

“F/N. The Headmage. Is he with you?” 

“Right in front of me.” 

“Put him on.” 

Your eyes fixed on the Headmage, who now looked like he would rather still be chasing that tanuki he had been talking about. You smiled, and held out the phone towards him. “I think its for you.”

And this was how your orientation at Night Raven College ended - standing outside your new dorm, with the Headmage being chewed out by your Regent, with another lecture incoming by the powers that be of Briar Valley, by the look of it. It seemed that life at the College would indeed be more interesting than you first anticipated, and with such a curious bunch of dormmates, you certainly wouldn’t be bored. 

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Lilia Vanrouge #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #twst x reader #twst x y/n #lilia vanrouge x y/n #twisted wonderland x reader

[generic-anime-boy-bracket]

Round 1, Group B: Matchup 6

Mikado Ryuugamine vs Jun Fuyumi

Reasons for being generic + Propaganda below

Mikado Ryuugamine

Reasons:

Short black hair and grey eyes. The sheer difference in coolness between his name and his appearance is often pointed out by other characters. He is well aware. By far, the most normal looking drr character with no particular outstanding design quirk. Even the author's editor thought the series could be a rom-com centered on Mikado. The author questioned if everyone forgot that the protagonist is actually the headless black clad biker lady. He is just that average. (this is mentioned in the third light novel's afterword.)

Very plain looking boy. Short, straight black hair and dark eyes. Not especially tall or short, he's just below average. In a world where supernatural beings and super strength exist, he doesn't have anything going for him strength wise. People see him and don't really think anything of him. Now, I wouldn't exactly describe him as "normal" but that isn't related to his looks or physical abilities (also kinda spoilers, I'd recommend watching the show). Pretty normal hobbies too, like online forums, surfing the internet and hanging out with his friends.

Propaganda:

He is KEENLY aware of how Normal he is and he hates it because he's bored. he'd be so normal if he wasn't secretly insane. at one point he stabs himself with a ballpoint pen just to intimidate a gang. But he still looks so normal when he's masterminding gang violence. If you only watch the first season of the anime he will REMAIN normal to you and just seem like a very typical shonen protagonist with some power of (internet) friendship but as soon as you get into season 2 or volume 4 of the novels you will quickly see Mikado's descent into madness because he's just an adrenaline junkie. I want to study him like a bug. At one point he aquires a gun and it's horrible for everybody.

Jun Fuyumi

Reasons:

he's part of the obligatory band idol unit. there are characters in this branch with wild former jobs before becoming in an idol. he's literally just a high schooler.

Propaganda:

in a franchise full of idols that had former lives as, for example, a surgeon, royalty, or a soldier that has experienced the pain of loss during war... he's just a high schooler that plays piano, man. jun is a member of the idol band, highxjoker. his solo song, "genuine feelings", is gorgeous and he loves his unit very much, even if they make him want to tear his hair out sometimes. he is begging them to take their normal pills.

#generic anime boy bracket #mikado ryuugamine #mikado ryugamine #durarara #durarara!! #jun fuyumi #idolmaster #idolm@ster #im@s #sidem #idolm@ster sidem

[midnightstargazer]

Not to defend the overall narrative surrounding house-elves, but probably the #1 reason I'm so sympathetic to Regulus is that he didn't make Kreacher drink the potion.

House-elves are the lowest of the low in Wizarding society, and virtually nobody questions or objects to the way that they're treated. The narrative wants us to believe the Blacks were kind to Kreacher, but what we're actually shown says otherwise: his living conditions leave a lot to be desired, he harms himself as punishment for disobedience or failure, and then of course there's the whole beheading thing. I don't blame Regulus for any of this, because he was a child and would've had no say in it. But I think it's important to understand, where house-elves are concerned, his family wasn't that different from the Malfoys.

And yet, while I know some people do interpret his actions in a very uncharitable way (he was just upset that his property was damaged, etc.), I think there are signs that there was more to it than that. Kreacher himself states that "Master Regulus always liked Kreacher" (DH ch. 10), which implies that from an early age he showed him kindness and affection. Regulus described Kreacher's task for Voldemort as an honor for both of them; how many wizards would even consider whether or not something was an honor for their house-elf? And, while it's suggested he loaned Kreacher to Voldemort willingly, I don't think it's a coincidence that he ordered him to come home afterwards. He might not have suspected the task would be a death trap, but he knew it would likely be illegal and possibly dangerous. I interpret the order as an intentional precaution.

The exact reasons why Regulus turned against Voldemort are very open to interpretation. It could be he believed that making a Horcrux was going too far. It could be, as Sirius suggested, that he got squeamish about the reality of what being a Death Eater involved. But I do think protectiveness towards Kreacher must have been at least part of his motivation.

Why? Because he drank the potion himself.

This isn't an accident, either. It's emphasized by the narrative: Harry initially assumes Regulus ordered Kreacher to drink it, only to be corrected. It's portrayed as a shocking twist, and for good reason.

For most wizards, especially ones with Regulus's background, making the elf drink the potion would be the obvious solution. Hermione is right when she says what Voldemort did isn't that far outside the norm. Slughorn, who is generally one of the more positively portrayed Slytherins, used a house-elf to test wine for poison. The Blacks' family tradition is, specifically, "beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays" (OotP ch. 4) - so, they don't just preserve them that way after their death, they kill them as soon as they are no longer useful. Brutal physical punishments seem to be common, and their enslavement is accepted as normal and right by literally every character except Hermione. Wizarding society as a whole does not value the lives or welfare of house-elves.

But in the cave, Regulus prioritizes Kreacher's safety above his own. He drinks the potion himself rather than ordering Kreacher to do it, and once they've got the locket, he tells Kreacher to leave him behind. Regulus could very likely have made it out of the cave alive if he had been willing to sacrifice Kreacher, but instead, he ensured that Kreacher would be the one to survive.

Despite everything he had ever been taught about house-elves and their place in society, despite openly holding blood purist beliefs, despite it meaning the all-important family name would die out, he put Kreacher first. He kept Kreacher safe at the cost of his own life.

#Regulus Black #Kreacher #Marauders Era #Harry Potter #house elves #meta #Regulus Black meta

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 9

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Brief references to previous assault and infertility. This is a HAPPY chapter, guys! Teasing/dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), biting, vaginal sex, unprotect sex, wedding night sex Summary: Arriving in Scotland is a relief for everyone, and the time for weddings is upon us! Notes: It’s the calm before the storm, friends! There’s just nothing about this chapter I don’t love. Apologies for any missed errors in this one, folks, I really started to go cross eyed after a while. 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

The storm lasted an entire day before it eased, passing during the small hours of your second day in Claro and Harold's farmhouse. On the dawning of the third day your small family prepared to travel again - bundling in warm, dry layers and packing away the food that Claro has insisted will be good provision for your evening meal when you stop after a long day of riding. Two full nights of restful sleep have the four of you feeling refreshed and reinvigorated as you mount your horses again, and even Binx mews happily in her sling as you situate yourself on Caballo's back for the ride. It is just past first light and the morning dew has collected heavily on the world around you, but there is a bit of happiness to share before you are under way again. "We have something we wish to tell you," you begin, looking fondly between Briac and Arwena as he helps her get situated on her horse.

Briac smirks as he looks over at you and then back at his soulmate. “We promise we pretended to be asleep.” He teases making Arwena giggle. “You weren’t that loud.” This entire trip, but especially the last two days have been extremely good for him. He feels more confident, almost as if he were Pero’s equal. Really feeling as if their future was not bleak like he imagined when he first learned he was the beautiful young girl’s soulmate.

Burying your embarrassed face in Pero's chest, you can't help but groan in a way that is very far from a sound of pleasure. "I told you we should have gone to the barn," you grumble good naturedly, fully blaming your soulmate for being an impossibly talented lover.

“They were only waiting for us to sleep so they could do the same.” Pero predicts, in turn making Arwena fluster and look embarrassed.

"Well..." you huff, only marginally less embarrassed as Briac lifts himself into his own saddle and the three steeds are turned toward the road at a slow walk. "That was not what we wished to speak about. Obviously."

Briac chuckles, feeling as Pero apparently does, not embarrassed in the slightest for his want of his soulmate. For as crass as he had assumed the mercenary would be, he was surprisingly gentle in his treatment of you and his advice on love. ‘Unless the wench wants it rough’, Pero had advised with a roguish grin. “What is it that you wish to discuss?” He asks, his mount alongside Arwena’s. “Have you decided where you will go after we are wed?”

“Partly.” It was more like you had decided where you will not go, but that was a technicality. “But more importantly, we wished to ask if you would consent to share your wedding day with us. We have decided to wed after all.”

Arwena inhales sharply, tears springing to her eyes and her head bobbles automatically. “Yes! Yes! Oh you must!” She is practically shouting it at you even before she remembers that it is not her decision alone and turns to Briac. “I—”

The younger man laughs and reaches out to drag his soulmate to him for a quick, reassuring kiss before he looks at both of you. “As she said.” He agrees happily. “We would be honored to share it with you.”

“Pero knew you would not object, but I felt it only right to ask.” After all, while you’re sure there are bridezillas somewhere in the year 1006, Arwena is not one of them. And nor are you, ultimately. Having your soulmate - the man you love - as your husband is enough. What else matters beyond that? “We also thought…it might not be so necessary as we first thought for all of us to part ways.” Insisting that it was safer had really only been a cover for the fact that you intended to travel to the Stones. Now that was erased from your plans and you were free to think of another future. One that could be spent together, if it made everyone happy.

“Truly?” For the second time in as many minutes, Arwena is emotional again. This time Briac mirroring her hope and joy at the news. While you and Pero are older, wiser - it feels as though the four of you belong in the same family.

“Truly.” You nod and reach to squeeze her hand as you ride side by side. “This new life could be a fresh beginning for all of us together.”

“This is wonderful.” Arwena chokes up slightly and smiles at you and Pero. “I— I have come to see you both as the family I wish I had.”

“You need not wish any longer, sister.” The smile you offer her is as soft as the early morning sun, and Pero squeezes your waist in silent agreement. “We can choose to go where no one knows us, and be whatever we choose to each other.”

“I cannot wait to be married!” Arwena cries out happily, the world bright and sunny to her despite the bitter cold.

"It will not be long now." Road signs on your journey led you to believe that you were only another day or two from the border when you stopped, so hopefully getting there would be relatively smooth sailing. Once Arwena and Briac were married her father could cuss and scream and threaten all he wanted to - she would not be his legal possession any longer.

“It will be good to call you my wife in truth.” Pero hums in your ear. “Find a place where I can proudly bear the title of husband.” He wants to find a quiet little village where he can build a life with you, hopefully living out the rest of his days peacefully. Maybe even going East and seeing William again. He wonders if you would like that.

"We could go anywhere." Aside from the language barrier, there is no reason to limit where you settle down, now. Scotland had been the aim because of marriage laws and because of the Stones, but now that you had decided to stay? You could continue on to wherever you wanted and start completely fresh.

“Where would you want to go?” Pero asks you seriously. “You know more about my time than I do on the whole.” He had been thinking about it a lot, you hadn’t given him many historical references but it would be good to know where to avoid making a home.

"There won't be any big witch trials for a few hundred more years, but there will be small wars all over England and Alba for many decades to come." Trying to remember anything you can from high school history class has been a challenge and nothing has truly sprung into your mind besides knowing that the Norman Conquest of England will happen in sixty years' time. "We could go to Rome and simply blend into the crowd of immigrants from all over the Holy Roman Empire, or we could find a farm in the country for the four of us to work together. Or..." You twist slightly in your seat, catching his eye from the corner of yours. "Perhaps you would like to return home to Spain?"

Pero bites his lip, the idea of returning home one that makes his heart hammer in his chest. “We could.” He offers, slowly thinking the idea over. “If they want to come, we could see who lives on the land my parents raised me.”

"Briac's Spanish is coming along quickly." The boy seemed to have a natural talent for language, with as fast as he was learning, and you smile at Pero as the horses start to pick up speed. "It might be a beautiful way to remember your parents, to see Briac and Wena's babes born in the same place you were." If you could give him children, the thought would be for your own babies, but as it stands you will be a doting aunt and uncle to whatever children the younger couple bears.

He senses where your thoughts take you and his arm around your waist beneath the sleeping cat tightens. “Do not blame yourself, Sassenach.” He murmurs softly, kissing your ear. “I would change nothing about you.”

You nod, not wanting to dwell on it, and put your hand over his to squeeze it tightly. "We will bring the idea up to them when we stop for the night. See how they would feel about returning to the continent and heading south."

“Warmer.” Pero huffs, feeling the wind buffet around their little group. “Want to live somewhere we can swim in the river naked and I can lay you out in the sunshine.”

"Valencia may be the right choice, then." The stories he's told you of growing up, of the small farm where his parents raised him near the coast where his father taught him to fish and swim, sound positively idyllic compared to the hell that is travelling on horseback through England in the dead of winter.

“Perhaps we can even visit where—where they are buried.” Pero has taken a very realistic outlook, but the idea of visiting his parents’ grave strikes a chord inside him. To show his mamá that he has found his soulmate.

"When spring comes, we can bring your mamá flowers." The idea of going home again has struck him deeply, and you are now convinced that it was the right suggestion to make. Even if you cannot convince the people living in his old family home to sell it to you, you will at least visit his parents' graves with regularity.

“If they would like to come with us.” Pero agrees, his own attachment to the other couple coming out. He worries about them, is the story he tells himself. Trying to believe they would be lost without the guidance you both can provide.

"I think they will." In fact, you know that if you suggested it right now, Arwena would have an entire daydream of what to grow on your shared farmland by the time you made camp tonight. "It will be something we talk about together." You smile gently. "As a family."

“Tonight when we are around a fire.” Pero has every intention of pushing the horses hard today after two full days of rest. “Where we don’t have to yell over the wind.”

“Aye.” Squeezing his hand once more, you reluctantly move your own again to cradle Binx’s sling against your chest so she does not bounce uncomfortably as you ride. With good rest and full bellies, you will be able to make it much further today than perhaps any day of travel beforehand, and the more distance put between the four of you and the coast, the better. Being so close to England’s northern border only makes you and Pero more eager to drive forward - and prospect of your own marriage and future together makes it all the sweeter.

******

It is later in the day than normal when Pero calls to stop for a meal. The road had been somewhat easy and he wanted to cover as much of it as he could before having to rest. "We will see if we can find some game." Pero grunts as he helps you down. "Take a piss and walk around. I know you are sore."

“I’ll start a cooking fire and see if I can find some clean snow to melt for tea.” Any opportunity for a kiss is a good one, and being that you consider yourselves betrothed now as well, you indulge a little before letting Pero go to hunt with Briac for some small animal to make your lunch. Claro and Harold had furnished you with bread and cheese and it would make for two hearty meals at least when combined with roast meat.

Your lips linger on his as he and the boy make their way through the snow silently. It will be a quick trip away from you. He will hunt longer when you make camp for the night, but this will be a hasty meal.

“Something changed,” Briac observes quietly, careful not to speak loudly and disturb any life nearby. “You never spoke of marriage before.”

“I did not think it was possible.” Pero admits, having kept the idea of you leaving firm in his mind. He hadn’t wanted to beg you to stay. Not when your future was better without him. “Now…it is.”

“Why would it not be possible?” Briac’s brow furrows tightly. “She was not…bound to someone else? Was she?” He can’t imagine that you would have begun such a passionate affair with Pero if you had been, but Briac has to admit to himself that there is much he does not know about you.

"No." He will not be able to explain why it wasn't possible, not without explaining where you are truly from and he will not do that without your permission. "There are...reasons why she felt like she could not wed me. I have convinced her that they are not an issue for me."

“I see.” He is clever enough to know when not to press for more details, and Pero is clearly reticent to speak about your circumstances. “Well…I am glad of it. And I know Wena is, too.”

Pero's lips curl briefly and he nods. "You and your girl will be expecting a babe soon, I imagine." He grunts, having pointedly ignored them every night when they think everyone is asleep. You are, but he just pretends to be resting.

“We pray for it.” The younger man isn’t shy about that, chest puffing proudly at the thought. “The first of many, by our hopes.”

“Never have more mouths than you can feed.” Pero cautions. “Brats are innocent and shouldn’t suffer because you enjoy fucking.”

“Aye.” Briac nods as solemnly as he ever does when Pero gives advice, taking it as gospel and filing it away in his mind to be followed in his own personal law. “And not so many as to leave Wena in pain.”

“As good as it feels to spill inside her, remember that she will go through things we cannot imagine.” Pero tells him. He’s not attended a birth, but he has heard the screams and it sounds as bad as the worst death on a battlefield.

“The magic Sassenach taught Wena to guard against a babe is strong, but we will be ready if the child is more hardheaded than the potion,” the younger man chuckles slightly. “It would just be proof that he is like his parents.”

Pero nods, flashing Briac a brief grin. "Sí." He hums, looking down and spotting the tracks of a rabbit. "And Sassenach and I will stand in as family when that time comes."

“The babes will need godparents.” Of course they had already discussed asking the older couple to stand in for such duties, but it had not been spoken of between the four of them yet. “We will be grateful to seen them well loved and cherished.”

“We will talk around the fire.” Pero promises, nodding towards the tracks. “Let us find our meal first.”

When they return, Arwena has found and cleared a few large stumps to sit on and you have a cauldron of mint and melted snow becoming tea to drink with your meal. “Any luck?” You ask, seeing Pero walk up to the small clearing before Briac.

Briac holds up a fair-sized rabbit, already dressed out. “This will go good with the tea.” He declares proudly.

Arwena squeals proudly, already on her feet again to wrap him in her arms and kiss him before taking the animal to butcher for the fire. “How marvelous,” she hums with a smile. “Cheese, bread, and rabbit.”

"Good meal." Pero notices that you have already made sure the horses are watered and given them a bit of the grain that you are carrying for them. He moves over to you and pulls out a small bit of the hide, some of the organs saved for Binx. "For her majesty."

"You spoil her." It's not even scolding, and you give him a kiss in thanks before laying the hide down on the damp ground beside you where Binx is sitting. There will be plenty of nuzzles and headbutts of gratitude from the cat to Pero later on, as she happily dives into her meal immediately.

Pero chuckles at the ferocity in which Binx is inhaling her food. "She is a good gato." He hums, wrapping his arms around you. "How are you feeling amor? Too cold?"

"I'm warm enough." You still keep close to his side though, enjoying the calm of having Arwena putting together the afternoon meal while you sit in Pero's arms. "And warmer now."

"Good." Pero presses his lips to your neck and sighs softly. It is nice to be off the horse for a bit.

"What did you wish to speak to us about?" Briac asks after a few moments of quiet. The crackling of the fire took over after the murmuring between couples subsided and now and the younger man is curious to know what you have been speaking about.

Pero looks over at you, getting a small nod before he turns towards the couple. "We are thinking of going to where I was raised after we marry." He tells them.

"To Spain?" Arwena's eyes widen, her head popping up immediately at that news. "Truly?"

Pero reaches for your hand and sends you a small smile. “Yes. And we were—would you like to come with us?” He asks. “You don’t have to, but you are welcome.”

Arwena is ready to agree immediately, eagerly near-bouncing in her seat, but looks to Briac first for his reaction. As much as she would love to see the beautiful shores and skies of Pero’s home, Briac still has parents and siblings in Brittany that he will be missing.

Briac hums and thinks, only taking a minute before he is nodding. “Yes. I believe that we will come with you.” He looks over at Arwena with a smile. “You are our family.”

“And you are ours.” You reach across to pat his knee in the most unintentionally mothering way possible and then move to start pouring tea into the cups you have all kept tied to your belts as you travel. “We have become very good at taking care of each other.”

“I will have to work on my Spanish more.” Arwena nearly bounces on her stump with giddiness and relief that she didn’t want to separate from you at all and now she doesn’t have to.

"It will be a chance for you to continue to learn." You hand Arwena her cup of tea and sit back again, giving Pero his own cup in turn. "I do not think you have ever had a chance to swim in anything larger than a pond before. The coast will be new for you as well."

“I am sure it will be very good.” Briac nods. “We still have much to learn from both of you.” His hand reaches for Arwena's again and he chuckles. "It seems as if we are bound for your home after our weddings."

"It will be our home," you promise him, and Pero grunts his agreement as he tugs you closer to his side. Whatever hands of fate brought the four of you together, it truly seems as if you are meant to stay this way.

******

"This is it?" Pero lifts a brow and wonders what exactly he was expecting but it wasn't this. He twists in his saddle and looks around, assessing and taking it in. "We are here? This is what we have killed ourselves to get to?" He might have driven them hard over the last two days, sacraficing sleep and rest to make it here.

"I know it doesn't look like much." The blanket of snow that covers the valley around you makes it look positively plain if not downright unwelcoming. Bare trees and a general lack of life in nearly every direction is discouraging, but what else could be expected for the middle of January? On Caballo's back, you twist to look around, finding Pero's eyes doing the same as you head in the direction of the small village of Gretna in the distance. "But this place will come to be known as a place of pilgrimage for lovers who would otherwise not be able to wed. This is Gretna Green, of course it is not as beautiful as it could be in the cold of winter. Just...trust me, amor. I know that this is the place we are supposed to be."

"There is a priest here? In the village?" He asks, skeptical about your knowledge but he is willing to trust you. You are far more knowledgeable than he is. Right now he is unsure that he will be able to find lodging for the four of you in the small village.

"Yes." There should be both a Christian church and a pagan community in this village if it was like the other Scottish villages you had lived in during your journey south, but Gretna has the advantage of being just over the English border...and having a more generally lax attitude toward the rules, if everything you have heard and remember reading is correct. "There will be lodging, because this is the first village after leaving England, and there will be a priest."

Pero nods, nudging the horse forward. "Let's go find this priest." He murmurs, holding tight to you and looking back at the road one last time. The feeling of someone chasing your group had never diminished and he feels like he needs to get your vows said quickly.

"A church or a tavern should be easy enough to spot." One or both of them will be along the main road, and hopefully the tavern will have rooms enough to give each couple their own bed behind a closed door tonight.

"A bed." He growls, his arm tightening around you. "A bed to consummate our vows. A bath to soak in after I fuck you full."

"You'll be letting me bathe before those are said, amor." You can't help but sigh in turn, though, knowing that with privacy and the security of having said your vows, you will not be getting much sleep tonight.

He scoffs and leans in, pressing his lips to your cheek. Your neck is covered in layers and he doesn’t want to make you cold. “I do not smell you.” He teases playfully.

You hum at him, laughing quietly as you shake your head. "I will not have you feasting on an unclean cunt, cariño. Just like you would not make me suck a filthy cock."

“Hmmmm, I get my cock sucked tonight?” He lifts a brow and the said appendage twitches happily in his breeches. “That does call for a bath. Those pretty lips around my shaft have been sorely missed. Just like my tongue is eager for your cunt.”

"I want to take the time to bring my husband as much pleasure as possible." All but purring to him as you ride, you toss Pero a playful wink and turn around again to watch the village get closer.

It is Arwena who spots the inn first, pointing it out in the heart of the village at you approach. The sign above the door is a griffin painted in silver and outlined in green, and some fifty yards to the right - across the square - sits a small church with a priest milling around outside. He is breaking icicles off of the eaves of the church and cleaning the windowsills, whistling to himself as he works and doing his best not to stare at the new arrivals to his village.

“Shall we go see about having our vows arranged?” Pero asks, although he is already guiding his horse in that direction. Briac and Arwena are close behind him. The feeling turns to one of anticipation when the priest has an excuse turns to them with cause to study them as Pero comes to a halt in front of his heavy robed body. Squeezing your waist, Pero dismounts and holds the reins, stepping up to him. “God give ye good morrow, Father.” He uses his most respectful voice and nods politely to the man of the cloth. “You are just the person we are seeking on our travels.”

“God give ye good morrow, my son.” The priest nods, making the sign of the cross to complete his greeting and looks on the group with curious eyes. “What service can the Church provide your party with this day?” There are many who see the way Father Malcolm comports himself and compare him more to a monk than to a priest, but the man has never minded that. It is simply that he is more humble - and perhaps more jolly - than another in the area. And surely that cannot be a fault.

“We are two pairs of soulmates who wish to wed, Father.” Pero can hear Briac dismounting his own horse and coming forward. “As God intended.”

The sound from the young priest’s throat is pleased, and he looks between the man in front of him to the rest of his traveling party once more. “I think you have traveled far to do so, and if it is your sincere wish then it shall be so.”

Pero nods, relived that the priest has agreed. “We wish to clean up from our travels, but we want to be bound in the eyes of God as quickly as we can.” If they could be wed within the hour, perhaps two, it would lift a giant weight off Pero’s shoulders.

The priest’s smile turns knowing, understanding that the demands of the flesh can be heavy when neglected. He is a man, after all, even as a man of God. “Can any of your party read and write, traveler?” He asks, knowing that the skills are not common amongst most of his parishioners. Even his own skill in writing is meager.

Pero nods, proud of the work that you have made him put in. Even while laying in bed. It was a wonderful motivator for you to reveal inch upon tantalizing inch of skin when he read the words you had written in the book for Arwena. “My soulmate is learned and she has taught very basic skills to us.” He motions to all three of them.

“There is typically a cost of a few coins paid to the church for a wedding, as I am sure you know.” He shrugs a little, as if he does not approve of such things. Like the reading of the bans - it is all well and good to announce one’s intentions before God but not all circumstances allow for the luxury of three weeks’ planning. “There are always roofs to be repaired and things of that nature, I fear. However, I would be happy to wave such a fee if your soulmate would consent to take down a letter from dictation? It must be sent to my bishop and I am afraid that my own abilities with a quill are meager.”

Instead of answering for you, Pero turns to you, wanting you to be the one who says yay or nay. “It would be her decision. Although we have funds to donate for a roof, or strong backs if you have need.” Now that a wedding is guaranteed, Pero does not mind staying for a week or so to rest before they continue on their journey. “Sassenach?”

The priest smothers a laugh at such a man calling someone else outlander, but as soon as the hooded figure sitting astride the war horse behind him comes to earth to step forward he swallows his mirth. The cloak pin she wears is one that was once his mother’s - long since gifted to the white witch that saved his life from a vicious ailment. Your name - your real name - falls from his tongue in wonder and he stares as you remove your hood.

“Am I known to you, Father?” Carefully stepping to Pero’s side, it takes you longer than a few moments to recognize the man that was no more than Briac’s age when you came through the Stones and were taken in by his clan nearly eight years ago. “Malcolm?”

Pero frowns fiercely for the few moments before you recognize the priest. His hand had automatically fallen to his sword even though the man was proclaimed to be a man of the cloth. He didn’t care about the church or his eternal soul in that moment, for it was a sin to hurt a priest, he cared about protecting you. When you gasp his name, he relaxes and looks at you in confusion. “You know this priest?”

“He was not a priest when I knew him last.” The feeling of pride in your chest is undeniable, seeing the healthy and hearty man standing in front of you, instead of the willowy wisp of a thing sick in his bed so long ago. “Malcolm’s clan were the ones who took me in when I first arrived here.” The look you give Pero is pointed - this priest knows the hidden parts of your story that even Arwena and Briac still do not. “He left home to follow God’s word some months before I left to begin traveling south.”

Pero nods, smiling at the obvious affection in your voice. “The world is smaller than we realize.” he hums to you.

“I prayed to God to deliver me from sickness and swore to Him my eternal soul if He would send an angel to save me. He sent me an angel with healing hands and I kept my promise.” He chuckles softly. “This is your soulmate?” The priest’s voice is full of obvious surprise, not because he is passing judgement but because he knows you are not of his world.

“Aye.” Slipping your hand into the crook of Pero’s arm, you beam an affectionate smile at the man who holds your heart before looking back at your other friends. “Our companions are soulmates as well. We have come very far to be married and hope to do so with haste.”

Pero’s eyes soften when you look at him before turning back to the priest. “The other couple can prove that they share marks if that is your concern.” He decides that he will be honest with a man who you trust. “We are being chased by the girl’s father. He wishes to force her to wed a man who is…ungodly.”

Father Malcolm’s eyes narrow and he nods. Ungodly men are many and their sins are more so, but he knows you to be kind and good so he will not question that part of the matter on the street. “Come inside,” he urges, motioning to the church behind him. “All of you. I will learn your stories and then take you to the tavern for rooms and a hot meal before you wed. If haste is your concern, it will be done before sundown.”

“Thank you, Father.” Pero is grateful for his understanding and motions Briac and Arwena closer. “We are very grateful for your understanding and haste. I will defend my soulmate and the boy’s with violence if necessary, but it is our hope that once wed, they will see that it is futile.”

“What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” Father Malcolm intones seriously. He helps tie the horses to the post along the southern side of the building before leading the four of you inside and shutting the door fast behind you. “You need not fear me, child.” He tells Arwena honestly, beckoning her forward. “I mean to be your friend if you will tell your honest story.”

Arwena wrings her hands together, nervous to trust him because she believes it was her own priest that had alerted her father to her soulmate status. She had confessed earlier in the day when he had found out. Her eyes flutter over to you questioningly and you nod encouragingly. “I—F—Father, I must confess, everyone here knows this story.” She murmurs sadly. “The man my father wishes me to wed forced himself on—on me.” Her fingers twist tightly around themselves to the point where they look as if they will break. Briac reaches over and gently pries them apart and laces his own fingers with hers in support. “It—it was not my— I did not— ask for it.” Her voice shakes and she is quickly wiping her eyes. “I cannot wed a – a monster who would do that. Not when my true soulmate, the man God intended me to give myself to, is a Godly man.”

"I see." Father Malcolm's head bows only once before he looks Arwena square in the eyes. "How old are you, child?"

“I— seventeen years, Father.” She raises her chin and squares her shoulders slightly. The fact that he is not condemning her like she had feared helps her face him bravely.

"Old enough to make this decision for yourself." Raised to be strong-willed and steadfast in conviction, the priest offers the girl in front of him a smile of reassurance before anything else. "If it is your wish, and your soulmate's wish, to be married this day, then let it be so. Should anyone come to question your union, they may answer to me." Many would say that a man may make choices for his daughter at any stage in her life, but thankfully Father Malcolm is not many men. "I will only ask that you bear to me some mark that will not impugn your modesty, that I may see with my own eyes that you are soulmates."

Wena nods, looking exponentially happier as looks over at Briac. “The shoulder.” She decides, figuring that would be one that would be the most modest to bear. “I— the man who— he—he cut me— while—” she breaks off her words and lets Briac help her out of the layers that she had been wearing on the road until just her dress and chemise remains. Turning around, she pulls the fabric off her shoulder to reveal the ugly scar that had been marked into her skin.

The young man’s shoulder bears the identical mark, and Father Malcolm nods again. A definitive expression sets itself in the priest’s countenance and he steps back from the couple politely. “I thank you,” he says after a pause. “Your blessed union will be a celebration of God’s love and your own.” Their clothing set easily back into place, Father Malcolm moves quickly to the door of the church and motions for the group of you to follow. “The inn across the square will have rooms for you. I will prepare for your nuptials while you refresh.”

"Father...." Pero squeezes your hand and follows him. "We thank you for your help. Sassenach said that we would be welcome here and it is satisfying to learn the truth of it."

“Gretna is a welcoming place.” Father Malcolm begins to usher the two couples across the square, right to the door of the Silver Griffin. “It was God’s Will that I be here to help you, it seems. I am only newly arrived myself.”

That is most fortunate and Pero raises his brow in surprise. "We will only require two rooms, Father." He tells him quietly, knowing that he and Briac will stay downstairs with the priest while you and Arwena clean up.

"Of course." He chuckles slightly, walking up through the crowded room with all its long banquet tables and benches for seating, studded with the occasional spare chair in odd places. There is a group of men in one corner playing a game of cups and dice and a trio of ladies in another bent over some shared sewing in the light of the windows. The priest approaches the group of women and murmurs something in her ear. She is a tall and sweet-faced women in her middle-forties whose most imposing quality is that she is so gentle in appearance that you would hate to be the one who upsets her just like you would hate to upset a favourite aunt. "Friends, you say?" She hums at the young priest. "Rooms for friends of Father Malcolm. Aye. We can manage that."

Pero lets go of you and nods towards Briac. "We will go get the bags." There isn't much they could in leu of fresh clothes, there were none, but you could at least bathe and feel better before your vows are exchanged.

"We would be grateful for two rooms, mistress." Armed with Pero's coin purse, you are prepared to make certain that everything is ready for the four of you to have a wonderful wedding night.

“Baths as well?” She asks, smirking slightly at how excited the younger couple looks as they reluctantly part.

"Aye. Please." You can't help but smile a little more broadly, tucking the thing up in the corner of your mouth like a pleasing secret even though it is no secret at all. "Baths and rooms, and meals if they can be supplied. We have come a long way to be married here and wish to celebrate."

“Ye traveled to Gretna to be wed?” She asks, slightly surprised. “A good friend of Father Malcom then.” She motions for you to follow her to the stairs and calls out for bathing tubs to be brought to the rooms. A wedding. It has been some time since a wedding had occurred in the village. “We will make it a blessed occasion.”

"It is a beautiful little place," you tell her honestly. If you weren't already talking about Spain, you must just suggest staying here in Gretna. But you can't resist punctuating the thought with a private joke all for yourself. "I think in the future people may flock here for just such a purpose."

“I will be doubtful. The Sassenach do not much like our ways.” She chuckles slightly and shows you down the hall to two doors across from each other at the end. “Our best rooms.” She offers with a smile.

"Thank you, mistress." From Pero's purse, two silver pieces make their way from your hand to hers and you smile again. "We may be here some days and will be glad to pay the full amount in advance when we decide how long we will linger."

She shakes her head and smiles at you. “A friend of the Father’s does nay need to pay in advance.” She murmur. “Go in and rest. Your baths before your vows will be sent up shortly.”

With more thanks given, the innkeeper disappears toward the stairs and you reach to hug Arwena before she can disappear behind the opposite door. She is grinning from ear to ear with shining eyes and restless energy, and you cannot help but laugh. "I am glad that you are so excited to finally be his wife."

“You too.” She giggles quietly and tosses her head knowingly. “You cannot wait to marry your Spaniard.”

"I cannot deny it." You cannot and will not, especially not to her. Not to one of the only two people in the world who stood by you and watched you fall in love with Pero.

“I wish-“ Arwena shakes her head after opening her mouth too quickly. “It is foolish, but I wish I had time to finish the dresses I was making at home.” She had secretly been sewing dresses to take with her when she left come spring. Including new dresses for her wedding to Briac for you and her.

“That is not so foolish a wish.” Opening your arms, you give Arwena the space to hug you as earnestly as she wishes in that moment before you sigh slightly. “Where I am from, brides wear great white gowns to their weddings made of every kind of luxurious fabric you can possibly imagine. As a little girl I had dreamt of wearing my mother’s gown when I wed my soulmate. But it does not sadden me to be without it now.” You pull back from hugging her and send her a wink. “Briac and Pero would likely tear off whatever beautiful dresses we wore anyway.”

“Tonight will be very special.” Arwena grins as she wrinkles her nose. “We will no longer be sinning in the eyes of the church.”

“Any babe that comes now will be a welcome one, I think.” You hug her tightly once more before shooing her toward her own door. “A mother or sister might give advice to you tonight, sweet girl. But you need none. Love Briac well and embrace this new chapter of your life.”

“I am happy I am sharing it with you.” Tears spring up in her eyes and she blinks them away with a grin. “We are about to married women!”

“And happily so.” There is time for one more squeezing hug between you before two young women appear in the hall with the large bath tubs that have been ordered. In a matter of perhaps an hour, your vows will be said and everyone will be safer. And you will finally be able to relax in Pero’s arms.

Arwena paces in the nicely appointed room until the door opens and the round wooden tub is carried in. She’s nervous and excited, all of it twisting together in a small knot in her stomach. All of this is right, but she can’t help but feel as though there is something looming on the horizon. Not sure what it might be has her worried.

******

Father Malcolm, the sweet man that he is, has decorated the small parish church in dozens of candles in the time between parting with your group and your return to the church an hour later. The ceremony will be brief and there will be no witnesses to speak of beyond the five of you, but he has put out what decoration he can to make the event memorable. He had even brought Pero and Briac down to the village blacksmith to see about rings in the brief time you and Arwena were bathing. All was as it should be, despite the palpable tension in the air that seemed to be coloring the two couples’ excitement.

Pero shuffles nervously as he stands in the church, confession had been lengthy and he wasn't quite sure that God wouldn't still strike him down for setting foot in his space. Briac hums beside him, his own nerves setting him on edge and both men listen for your approach with eager ears.

Your clothes aren’t exactly clean after weeks of travel, but the clothes that had been packed in Arwena’s mare’s saddlebags are a bit tidier. Her blue-gray tunic is soft and light, letting her give off the impression that she is about to take flight at any time. The crisp air blows around you both, and the long sleeves of her dress mix with yours as you hold hands walking across the square the church. Her blue against your deep green is water lapping at the shore, and you fiddle with your hair just one more time before stepping up to the church door. Arwena had insisted that braiding it would be beautiful, and the loose plaits you both wear are studded with dried rose buds from your case of herbs. It’s all you can do not to look back - terrified in the bottom of your gut that her father might suddenly appear over the horizon at any second. Inside. You remind yourself, pulling in the heavy iron latch and letting Arwena duck inside first. Inside we are safe.

The heavy wood door closes and Pero sighs, his eyes fixed on you as both you and Wena walk towards the men. There is something about the fact that he is going to marry you that has him emotional. Looking at you to memorize every moment from now until you are wed in the eyes of God. He thinks you've never looked more beautiful.

In that moment it doesn’t matter that you’re not wearing white, or that the wedding match isn’t playing, or that it’s Scotland in 1006. The absolute only thing that matters is that Pero is standing at the top of the beautifully candle-lit aisle and he is there to marry you. He even shaved for the occasion, freshly clean face flushed with either nerves or excitement. Or maybe, like you, both.

The ring that is in his hand nearly cuts into the skin he is gripping it so tightly. “Mi amor.” He breathes when you are close, reaching out with his other hand lightening fast and dragging you the last few steps to him for a desperate kiss.

Father Malcolm chuckles softly, clearing his throat to bring the Spaniard’s attention back to the actual wedding ceremony. “There will be time for that, my friend,” he tells Pero with an indulgent smile. “After God’s law is followed.”

Pero flushes slightly, shuffling as he left you go so you can stand beside him instead of plastered against him. “Forgive me, Father.” Briac chuckle at his friend’s eagerness and receives a half hearted glare in return.

“It is not a sin to be in love, my son.” The young father smiles and beckons the two couples forward to kneel at the altar in front of the church. To the left of your grooms, you and Arwena are bright spots of color in the flickering candlelight. “Now,” he clears his throat, standing before the altar. “Who gives these women to be wed today?”

“We give each other, Father.” Arwena speaks up, her voice clear and bright as she looks up at the priest. “We are chosen sisters, united by our faith and spirit.”

"And each of you consents freely to these marriages with your soulmate, with no unspoken burdens left to confess?" The priest asks, looking between the four of you. One by one you all agree, having made your confessions and come here freely - after a great deal of effort. "Very well, then," he smiles one more time. "Gentleman, have you acquired rings for your brides?"

Pero nods, holding open his hand to reveal the plain gold band he had purchased for you. Briac does the same with Arwena’s ring. “You deserve a ring, hermosa.” Pero murmurs softly.

"Te amo." The quiet whisper is just for him, though the appreciative tears rising behind your eyes are obvious to anyone. He could have tied a string around your finger and you would have showed it off like the most precious diamond in the world. “Let us begin.” As it turns out, a medieval wedding ceremony is not so different from all those weddings your cousins had when you were little, or even the unconventional ones your friends had been having since college. The familiar vows to have and hold are sworn by all of you - for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do you part - and the largest difference is that Pero and Briac touch the wedding rings to your and Arwena's pointer fingers, then middle fingers, then ring fingers before slipping them on those fourth digits to remain for good.

There is a small smile on Pero’s lips, unable to believe that he is kneeling before a priest and saying his vows to marry you. “Hasta la eternidad.” Until eternity. He whispers to you, his thumb brushing over the band on your finger.

"Para siempre." Forever. You don't resist the urge to bend and press a kiss to his fingers as they caress the ring and your skin, only momentarily lamenting the fact that men in this time do not wear wedding rings. If you could give him something other than your marks to wear to signify that he holds your heart, you would give that gift again and again for the rest of your lives.

“Te amo.” He whispers softly, eyes flicking down to your lips and he wants to kiss you but the father has not blessed you yet.

"Te amo." In fact you're probably vibrating with it, and the amused priest finally bestows the kiss of peace on each groom to then grace their brides with.

The slightly sour look Pero has from being laughed at by a priest disappears the second he pulls you close. Briac has already dove into his kiss with Arwena, the younger couple gasping but Pero takes the time to brush your scar with his hand and tug you close to press his forehead against yours. “Esposa.” He breathes before he takes your lips in the tenderest kiss he can manage.

The warmth that floods your system is half arousal and half complete bliss. "Mi esposo." The words you genuinely never thought that you would say, breathed after your first kiss as man and wife. There is something utterly enchanting about this moment that you have never anticipated before, and for the first time in weeks you feel as though everything in the world is right.

Arwena giggles and cries as she kisses Briac, the boy himself shedding tears of joy and relief. Now that they are wed in the eyes of God and the Church, there was nothing that her father could do. Their names were now recorded with the Church and the priest, he could not do anything but try to kill Briac and Pero had taught him how to defend himself well.

Two couples, now wed and bound, rise from their knees to sign the church register that Father Malcolm had prepared. Two couples with tears of pure joy in their eyes bid the same father good day with repeated thanks, and when they exit the church they find nothing but welcoming sunshine and the well wishes of a few passing villagers. You will go and settle your grateful debt with Malcolm tomorrow. Until then the only thought in your mind is Pero.

“The room, Sassenach.” Pero and Briac had cleaned up outside the rooms while you and Arwena had gotten ready, but he wants to lock himself in the room with his wife and make love to her. “Our meals will be brought to the door?” He asks. “Because I am not letting my wife out of my bed for the night once we climb into it.”

“The innkeeper said she would deliver trays to us tonight.” You grin at the eagerness in his tone, knowing you are every bit as ready to have him behind a closed and locked door as he is to have you. “I asked if she would simply leave them in the hall and gave her enough extra that both rooms could have a bottle of mead delivered as well.” It is a celebration, after all, and it’s not like champagne will be invented for almost seven hundred years.

“Good.” He has no doubt the patrons of the inn, mainly the ones drinking and socializing in the small space downstairs will hear you tonight. He doesn’t care. You are his wife, you bear his name - under the laws of man and God, you are his. It’s something that has his entire body primed with desire, surprising even him. He had never expected to be a greedy man when it came to marriage, he never expected to marry, but he is gluttonous with the need to make his talent for satisfying you known.

Briac and Arwena - teary and giggly and proud - are first through the doors of the inn with you and Pero following closely behind. There are more patrons now, all of them seemingly having heard of the weddings happening under Father Malcolm’s authority, and the cacophony of fist pounding tables and boots stamping the floor when the four of you walk in is just as sweet as the applause of any family. They may not be sitting outside your rooms to get an exact transcript, but these are the witnesses to the final act of your marriage - those who will vouch for overhearing the consummation - and they are as necessary a part of the legal contract in this time as the priest you just left. Without consummation, the marriage contract is not binding.

Pero grins at the way that Arwena seemingly melts under the realization that these people will be straining their ears for any sounds of pleasure. Sure that there will be ribald jokes and gentle ribbing. “We will make sure we take the attention off you.” He leans in to whisper in her ear.

“We’ll send up yet supper when it sounds like ye have worked a good appetite.” A man behind the counter chortles, which earns his a good-hearted glare from the innkeeper even though she smiles a second later. “No one will disturb ye,” she promises, waving toward the stairs as if to gentle shoo the four of you away from prying eyes.

The entire room is silent as the four of you start up the creaking stairs. Pero is probably the one most used to it, to being judged and weighed when he comes across a new village. His hand is on your waist as you proceed him and he turns to give the group a good-natured scowl.

That only earns a wave of good-natured chuckling from the assembled revelers, and they go back to their conversations and cups easily enough after you disappear upstairs.

At the top of the stairway, Pero lets you guide him towards the room that will be yours for at least the next few days. “Come wife.” He growls playfully. “I am needing you in my bed.”

“I think you like that word,” you tease, tugging him close to your side as Arwena and Briac sprint ahead to disappear behind the slamming door of their room with giddy anticipation.

“I do.” Pero admits, leaning in to tuck his head against your neck. “More than I ever thought possible. It is…kismet.”

“Come, amor.” Pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw, you push open the door to your room and nudge him inside. “We have much to celebrate.”

Once the door is open and he sees the bed that is already made with fresh sheets, Pero pushes into the room with you and kicks the door shut. Fumbling behind his back with the bar so he can keep his lips locked onto yours once he has found them.

It’s a testament to how little clothing Pero actually wore on a daily basis in the cottage that you’re having trouble getting him out of his clothes now - blindly pulling at laces and ties ties to strip away his layers piece by piece. The fire is roaring and a pitcher of water sits on a far table for refreshment, but everything is ignored in favor of getting your husband naked as quickly as possible. Your husband. The thought only makes you that much more insistent.

Chuckling, Pero covers your hands with his. “Let me strip for you.” He hums. “Show you what you have taken as your husband.” He wants you to watched to see the way your expression turns to one of lust when he strips bare. Never having someone a eager to lay with him as you are, it’s thrilling.

It’s not that Pero was touch starved before you, but in a sense he had been affection starved. He and William showed their brotherhood with with trademark teasing and roughhousing of men at arms. But you? You have never been shy about your desire for him since the day you confessed your mutual attraction and requited love. You have pleaded and begged for him, worshipped every inch of skin in his body and voiced the pleasure he has given you countless times. And somehow it only seems to make him want you more - not taking for granted the way you desire and love him, but appreciating it all the more. Now, at his request, you reluctantly take your hands away and move to the bed. Sitting in middle of the soft, downy mattress, you obediently sit on your hands so you can’t reach for him in impatience. “It has been whole weeks since I have seen my husband’s glory,” you tease, chewing on your bottom lip in obvious anticipation. “I think I have forgotten the exact planes of his body and need to be reminded.”

He feels powerful, like a king when you look at him like that. When your body squirms in anticipation since you know how he feels. His mouth salivates at the prospect of tasting you again, making you cry his name for the inn to hear. “Be patient.” He grumbles at you, even as his lips give away his delight at your impatience. “You will have me. My cock stretching out that cunt like it deserves to be. My hands stroking your skin.”

“How am I supposed to be patient with that promise to look forward to?” You complain with a playful pout. He looks so proud to see how much you want him that you would never deny him the pleasure of watching you squirm.

He chuckles, the sound low and deep and dragging the ground. “Show me your tits, wife.” He orders with a smirk on his face. “It has been weeks since I’ve seen those beautiful, tasty nipples.”

“I don’t know how you’ve survived without them,” you tease him, returning his smirk even as you unknot the belt over your waist. The deep evergreen coloured tunic you wore for a wedding dress lifts away to reveal your stays and chemise underneath, both of which you unlace as fast as your eager fingers will allow - leaving you only in your stockings once your slippers have been kicked away. But Pero very often prefers you in just your stockings, so you leave them in place for him to enjoy.

He growls, cock twitching behind the leather of his breeches as he drinks in the sight of your tits. His own tunic is slow to slide over his head before he reaches down and cups his cock. “You want this, esposa?” He grunts. “You want to see the last cock you will have?”

“You say that like you are testing me.” It’s still a tease, even more so because you’re about ready to crawl off the bed to get to him. “That is my favourite cock in eternity, and from me that is literal.”

He looks at you from deep under the lids of his eyes, a smirk hovering on his face and looking every inch in the predator he could be. “Good.” He rasps, thick fingers unraveling the laces to tease you with the thatch of dark hair that grows above his length.

You all but lick your lips, undisguised desire taking over. Medieval wedding night striptease definitely wasn’t ever on your checklist of moments in life, but since you’re here you’re not about to waste a single second of enjoyment.

Pero watches as you spread your legs unconsciously. Loving how it’s not even a planned action. He smirks as he teases down the pants, drawing out the anticipation and basking in your attention.

"Mi amor..." You would call him cruel except he's enjoying teasing you so much, and you shift forward on the bed again so you're basically on the edge of the mattress. The whine in your voice and pout on your lips is exactly what he loves in a reaction and you'll give it to him every single time. "Let me see all of you. Please?"

When you beg, there is nothing on this earth that Pero would deny you. His breeches pushed down, he reveals the thick length of his cock, already ready to sink into the warm walls of his wife. “Is this what you wanted?” He huffs playfully, kicking his breeches off and standing proud for your perusal.

“Fuck” If he had shared your bath you would be on your knees in front of him in a heartbeat, ready to have your lips wrapped around that cock for the first time in weeks. Instead you shift forward again, crawling the final two inches off the mattress like a magnet is pulling you to his side. “Tan guapo. Tan fucking guapo.” So handsome. It’s a goddamn understatement, but since there is no good Medieval equivalent for ‘sexy’ you’ll make do with the words that you have.

His hand strikes out, whip fast as it grabs your arm and drags you back onto the mattress as he propels himself forward. Teasing is over, now he wants to make you cry out. “Hermosa.”

The speed of his movements knock you clear off your feet, bare ass landing on top of the blankets and furs laid over the mattress as he leans over you. If you ever teetered on the edge of forgetting he is a warrior, these are the times that make you remember. The times that he is the hunter and you are the hunted, and nothing in the world can keep him from being the victorious conqueror. “Esposo.” It comes out of you in a whisper - a sort of wonderment - and your lips curl up in a genuine smile.

Pero groans, deep in his chest. As if that is the secret to the wonders do the world and you have found it. Something he never thought he would have, would deserve, is right here in his grasp. His fingers fan out over your cheek and jaw. “Te amo.” He manages to choke out a split second before crushing his lips to yours as if he needed to kiss you to keep living. In that moment it was quite possible that it was true.

He crawls over you, dragging you backward until you’re sprawled out on the furs beneath him. Your grasping fingers knead his flesh, constantly trying to coax him closer and your legs open immediately, welcoming him to lay between them and take everything you have to offer.

“Fuck, you look so good.” Pero groans, ducking his head down and biting on your shoulder. “All mine.”

"Yes." Your thumb on his chin brings his eyes back up to yours, a stillness in the moment of almost desperate wanting. "Since the day you came into my life. And now forever."

“Hold on to the bed, amor.” Pero presses his lips to yours roughly before he starts a frantic journey south, his mouth paving the way with hot open mouthed kisses and little love bites. “Hold onto the fucking bed while I eat your cunt.”

The appetite he has for pussy eating makes you the luckiest damn woman in the world, and you reach up to grasp the headboard of the sturdy wooden bed with two eager hands. Any usual inclination you would normally have to run your fingers through his hair and tug is stifled by his instruction, because you've learned over time that there are sometimes when being a little submissive in bed yields amazing results. Yielding to Pero's appetite is one of them.

The scent of you is heavy in his nose, filling his senses and all he can think about is you. That first touch, first lick isn’t gentle. It’s not tentative. He opens his mouth and immediately gorges himself on the cunt that is attached to his wife with a pleased groan.

Your own sound is more like an ecstatic gasp when he attempts to swallow you whole - cunt first. Pero’s tongue is talented for more than just trading barbs and you will let every prying pair of ears downstairs know it. It’s been weeks since you felt him lick through your folds like a man starved and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

Instead of grabbing your hips like he normally does, he grabs your tits. Groaning into you while he huffs and snarls into your cunt at the taste and your reaction. Dark eyes fixed on your face and he smirks while sucking on your clit when your back arches.

When he is determined like this it always feels possible that you might just float away without warning. There is no part of you that he does not taste or touch, though his hands always return to your tits to pinch and roll your sensitive nipples between his calloused fingers and make you keen.

Every moan and sigh makes Pero work harder. Ignoring the ache in his jaw from not being used this way for weeks. He pushes deeper into your folds, his tongue curling up inside you.

He can tell you're working up to your peak, the pitch of your moans getting higher and your breathing shallower as your tits heave in his hands. The way your thighs start to shake at his ears makes him chuckle in that dark, wicked pleased way that he has and your back arches again, grinding your pussy down on his gorgeous smart-ass mouth for all your worth.

He loves when you seek out pleasure from him. You had introduced him to face sitting as you called it, and he loves when you do it. Not because you suck on his cock, but because he loves how you writhe on his lap. He pinches your nipples and twists, eager to feel you soak his face when you cum.

His tongue curls inside you, tugging at that last divine thread holding you together and flicking it apart with practiced ease to topple you off the edge of pleasure. You wouldn't exactly call it screaming when your orgasm starts to roll through you, but the people waiting downstairs now unmistakably know your husband's name.

Pride fills his chest as he drags you through the pleasure. Keeping his tongue flicking and curling around your clit while your legs squeeze his head and shake around him. Feeling your heartbeat through your cunt and tasting your release on his tongue.

"Fuck--" You groan out the curse, a deep and indulgent giggle rolling up from deep in your throat as you pull at Pero's shoulders to get him to crawl up your body.

Giving into your whines and pulling is no great feat, already needing to be inside you. He wants to feel you shudder around his cock. “Feel good, amor?” He asks, the thick line of him resting against your wet cunt.

“God yes.” He always feels good no matter what part of him is on or inside you, and you cant your hips upward to slick the underside of his cock with your wetness as you keep your legs spread wide. “My husband is exceptionally talented.”

“El hechizo de tu bruja.” Your witch’s spell. Pero chuckles, leaning forward and his teeth bite your chin and he rocks his hips forward to rub against your folds.

"If anyone is under a spell, it's me." And you don't mind admitting to that either. That the way you love each other is more powerful than anything else you have ever felt.

“Then we will be bewitched together.” Pero angles his hips and he catches at your entrance. Sliding inside you with the ease of practice and the sense of coming home.

The feeling of it is so natural that you barely even notice shedding a very real tear as you put your arms around him. Having Pero close to you - so close that you have literally become one - is a kind of comfort and peace that you never thought possible. The magic of soulmates, you think, right before he steals all other thoughts from your mind as he starts to move inside you.

It is hard to keep from speeding up, from making this rough and hard and making you scream, but he keeps his hips slow. Steadily rocking into you as if he has all the time in the world. In a sense, he does. You are staying with him, making your home here, with him and he can’t kiss you enough while steadily burying himself inside you.

This evening is so different from your usual time spent in bed together. There is no frantic chase and playful banter or teasing. The roll of his hips is steady and true, bringing him back to you over and over again - home again on even thrust and breathing you in with every shared gasp. It's hypnotic. A true bewitchment in any sense of the term as the rest of the world dissolves around you to be forgotten in favour of each other. Every droplet of sweat an offering on the altar of your bodies and every pronouncement of your names or curse of pleasure a new enchantment that ties you together just that much tighter.

Pero gasps, eyes closed and his jaw tight when your nails dig into his back. Not harshly, you wouldn’t draw blood, but it seems to scorch his nerves. “Te amo, te amo.” He grunts, dragging his cock through the tight clutch of your body.

It becomes a symphony: words of love and promises made by firelight mixing with endless sounds of pleasure. There is no difference between your voice and his as you both rise higher into the night, exultations only pausing when the pleasure is so great that it steals your breath altogether.

There’s no better place to be than right here. Pero has never been in a more perfect spot that right here between his wife’s thighs. Every look on your face, every whispered word of love is etched onto his heart and without a doubt, you have changed everything for him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You have never felt it more intensely than you do in this moment. The past is your present and now your future, and Pero’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you while he buries himself in your grasping body over and over again. Nothing in the world has ever been so right.

His lips are near your ear, breathing where you can hear it. He feels how his groans affect you. “Break for me, esposa. I want to f-feel you.”

It’s almost more of a prayer, begging you to join him at his peak as you can feel his thrusts start to grow erratic, and you hitch your legs up a little higher on his waist to deepen the angle of his cock as it enters your slick walls. Like this you can practically feel him in your belly and you cry out a little louder, nails burying themselves in his back all over again. The small difference is enough to have your pussy fluttering, the vibrating feeling of orgasm right behind it.

Pleasure is something that Pero has become well acquainted with since discovering you as his soulmate and the two of you exploring sexually. But this, this is like the black powder explosion that knocked him off his feet and made the world spin. Disorienting him to everything but the gasp of your walls around him and the flash of light that seems to fill him as he growls out your name and gives you everything he has in him.

Pero’s speed picks up, rhythm left behind in favor of chasing the tingling dramatic of orgasm. You plummet over the precipice first, the head of his cock dragging back against your g-spot so perfectly that your vision whites out when you cry your husband’s name one more time and tense completely underneath him.

He’s sure everyone on the planet can hear both of you. Not that he gives a damn, he only cares about the way you cry his name, taking his seed as he gives it to you and moaning at the feel of filling you. It’s heady, breathtaking and wholly consuming as he strains above you, your arms locked around him until you both come down together.

“I love you so much.” Whispered into a kiss, it occurs to you that the words just truly aren’t enough - but they’re the biggest words you have.

“Hasta la eternidad.” Until eternity. Pero promises, kissing your lips again and again until he feels like he had caught his breath.

“Para siempre.” Forever. It seems a little too much like a dream, this hazy feeling of bliss you’re living in, but you kiss him again before shifting slightly in the sturdy bed. “Lay down, amor,” You murmur against his lips. “Lay with your wife.”

It’s not a hard request, one that he willingly fulfills. Kissing your forehead, he lays beside you and pulls you close. “You are warm.” He chuckles, “I will keep you warm like this anytime you wish.”

“I’m sure it will be a great hardship,” you tease, laughing with him. The flush you feel makes you hum and you tuck into his side easily. “Fucking your wife will be a terrible chore.”

“Someone must do it.” He intones solemnly, as of it is a hassle. “A woman as beautiful as my soulmate must be taken care of properly.” His fingers trail up your arm and the teasing gives way to a serious thought. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, amor.” He promises. “Even if it means I must rip my own heart from my chest.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that,” you intone seriously, looking up at him from your place against his chest. “But I would do the same for you.”

“I know you would.” That’s the part that terrifies him. He knows you would protect him if you had to. His arm curls around you tightly. “Sleep.” He huffs, smirking at you. “I will wake you in an hour to do this again.”

You just giggle softly, pressing a kiss over his heart before you lay your head down again and sigh. The utter contentment of the moment is nearly overwhelming and you adore it. “By then our super tray should have arrived. We will need the energy tonight, I think.”

******

The shuffling outside the door wakes Pero an hour later. Dinner arriving. He smirks at the way you are draped across him, obviously still asleep and deeply at that. Binx lifts her head from the corner she is curled in and yawns, stretching her front paws before she settles back down as if to say it was his responsibility to worry about what was beyond the door. It takes a few moments, but he manages to extract himself from under you silently and shuffle into his breeches to open the door and retrieve the heavily ladened tray. The room is gloriously warm, the chimney from the kitchen below keeping the room nice and toasty.

“Amor?” Stretching to find no warm body beneath you, you frown and crack your eye open. The sun has since set on the day but Binx is resting comfortably, and you twist under the furs on the bed to find Pero coming towards you with a tray - hot, roasted meat, fresh crusty bread, stewed vegetables with gravy, a chunk of creamy white cheese, and a bowl of dried berries that look like a purplish cousin of blueberries. Two goblets and a bottle of mead complete the meal, and he sets it on the table by the bed while you sit up. “Our wedding feast?” You guess, not bothering to cover yourself. Why should you?

“It looks to be a tasty one.” There is nothing wrong with leering at your nude body as you slowly amble out of the bed. It is a sight Pero has been greeted with many time in your little cottage and now here in the inn where you are spending the first night as husband and wife. He thinks that makes it even more special.

"You can have me after we eat," you hum, grinning at the way he is drinking in every inch of you with hungry eyes. "But I know we will be up every hour or two during the night to fuck as many times as we can, so we must have food."

He chuckles, knowing that you are well aware of his intent. “I swear I have never thought with my cock as much as I have since arriving at your door.” He muses, sending you a small wink as you sit your bare ass on the wooden chair.

"I will take that as a compliment." Sending the wink right back to him, you pick up a few of the little dried berries from the bowl on the tray and pop them in your mouth, humming at the sweetness. They're almost exactly like dried blueberries and you had never realized that you missed blueberries until now.

His soft cock twitches at the lusty moan that pours out of your mouth. Your eyes roll back and he watches you hold onto the table while you do some sort of body shake. “Is it good, bruja?” He asks, amused at your reaction.

"I used to eat something like these...before." He knows what you mean, but usually you call it 'back home'. That has to change, obviously. Since your home is with him. "I have not had anything like them in years."

“Then have them all.” Pero pushes the bowl towards you. “We will get some more of them before we leave. Take them on our trek home.”

“My husband spoils me.” You grin and blow him a kiss before picking up a few more of the sweet berries and humming at the taste. “Eat, amor. You cannot survive on my cunt alone.”

“I would die a happy man trying.” He tosses you a dirty grin before he sits down across from you and opens the mead. Pouring it generously into the cups and handing you one. “We did it. We are married and there is nothing that bastard can do to you or to the girl.”

“I was thinking,” you tear the small loaf of bread open and hand him a chunk before taking one for yourself. “We should hire a ship to take us to Valencia instead of riding. It may be a little harder on our stomachs but we will avoid having to double-back through France and perhaps run into her father on the road.”

“Let us run into the bastard.” Pero’s expression is one of anticipation. “Now that the girl is safe, let the bastard squeal at the end of my sword.”

“A ship passing would also be faster,” you point out, although you’re smirking slightly at Pero’s glee. “Arwena’s safety is assured, but that doesn’t mean we parade her around like a symbol of victory.”

“You are right.” Pero nods, biting into a bit of the bread and chewing as he thinks. “We can see if we can stay.” He eyes you to see your reaction. “See if we can trade some labor for lodging, spend the rest of the winter here and travel come spring.”

"You like Gretna that much?" It surprises you, but the idea is a sound one. Travel in spring is safer and faster than travel in winter, not to mention you are going to have to start watching your coin purse soon. It would not make you sad to spend the rest of the winter here - not with Malcolm nearby and the prospect of many more warm nights in Pero's arms on the horizon.

He shrugs slightly as if it is of no consequence to him. “I have spent winters in far worse places.” He admits, picking up a chunk of the cheese and taking a healthy bite. “You have your priest so you will not be feared of being a witch.” Having a priest in your corner is the best kind of protection against claims like that. “And I do not care where I spend the winter as long as I am with you.”

"I love you, too." Pausing with your goblet of mead in one hand, you reach across the small table and squeeze his hand gently but end up smirking. "I would not mind staying. We will see what Arwena and Briac think when they eventually emerge from their room in a few days time. Mi casa eres contigo." My home is with you.

“Sí.” He nods in complete agreement and watches as you finish the dried berries. “Plus you can eat all the berries you wish.”

 ______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear

SatS: @canadianmaebe @badassbaker @od-ends @amneris21 @padbrookcottage @chaoticfestninja @xdaddysprincessxx @mostclevermiss @im-sylien @wherethewildfanlives @ficsbynight @djarinsimp @ellenmunn @jediknight122 @under-the-seas @wellaintthatsumthin @sarahbellesaurus @roxypeanut @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bruxasolta @kaylay2187 @freshlemontea @humanransome-note @virtualanchortimetravel @leoisme @do-not-go-gently-42 @catsandgeekyandnerd @happypalaceroadpie @ghoulpatroul @lizzystorm48 @imoutoid @rainbeaubrightchild @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dudelorian @thirddeadlysin @piratesangel @jazzieomega @iceclaw101 @strangegirl32 @lights-on-the-ridge @godofbadass8909 @pann-malii @littleone65 @notyouraveragemochii @shawdowolf993 @rebel-fanfare @rav3n-pascal22 @love93sstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @aurelac-heart @we-could-have-been @bilibiche @prettydull180 @dinoflower @my-life-as-a-bird @tuquoquebrute @damnitjaskier @fishingforpike @sherlock221b114679797 @sainteredhood @nekodemon73 @missredherring @middlemichi @moonflower91 @rachelle-on-the-run @miscellaneousfangirling @danamercury @hyacinthsatdawn @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @milkandoil @generalplaidhorseherring @raptorclaw24 @mrsparknuts

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #soulmate au #time travel au #disabled reader

[cringecompanionapologist]

Cradle of the Snake Part 4: Turlough Falls for the Same Trick Twice

There's a pattern here. Also, some Fun With Tegan and Nyssa

Team Mara talks and talks and talks to the crowd for a bit, so it's easy to just stop paying attention at some point. But, we get to hear the Real Doctor that the Mara!Doctor has mentally buried somewhere.

Real Doctor fighting the Mara sounds a lot like Mara!Doctor pretending to be Real Doctor.

Meanwhile, Tegan and Turlough are in Time Out and trying to think of a way to save the day. We get the expected Turlough Suggests Running Away moment. It's the only time he really does this.

Also, Turlough doesn't some to comprehend Mara!Nyssa as not Nyssa. She'll somehow still be on their side. Weirdly enough, he's sort of right. He's also quite confident that he'll be able to control the TARDIS by himself, though pretty much all of Five's companions control the TARDIS at some point. Even the Team Normal. The TARDIS just really likes Five's companions.

The day is at least in the process of being saved by Baala showing up. Turlough is the one who can get help from Friends He Made Along the Way, despite being the least social member of the TARDIS Team. He didn't exactly go out of his way to make those friends though, so it's funny. Baala is Turlough's friend now because they're both scared.

Turlough will now admit to being scared of the Doctor. Tegan is being mean because she's understandably upset about the Mara.

Speaking of Tegan, it's time for Fun with Tegan and Nyssa! Baala and Turlough go to make a phone call while Tegan sneaks back into the TARDIS to talk to Nyssa. Nyssa doesn't attempt to harm Tegan, nor to possess her.

Mara!Nyssa borders on being a Token Good Teammate. Her dark side just isn't very dark. She drinks alcohol, wears red and black, and flirts with the men, but she's not as malicious as Mara!Doctor is. Unlike Baala, there is something in Nyssa for the Mara to work with, but it still can't really get a whole lot of evil out of her, especially where Tegan is involved. Nyssa has to be nice to Tegan.

But, there's also a reoccurring element of Mara possession where Mara!Characters say and act on the mean things they might sometimes think about their friends. In Part 1, it was the fact that Tegan felt left out of the Alien Genius Bond the Doctor, Nyssa, and Turlough have. Part 3 had the Doctor's frustration with Tegan's complaining and Turlough's disobedience. Now it's Nyssa's turn.

Mara!Nyssa is evil enough to want to backstab Mara!Doctor and take over Team Mara for herself, but it seems like part of her reasoning is that the Doctor is mean. Mara!Nyssa isn't entirely wrong that the Doctor can sometimes be a bit of a bully in the way she described. Sulking or shouting. He does sulk. He does shout at his companions, sometimes without much justification. He's not like that all the time, but he's capable of it. And Nyssa would notice, though she's the one he shouts at the least. Tegan, on the other hand, tends to be the one this happens to the most. Nyssa's suppressed mean thoughts about the Doctor is "he's mean to Tegan". Mara!Nyssa still likes Tegan.

Mara!Doctor shows up, Tegan hides, and Mara!Nyssa covers for her. Nyssa's repressed dark side will still go out of her way to protect Tegan. This implies that either Nyssa loves Tegan so much that the Mara can't take that from her or that Nyssa likes Tegan in a "dark" way, as well as in her usual way, so her dark side alone still likes her.

Though Mara!Nyssa doesn't try to possess Tegan, she still kind of wants to keep her around in some way.

I would like to thank Sarah Sutton for delivering that last line as suggestively as possible. Yeah, the Mara plays up Nyssa's sexuality by having her flirt with the men of Team Mara, so it makes sense to interpret this as Nyssa's Horny for Tegan.

We get a bit more of Nyssa's dark side in that she's aware that she's still a Space Princess. Even if she's a nice Space Princess, she still has a bit of a sense of superiority from being royalty.

In fact, Tegan is the only member of Team TARDIS who is a commoner. The Doctor is a Time Lord, after all. Nyssa's royalty, Adric was an Elite, and Turlough is of an Imperial Clan. They're all of some form of nobility except for Tegan. Another reason for her to feel left out. All of he friends are alien scientific geniuses born into wealth and power and she is none of those things.

When Turlough shows up, he plays along with Tegan, both acting loyal to Nyssa, since she doesn't want to possess or kill them.

Meanwhile, Team Mara waits for Nyssa to join them. Kerrem thought he was the scientific expert around here and doesn't appreciate Nyssa showing him up. Dadda's cool with it because he thinks she's hot and the Doctor still seems proud of her. He chose her for their team because she's just that brilliant.

Mara!Nyssa is planning to backstab Mara!Doctor. Kerrem and Rick are also trying to take control. Mara!Doctor is generally sick of everyone's shit, except for Nyssa. This could imply something about the Doctor similar to what was implied about Nyssa and Tegan. Mara!Nyssa and Mara!Doctor even flirt a bit.

So, Adric had a crush on Nyssa. Tegan/Nyssa is basically canon now. And it's implied and different points in this story that both the Doctor and Turlough also have feelings for her. Nyssa has too much power.

So, Nyssa must really like Tegan and the Doctor must really like Nyssa. This has gotten out of hand and I sincerely apologize. Let's try to move on.

Mara!Doctor's support of Nyssa doesn't extend to Tegan and Turlough. The Mara is kind of bored of Tegan now and it had too much trouble trying to possess Turlough. So it just wants to kill them now.

Nyssa is confused by this. Even Mara!Nyssa kind of thinks the Doctor should love all of them.

But, we've gone too long without Turlough. Let's get back to Turlough. Tegan and Turlough set up a Mirror Circle Thing on the Mara!Doctor, which knocks him out.

And the first sign that this might be the Real Doctor, and that the Real Doctor is hurt, Turlough apparently immediately goes to him. Tegan doesn't want to get close, so she sort of asks Turlough to check, but she has to remind him not to touch him. "Don't touch him!" is an exclamation, so it's not just an instruction, but a response to Turlough either touching or clearly going to touch the Doctor. Turlough is normally pretty cautious, but the second the Mara might be gone, he hurries over to the Doctor's side with no sense of caution whatsoever. It will happen again.

Eventually Tegan, Turlough, and Baala go off into Dreamland, where Nyssa and Dadda are hanging out. Nyssa doesn't know what Mara!Nyssa is even doing. The Doctor isn't there, even though he should be if the other Mara!People are. What happens next is a bit unclear. What is clear is that it is specifically Turlough who's dragged into it.

This is either the Real Doctor breaking through, but the Mara!Doctor showing up before him, or another trick from the Mara!Doctor. But, it's done through a phone. Tegan or Nyssa could've been given the phone. The phone could've manifested as a landline that anyone could answer. But, the phone is specifically given to Turlough.

If this is Mara!Doctor, it's the same trick he pulled in the cell. The Mara thinks Turlough will fall for the same trick twice. It is correct.

Only now is Turlough possessed by the Mara. Both other times Mara!Doctor attempted, he tried to persuade Turlough to take the mark. The whole process took long enough that it was possible to interrupt. When Nyssa was possessed, Mara!Doctor grabbed her and then it just happened. This appears to be the same thing with Turlough here. Because of how quickly it happens, it seems like Turlough saw the Doctor and was already close enough to touch him by the time the Mara revealed itself. Nyssa and Tegan caught on immediately, but Turlough didn't have time to react. Like when the Doctor was knocked out by the mirrors, the second it might be safe to touch the Doctor, Turlough just has to. Nyssa, the rational one, naturally doesn't have this problem. But the more impulsive Tegan also doesn't have this problem. The usually cautious Turlough just loses all sense of caution when the Doctor might need his help and it might be safe to get close to him.

This is the weakness the Mara exploits. If this was all the Mara!Doctor, which I think it was, it gave Turlough the phone, had the once again Weak and Scared Doctor speaking to him, knowing that he would run to the Doctor's aid without question or hesitation. He already did that, but he falls for the same trick twice. This is the temptation he can't resist. If the Doctor is sick or hurt, Turlough has to help him. If the Doctor was sick or hurt or captured but he's alright now, Turlough will be so overcome with relief that he has to run in for an Emotional Reunion. It's kind of adorable.

This isn't the end of part 4, but it's the end of Me Having Things to Say. So, here's what we've learned today: Nyssa loves Tegan, everyone loves Nyssa, Turlough's emotional attachment to the Doctor overpowers the wariness that's usually a key character trait of his.

#the cradle of the snake #vislor turlough #fifth doctor #tegan jovanka #nyssa of traken #five/turlough #tegan/nyssa #five/nyssa #turlough's suppressed desire to be gently seduced by the doctor i guess #turlough's caution defying attachment to the doctor i guess

[bthump]

Realistically do you think Guts would have been abusive towards Isidro? I know Guts has the rpg group around to make him chill out when he gets too aggressive but I still think the trauma from his own upbringing would worm it's way into his relationship with Isidro much more than what's depicted. I know it sounds awful but I would have liked to see a scene where Guts slaps the shit of him and everyone is like 'WTF THAT'S A KID' and Guts is just like 'You think he has it tough compared to me?"

Honestly no, but I'm not really in the business of discussing fiction realistically, because I don't really think there's much point to talking about characters as if they're real people. Realistically someone like Guts could be abusive, or he might not be. Who knows? Too many factors go into people's behaviour irl for me to assume anything about a real person.

And as for Guts as he's presented in the manga, enh I think the story rushed his character development a bit, but no I don't think it feels wrong that he isn't abusive to Isidro, especially not in the way you describe where he like, hurts Isidro and defensively doubles down. I do think that you could make a case either way in terms of what would fit his character and the themes of the story though.

Like on the one hand his callous behaviour towards Theresia and the way he projected his own self-loathing on her certainly suggests that he could be abusive to kids potentially. I don't think he has enough of a relationship with Theresia to really call his behaviour abusive rather than dickish lol, but he was certainly a dick to her. His advice to Jill to stick with her abusive family wasn't great either.

I can imagine him projecting onto a kid he has a relationship with, like Isidro, and treating him poorly without thinking because of that. Viewing his own child self as weak and trying to stamp it out in the kids he's in charge of, eg. Hurting Isidro would also be thematically relevant, because one of Guts' personal moral boundaries is hurting kids, it's one of the things that makes him hate himself most. His self loathing when he killed Adonis, his hesitation when fighting Rosine, the self-loathing the ghosts express to him after killing a bunch of Rosine's monster children, etc.

In this context I could see Guts pushing Isidro too far during training the way Gambino used to with him, maybe, then realizing what he's doing when Isidro gets hurt and falling into a fit of self-loathing. I think that could've been a very emotionally and thematically relevant scene.

Buuut I also think it makes sense that Guts has grown past that behaviour, and honestly I definitely don't think it would be in character for Guts to hit him out of like, irritation or something like that. As much as Guts lashes out physically as part of how he deals with feelings, he focuses that on enemies, people he has an excuse to fight. Like eg he hurt Casca because he specifically wanted her out of his way and a big part of him wanted to kill her and go fight Griffith instead, not because he needed a punching bag for his emotions. That's what apostles are for.

If Guts was going to be abusive to Isidro I think it would be in a subtler, more emotionally abusive way, eg pushing him too hard, maybe calling him weak, berating him for a mistake during a fight, etc. (I mean technically you can argue he is abusive in canon just by letting this kid risk his life fighting trolls and whatever lmao, but allowances have to be made for genre conventions.) But yeah I think it also does make sense that he doesn't act like that, because he is self-aware that it is bad behaviour and he is consciously trying to be better during the Millenium Falcon arc.

He has hurt kids that way before, again Theresia as an example, but he felt bad about it. And Guts doesn't often lash out at friends and allies when he's in a healthier place emotionally. He does a lot during the Black Swordsman arc, or when he's bitter and resentful with Casca in the Golden Age, but with most of the Hawks, or with the RPG group, he tends to think before he speaks imo.

So basically tl;dr I could imagine another version of the story where Guts was more emotionally abusive to Isidro and I think that could work, but I don't think he necessarily ought to be based on his characterization, and I don't think it would manifest in random physical lashing out.

Thanks for the ask, this is something I've never really thought about before and it's interesting to consider.

#ask #anonymous #a #b #character: guts #theme: abuse #arc: mf #headcanons #character details #theme: rpg group

[blueiight]

idk if louis decided he was gonna ditch lestat, grace might've accepted him back although the freaky non-aging yeah by that point would've been an issue but i guess psychologically for louis with her around, there was still some hope that he could get out? but once she's gone its like that door is fully closed in his mind too

do recall tho that grace and louis never rly contact eachother after a certain point. louis is too into in his own vampy family, and likewise grace with her own family, even moreso w/ levi symbolically replacing louis as the Man of the House in ep3. the lines r drawn in the sand. once again idk if ur the same anon or not, i think yall being entirely too generous to grace here + assuming she'd just take back her brother who she hardly had that much interest in contacting outside of sending jonah his way + sending a note that maman died. when they did meet in ep4, grace+ levi were both disgusted. ur fine w/ ur white daddy in the quarter aint u lou like how she says.

this falls into the fan issue of seeing black female characters as ever generous empty vessels of servitude for black males/female charas of nonblack varieties w/ no interiority or capacity for any complex human emotion when no. thats not how grace is with louis. grace is convinced by ep4 id say + seals the belief in ep5 when she leaves that her older brother [metaphorically or literally] died somewhere along the way+ was replaced by an evil gay demon. this may sound hyperbolic, but she literally says ur not my louis and buries him. how else can u interpret that lol. she has a complex relationship with her brother that degrades throughout season 1, and in no way can i see canon show! grace being some unconditionally loving confidante to her battered gay brother, vampire or not. she made no indication of disapproving of paul being in the asylum, or disapproving of louis's illicit dealings, its only once louis diverges from being a provider for the dulacs, and comes by in the night/if at all, that grace starts to resent her brother. let black women be complex characters. and like one of my other anons said as i attached below

louis himself, is prideful as he is tormented.. even in the modern day, he does not self identify as a victim at the very least, for the purposes of daniel's writing + for reasons ive described time + time again, so what makes u think a 1920s-30s lou after being beat would go to his baby sister if she stayed in town somehow? like i said, being part of the historical great migration/s makes a lot of sense for grace + levi's characters. whether louis isnt paying out, or grace is refusing louis's money [lol u aint had no problem when big bro was a trick but now that white daddy pay the bills u aint touchin dat money? who knows]. outside of that theres very few opportunities for the freniere-dulacs, used to their former conditional opulence in the treme, in this here jim crow south outside of going up north. do recall that years before, louis hid the fact that papa du lac was boutta drive their family into destitution for years, even from his own mother, and especially from his younger sister. if we take the pilot draft describing grace as 22 or the books, this means grace is decently younger than show!louis. when he ran away from lestat in ep3 before finding claudia, he didnt go to the treme where his sister + then alive mother was, but to the old poor black neighborhoods, seeking absolution in an abstract sense for his self perceived wrongs, and bringing that redemption to lestat. to be turned, to live forever, to love him in a way his born family could not. eps 2-3 show that louis cannot go back to his born family anymore. something something ziska fill me up post here

#yn. #yn answers #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #grace de pointe du lac

[4e7her]

october writing prompt #7 - accident + sick / injury

-

character: jamil viper, twisted wonderland - others mentioned

contains: oc used as main character - not an x reader, slight yandere themes, male main character

view the oc here. for basics, he's more or less a black panther beastman (referred to as hybrid, as they are different things, but similar) named yuujirou. you can read the fanfic i'm writing for him here (quotev) or here (ao3).

Looking at the serpent in front of him, Yuujirou couldn't help but purse his lips with just a hint of distaste - nothing against Jamil, of course, but rather against what him being here meant.

You see, it wasn't exactly an ideal situation that the hybrid found himself in. It never seemed like it was.

Kalim had drug him into attending one of Scarabia's infamously spontaneous parties last night, and Yuujirou had ended up becoming ill. Not that he minded - leaving the gathering early was all but a blessing.

But, today, he was unfortunately made to stay home. So, here he was in Ramshackle, resting as much as he could without having Grim in his sights. He hadn't been expecting Jamil, evidently, especially with the blankets he had draped around him like a cloak, and his obvious bed-head.

"...So. Kalim sent you?"

"Yes, he insisted upon it." Jamil sighed, his stony façade breaking as he studied the panther with sharp eyes, relaxing in his presence and adjusting the items in his hold. Likely, a form of apology from Kalim. "Where has Grim gone off too? I thought he'd be taking the day off from classes as well."

He seemed fine for the most part, the serpent noted, despite how urgent he had been to just get out last night. For a moment there, he had even seemed like he was going to run out without any supervision to ensure that he would recover.

Everyone knew how impossible it was to find the hybrid when he wanted to remain hidden, so Jamil had been tasked with coaxing him back to Ramshackle - something he took pride in doing well even if it had led to him seeing the more concerning notes of last night.

The hybrid had been sick, violently so, and dazed beyond belief. It was something... far from comforting to see, knowing how sharp and present Yuujirou was at all times. Keeping him focused and cooperative was nearly impossible, but somehow, he had figured it out. A fact he was quite proud of - and one that had depressed Kalim to no end.

The panther hummed lightly, bringing the other back to the present, relaxing at the thought of his cub and gesturing for Jamil to come sit at the dining table with him.

"Jade offered to look after him for the day when he came by with Floyd this morning. He was quite upset when he heard that I wouldn't be there to help him stay entertained today, and when it came up Jade mentioned that it was the least he could do since I'm ill, with how much Floyd clings to me."

Jamil took a seat parallel from him, but cringed at the mention of the eels. "I truly... do not understand how you and them get along so well. But, I suppose that's not truly my business... It's likely better that you don't have to watch Grim while you're recovering, anyways. He must be a handful."

A nod from Yuujirou, and a thoughtful hum, even if he wouldn't have described the kit like that himself he couldn't deny the statements truth.

There's a moment of comfortable silence, both of them relaxing in the quiet company, and then shuffling when Jamil starts to present the things that he had brought with him.

"...I did my best to help Kalim select things that you would find useful, but I wasn't sure if there was any differences in medicines between beastmen and hybrids. If anything is out of place, let me know." His tone is clipped, but not unfriendly, and Yuujirou nods in understanding as his tail lazily swishes behind him.

"How are you feeling? Really, I'm unsure of how this even happened - I'll ensure that I find the mistake and amend it accordingly. If there's outside work to blame, I'll correct whoever thought to do this."

Yuujirou cocked his head at the sudden dark tone that Jamil's voice took, attentive as he looked at him with curious eyes.

"I'm sure it was just an accident, Jamil." He soothed unintentionally, not even noticing how much the serpent softened upon hearing his smooth voice. "That, or perhaps it was just something I'm unused to. There's many foods like that here, I've found... And, combined with the noise..."

It's the others turn to be curious, this time, full attention affixed to the hybrid in front of him at the casual admittance of what seemed to be a continued issue.

"Oh?" He prompted, but upon only receiving a nod, continued. "That seems that it would be quite a possibility, as well... Perhaps I'll have to ensure that you're able to experience more of the cuisine of the Scalding Sands..."

"And of the noise... I wish there was more I could do." Jamil sighs heavily, a wrinkle on his nose to go with his distasteful expression.

His eyes flick to Yuujirou's ears, almost hidden in his messy black hair, before focusing back on his face. Looking closely, one might've noticed his pupils dilate ever so slightly and how the slightest flush creeped up to his cheekbones, betraying his true emotions. He truly did care for the hybrid, didn’t he?

Clearing his throat, he regains both his train of thought and his composure, and continues. "As fond as Kalim is of you, I'm not quite sure that he'd give up on getting you to attend his meaningless celebrations."

Jamil doesn't bother to hold back the undercurrent of disdain in his voice as he normally would, sighing with a roll of his eyes, being rewarded by an affirming hum coming from Yuujirou.

"...I'm sure we'll work out a solution." Is what he decides upon answering, nuzzling into the blankets around him without much a thought, not even paying attention to how the serpent's heartbeat quickened as he sighed out in obvious contentment.

"I'd like to go back to resting, I think." The panther states after a few more moments of silence, blinking and rubbing his slightly bleary eyes. "You're free to take a break and stay at Ramshackle for awhile, if you'd like. It would be nice to have some good conversation."

Visibly lighting up, Jamil agrees before he can stop himself, and decides that it won't be so bad to get a bit behind on his tasks.

As long as he gets to stay with Yuujirou, and see this vulnerable state that few others were allowed to, he would be happy. It takes a moment for him to gain his composure, but once he does he helps the hybrid back up, letting him lead the way to the couch.

They spend the next while in comfortable quiet conversation, lazing as much as they could afford, soon falling into much needed sleep in each others company.

This will be quite the sight for whoever stumbles into them, hm?

-

[click here to go to masterlist]

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #fanfiction #oc stuff #yandere #yandere content #gender neutral reader #gender neutral post #jamil viper #jamil x oc #scarabia #sickfic kinda #aether's ocs #aether's drabbles #twstober #october writing challenge

[festivepuppetryy]

OC ASK TIME!! 1, 11, and 27

"1. Your first OC ever?"

I don't think I could remember my very first, but I could definitely describe an early one. When I was younger I used to play a sh#t-ton of Animal Jam, like I hardcore loved that game to shreds, one of my favorite things to do in-game besides relaxing in an empty server was roleplaying in Sarepia Forest- But I didn't do Warrior Cats or wolves or whatever, I roleplayed as weird sh#t like ghosts/shadow people, mutated abominations, creatures that disguised themselves as normal animals, steampunk men, robots, etc. (Funny how I haven't changed, huh?) Anyways, one of these characters was an arctic wolf that was pitch black and had red eyes, and had a tuxedo and a fancy top hat..of course he was a wolf, visually, but I liked to imagine him as a very tall (maybe 10 feet?) scary Victorian ghostguy with sharp teeth, he would hide in obscured areas like under bushes and would watch and wait for other peoples characters to come by to snatch them and drag them into the shadows to be killed and even eaten. I think I remember him even being able to shapeshift and using that ability to lure others to their deaths. One of his forms was a rabbit. Over the years he was slowly forgotten, but now he is back in my mind and now I am FLABBERGASTED at how similar to how many of my current OCs he is. Especially Butler Guy. holy sh#t. me in like 2014 - 2015: tall creepy shapeshifting Victorian shadow ghost man with red eyes who wears a tuxedo and lurks in the dark and lures people in to kill and perhaps eat them me in 2023: tall creepy shapeshifting Victorian shadow ghost man with red eyes who wears a tuxedo and lurks in the dark and lures people in to kill and perhaps eat them

"11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?"

Pretty much every circus OC I have lmao, with maybe like…3 exceptions. But we aren't here to focus on those guys we're here to focus on a happy lil guy…and todays happy lil guy is….drum roll……..Victor! So unpredictable right. Just look at my pfp. Look at that stupid face. Excited kitten vibes. He used to be quite shy and reserved but he had a moment in his life where he realized it was okay to be himself as long as it wasn't hurting himself or anyone. He started getting into entertainment business in the 1800's and it went from there, he loves people and loves when people are having fun!!! He loves his wife!! And kids!! He is so full of love!!!!!!!!!

"27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?"

Parts of stories inspired by songs? A couple. But conjured up entirely from a song? Just one. Funnily enough it was Isaac lmao, this was sometime during 2019 and I was vibing to music and Had An Idea. And of all songs it was this lol: https://youtu.be/e2qG5uwDCW4

His story was originally a love story (so glad this changed), but I couldn't draw him and forgot about him over the course of like..2 years until his concept randomly came back to me in late 2021-something during the early days of Modernparanormal. Back then he still had the prisoner backstory, but it wasn't nearly as fleshed out as it is now. Thunderbird wasn't even involved with Isaac in any way, he was just Katt's sh#tty incubus (iirc, at the time. He's a different thing now) landlord XD (also glad this changed). Isaac lived in a mansion with Gabriel and Vincent (who also had a love story background at the time, blegh), Vincent was a melancholic hopeless romantic, Gabriel was..very very sad, and Isaac was the chaotic one. Over time their stories became separated and changed, and now Isaac is calm, Gabriel is happy, and Vincent is chaotic as f#ck. Isaac went through many design changes over the years, and I may cover them eventually since they've all got their weird little ups and downs, and it'd be interesting to focus on how it evolved, what traits I kept or changed or completely removed and whatnot. Nowadays this is the song I think fits Isaac's backstory the most: https://youtu.be/1HUqreTtn-A

"Well, that is that, and this is this You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get You get away from me, you get away from me Collected my belongings and I left the jail Well, thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell I had to think awhile, I had to think awhile"

#character asks #my asks or whatever #long text post #talking..or whatever... idk... #my OCs #WB: Modernparanormal #music

[jorjmush]

breaking news: idiot with a fish hits 255 and kills god heres the part where i do a personal review all parts of the arcane river story

dont take these seriously

the adversary as a character 0/10: words dont describe how bad he is "...Oh!" "...Ah!" shut up youre an insult to every maplestory class

lost temple keeper + vanishing journey: 7/10

i did this in 2017 but most of the content is fetch quests and an introduction to completely new things you have no attachment to maybe i should give it a little more credit as the kao twist being revealed for the first time was kinda cool and the talk amongst the fandom

reverse city: 7/10 apparently i did this in 2021? i guess that makes sense because this didnt exist in 2017 why is earth real and called friends world still not invested in the story by this point but i liked t-boy

chu chu island: 6/10 this is when i came back so i actually think this story is quite fun and i liked the characters involved but in the grand scheme of things, its not good

feels like filler, wasnt truly important until yum yum was added YEARS LATER, feels like a waste of 5 levels when i still feel like you should fight the black mage at 250 instead of 255

yum yum island: 9/10 cooooooooool cooooooooooooooooooool has the same fun and and loveable whimsy of chu chu but this time it sets up something sinister and adds to the plot

the afrien fusion, the kaling reveal, chefs kiss

lachelein + crack of subconscious: 8/10 honestly i wasnt very invested in this lucid just makes this interesting

plus im a shade so i get extra dialogue

also this town name sucks gms hates non-english words

arcana: 7/10

rock spirits and i love the spirit of harmony was this just setup for tana

morass: 10/10

alright we getting into PLOT jean deserved better, tana deserved better, arkarium deserved what he got, shey deserved better, kritias deserved better

the flying fish TALKS and the moment where he takes the form of jean and shows himself to tana is so AMAZING i love this TRAGIC STORY

the maps are awful though especially if youre low on arcane force which i was

esfera: 8/10

why dont i actually remember much of what happened here i guess the information of tana has been so stuck in my head it doesnt feel like it was presented as new information to me anymore lots of nice exclusive dialogue here though and we get to meet ollie sellas: 11/10 i will cry right here right now this is such a good story with good atmosphere and pacing i CARE for both ollie and shubert greatly

moonbridge: 8/10

this is when the pacing and structure becomes spotty because it was part of the event i chose not to participate in which means i didnt get the full experience theres just so much dread in this questline so many losses from not being ready to fight the black mage the pacing towards the second half is bad though the cutoff is so strange because it feels like you have another 30 minutes to go when really you have 5 labyrinth of suffering: 8/10

hillas beats the shit out of your morale for an hour the dread continues and continues it shall tons of exclusive dialogue, always a favorite limina: 5/10 i feel like im supposed to feel more i feel like im supposed to do more all of the bosses are very weak which is very unsatisfying, orchid is tsundere and says the adversary hasnt lost anything which ranges from maybe true to absurdly false depending on who you are the claudine vs cygnus scene is legitimately pointless, nothing can describe in words how pointless it truly is the flying fish DIES and then suddenly you have to fight the black mage the black mage whos phases last 4 seconds in story mode i only ever got hit once

the adversary dying did make me actually sad though because everyone else thinks youre truly dead the flying fish comes back (yay) and then its revealed NO ONE DIES? and most of the soldiers get UNSNAPPED? the story finishes with orchid being tsundere again and your idiot of a character sitting on the flying fish leaving the scene

i feel like im in a cartoon

kaos memory: 8/10 a tragedy of a character destined to die kao deserved better shade aftermath: 10/10 thank god he gained a reason to live conclusion: why did i even type this out im just ready to move on to the grandis story

#maplestory #im so tired #limina was over an hour and a half long #but the black mage phases lasted 4 seconds each #woops became too much of a negative nancy

[starlightsuncrow]

ABOUT

Heyo, I’m Sun/Crow

My blog is a constant shift of interests and fixations I get, but I default back to ocs most of the time! Think of me, juggling all my interests with skill.

TAGS

Premise is that I’m not organized much ... however...

my art -art/sketches , you know the deal

Starfall- original setting with ocs

I have a toyhouse! Used as a gallery of art for my ocs

Crow / Selkastra - original oc (they/he) I “planted” in gw2 to play as too.

I dont assign gender to anyone of my ocs at this point, too complicated. However they present dont get even close to a label lmao. Nonetheless...

MY OCS

Caoimhe / Cardamomo - my mirage  commander (he, occasionaly they) ! Should say it all. Sweet and naive at first, years of constant war and losses changed him. Can’t catch a break apparently.  Reason for the two names... let’s just say...coming back from the dead wasn’t without consequences. He could fix the energy problem by powering with his self doubt. Doesn’t harbor much hope anymore for the world but he promises to do what he can to keep it safe.

Dragonheart is part of the character.

Selkastra is a saltspray, disguised as a sylvari most of the time(long story). Fishing legend. They love exploring and bonds with mounts surprisingly well. Acts as a scout for the Commander.

Muirin- gentle soul (she, occasionally he), sylvari from another tree ( one day i’ll describe it), almost lost their self entirely to Mordremoth’s call, which changed her looks and his views. Comes off sometimes as snobbish, secretely self-conscious but her heart is big. The one who invites you to drink to know more. Hits hard. More of a protector than a proper warrior.

Florami- (he/him) Caoimhe’s unknown podtwin, a polite guy with a sense of humor and interest in the macarbe, tries really hard not to compare himself to his twin once he founds out, has a penchant of hiding in shadows. Natural charmer compared to Caoimhe, who learnt to be it. Ex pale reaver ,survived a nasty fall from a cliff in the jungle, which made him learn the necromancer ways just to scrap some lifeforce to reach safety. Ends up being helped by the Itzel and considered a dear friend of them. Everyone thinks he’s dead, surprise guys.

Shen-(he/him) bladesworn with a passion for engineering, especially fire related. Not easy to chat with, he’s rude and doesn’t like many people, punkish attitude with some spark of actual care beneath all his angst. Saw Florami “dying” and never recovered, joined and left groups just to feel something, ends up in Cantha, where he makes a name for himself ( in a good and bad way). Constantly hallucinates Florami until they meet again. Superiority complex. Shelters people who don’t have a place for themselves yet.

Drasyil-(he/??) Au commander, elementalist who hid behind his need of normalcy, ends up in the commander role by accident and ...never actually left. Hid his ele power behind engineering until he couldn’t anymore. A really good strategist. Lost one eye during the Zaithan’s campaign, recovered partial vision due to ley line energy he absorbs , however more magical vision than actual one. His black marks are product of him not handling fire properly after disuse, burnt himself during HoT. Gets some premonition powers thanks to Aurene and ends up in momo's timeline due to his own failing and collapsing.

Himesh-(they/them)- Vessel of Jormag (after story). Long story short dragon revival with vessels. Muirin becomes their warden at first , ends up enjoying the company a lot more than expected. Pretty much inseparable. Duo that learns from each other.

RELATIONSHIPS

Dragora-(he/him)- firstborn, dubbed Nightingale by people, not someone of many words, works as an assasin nowadays. Took on himself to raid Inquest labs to free secondborn, going against the Pale Tree. He offers a chance to those sylvari who don't agree fully with the tablet and doesn't want them to fall into Nightmare's hands. Has a small squad of trusted and underneath his bitter and cold exterior, he cares so much about his siblings. Saved Crow for one of those labs.

Elidryas-(they/she) sylvari with an unusual body constitution, expert plantshifter to the point of being able to shift some parts of their own body. Her minions take form of hounds. Nearsighted and keeps her eyes close most of the time. Polite and soft spoken, do not anger them. Imagine her going around without a chest armor ok? Just the petals covering as a top.

Inspired by dunmeshi dryads, should explain it. Born right when Mordremoth's influence started getting stronger.

Keep in mind i'm aroace, so these are done in a specific way that's not easy to explain for me. QPRs would be the closest thing.

Floshen- Florami/Shen <on and off thing, complicated

Muimesh - Muirin/Himesh < mutual respect with something going on

Cromo- Caoimhe/Crow < whatever they have going on is special

#pinned post