#in different ways as i said but the oddities are part of why she's close with both of them!! that doesn't change the exasperation though! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madamevirgo · 1 month

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Here I am, Here I remain.

Pairing: Lady Jessica x (f)reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Spoilers!!, angst, fluff, Chani

A/N: So, I was absolutely not planning on writing a sequel to this, but some of you started asking, and my brain started working, and this came out at 3:30am. There will not be a third part to this, but this is of course not my last Lady Jessica work. Also, note that there are spoilers in this. I have seen Dune: Part 2, 5 times already so it's literally engraved in my brain and on my eyelids. I hope those who wanted a sequel to this little story of mine aren't disappointed. Big shoutout to the person who submitted the original request. If you haven't already, follow me on Twitter so we can be moots and talk about our faves :) Happy reading.

Part 1

After that night, there had been a noticeable shift in your relationship with The Reverend Mother.

In public, you no longer walked five paces behind. It was more common to see you by her side or no more than a step behind, watching her back like a hawk. So much so so, that people had taken to calling you ‘The Shadow’ - the thought that people saw you as an extension of her, filled you with an indescribable amount of joy.

There was now a certain lightness to the Reverend Mother as if you were the missing piece to her complete acceptance of her new reality. She was quicker to laugh and seemed much more focused and involved in the fate of the Fremen. She had stopped talking to her belly so much as she turned to you, her confidante - sometimes you were more of a sounding board than anything, but you were more than happy to have her throw ideas at you if it helped her in any way.

In private, things had also changed for the better. It was rare for there to be silence between you two, times in private were spent telling the other of life before each other; and in her case, how she was adapting to her new role and life. She told you of her parentage, she now knew the identity of at least one of her parents, and you had shared how Stilgar had raised you like his own daughter. You had developed a complicity that surpassed friendship, but you also weren’t sure how to describe this thing between you. ‘Friendship’ felt both like a gross oversimplification yet anything else carried an aura of delusion. The lingering looks, the gentle touches exchanged and the comfort that she provided, brought forth feelings that you hadn’t previously experienced. Every moment spent in her company seemed too short.

It was because you had become so close emotionally, that it had been easy for you to notice oddities in her behaviour. She was more on edge, jumping at loud noises and snapping at the smallest thing. She also watched you as if you would disappear at any moment, which caused her to be clingy and on edge whenever you weren’t next to her. Pretty soon, you had concluded, that she had foreseen something.

You had tried to broach the subject: “I see that something is troubling you, my lady.” you had whispered one day while you ate in the communal space. “Won’t you share the burden with me, so that you might breathe a little easier, at least?” she had frozen for a second, a change barely visible to untrained eyes, before relaxing.

“I cannot say.” she had said simply before continuing to eat.

“You don’t deny that it is something?” you exclaimed silently. You had expected her to deny it. “Why won’t you tell me, it is clearly causing you to worry.” You were getting agitated now, and when you noticed some heads looking in your direction with veiled curiosity, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I have been cursed with knowledge.” she started slowly, quietly - collecting her thoughts as she spoke. “I see many different outcomes for many different decisions, and hear the voices of all those before me whispering in my head. I always worry, sometimes a bit more than usual. I can handle it, what I will not stand for, however, is you asking for things I cannot give.” You flinched, as she continued her rampage. “I cannot share everything with you; because sharing them will not do anything other than put a burden on your shoulder, a burden that I must carry alone.” she finished

“Bu-” you started

“Enough!” was the command that came out of her mouth. The sheer force of the order had your body recoiling and your mind spinning, forcing you into silence.

It took you a few seconds before you could regain your senses. You looked around in confusion, before setting your eyes on her, and the shock of the realization caused your eyes to open and your chest to heave. She had used the voice on you.

She had used the voice on you.

The communal room had never been so silent. Not even during nighttime, as there were always Fremen patrolling around. Yet, right now it was so quiet that you could hear your heart beating in your ears as your body felt hot with embarrassment, shock and hurt. You sensed a movement in front of you, but before she could say or do anything else, you had stood up and left. Not looking back, and avoiding the eyes that followed you out of the communal space.

—------------------

Stilgar and Chani were rarely, if ever on the same page. However, one thing that they could agree on, was that you were the best of them. You didn’t agree. Although you did try to control your anger, preferred to think before acting when possible and trusted until proven wrong, you could never escape the Fremen pride.

The Reverend Mother, Jessica, had in just a second, taken away your free will and reduced you to a puppet. And she did it in front of your people. You were shaking with silent anger, your fists were clenched, and your nails were creating bloody half-moon cuts in your palms. Had it been any other weirding woman - had you been any other Fremen - you would have slit her throat. Instead, you walked away to calm yourself.

Your steps guided you to your childhood home. You walked right in and slammed the door behind you, closed your eyes and leaned against it for support, before pushing forward with a harsh kick of your feet against the wooden entrance.

“What did my door do to you?” You meant to go to your room and ruminate in peace, but the voice of your father had you enter the living room where he sat on a cushion he used for prayer and meditation.

You stayed quiet as you paced up and down the living room, trying and failing to calm down. Never in your life had you been so angry.

“First my door, now my floor. What is the matter with you?” you heard Stilgar ask, still you didn’t stop. It was only when he grabbed you by your shoulders that you stopped and let out a growl-like sigh. “Come, let’s sit and you can tell me what has angered you so,” he said as he led you to the couch.

You suddenly felt like a child again, like when you would have a nightmare or the other children would tease you to tears and you would run to him. He would sit you on his lap and hug you in his big arms and make everything better, everything would go away.

Except now, you were an adult with grown-up feelings and responsibilities - and he couldn’t make this - whatever it was - go away. You still told him, about how you’d grown close to Lady Jessica and how she was worried about something, and how when you’d asked, out of concern, she’d used the voice on you.

You expected him to get just as angry if not more than you, but he remained calm and thoughtful.

Finally he said: “She said you were asking for things she couldn’t give?” he questioned.

“Did you not hear the part where I said she used The Voice on me?” you asked in exasperation before getting up and resuming your pacing.

“Do you know why I assigned you to her?’ he asked instead of answering your question.

“Because I’m your daughter and you trust me? Because I’m one of the best Fedaykin, because I’m a good diplomat? I don’t know father.” You snapped. He was angering you even more.

“Yes, to all these.” He agreed as you sighed. “But, the real reason I assigned you to the Reverend Mother is because she needs a friend and you are the only person I know who wouldn’t be judgemental, or rude. You would give her a chance before anything else.” He explained as you stopped your pacing to listen to him. “The Bene Gesserit see more than we do, because of their training. A Reverend Mother sees even more. She is cursed with all the knowledge of the past and that of the future while seeing all the outcomes possible. It’s a big responsibility.” He said lost in thought. “It makes for a lonely life. One I have forced her to live. I guess it was only right that I gave her something to help her out.” he finished.

“I can understand that, but that still doesn’t make up for her removing my free will like that,” You whisper as you sit next to him.

“You have to understand that pushing her won’t do any good, and although you wish to help yoheru carry this load - you can’t. The only thing you can do is be there for her - by her side - and wait until she comes to you,” he said

“When will that be?” You whispered

“When she’ll be ready,” he replied. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/n. You’ve been a very positive presence in her life.” he hesitated, “I believe that what hurt you the most is the fact that she said she might not be able to give you what you were asking for.” he started, “Perhaps you took it and applied it to some more…romantic feelings of yours.” he finished with a small smile, as I felt heat rush all over my body.

“Stilgar!” You exclaimed in embarrassment

“I may be getting old, but my eyes still work. I see how you’ve been around her. This will be something to acknowledge when you’re ready.” he finished and I sighed.

“Thank you, father,” You say with a soft smile, which he returns.

Our moment was interrupted by a loud noise that shook the entire yali, followed by screams. You were immediately on your feet as you rushed out.

Your heart beating widely in your chest.

—--------------------------------------------

Chaos was everywhere you looked. Children and adults alike rushed to escape the Sietch or to find loved ones lost in the panic as you were being attacked.

You helped where you could, but you only had one thing on your mind, and that was to find Jessica. You wanted to believe that she had been rushed out by the fanatics of the prophecy, but you wouldn’t leave until you were absolutely sure. Why did I run away like a petulant child? You asked yourself. You’d never forgive yourself if something had happened to her.

You ran from corner to corner as you helped some of the men and Fedaykin lead the people out to the rocks outside. Stilgar wasn’t too far and was shouting orders for the people to stay calm as rushing would only make things worse.

You could see some bodies already lathering the floor as people passed you with missing appendages, tears in their eyes and their skin covered in blood. You probably didn’t fare much better - dust had covered your skin and your sight had been hindered. Still, you pushed through. I have to find her.

“Y/n!” You looked to Stilgar. “Get out of here!” He shouted and you shook my head, he sighed and you continued searching around for her, and helping people to the exit.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a large boulder rushing towards a little girl who was crying and screaming for her parents. You ran, as fast as you could and swept her up in your arms and out of the way before the rock could hit her. A woman who must have known her, grabbed her from you, and you urged them towards the exit.

Still, you couldn’t find her, and the attacks didn’t stop. Most people were out, and you hadn’t caught a glimpse of her or even heard a mention of her name. Why did I leave her?

You suddenly found yourself on the ground as you were knocked down. You watched with blurry eyes, as you were trampled on as feet rushed past you. No one stopped to help you. Before you surrendered to the darkness, you heard Stilgar’s voice screaming your name, and your last thought was to Jessica. I hope she’s safe. Please be safe.

—--------------------

You slowly open your eyes to darkness, and for a moment you were afraid you had lost your eyesight. You slowly sat up, every bone in your body protesting and looked around before letting out a sigh of relief. You were in a cave and could see and hear the hustling around.

You got up, your movements slow and tentative before walking out and into the desert. You could see the damage that had been done, people around you were crying, and shouting. So many lost, who had done this? You could feel anger resurfacing in you, and you were suddenly reminded that Jessica was still missing.

All around you, people were busy doing something as you looked for her. You noticed Shishakli some paces away and quickly walked to her. She noticed you and pulled you in a hug, only slightly hurting you.

“Thank the Maker,” she whispered as you closed your arms around her. “You scared me, Stilgar and Chani have been so worried. We all were,” she said as you separated from the hug, but her hands stayed on your forearms.

You felt a slight pang of guilt at not having spared a thought to her and the others.

“What happened?” You asked, your voice coming out hoarse.

“Harkonnens” she growled. “They used some primitive explosives on us. Caught us by surprise. We’re treating our wounded before making our way South. A council has been called.” She explained.

“Is Stilgar in any shape to speak?” You asked in concern, looking around for him.

“He looks shaken up, but he’ll be okay. I hear he’s pushing for Usul to speak,” she said and you looked at her in shock. Only leaders could speak in the South.

Surely - No. Paul wouldn’t. Of that you were certain. You had spent enough time with his mother to know what he was and wasn’t capable of. A voice in the back of your head whispered: Paul wouldn’t, but what about the Kwisatz Haderach?

You banished those thoughts. And focused on your friend and what you really cared about.

“Where is the Reverend Mother?” you asked, the concern and urgency detectable even to your ears. Without a word, Shishakli pointed behind you, where you could see two people standing at the very top of a rock.

“Her and Usul are discussing as she waits for her palanquin to be ready to leave.” You thanked her, before rushing towards the two Atreides.

You arrived as their conversation ended and Paul was leaving. He nodded at you in greeting.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, with a glance back at his mother. “Take care of my mother and sister for me, will you?” he asked as you nodded. The ‘with my life’ was implied. And he left, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

You were left alone with his mother. You took a breath before looking at her, she was staring right back at you. Her eyes said more than you could understand. Something about the way she looked at you was different.

“I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry”

You smiled as you spoke at the same time. “No, wait. I’ll go first.” you started. “I’m sorry I left like that, I was angry. I’m still angry, but I got so scared when I couldn’t find you. I looked around until I passed out, not kn-” You were cut off as you felt yourself rambling.

Jessica had crossed the small distance between you and pulled in a hug, her head resting in the crook of your neck. You held your breath for a moment, before wrapping your arms around her and breathing in her scent. You could finally breathe normally, for the first time since breakfast.

“I wish you hadn’t looked for me,” she whispered in your neck, making you shiver. “I had to be dragged away. I was so worried when the first attack hit and I couldn’t find you anywhere, I watched and waited for you to come out - and when you finally did...” she hugged you tighter, before stepping away and staring into your eyes. “I’m sorry I used The Voice on you, I shouldn’t have done that. I will never do that again. Not to you.” she whispered the last part as she cupped your cheek with her hand.

“Thank you,” You whispered, moved by her heartfelt apology and by the fact that she had been so worried about your safety.

She smiled before becoming more serious. “Y/n,” she started, and you looked at her prompting her to continue. “I-” A voice cut her off and you put some distance between you.

“Your palanquin is ready, Reverend Mother.” said a voice at the foot of the rocks, and she thanked the man.

“In the South,” she said with a sigh. “Everything will come to a head in the South; there, we will talk,” she said as she started her descent to the palanquin.

—------------------------------------

Except you didn’t talk. Things had been too busy for you to have a moment alone, long enough to put your cards on the table.

She had become simultaneously more secretive and more caring. And then, Paul had died, and she had remained oddly quiet.

This was the woman who worried about him daily, while he was fighting with the Fedaykin, yet she stared emotionlessly at the pale face of her firstborn, while others all around wept. Your eyes widened in understanding when Chani came storming in, how not to believe when you are faced with the hard cold facts? Paul was the Kwisatz Haderach, the Lisan al Gaib, the Mahdi. And Jessica was not just a mere Reverend Mother.

You were in a trance as you followed Chani into a room that had been assigned to her. You watched as she walked around the room, her anger loud and clear.

“What are you doing?” you asked finally, pushing your thoughts aside to focus on her distress.

“I’m leaving.” She said as she pushed her clothes into her bag. “I will not watch as we cheer and support our new oppressor. Even if it’s Paul, the man I love.” she said angrily and she harshly wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I think that’s the problem,” you said softly.

“What?” she asked as she continued packing and you made yourself comfortable on the bed.

“The problem is, you love Paul,” you said louder as she looked at you. “You love Paul - that boy who has lost everything and doesn’t know who he is; you love Usul - the man you were trying to create, the one who was escaping his destiny. But are you willing to love the Mahdi, the Lisan al Gaib, and the Kwisatz Haderach?” you continued. “Are you willing to love and accept the person he has to become and the things that he has to do? Stand by his side?” Although you were speaking about her situation, the words echoed with you.

The weight of the responsibilities which lay on Jessica’s shoulders had only now become clear, and you found yourself thinking about your role in her life, about your feelings.

“What are you doing here?” you looked up at the cold words uttered by Chani and saw the object of your thoughts standing in the doorway. She was dressed down in a simple robe, with no veil obstructing her face, letting you see the tattoos which only served to enhance her beauty. She was beautiful. She was Jessica, not the Reverend Mother with plans within plans - just Jessica. Your heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes swept across the room, taking in the clothes thrown about and the bag nearly packed to the brim, before meeting your eyes for just a second and settling on Chani. “I came to thank you and wish you good luck in your ventures,” she said softly.

“I don’t need anything from you,” said Chani as she grabbed the rest of her clothes, before making her to the door. I got up to follow her and watched as she stopped next to Jessica. “I hope destroying your son was worth it,” she said angrily, before leaving. You tried to follow her out, but were stopped by a hand on your wrist, forcing you to look at the tattooed woman.

“Can we talk?” she asked in that same soft tone. You looked at Chani quickly retreating before nodding. You would catch up.

“What is it?” You asked in an even tone as you sat back down on the bed, effectively putting distance between you.

“Are you thinking of leaving with Chani?” she asked, not wasting any time. You stared at her. You were considering it, yes. But you also didn’t want to leave her. She must have sensed your indecisiveness. “I’m sorry if you were put off by all that I had to do, and what I will have to do in the future to ensure that the prophecy is completed. I wish I could say this isn’t me, but I’ve been trained for this my whole life, and this is what I’ve become.” she took a deep breath, “There’s been a lot of confusion in my head lately, but one thing I know for sure is that I love you.” she whispered and your heart skipped a beat. “I wasn’t prepared to love you, or anyone for that matter, but I fell for you and only realized when it was too late.” she paused as if to collect her thoughts. “I’m not here to beg you to stay or maybe I am, I’d very much prefer if you did; if only to keep my heart whole. Whatever the case, I had to say it: I love you. Not like I loved my Duke; it’s different but just as strong, if not more. There isn’t any obligation linked to my love for you, yet here I am, and here I shall remain, with my heart in my hands for you to claim - should you want it or not, it’s yours.” she finishes quietly and you stayed quiet as you took the time to process what she just said.

“You are Jessica, loving, caring, funny, sweet, gentle and sensitive. You are a Bene Gesserit, a Reverent Mother, you are the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach: you are driven, controlling, unrelenting, and secretive.” With each word, you took a step until you were right in front of her. “You are all that, and I love you. I will not always agree with what you have to do, or understand, but I will still love you and stand by your side. So here I am, and here I shall remain.” You said, echoing her words. “I will take your heart and cherish it - if you’re willing to take mine and do the same,” You said softly as you felt tears run down your face.

She looked at you so softly, and traced your cheek with her hand, just as gently, before pulling you impossibly close and whispering: “Your heart will be safe with me” before pressing her lips to yours in a searing kiss.

The road ahead was patchy, but you would walk it forever if it meant you could stay by her side.

#madamevirgowrites #dune #dune part two #lady jessica #lady jessica x reader #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson

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liesmyth · 8 days

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Further to Keeley saying yes to marrying Roy (definitely agree), how much would Roy only be asking because he thinks that's what you do. Like he's retired, he's forty, and all his former teammates are married/have kids. He's a traditional guy (kind of) - would he have waited for them to have been together for two years (or whatever) and then proposed because that's the next step?

Context: this is a follow-up to this 'unpopular opinion meme' ask where I said that (to me, etc) Keeley would've said yes if Roy ever asked her to marry him post S2.

In general, I just looove to overthink gender roles and performative heterosexuality with these characters, because the mix of sports series + juicy queer dynamics is like catnip to my brain — so thank you for this ask so I can ramble about it some more!

The thing is. I think Roy's actually not very traditional for a footballer (let alone a very famous one) simply because he's close to forty and he's never been married and doesn't have kids. Like, genuinely, that makes him a huge oddity in his set. If I were applying RL football logic to the football show that plays fast and loose with realism, I'd say that there must be a lot of speculation in-universe that Roy is gay. OR maybe he's had so many public short-term flings that there's only a little speculation — but there would still be people thinking it's strange. Just because "WAG and kids" is such a big aspect of how football stars are expected to perform masculinity, and Roy not having any of that (while at the same time performing a very specific brand of 'old school' tough guy masculinity) would make him a weird anomaly.

(When talking to non-sports fans, I usually find it useful to compare pro athletes to active-duty military personnel as two categories that on average start a family very young. It's a mix of a family providing more stability in a hectic career + expectations in those circles because everyone else is doing it + financial reasons that mean is more convenient to do it now than to wait)

(Again. Reflecting on social norms in footballers' circles makes me think a lot about what Keeley's expectations might have been pre-S1, when she kept dating footballers and moving in those same circles, whether the fact that she was with a young guy at 30 bothered her more than she let on, etc etc. This is also part of why I think she absolutely would say yes if Roy proposed — see also her reaction to Shandy saying that all their former flatmates "married footballers", which is just like "yeah, fair enough". I think pre-season 3 she just never saw her life going in a different direction, and was fine with it — at least until S3 made her consider stuff she might not have otherwise)

Anyway SORRY I went off!! Back to Roy — all that ramble was to say that, TO ME, if he wanted to be married, he absolutely would be already, way before the show started. It's something he must have considered earlier in life, just because it's a staple of the Ideal Footballer Career Path, and for whatever reason decided he wasn't keen on it. And it wasn't a one-off earlier — it's something people would have commented on it over and over, as all his teammates started families and he didn't, as the tabloid press speculated on his private life. It's not that he never had the opportunity; it's that he actively chose not to. So I'm not sure retirement would necessarily be the thing that makes him decide that "it's time" to get married. We see that in S2 he really throws himself into ~playing house~ with Keeley because he's trying to find a new life anchor after retirement, but idk if that would necessarily translate, to him, into "next step is getting married." Because, for someone in Roy's position, getting married would have been "the next step" ten years ago, and he was like, nah!

I also think that "when will Roy and Keeley get married" WAS an expectation that was very much present in the eyes of everyone who interacts with them, at least from the moment it became clear that they were serious and basically living together. Tabloid speculation, old friends of Roy who're also retired, friends and acquaintances of Keeley who also move in those 'D-list celebs / influencers / WAG' kind of circles. Their families, even; I have a very elaborate headcanon built off that one (1) throwaway line that Roy wanted to open the champagne when Keeley's mum "moved back north", that maybe Keeley's mother was a bit too happy to see her settled down with an older man for once, and they're living together, and he's very famous and very rich. My other headcanon is that Keeley dropped Shandy / her old friends after she got with Roy partly because there'd have been some wink-wink-nudge from those corners about "landing Roy Kent" (I have WAY too many thoughts about Keeley and Shandy, lol).

...Anyway. This is all to say. I think, between the two of them, Keeley might have been the one who vaguely considered that maybe marriage could be on the horizon as a next step, because she's a woman over 30 in circles where women over 30 get reminded of these things. Roy has the luxury of thinking about it less, because he decided years before the show that he wasn't going to get pressured into an early marriage just because it's The Done Thing.

I can believe Keeley and Roy never discussed marriage all through the year-odd they were dating, but I bet multiple people brought it up to Keeley unprompted, and to Roy also but to a lesser extent, and he was able to shrug it off way more easily. Keeley is probably dodging old friends who text her happy birthday and then are like "how are things going with RoyKent(TM)??" wink. babe you landed the big fish!! etc. etc.

SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG! this is like 80% headcanons that's partly inspired by me being A Sports Fan, partly by me overthinking Keeley's narrative, especially in S1 and S2 when she was still allowed to have neuroses and a meaningful friendship with Rebecca. But I'm ALWAYS thinking about Roy/Keeley not only as a ship but also in the context of the very specific gendered dynamics that exist among top-flight footballers and their partners, especially in the UK. It's just anthropologically fascinating to me, and I think S1 especially does a very good job of hinting at all the various nuances with Keeley's character.

#Anonymous #ask #ted lasso #WOW THIS GOT LONG SORRy #roykeeley

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gal-palanaeum · 2 months

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Warmth by Thirstspren

Rated General, 1000 words, Akane/Yumi Yumi settles into her new life and begins to realize there's something missing.

Turns out, running a restaurant was a lot harder than it looked. Especially when the head server wasn’t great at talking to people, the head chef had only been cooking for a single week, and all the financials existed solely in the brain of a person who was no longer on the same planet.

(If Design even had a brain. Yumi still didn’t know what that strange woman was, nor did her old assistants, who had thankfully stayed on to prevent complete disaster. Except the one who’d fled when the old coatrack had come to life. Putting up with Design’s oddities had been one thing, but no job was worth putting up with that, he’d said.)

Worse, Painter’s role in saving the city had made him a minor local celebrity, drawing thronging crowds and massive scrutiny, and a clumsy business operation coupled with furious demand was a recipe for failure. Both feared that all their admiration would last only as long as their patience for late, cold noodles.

“These (lowly) customers,” Painter groused one night after closing, as they stacked chairs on the tables for sweeping. “Please tell me I was never this infuriating.”

Yumi balanced a chair on one leg. “I may no longer be a yoki-hijo, but that has not changed my position on lying,” she said.

Painter laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. The chair toppled.

He winced apologetically and put the chair back the normal inverted way. “I’m just saying. I’m an artist. Why did Design think I’d know how to wait tables?”

Yumi nodded in sympathy. They both knew he’d get better with practice, but that didn’t ease his frustration in the time being.

In comparison, she felt a little guilty at how quickly she was improving in her new role.

They maintained separate residences, because neither felt ready to move in together. Ironically, sharing a body did not prepare them for sharing an apartment. Neither could be comfortable at the other’s preferred temperature, for a start. Fortunately, all the former nightmare painters had been permitted to keep their free housing for a year to ease their transition into a radically changing labor market, and Yumi took over Design’s former quarters in the back of the restaurant, so they didn’t have to worry about rent.

Each night, after they closed, she practiced for long hours, basking in the residual warmth of boiling broth, measuring out herbs and spices and other ingredients until she knew the look and weight of them intuitively, and she could reach for each ingredient without conscious thought. Meanwhile Painter walked home every night, watching the walls come to life with extraordinary murals commissioned by the government to create work for the unemployed artists. Artists who weren’t him. He’d finally gotten his love of painting back, just in time to lose his calling. Then they’d sleep separately, and in the morning, they’d unite for breakfast and watch a couple shows on the hion viewer at Painter’s apartment. Yumi would cocoon herself in blankets, and Painter would do his best to snuggle her from the outside.

It was nice. But part of her felt like something was missing. She no longer felt that sizzle of energy when they touched, for starters. That had been about their condition, she discovered—it hadn’t been about them. Without the fate of both worlds hanging in the balance and a spirit artificially connecting their souls, Yumi feared she and Painter were falling out of sync. Like a stone that refused to balance on one side, and needed a different orientation.

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#femslash february #wlw cosmere #cosmere femslash fic #cosmere fanfic #yumi cosmere #akane cosmere #yumi/akane #yumi x akane #yumi and the nightmare painter #yatnp #ssp3 #ssp3 spoilers

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blackquillchillin · 1 year

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Posting separately because apparently the OP blocked me, or maybe tumblr is just being a butt, not sure. couldn't reblog it, even from my mutuals. (love you @sparkyblizz) Regardless, I have Simon knowledge! basically the original post was just asking why Simon is so freaking British and aura isn't, that's so weird lol, (I'm paraphrasing and it is a very funny oddity of ace attorney) But I have an actual answer!

basically, its because Simon was a pain in the ass to localize.

more under the link cause this is a long one.

In the original Japanese version, He spoke using a specific dialect, that had a bunch of cultural connotations. It was older, came across as rough, and would have given the player extra context on the character.

He also leaned into the tropes of being a Ronin, which is a specific archetype of Samurai that would have been clear to the original audience. I'm not clear on all of the details, I'm not part of the culture and don't know the short hand or the history involved, but I do know a Ronin is a Samurai without a master, and one who had lost their master, for example, when said master died, would be a Ronin. Its a subset of Samurai with very specific expectations, and the rough way of speaking is in line with that. Its also a tad old fashioned, no one meets Samurai just walking around these days.

All of this is great characterization and sets up the audience for better understanding of certain plot points.

But none of it reads to an American audience.

None of our dialects have the same cultural short hand-because we don't have the same tropes and expectations. We also don't tend to know the nuances of Japanese history, if an American knows what a Ronin is, it'll be in a vague, "oh that's a Samurai thing" (example, me.) and that will lead into American assumptions on what it is, but missing a bunch of context, because again, we have different tropes.

So. How do you localize a man whos entire being is tied into cultural expectations and short hand?

You change some things. They wanted to emphasize his ties to this master-follower relationship, they make him a generic Samurai, because that's understood in a culture that doesn't really have that dynamic, and so understands it from other media brought over. They make him aggressively British, because to the new targeted audience, that makes him someone deserving of respect, (Americans have some weird assumptions about posh British people, myself included) and they lean into Victorian British specifically, because again-Simon is old Fashioned. They also make him rude as hell, because the dialect has using now doesn't read as rude unless you make it rude. (I image he was probably still pretty rude in the Japanese version, but it would have been imbedded in how he spoke, and I have no idea how different that looks)

So we end up with a Simon who looks very different, but reads as close as possible to the original intent, because of the Audience he's played to.

As for why Aura isn't British as hell-simple. She didn't need to be. I don't know what they were going for exactly in the beginning, but I do know that the American version of a futuristic science lady who looks the part and is pissed off about this screwy justice system doesn't have to rely on the same short hand. there are already tropes in America she can utilize, and making her aggressively British, like Simon, would have changed an American viewers assumptions in a way they likely didn't want or need.

and, In case you are wondering, I do have a source for these localization struggles! There's a great interview on it you can read here! It starts with a bunch of trivia, but gets more into detail further down.

TL;DR, Simon is the way he is because the way he was wouldn't make sense, a problem Aura didn't have.

#simon blackquill #ace attorney #aura blackquill #aa5 #gyakuten saiban #aa5 spoilers #aa:dd #localization #oddities of game design #simonsays #I think its very intresting u know

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bunnyscar · 6 months

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The Siliven's Request: Part 10

Stupid. Weirdo. Outcast. Awful. Manas had been called these names as long as he could remember, by almost everyone around him. His own mother had looked at him in disgust when he was born, horrified by the unnatural color of his eyes. Siliven’s eyes were usually red, purple, or black, and as a result, Manas’ light blue and white eyes had been seen as a horrid mutation. His strange eyes also caused some people to fear him. Though he still lived in the royal palace and was treated as a prince by the servants, they always watched him with fear and horror, staying out of his way as much as possible. As for his family, they viewed him as a flawed creature, a failure. His parents either ignored him or scolded him. His siblings picked on him endlessly. Every day, he was made to know that he was a mistake, a burden.

He had no magical affinity. Even the most basic shapeshifting abilities that all Silivens could do, like turning their fingers into knives or their noses into needles, were difficult for Manas. Whenever he tried, he almost always threw up or fainted from nausea. And when he failed, his tutors scolded him harshly and told him to work harder, punishing him with a slap for being troublesome.

To make matters worse, he saw things others did not. To his eyes, most people had an outline of glowing light that hovered around them, each outline a different color. The first time Manas had mentioned this to his nurse, she had told his mother that the boy had gone insane. His mother had scolded him severely and told him if he could not keep his oddities to himself, she would mold his mouth shut. As a result, Manas learned to say nothing to his mother and father, for they would only scold him or threaten him for being strange. He also learned that if he half-closed his eyes, it did not attract as many stares, and he could lessen the colors around people.

There was one place Manas could go to escape the oppressive palace. Whenever he could get away from his grueling lessons, he would run off to to a greenhouse that stood in one corner of the palace gardens. Though the Siliven’s forest was dark, full of close growing trees and fog, the greenhouse was always full of light, thanks to the magic ability of the gardener. The gardener, whom Manas affectionately called Uncle Paine, was a kind, elderly Siliven. He was the one person Manas knew that did not call him stupid or horrible, the one person that treated Manas as a normal Siliven.

Uncle Paine had compassion for all kinds of creatures, and he encouraged Manas to care for living things too. In the greenhouse, he grew all sorts of plants and herbs, and he often explained their different characteristics to Manas. Sometimes, he would show Manas small creatures or bugs that he had caught. “These plants and creatures are just as alive as you and me, Manas, and each one is made so intricately and carefully that none are the same. Silivens, humans, and all the other races are similar. We may all look different, but we’re all living beings. That’s why you must be careful to treat everyone, both animals and the many races, with kindness and compassion,” Uncle Paine told Manas once.

“Even the animals we eat?” Manas asked with wide eyes.

Uncle Paine smiled. “Of course. Though we eat them, that doesn’t mean we should be cruel to them. As long as they are alive, we should treat them kindly, and we should be thankful for the sustenance they are giving us,” he replied.

Manas sat thoughtfully for a moment, kicking his feet on the legs of the stool he was seated on. “I don’t think my family thinks that way,” he finally said sadly. “Ven is always catching beetles and pulling their legs off, and Mom hates bugs and other animals. And father--” Manas stopped suddenly, tears forming in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Uncle Paine glanced up at the boy in surprise.

“Manas? What’s wrong?” he asked in concern. Manas leapt off the stool, running to Paine and burying his sobbing face into the man’s soiled jacket.

“F-father made me k-kill,” the boy sobbed, the rest of his sentence dissolving into a wail. Uncle Paine hugged the boy, patting and rubbing his back, soothing the child. When Manas had finally calmed down enough to speak again, he said brokenly, “Father made me go on a hunt with him. Th-there was a Forenfog, and h-he told me to turn my arm into a knife and k-kill it. And I couldn’t. It was so soft and cute looking, a-and I didn’t want to. You’re always telling me not to hurt them. And th-then he---he s-said my name and made me kill it!,” Manas cried.

Uncle Paine hugged the boy tighter. Forenfogs were like rabbits, furry creatures that could be a nuisance in the garden, but mostly innocent. To make a young boy kill one was cruel. And to use the Name Calling Art on his own son was even more cruel.

“It was awful. That poor creature looked so--so hurt. But Father said that only the strong survive, and that I have to be strong too or else, or else—I-I shouldn’t have been born,” Manas hiccuped. He raised a tear-streaked face to Paine, agony in his eyes. “Uncle Paine, am I a mistake?"

Looking straight into the boy’s eyes, Paine said firmly, “Manas, no matter what anyone says about you, you are not a mistake. Don’t you ever believe that you should not have been born or that the world would be better without you. No one is ever born a failure.” He paused, then continued gently, “Do you know, you are very special?”

Manas sniffled and wiped his running nose. “N-no. I’m a creep aren’t I? That’s what Ven and my sisters said, because my eyes are weird,” Manas replied miserably.

Uncle Paine shook his head. “No, your eyes are not weird, they are very special, Manas,” he told the boy. “What do you see, Manas?”

The boy blinked. “What do you mean?” he asked in confusion.

Uncle Paine smiled. “Well, do you see anything that I might not?”

After a pause, Manas replied slowly, “There’s a yellow glow around you.”

“And do you know what my magic ability is?” Paine asked.

“Light,” Manas answered with a frown.

“Exactly,” Uncle Paine said, nodding. “Manas, I believe your magic ability is to see what kind of magic a person can do. The glow around me is yellow, because I have magic that can create light. Other colors would be different magic abilities. It’s a very special and rare ability you have, Manas.”

The boy’s face brightened for a moment, excitement taking the place of his sorrow, but then his face fell. “But Mother and Father won’t think it’s special,” he muttered.

“And does it matter so much what they think?” Uncle Paine asked kindly. “It’s not bad to want your mother and father to love you and be proud of you. But even if they hate you, it doesn’t change who you are.” Manas gazed into the man’s kind face, sniffled, and nodded.

A few years after this, Manas manifested another ability, one that changed everything. He came one day in tears to Uncle Paine, holding a small bat that he had tried to keep hidden in his room as a pet. “It’s dead, it’s dead, I killed it!” he wailed, holding it out to Paine, who tried to calm the boy. The animal was indeed dead, but there were no signs of any wounds, not even a sign that it had been accidentally strangled or smothered. At last, Paine got the sobbing boy to calm down enough to tell what happened. Apparently, Manas had been playing with the bat and petting it, when suddenly the bat had stiffened and keeled over.

“It’s my fault! I know it was! The metal wouldn’t stop. It doesn’t normally do that, but it wouldn’t stop!” the boy cried, his tear-stained face filled with horror.

“What do you mean? What metal?” Uncle Paine asked, confused.

“M-my metal,” Manas sniffled. “My finger—went into the bat—and it killed it!” he wailed.

After further questioning, Uncle Paine finally figured out that Manas had somehow turned his finger into liquid metal, which had gotten into the bat’s mouth and poisoned the animal. It took much consoling and reassuring Manas that it had not been his fault but was only an accident, before the boy finally quieted down. Uncle Paine had to admit, though, that it was quite surprising. Turning metal into liquid was rare and difficult even among the most skilled Silivens, yet Manas had done it unknowingly as a child. It was odd, since he had had so much trouble learning most of the basics of metal shapeshifting; yet Uncle Paine had already guessed that the boy was much smarter and talented than anyone knew, including Manas himself.

Though Paine did not tell anyone, Manas’ ability could not be hidden for long. Once the royal family learnt of it, the boy was immediately made a great center of attention, praised as a gifted child, and given special lessons to hone and perfect his skill. He was no longer ignored. His time was taken up entirely by training, however, and he was no longer able to visit Uncle Paine as often as before. And as the years passed and he became more engrossed in his lessons, he came less and less.

The best and most skilled teachers were assigned to Manas. They showed him how to use his skill to poison food and water, to poison living creatures, even how to make it toxic to Silivens. For Manas, these actions became as easy as breathing. He could do them naturally, though if he did it too much he became tired. He even experimented with putting poison in and taking it out of a creature, though he found extracting his liquid poison was more exhausting than putting it in. Despite all this training, however, he still struggled with the normal Siliven ability of turning his limbs into weapons. He could do what most Silivens never achieved. But he could not do the most basic shapeshifting without feeling sick and almost fainting.

He became greedy for the praise of others. Though he was lauded often by his tutors and other nobles as one of the best liquid metal users, and though his siblings treated him with more respect than they ever had before, there remained a certain disdain towards him. However much his siblings and courtiers flattered him, he could still feel their hate for him, and their hate drove him to hunger for their recognition even more. Above all, he wanted his father to praise him, to accept him, to love him. Yet even when his father told him he had progressed far, or gave other words of endorsement, there always lurked an expression of disgust and scorn in his father’s eye. Manas could never match up. He was always flawed in his parents’ eyes, and in everyone’s else’s too.

“Father just doesn’t see! I’ve been doing so much better at shapeshifting, not just the liquid metal either, but turning my arms into swords and all that. But I’m always a failure to him!” Manas said bitterly. He paced restlessly in Uncle Paine’s shack. He was now a young man in Siliven terms. Though still unable to visit very often, he came by once a month on his day off, usually to complain to Uncle Paine about the neglect he was feeling. Paine would listen to him patiently as always.

“And does that affect who you are?” Uncle Paine asked calmly.

Manas scowled and looked away. “It does in the court,” the young man retorted. “Everyone still hates me as an outcast, even though I’m better than all of them,” he spat.

Paine looked at Manas sadly. “You’ve changed, Manas,” he said softly. “Are you really better than them? Is it really right to compare yourself to others?”

Manas turned angrily on his friend. “You wouldn’t understand! Everything is built on power and reputation in the court. It matters what people think of you, even if it's all lies! And if you're weak and naive, you’ll just get trampled,” Manas sighed and turned to leave. “I’m sorry, Uncle Paine, it’s just—I need my father to recognize me! I will gain his recognition!” Paine watched sorrowfully as Manas stomped away.

That was the last time Manas saw Uncle Paine in the greenhouse. Soon after this, the war between humans and Silivens started. Though Manas eagerly desired to join the other Silivens in raiding the human villages, he was told that he would be used for a better purpose. Impatiently, he waited for this great purpose, staying at home in the palace. At last, he was rewarded.

“This way,” the guard said gruffly, leading Manas down a hallway, towards the prison. Manas had never been to the prisons, but his excitement grew as he went deeper into the palace’s depths. Finally, he could join the fight, do something to help the war, and perhaps gain favor in his father’s eyes. Though he hadn’t been told yet what he was going to do.

The guard opened a heavy door, and they entered into a small, dark room. Several human prisoners knelt on the floor, blindfolded and tied up, with Siliven guards behind them. “Now then, use your ability to poison these prisoners,” the guard who had brought him there instructed in a monotone voice.

Manas blinked. On humans? He had only ever practiced on animals and plants, and occasionally the arm or foot of a Siliven, not the whole body. Never on a human. He glanced uneasily at the prisoners, who sat silently. But if this was for the good of the country, he would do it. Stretching out his hand, he took a deep breath and poked the first human with a needle-like finger. The human stiffened as he injected his metal, then started to gasp and froth at the mouth, until finally the human keeled over. “Next,” the guard said. Manas moved on to the next prisoner, until they had all been killed. He stared at his hand. It was a strange feeling, somehow satisfying, yet at the same time unnatural, to be using his ability on humans.

Many weeks passed this way. Manas would be called to torture and kill human prisoners, though he was never told why, only that it would help the war. He tried not to think much about it. It was for the good of their land, he told himself. Yet something deep inside him screamed that this was wrong, that he was transgressing some rule that he should have remembered.

One day, he came to the room to find that his father was there as well. Manas’ heart surged with hope, hope that this time his father would approve of him. But his hopes fell to the floor in pieces when he saw who the prisoners were. Though some were human, a number of them were Silivens, their eyes uncovered, staring about in fear. And in the middle knelt Uncle Paine, his face calm and serene, as though he were still back in his greenhouse, taking care of his plants. Manas’ stomach churned.

“F-father, why are there Silivens here?” Manas gasped. His father turned his cold, stern gaze on Manas.

“They are traitors who tried to help the humans,” the king said in his thundering voice. “Now, Manas, kill them.”

Some of the Silivens and humans cried out for mercy. Manas turned a horrified look at Paine, who looked up at him with compassion.

“N-no, I can’t,” Manas whispered, his throat constricting. This was too much. He couldn’t kill his friend, his only friend. And Uncle Paine’s words came crashing down on him again, those words he should have remembered all along, that he must show kindness and compassion to everyone. Manas’ hands shook. What had he done? What was he doing? He had to stop, he couldn’t—

Suddenly, his father’s words boomed in his mind. “Manas Endsword, I order you to kill them using your ability.” The Name Calling Art. It was the same as when his father had made him kill the Forenfog. His name resounded in his mind, shook his body, an irresistible force. In horror, Manas watched as his hand reached out towards Paine. Uncle Paine looked up at Manas, with a smile so kind and compassionate it broke Manas’ heart in two. “Manas, don’t forget, you’re not a mistake,” Paine murmured, just before the poison entered him.

It was over quickly. Though it took more poison to kill Silivens than it did to kill humans, it was surprisingly easy to inject that much metal poision. Manas gasped, eyes wide, staring at the dead bodies in front of him. At the dead body of his only friend, killed by his own hand. “Good job,” the king said, smiling scornfully at his son. Manas glanced at him. Even though Manas had fulfilled the king's order, the disdain remained in his father’s eyes. Rage rose up in Manas, an anger that shook him, that burned in his blue and white eyes. He half-closed them, willing his hands to cease their shaking. Not now, not yet.

Later that night, he stood on his balcony, gazing out at the dark, coiling streets of his forest home. Small lights glittered in the trees, evidence that there were still people up at this late hour. He clenched his hands, listening to the low calls of the nighthawks who made their nests above the tree houses. In his mind, he saw Paine, smiling up until the end, until he keeled over from the poison. Manas’ eyes burned and glowed, anger and rage and pain rising in him. Anger at his father for forcing him. Anger at his family and at the royal court for their treachery, at the way they had corrupted him. Anger at the whole Siliven race for being this way. And most of all, anger and disgust at himself. He had thought he was better than the other Silivens, better than his family. But he was worse. He was nothing but a hypocrite, a liar, a murderer. A flawed being. Not even fit to be called a Siliven.

Manas turned. A numbing anger surged through him, and an idea came to him. An plan to end it all, to take out his anger, to get rid of the abomination that was himself. He would kill his father. He would have revenge, and they would have no choice but to execute him.

He made his way quietly to his father’s chambers, killing the guards along the way quickly. This time, he did not bother with poisoning them. There was a technique faster than poison that he had discovered, a technique he had not shared to even his tutors. He had found a way to not only make his own body parts into liquid metal, but to turn other metal into liquid. And Silivens being partially metal, he could liquidate them.

After killing the guards in front of his father’s room, he paused before opening the doors. For a moment, Manas hesitated, a small voice in him saying he must not his kill his own father. But the anger in him squelched that voice. Quietly, he opened the door and slipped in. His father lay fast asleep in his bed by himself; apparently the queen had opted to sleep in her own bed, as she usually did. No matter. Manas wanted to kill only the king anyway, so the queen could pronounce his sentence once it was done. Swiftly, Manas moved to the bed where his father lay. In seconds, his father was a pool of melted grey.

Silently, Manas stared at it. He felt no better. Revenge gave him no pleasure, only an empty hole in his heart. Turning, he headed for the doors again, his anger ebbing and leaving only a dead silence inside. There was nothing left but to be found. And to be killed.

Link to Part 9:

#original story #fantasy #siliven #Manas Memories

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motownfiction · 5 months

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oddity

From the moment she learned to speak, Lucy’s mother has held her close and called her my little oddity.

It seems nice for a little while. Mom never says anything mean to Lucy. She loves everything about her. When Lucy picked up a guitar and started strumming non-existent, non-rhyming songs about women in cafés in Europe, Mom kissed her cheeks and called her perfect little Joni Mitchell baby, my little oddity. When Lucy got really into wearing mismatched socks because she thought it added subtle character, Mom said she was proud of her, so proud of her, my little oddity. It was a term of endearment, like when Sadie’s mom called her sweetheart, or when Will’s mom called him baby. Mom’s just smarter than all the other parents, including Dad, most of the time. Oddity is a stronger word. A smarter word. A better one.

Until Lucy is too proud of it on the way to art class in fourth grade.

And Nick Crosby tells her it’s an insult. An accurate one, to be sure, because Lucy is the only kid in the whole fourth grade who knows the difference between all the different painters that Miss Kovacks asks them about every Tuesday morning, in art class.

She carries his words in her chest like a bomb for almost two more hours. Thankfully, recess rolls around, and she can detonate. Right in front of Sadie, the only person who knows how to listen. They’re sitting motionless on the swingset when Lucy finally gets the courage.

“Am I weird?” Lucy asks.

Sadie shrugs.

“I guess so,” she says. “Why? Is that bad?”

“I think. But you have to be honest with me. Am I weird?”

“Yeah.”

Sadie doesn’t even hesitate. Lucy wonders what it would be like to punch a hole right through the air.

“Great,” she mutters. “How do you know I’m weird?”

Sadie shrugs.

“You know how everybody else likes Greg?” she says, beginning to pump her legs and swing back and forth, back and forth. “Including me?”

“Yeah.”

“You like Peter.”

Lucy screws up her face.

“That’s not weird,” she says. “He’s kind of like Will.”

Sadie turns her head and gives her a look that only a ten-year-old girl with gossip behind her eyes can give.

“Sure,” she says. “You’re weird.”

Lucy sighs.

“I knew it.”

“But that’s not bad. If you weren’t weird, I don’t think I’d like you very much.”

Lucy smiles, even though she doesn’t mean to.

“OK,” she says. “I guess I’ll live with it, then.”

They swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

(part of @nosebleedclub november challenge -- day 18!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: lucy callaghan #ch: mary callaghan #ch: nick crosby #ch: sadie doyle #dynamic: sister christian #year: 1977 #obsessed with how lucy finds ways to crush on will in all forums

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unohanadaydreams · 2 years

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This is silly, but I feel like the best way to make sure Mayuri comes to a party you're throwing is to not invite him. Like he wouldn't care in the first place, but if he found out every other captain had been invited but not him, he'd show up out of pure spite and maybe to raid the fridge.

Literally, yes. Like Shunsui throws a belated party after the war to celebrate his new position (and the end of the war!) and with Nanao in charge of the invites, one or two happen to go ‘missing’.

To be fair, the last time Mayuri showed up to one of Shunsui’s parties, he started calculating each attendee’s specific lethal limit of sake and insisting on having anyone who was easily cowed try an injectable instead of downing 5 shots in a row because it was more effective & less painful to watch. Whatever that last part means.

Kira projectile vomited from the instantaneous nausea, Soi Fon almost murdered Mayuri after he offered to make a Yoruichi replica that could do everything a cat could do—including transform into a very handsome woman!—, and when one of the seated officers passed out from the injectable Mayuri split him open right there in the middle of the room to investigate why, explaining what he was doing the entire way like it was of interest to anyone but him (Isane was piqued but also horrified at all the bodily fluids leaking on the party favors).

Now every missing invite where he feels he needs to be there as a show of due respect (all other captains being there, for sure) is an invitation in itself.

He made Akon look up human party games and brought a real eldritch horror of a gigai to play Operation! on for the promotion party. And spiked the punch with something that (probably) won’t kill everyone.

He also gave Nanao his soul phone number and gifted her 2 pagers (in case one breaks) should she need to let him know about the next party. Perhaps a hell butterfly instead of a letter next time! Or an announcement at a captains meeting! Anything but what she did this time around, because she did it badly—but Mayuri knows everyone makes mistakes…some more than others, apparently. Losing letters seems a little cliché.

Mayuri then proceeds to raid the fridge before he gets his shit rocked by a thoroughly demoralized Nanao. It is mostly too-salty food absolutely riddled with green onions but he removed his tastebuds beforehand, so it’s fine.

He only kind of suffers consequences (he has to FIGHT for his budget next quarter against a very prepared Nanao).

ALL THAT SAID!

I don’t think he’s completely without social graces. They’re just hidden behind socially unacceptable oddities that keep him off the invite list lmao.

But positives of Mayuri at a party:

He and Soi Fon would talk the nastiest shit on Urahara. Both of these characters so desperately want Urahara to be bottom of the barrel talent, they will drink until it’s their reality.

Isane would treat him like a bomb, bodily throwing herself away at the first sign of leakage or ticking, BUT she would be intrigued by his practical advise. They’re both insecure about the positions they have, even if they deal with it in very different ways. Mayuri would never show that and Isane wouldn’t be that vulnerable with him, but I think they would have some chats that would be considered (mostly) positive.

I think he and Zaraki would have this weird vibe where they work each other up over war stories but are having just entirely different conversations and once they try to get on the same wavelength they are at each other throats (Zaraki is having a great time and Mayuri wants to claw out his own sternum).

Rukia (with Renji and Byakuya closely trailing her) actually have some simple and pleasant conversations about new Chappy merch & technology developments.

He has ‘talks’ with Omaeda that really just boil down to Mayuri’s insults flying over the lieutant’s head while Mayuri grills for funding. Omaeda has a little R&D VIP lanyard for his troubles that means absolutely nothing.

Somehow him and Nanao actually do get along but only if they’re talking about very specific topics (management, mostly) or else Nanao remembers who she’s talking to and Mayuri remembers he’s taking advice from a Lieutenant and then it’s ruined.

Rose talks to Mayuri like he is a bug with middling music tastes and Mayuri treats Rose similar but they always end up talking new talent they’ve found.

Honestly, Shunsui handles Mayuri’s bullshit best because he has the security net of being Captain General & Mayuri’s sneering isn’t that far off from the personalities he’s surrounded himself with Lieutenant wise. Shunsui treats him like an annoying cousin and it works somehow.

Really, though, Mayuri never stays long enough to do Too much damage. He has his fill of people quickly and fucks back off to the labs. I’d say it’s realistically 50/50 if he crashes an (important) party. He doesn’t bother with the casual gatherings, really.

HOWEVER. When Mayuri throws a party, people don’t miss out because R&D does fun grab bags with prototypes of their upcoming tech that’s been green lit, Senjumaru sneaks down to lead a murder mystery game, and Urahara always crashes because he loves to have fun at his student’s expense.

It’s also the most popular time to start planning Captain parties, because Mayuri gets so burnt out on people after his yearly hosted shit show that he doesn’t bother even snooping on who’s holding what where for months. And also Urahara & Yoruichi are guaranteed to stay in town for a while and everyone wants them as guests.

#I think Mayuri wanting to make a fake soul Yoruichi wouldn’t be him making fun of her either #it’s him trying to brag about how well he could do it #and implying to Soi Fon that they run in similar circles even if they Do Not #Mayuri trying to make friends is a disaster #truly a vibe killer #tbh I think he would ignore the VAST MAJORITY of parties #but the ones where all the captains are gathering!??#fuck off he’s there #this really got away from me but it was fun #Mayuri Kurotsuchi

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d-lissa · 11 months

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Liveblogging TMA - Season 1 - MAG 32

"My dreams that night were many legged."

"Arachnophobia", The Magnus Archive

HIVE :

Well, that was.

Something.

I, uh ... Don't really know how to approach this one. I think I'll just ... Quote more text and present what I think.

I think that this entire post will be just for this episode, I'm afraid. It will be long enough as it is.

First off, we'll start with the first impressions of the entire thing.

This episode has, quite easily at that and despite its short lenght, managed to crawl at the top of my list of favourite episodes.

The delivery was ... Chilling. I have been suspecting that there was something forcing/guiding Jonathan's presentation of the statements, but this was only proof, because I don't think Jonathan, rigid as he is, would manage such a devoted delivery on purpose. This was horrifying in the best of ways, chills down my spine.

Jane's deranged mental state was obvious from the beginning to the end, and I felt my head spin at some of the things she said. This is the first statement made by someone - something - that knows, or at least is close to, knowing the situation and understanding it.

Thus, the amount of foreshadowing and clarifications crammed into this single episode has been so consequent that I had to take it differently this time.

Speculations ahead, as well as questions a plenty and a fuck ton of quotes. All separated into 4 parts to try and make more sense of everything I am thinking.

Putting everything in order, hopefully.

In red, quotes from the episode, in orange, quotes from other episodes.

JANE PRENTISS

Jane Prentiss is obviously quite ... Disturbed, mentally, this episode. This insight into her head, while welcoming, felt invasive in a way that nothing else had managed to so far.

She is lost, and her sanity is being eaten by the Hive, until she becomes only its host, and loses any of her identity. The Hive drove her away from any kind of support she could've had, isolated her so that she could only lie on it for any kind of attention, as she wouldn't care about it of the moment she got one.

My dreams are crawling and many-legged

This one is here due to the phrasing. As quoted earlier, the phrasing is eerily similar to a quote from the victim of spiders in "Arachnophobia", Carlos Vittery. I am mostly putting attention on it because it was the first thing that proved, at least to me, that the Hive and The Spiders are connected in a way.

He ended up killed, suffocated on webs and encased in them. Meanwhile, Ms.Prentiss has ended up being the host of her parasitic oddity. Is the difference between the treatment due to the difference between the kind of oddity they are ? Why does the Hive need a host, but not The Spiders ?

There will be great violence done here. And I bleed into that violence.

At this moment, she is slowly losing her grasp on reality, her mind swinging between being its own and overtaken by the Hive, before it does so near the end of the statement for good. This, I assume, was the Hive speaking. It talks of how it sustains itself and proliferate, and it shows how the Hive makes no distinction between itself and Jane.

Or maybe it'd be more accurate to say that the opposite is true. Jena loses her individuality to just exist for the Hive. She doesn't think, they do together, because they are the same. And yet, the Hive is also her master.

A ... Symbiotic relationship, you could say.

Perhaps I’ve always heard it./I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had.

Did the Hive have its eyes on her from the beginning ? If the Hive is everything and everywhere, did it consider her a host from the beginning, the one worthy to listen to its song ? Is she the only one, or are there others ? We have seen the Hive infect other people, but none of them have become a permanent host and kept from dying, like she did. Her possession was much more ... Slow, and subtle, than the ones we were shown.

Still. In the end, Jane Prentiss is no more. This is probably the only thing I became sure of after this episode.

She wasn't able to be saved.

She didn't want to be.

JONATHAN SIMS

Of course, his own section will be much shorter, but I'd rather not have him at end, as I will get a lot more ramble-y by then.

It could just be an unknown, aggressive parasite. There are weird things out there that are perfectly natural. It’s not, though. I know it’s not natural. Somehow I… I feel it. I’m sorry, my academic detachment seems to have fled me. Something in this statement has got to me a bit.

All throughout the story, Jonathan has denied the supernatural. Even though, I know he knows that every one of the statements recorded on cassette were the real deal. But still.

He has hidden himself behind a thick wall of denial. He didn't show things like actual doubt, or even fear.

Looking at him this episode, I believe that it was done to protect himself. Because if all that he were reading was the truth, then how else could he go on, knowing all that was out there, and how much more of it wasn't even recorded.

Jonathan Sims' mask of professionalism is cracking. And he is affraid.

Terrified even.

(Also, more points pointing towards the fact that his delivery of the statement is not made out of his own will. Is he even aware of himself ?)

THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE

Your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word/You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.

All throughout this story, I have been wondering on the Institute, on how it operated, on what it was even here for.

We were told that it exists to research and record thing. The unexplainable kind. For the rest of the world, they are a hack. A joke to the profession.

For their enemies, they are a menace capable of weakening them. By sheding light on them, and bringing knowledge to the world, they make sure that no one can fear them.

I assume that this was the answer I was looking for so many of my questions on the "whys" all throughout the episodes. The horrors and oddities, they want to be feared. But how could someone that knows everything about you, from your existence to your weaknesses, be affraid ?

From my line of thought back in "The Piper", I am guessing that the oddities were created by the fears of humankind. And so, to remain and be powerful, they need to keep being feared, something that the Institute menaces.

However. I do not think that it is all that they do.

This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding.

The phrasing of this may sound familiar, and that's because it is. I have only remembered because it was one of those additional quotes I add at the end of posts, the ones I particularly liked from the episodes already listened to.

For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.

Gerard Keay, "First Aid"

I have also found the same phrasing in the trailer, the first statement that Jonathan has recorded as an Archivist.

You can stare all you want, make your notes and your inquiries, but all your beholding will come to nothing.

Jacob, "Statement #20111507"

Considering that both of those were presented by rather ... Antagonistic characters, the fact that it is presented as the work of the Institute makes me wonder about what it means for the antagonists we have already met.

Most specifically, the cult. Who had eyes as their symbol. A closed one at least.

Considering that "Beholding" literally means "to look at something", I am guessing that the eyes have a lot more to do with the Institute itself than I first thought.

Does that make of open eyes the symbol of the Institute ?

THE MYSTERY

And now, we are to enter the biggest part of the entire post. The Mystery at large. The Web that we've been uncovering, thread by thread, since the beginning. Because of who was making the statement, the amount of hints and clues spread all throughout this time around has been innumerable.

Thus, I have regrouped everything that spoke to me or that I have thought of. This will be pretty messy, I think, and I apologize in advance, but there are a lot of thoughts to be had and connections to be made.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it is the burrowing that draws me.

Starting off strong, we know that the "burrowing" made by the maggots are made in flesh, rather than anything like the earth, however. There was one burrowing I can remember, one that wasn't made by the maggots.

In "Lost John's Cave" mystery ended with two sisters separated after burrowing their way into caves, one to be lost there forever, after having lost their way. There wasn't much digging involved, I'm aware, however, the phrasing made me think that there may be a connection between those two.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you know, I wonder? As I watch you sitting there through the glass. Eating a sandwich. Do you know where you are?

I thought to put this one in the Institute section, but Gertrude Robinson's death has been very much a driving force for much of the story.

Again, I wonder if she did read the statements she received, because between this and the one from "Dreamer", you'd think she would've tried to do ... Something.

The distate and disdain presented towards Gertrude by the Hive makes me think that it is very much the Head Archivist post that is maimed, maybe even cursed.

She died, probably because of it, but why ? And how ?

And why was Jonathan the one to take her place ?

As Head of the Institute, surely Elias is aware of some things, right ? So what is he hiding from Jonathan ? And for what reason ? Was Jon put in this post as a sacrifice ? Is it a post that is needed to be filled, can it not just be rid of, if the position itself is cursed ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them.

The Table.

It was an ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion.

Amy Patel, "Across the Street"

The Box.

I retrieved what turned out to be a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away.

Ivo Lensik, "Burned Out"

The Painting.

It was a painting of an eye. Very detailed, and at first I almost would have said almost photorealistic, but the more I looked at it, the more I saw the patterns and symmetries that formed into a single image, until I was so focused on them that I started to have difficulty seeing the eye itself.

Dominic Swain, "Pageturner"

And the Lensik father.

He became obsessed with them, seemed to spend all of his time drawing them, staring at them, measuring the patterns they created.

Ivo Lensik, "Burned Out"

All of those things have been presented in a similar way, as hypnotizing, enthrancing the people watching them. I have theorized that those shapes and the power they held influenced humans to be able to perceive behind the veil separating the oddities and humanity.

This implies that the real power didn't come from the shapes themselves, or the maths behind them, but something Other. Something hidden even further than the fractals themselves are.

This ... Song, that Jane heard. Seems to be the thing giving all of those their power. The fact that Gerard Keay was the one wo made the painting though, makes me think if this had any actual power, or if he tried to make it make so.

Trying to hear the song himself.

Or make it ?

Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call.

Gerard Keay, "Pageturner"

~~~~~~~~~~~

I think about it, and the voice sings of showing him what a real parasite can do.

The Hive is parasitic, as we've established. And it despises humans. Of course, we already got all of that, but something kind of ... Bugs me (pun intended), about this classification.

“How would a melody describe itself when asked?”

Michael, "A Distortion"

Michael is the first oddity we have met face to face and interacted in a non antagonistic setting (for now). And so, I had assumed that when he said this, it meant that - for most oddities at least - they didn't have a name. Titles, maybe, but not what they are.

Was it not the case ? Was it only specific to Michael ? Or is this the case for the less powerful oddities, and the ones with power do have names for who and what they are.

Does this mean the Hive is level above, to be sporting the title of parasite ? Is Michael going against his own power, trying to cheat the system by naming himself ? Did he lie, to avoid giving actual information to Sasha ? Is that why Jonathan is only ever presented as the Archivist, his title, and never his name ?

Names have power.

But how much power do they have ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a job. I sold crystals./Work at the Good Energies spiritual supplies shop in Archway.

This one was thrown in here for a little ... Callback.

One year after Jane's statement, we would hear of someone that also worked in the selling crystals business.

I now work selling crystals and tarot cards in a “magic” shop

"Antonio Blake", "Dreamer"

I am assuming that, as a wicca, Jane herself probably worked at what you would call a magic shop, right ?

And what coincidence, here was someone in the same business, working there a year after her complete possession. Someone that could see the death(?)/fate(?) of others in a dream. Who had tried to warn Gertrude Robinson.

However, he had presented himself with a fake name and we were unable toget a hold of him.

I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear.

But how much are we willing to bet that this Oliver was "Antonio". Did he see Jane's end ? Did he see the ends she would make ?

Did he try to warn her, or was he too terrified by whatever he saw ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms.

Again, this one is here just to speculate. Since the beginning, I have called the supernatural beings "oddities" or "horrors", due to a lack of imagination, I imagine.

But we never got the answer of what they were. Again, the what and the who.

Does the Hive have so much power it could rival a god ?

But then, what about its worshippers ?

"I’m so sorry. It wants your faith.”

Bethany O'Connor, "Confession"

Was whatever that took possession of Father Edwin Burroughs a being of the same power as the Hive ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

There are no wasps in the nest/The nest is nothing but paper.

Then what was the nest ? Who was it for ? What gave it its "life and malice", the song she heard from it ? Made of pulp and paper, but it is not the one that sings, it is the face.

It is simply the face. Not the whole face, for the whole of the hive is infinite.

The face of the Hive ? At least, a part of the face of the Hive ? Would this mean that destroying it in its entirety would destroy the Hive for good ?

But is there even an entire face, if it is infinite ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Was it the spiders?/Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.

I have been extrapolating the influence of The Spiders since we heard of them, crawling out of the apple inside the box in "Burned Out". I was convinced, after "Dreamer", that it was the personification of death, but we have met Death? Several Deaths, in fact.

But the webs are here, and the spiders have power, though which one I know not. I think I will go back on my first thought and consider them the personification of Fate until we get more information.

But if that's the case, and the spiders and the Hive are similar, if not the same, as they both make a different song, does that make of the Hive the personification of a concept too ? A parasitic kind ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

That love us in their way./A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

I genuinely can't decide if this is genuine or denial.

But if it IS the truth, then does the Hive love Jane ? Can oddities love humans ?Is that how they decide for a host, who to "Mark" ?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I have finally reached the end of this one. 50 minutes of work for a 20 minutes episode. I am wiped with this one.

Still, I hope it makes enough sense and manages to encompass everything that I am thinking of.

The quote of the post will be :

"To be seen in the cold light of knowledge is anathema to the things that crawl and slither and swarm in the corners and the cracks."

End Liveblogging.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #liveblog-tma

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 2 years

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Si Carine FemCarlisle se hubiera quedado un tiempo más en Volterra y conociera a los gemelos, ¿ qué pasaría?. Digo, Jane y Alec tenían doce o trece cuando fueron convertidos en vampiros y Carine podría actuar como una figura materna. Aro no se involucraría mucho, porque mientras Carine no le meta a los gemelos eso de beber sangre animal, está bien.A todo esto, ¿ habría rivalidad entre Edward y los gemelos?¿ Cómo actuaría Edward con Carine como madre de dos demonios?

If Carine FemCarlisle had stayed a while longer in Volterra and met the twins, what would happen? I mean, Jane and Alec were twelve or thirteen when they were turned into vampires and Carine could act as a mother figure. Aro wouldn't get very involved, because as long as Carine doesn't put the twins in drinking animal blood, that's fine. To all this, would there be rivalry between Edward and the twins?How would Edward act with Carine as a mother of two demons?

Google Translate

...

OP, it sounds like you have an exact premise, plot, and idea in mind. As always, I implore you, write the fic. You'll be so much happier.

As it is, while we know Carlisle didn't meet Jane in Volterra I'm not sure he didn't meet Alec. I don't believe it was brought up in the same way that it was that he explicitly not met Jane during that time period.

That said, we've got a few issues here already

Why isn't Carine Becoming Mother to the Twins?

Carine's position in Volterra is weird and the twins have a reputation. The twins are child vampires, an oddity no one quite knows how to connect with, and they're the power that brings the world to its knees.

They're mostly working during this time but even when they're not they're terrifying.

I imagine Carlisle (and thus Carine) wouldn't be sure what to make of them except that he/she would imagine they wouldn't want his/her pity. And that would be what trying to become their new mother would be: pity.

Not to mention that Carine is ultimately a guest (or believes she is). She's not necessarily staying here forever, not really a part of the coven, and interacting with the guard like that, especially Jane and Alec would be one of those awkward things where she's probably not sure if she's crossing a line.

Would Edward Get Weird?

Even without Carine acting as mother to the twins, Edward would get weird. Edward did get weird in canon, and Carlisle hadn't even met Jane.

Edward doesn't think of Jane and Alec when it comes to Carlisle's time in Volterra, but he certainly doesn't like that Carlisle spent any specific amount of time there and was good friends with the big three.

I imagine Carine would be no different.

It might even be worse as Carine would presumably have a very close friendship with a man. While Edward would not suspect Aro/Carlisle, I imagine he would suspect Aro/Carine, whether it happened or not.

If Carine had any sort of rapport with the twins, and considered them anything close to children (even nieces or nephews) I imagine Edward would have all sorts of feelings about that as it would lessen what Carine has with the Cullens.

The Cullens are Carine's found family! Edward is only reassured by the fact that Carine did leave Volterra, made him, and made the rest of the Cullens.

But I imagine Carine's time in Volterra is always in the back of his mind.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #carine cullen #carlisle cullen #jane #alec #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #meta #headcanon #opinion #lledron

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sabypoo · 2 years

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SPOILER WARNING 4x07 MY FRIENDS

👀

I expected the "worst". The reviews are not very enthusiastic, neither for this episode, nor for the last one. I had time to swallow the information, to live with it.

I also had time to realize that if we had any Villaneve at any time, it would be in the last episode and certainly very shortly. It was hard, and long, to accept this evidence. But I ended up doing it.

Maybe that's why I came to this episode without much expectation, just knowing what was in store for us next.

Well I really liked this episode.

In a completely different way from episode 6. Because this episode doesn't have much in common with the previous one.

If a few touches of humor are present, it's really very discreet.

Because this episode 7 is an episode of introspection.

You will tell me "again?". It will obviously be the last. But it is above all the one that closes the hesitations. Which puts an end to doubts. Now we need to get to the end.

What did I love about this episode?

Well, so many things to be honest! I will try to list it all:

Konstantin, my love.

From the moment he receives the call from Irina, I understood that something was going to happen in this episode. And I was so happy to hear his daughter's voice, because shit, she's always been important so please give her some space in this finale! (by the way, I have a theory about it 😃)

The second clue is the scene where he dances. I hadn't expected Pam to be the one to kill him at all (though I should have known that from what Vil said to her in Episode 5). I loved that moment, because K was finally free and he wanted to redeem himself from his past life by saving at least one person from the Twelve...and it was this person who murdered him, thinking she was following orders from a dead one. This man died alone (ok with Pam but alone anyway), far from his family that he abandoned, from the love of his life, from Villanelle. I find it really sad, but logical for his character. Very nice moment.

Villanelle-Jane and Gunn-Tarzan

Aahaha, someone said that on a tweet and I laughed so hard!

Gunn is Pam's opposite. She's a born killer. Without mercy. Asocial. Dangerous. Interesting to see that Vil' is a mix of these two killers, even if clearly, she's closer to Gunn than to Pam. Gunn doesn't care about other people's opinions. She is a woman who exudes freedom and that is what Villanelle seeks so desperately. Be free.

So it seems clear that life in a forest is not a life for Villanelle. But that's not the point. And that's why we are entitled to this kiss (and surely more suggested) SO HOT from our two killers. Damn, Jodie Comer has a gift for kissing my god, what a fantasy this woman is 😩 x__x Whatever she does, she brings me to my knees lol

Eve-Hamlet.

This is probably my favorite part of this episode and not necessarily when I expected it.

Eve finally faces her trauma. And even if I loved the scene with Martin (you're my hero!) it's not the one that gave me the most emotion in this episode but the karaoke one.

The way of choosing to stage this moment...the flashbacks to a time when Eve seems happy, to her past where she was...to see her friends, Niko, Elena, and Bill again (damn Bill ❤️ miss you so much) , that's so genius! And as @mini-oddity explains so well, it's a monumental slap in the face.

Because yes, for the first time, we see what this whole thing cost Eve. We love this show, we love that she became darker, that she gets closer to Vil but we forgot what it was, a normal Eve, an Eve who smiles, who has fun, who lives! And it fucking hurts. It hurts to see these people that we love too and to know that they are no longer there, that they will never come back...I find it perfect for an end to the show, even though it serves the plot.

Besides, a big up all the same for Yusuf, whom I love, even if I hate that he "replaces" Vil. A good man, one of the few who makes Eve smile and at least for that, I say thank you for this.

The end of the episode:

Oooh I love it so much that we don't know anything about the last episode. I so love that we end that this pursuit of Gunn and his attack on Eve. I can't wait to know how this moment will unravel!

My theories/fears/expectations for this finale:

Irina will play a role in the attack/death of our two heroines.

It would be a legitimate revenge on the part of Konstantin's daughter to want to eliminate this "sister" who has taken all her father's attention. She follows in the footsteps of Vil' in the Twelve.

There will be so much to say and so little time to do it...

It is necessary that:

Pam joins Carolyn in delivering Konstantin's message

Vil and Eve get out of their mess with Gunn

The Villaneve relationship

V and E go to the meeting point

But before, surely they will have to meet Carolyn

And all that will arise as discussion and intrigue from these meetings before "the final confrontation"

Unpopular theory that will make people scream

I think we will have an end to the Villaneve relationship, one way or another, which will be final. Why?

Because Martin talks to Eve about someone who loves her, understands her etc... So obviously we think of Vil' but is it still true? I thought of Yusuf, who is extremely tolerant, who knows Eve really well too. Not that I want it to be Yusuf, but it would be healthier.

Also, Eve isn't looking to join Villanelle after seeing Martin. She is just about to make a clean sweep of it all. It's because of the text. It's because of Konstantin. She doesn’t identify Vil' as the person to join.

Finally, once the Gunn problem is settled, the fact remains that they still have not discussed. Villanelle still doesn't want to be in Eve's presence.

So here's what I think:

Villanelle wants her freedom more than anything. And Eve is not a form of freedom, it is another cage, a power that holds her back.

I think they were the trigger in each other's lives. But after all the journeys this season, it seems like they weren't meant to be together. They needed each other to know who they were and what they wanted out of life. Now that they know...what's left?

So if one of them dies, the other will come back to life.

If both die, it's only at the last moment that we'll get a burst from Villaneve, to wrap up the story.

And if none of them die, I think they'll say goodbye forever.

Sandra Oh talks about romance as something that will never come to fruition, that is dumbed down from the start. So I'm leaning towards a death or something that, once again, prevents V and E from being together. I doubt they will survive and go their own way but...KE tends to play on our nerves so nothing is impossible.

I talk about these theories but I have no desire for it to happen this way! So let's cross our fingers that the absence of an image for this last episode is synonymous with Villaneve. ❤️

#killingeve #killing eve #eve polastri #villanelle #killing eve season 4 #villaneve #eve x villanelle #jodie comer #sandra oh #killing eve spoilers #ke spoilers #killing eve speculation #killingeve theories #4x07

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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

LEATHERBOUND PART 2 - Reader x Cassian

The bell at the front didn't ring when he stepped inside. The oddity of it made him stop in his tracks. That, and the pile of books you crouched over. "What happened?" He gasped, taking in the small shop. There was broken glass inside, but the front window was already replaced. The shards cast a delicate shimmer over the entire inside. The mud caked onto the back wall where your desk sat reeked. "Are you okay?" Concern was painted plainly across his features. Rage roiled inside his gut at the thought of anyone who would do you harm. What if you had been inside when it happened? He couldnt bare to think of it. Couldn't tempt himself to imagine what he would do to whoever did it. He would have showed them why the Lord of Bloodshed was named as such. His rage ceased when he saw the strain your wings showed as you tried to push one of the stacks of books back up. He rushed to your side and helped you push it up, only a few smaller novels fell out. You waved him off, trying to ignore the way his concern made you downright giddy. "Some kids... It happens every now and again." You sighed, picking up the runaways from the floor. You were grateful your collection hadn't been damaged. Thankfully the spells had worked and warded against them actually entering the shop. Cassian stooped to help you pick up the few that had fallen, then you noticed his boots. "Shoes!" You squeaked. He swore under his breath and kicked them off at the front, returning to help you. His muscle was a great help in re organizing. You got the piles straight this time, and without hurting yourself. You also didn't need a ladder to get the stacks all to the same height. "Anything else?" He asked, placing the final pile atop the last row. "Ahh.." You glanced above the door where the bell no longer was. "If you could find me a new bell... I dont know what happened to the old one." The bell had been in the shop since it was your grandmothers. It did hold sentimental value, but nothing that would kill to be gone. It was on its final days anyway you told yourself. "Any preference what kind?" He asked, flipping through a novel about Wyverns. He smiled a bit and set it back where it had been. The glass on the floor reflected rainbows all over the small rooms, it painted your skin with them. He tried not to stare at the beauty there. "One that works." You smiled. "I'm going to owe you that gold piece back for helping me." "Dont worry about it. You can help me in return." You led him to your usual spot at the counter. He leaned against it casually, in a way that made him look at peace in your nook. Your heart squeezed at the thought of him being so at ease in your space. "We're looking for an old tome. Something that you would definitely recognize." He dragged a finger across the tabletop, along a long carved initial of some Illyrian child long ago. You hummed, thinking about the few tomes you'd encountered on your travels before settling in Illyria as a book merchant. "What year?" You asked, hoping to help in some way. Even if it was to steer him a different direction. You wanted to help him find whatever he needed. "Unknown... it may be made from stone." He said, his voice quieting. You stilled at the words. The oldest stone tomes were the ones that meant no good was coming. The book of breathings had been one of them. You could feel the color drain from your face. He nodded, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. "It's important. If you know anything... please let me know." He gave you a grim smile and patted the desk. "And I expect that cake next time I come over too." He tapped the wood counter and gave you a quick goodbye. "If you need anything let me know!" He called halfway out the door. You wished you could. You wished you did have some way to 'let him know'. you sulked in the back room for the rest of the day. === "Where's my cake?" "It's been two weeks, I gave it to the shop next door." You scolded, putting the silvers from the last customer into your box. "It was going bad." You reasoned when he pouted at you. "Well was it good at least?" He pulled a blue and brown leather clad book from a shelf, observing it. "I dont know, I didn't try it." You admitted, stepping back from the wall to see your newest decoration. A nice wooden clock that you had repaired. He looked at you with an appalled expression. "Despite you not making good on our deal, I made good on mine. Your bell, as requested." He presented the small bronze bell with a hook to you. You grinned, taking it from him and testing it. He watched your eyes light up at the sound. It wasn't just a bell. It was a chime. It rang out different sounds from each angle it hit. "Cass-" He stopped you, ready for your protests. "You cant make me return it. I threw the box in the Sidra and they wont take it back without it." He was smug about it. And he didn't feel bad about making you take the gift either. His hope soared when you gave him a glare, but dinged the bell again. "Well... you need to install it." You nodded to the empty hook above the door. He smiled wildly and got to work. If he was honest with himself, any reason to be around you more was welcome. Even if it was as simple as replacing a bell. Hell if he could read a book to you that'd be a dream for him. He was addicted. He had to admit it to himself. But he didn't have the willpower to quit you. It was a strange feeling. He normally had resentment ever visiting Illyria, but lately it had been nothing but joy at the prospect seeing you. You went to the back room, weaving around stacks upon stacks of books. There had been more incoming lately, due to a temple in Summer court being destroyed. The books salvageable were sent all over Prythian, and somehow most ended up with you. The bell chimed, loud and musical. It would take a few weeks to get used to it. It filled you with a joy that sparked. "That sounds great!" You called, bringing over a book that you had set aside for him. It was one of the older ones in the collection, and one of the worst smelling. You wanted to show him in part just to see his reaction to the smell. It had been at the bottom of one of the stacks that had gotten knocked over when the window was broken. "The Ancient ones? Are you making an age joke at me?" He gave you a mock glare, but flicked open the book. You closed it sharply, giving him a look he didn't understand. "If I was it would be an insult to myself as well. It's the only book I could find that even mentioned what you're after." You flicked the small bookmark you had indicated the page with. Your eyes locked on to his, marveling for a second at the deep hazel there. "You should look at it, later." Your eyes darted behind him where someone approached your door. Your heart dropped. Behind the woman stood a group of Illyrians across the way, pointing at the shop and making large gestures. "I'll be seeing you." You dismissed Cassian, holding open the door for the familiar old woman with shriveled wings. She gave him a nod and kicked her small slippers off with ease. The males across the way turned back into their own conversation when Cassian appeared at the doorway. His eyebrows knit together at your rushing him, but he saw himself out. The bell dinged behind him when he left. The coldness of the wind did nothing to ease the worry he felt for your reaction. Did you not want to be seen with him? Was he supposed to be keeping your meetings a secret? He glanced back to the large storefront window, where you showed the female a section of novels on the far wall. You didn't glance back. The market bustled with life, several vendors calling out deals and different items they offered. A group of loud males spat at the snow slicked ground as he passed. He ignored the rumble of rage in his stomach, continuing on to the edge of a cliffpoint off the back of a shop. He took off with a yearning deep inside the pit of his stomach.

#leatherbound series #reader x cassian #cassian x reader #acotar fic

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sapphire-dreamsky · 3 years

Text

Red Night

Starring: Ryomen Sukuna, Curse!Reader, OCs

Pairing: Sukuna x Curse!Reader

Warning: Death of minor characters.

A/N: It's kind of a historical AU? I mean Sukuna has his original form, and it takes place in the past. But it's also historically innaccurate😅. I apologise in advance.

In retrospect, (y/n) knew it was fruitless. The gap between curses and humans was far too large. It was already set in the humans’ heart, the fear which accompanies ‘their’ apparition. By ‘their’ they mean curses of course. People were so scared of them that the mere utterance of their name, in their superstitious mind, meant immediate death.

But (y/n) wanted to believe in the hope that one day, curses and humans could understand each other. She wanted them to be able to make a compromise so that both can live in peace. This shouldn’t be impossible. Curses are born from humans. Some humans even become curses. But that hope was squashed down as the townspeople grew to fear her.

Sukuna watches as the town which once worshipped the ground (y/n) walked on, were now chanting her demise. They brought forth their pitchforks, their torches all in the hopes of killing the abomination. The abomination they once worshipped as if she was a goddess. Well, she was one in his eyes. A foolish, naive goddess, but still his.

The woman looked around her, eyes gleaming in the orange glow of the fire. She so desperately wanted to turn back time. She wonders where it all went wrong. Did all her good deeds disappear as quickly as the day turned into the night? Her mind takes her back to a few months back. When she was arguing with her king.

“You are being foolish, (y/n). I once was a human exterminating curses. I know how the human mind works. They will hate you whatever you do.”

“But Sukuna, don’t you want a world where we can both live freely? Without the omnipresent fear that humans will always want to kill the likes of us?”

“I live for killing humans. I live for the carnage. But if you’re so stubborn, go on to that town down our mountain. Prove me wrong if you so desire to get along with these pests.” Sukuna rolled his four eyes, four arms crossed on his chest. He could care less about living with humans. He thought that the life they were leading up that mountain was enough. No one could disturb them there. But no, (y/n) had to have this stupid idea in her pretty little mind. Sometimes the King wonders how she became a curse with so much kindness and compassion in her heart. He could hardly see her curse anyone. She was too kind for her own good. That’s a part of her personality Sukuna cannot get rid of.

And so she headed down to the town at the foot of the mountain they were residing at. She remembers their warm smile as they welcome her into their ranks. She looked like them after all. Mere humans wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between human curses and themselves. They merely thought that her tattoos were among one of the oddities which she had. She stayed in the town for six months. Six blissful months where all their woes disappeared thanks to (y/n). She healed the young and elderly to her best abilities despite using curse energy. She helped the crops grow even during floods. The town is prospering more than ever since her arrival. And so, they made a shrine for her. They showered her with praises, thanking the gods for sending their messenger to their town.

Sukuna watched from the temple as his lover went and made friends around town. He watched her giving her warm smiles to children as they tugged on her kimono for attention. He watched her become known as the merciful goddess of that town. The king of curses didn’t know what to think. Her ideas were foolish. Humans and curses can never coexist. That’s the truth. But he let her run around. He only watched from a distance because he knew that he was the one who would be right. It won’t be long before she realizes that humans were monsters in sheep’s clothing. It won’t be long until she comes back to his side.

(Y/n) felt happy. She was glad that she could help the people. A positive feeling accompanied all the good deeds. The people were happy with her presence. ‘It won’t be long until they see that curses have feelings too!’ (Y/n) though ecstatically. What she didn’t know was that she gained the attention of not only the people living in the town but also those who ruled that town. And cruel was the man who watched the beautiful woman in the pink flower-patterned kimono as she walked around town carelessly, with an easy smile. He shall have her. She will be his newest concubine. He was the Lord of that land. Everything belonged to him. And that included that peculiar woman. Messenger of the gods or not, that had little importance in his eyes, for he was the Lord who ruled over everything. It didn’t matter if she was married or engaged, for he lived only for his own pleasure.

It was a cloudless day. (Y/n) was going to visit Sukuna again as was her habit. In her hand was a wooden basket an elderly woman crafted for her after learning she was going up to the shrine on the mountain. “Be careful,” said the elderly woman with a concerned tone, “I hear that there are wild animals up that mountain. It’s dangerous. No one goes there anymore because of them.” (Y/n) smile reassuringly at her. She knew for a fact that there were no wild animals. Sukuna was merely protective of the place he decided to claim as his own. The elderly woman was the first one who welcomed her to that town. She introduced to the young curse everything she had to know about the town’s custom and their cultures. To the curse, she was like a grandmother. The elderly woman had no family and was a widow. She lived alone in her house of stone on the outskirt of town. So, (y/n) took it upon herself to visit her as often as she could. She would often bake (y/n) some treats to repay her help around her house. The curse would often bring them up to Sukuna so that they could eat it together. The King was disgusted at first. But after much nagging, he relented and begrudgingly said that they tasted “alright”. That meant to (y/n) that they tasted good. That he liked them. So she would always bring him the treats the old widow prepared for her. Watching him enjoy something so simple makes her so happy. It’s like a reminder for her. A reminder that Sukuna used to be a human. Watching him eat is so grounding because she could pretend that they were normal. That they wouldn’t get shun should they decide to live amongst humans. She wanted to go to the market with her king. She wanted to do domestic chores that her parents used to do a long time ago. She wanted to go to festivals with her king even if he would complain the whole time. It was these little wishes which kept her trying to make peace with humans. She wanted Sukuna to enjoy something human. Something which would remind him that he too used to be human.

The road to the mountain was always quiet. It was not very used since people rarely travelled this way. But today, there was a very fancy carriage with some guards obscuring her usual route. (Y/n) came to a halt in front of the carriage, head cocked to the side, confused. The guards open the door and help a tall man down. He was a tall human with black hair and green eyes. He might have been handsome in humans’ standard. But he paled in comparison to her beloved grouchy King. He gave her what he considered his ‘best smile’. It was a grin really. It was so different from Sukuna’s. The grin of this human makes her uncomfortable. The grin of Sukuna made her feel butterflies in her stomach. It made her nervous in a good way.

“Rejoice woman! For, the great ruler of the town has decided to make you his concubine! This is not a favour which is given to many. You are special in my eyes so get in the carriage and let’s head back to the palace immediately! I want to get acquainted with you, lovely flower.” The woman cringes. Sukuna who was rude and crass was finally not that bad. ‘There are people who are worse than him when trying to flirt, after all. How shocking.’ But nevertheless (Y/n) politely bows her head in apology. It would be bad if she upset the Lord since she wanted to get along with his people after all. “ I apologize, My Lord. There is already someone in my life at the moment. I’m certain, however, that you will find someone more fitting for the position you are offering.” With that, the young woman leaves the flabbergasted man behind and continues her road to the mountain. The road which led to the king of her heart.

The man watches her leave in anger. No one was ever brave enough to simply brush him aside like that. How dare she humiliate him in front of his guards like that. The lord was turning red. With a cold cutting voice, he orders his guards to spread a rumour. ‘The pretty little woman will soon run begging for mercy at his feet.’ He thought, chuckling maniacally.

After she spent her night with her King who was attention-starved, not that he would admit it. He would rather fight a thousand shamans than admit that he missed his annoying woman. (Y/n) decides to go back to town to see if there was anything she could help with. Instead of the warm welcome, she always gets, all she receives is cold shoulders and glares. The people cowered away from her. ‘Could they know about my real identity?’ Worried, she decides to go to the one person who would tell her everything. The old woman’s shop was closed today. (Y/n) had to head to the house on the outskirts of town. Just going there took the young woman the whole morning. She knocked on the woman’ door. In the corner of her eyes, she sees a curtain move. The door opens quickly, a frail old hand grabs the curse and drags her inside before quickly shutting the door.

“Oh my poor child. You should not have come back! You have to run away before nightfall!” (Y/n) looks at her confused. “But why?” The woman shakes her head gravely. “The lord of this town is awful. He takes whoever he wants. If they don’t go along with him, they are killed by the townspeople.” The curse recoils. Frozen in her shock, the elderly woman goes on. “He told everyone that you were a witch. You fornicate with the devil which is why you can heal, do so many miracles for us. Everyone is scared right now. They will-”

A loud bang resonates. Shouts of anger can be heard from outside. The moon shines in red glows as torches illuminate the night. The old woman drags the curse to the side door and pushes her outside. “Go! I will distract them!” “Grandma, no! You have to come with me! I can protect us both!” The old woman shakes her head and smiles at the curse gently. “You might not be human, but your heart is kinder than most. This house means everything to me. I want to die between these walls.’’ The woman pushes (y/n) one more time. The curse watches as they condemn the human who has been so kind to her from the very first day. The curse watches as they burn this house to the ground. The memories she made with the woman burning and disappearing in the fire. Oh, how cruel humans can be.

Alerted by the smell of fire, Sukuna exits his temple and watches as the town below chases after his lover. Their torches and angry shouts can be heard in the silence of the night. Sukuna watches as his lover stands in the middle of the crowd. The lord watches in satisfaction from his home as they chase down the woman who humiliated him. Ready to intervene, Sukuna runs down the path leading to the little town.

(Y/n) shocked at the turn of the events, looks around her. These people that she helped in the past. These people who would always smile at her when she is passing through town. They were now cursing at her, wishing her dead. They killed one of their own because of a sin that she didn’t commit. Because of the old widow’s kind heart. Her eyes are glassy. She can feel a tear falling down. It hurts. It suffocates her. She can barely breathe as they keep on chanting her demise. The people she loved turned against her. Sukuna was right. Even without knowing what she truly was, humans would always chase away those who didn’t appear humans.

And so, during that full moon, which would later be known as the Red Night, she burned that town to the ground without Sukuna’s help. She became their worst nightmare. Their worst fear came to reality as they angered the goddess. The lord who instigated all of this tragedy watches in fear as (y/n) burned his town to the ground. He would become the only living witness. He would later tell his children about the story of the goddess of his old town. The scar which marred with once flawless skin that he received from her would be the only proof of her very existence. The proof that you should not anger a curse.

Sukuna held her as they went back to their temple. For once, he spared her of his snide comment. He doesn’t complain as she wets his kimono with her tears. His four arms encircle her form protectively. She might have been foolish but she was his. And the gods forbid, Sukuna took care of everything which was his. Even if they annoy him by forcing him to eat sweets, even if she would hug him without the fear that he would snap and kill her in an instant. Sukuna might not understand the concept of love, as a human, he loved no one but himself. But as a curse, he knew that he loved her as he let her sit comfortably in his lap. He knew he loved her when he let her make a home in his temple. She knew Sukuna loved her when he held her tight and never let go.

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates!

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

Text

The wolves all go out of there way to bring home a few books every winter. Just whatever they can find and fit in their bags. They won't ever be able to replace the library they lost during the sacking but the slowly growing collection does give then something else to do during the long winter nights.

It also becomes a bit of a competition- as it always does between them - to bring the best book, the book with the most interesting story of how they acquired it, and the most Valuable book (the definition of which changes every year).

Lambert makes it his goal every year to bring the most indecent romance novels he can. I'm talking novels labeled Erotic. I'm talking Porn with just enough plot to get published. Sometimes the others will try to one up him by bringing something even steamier. No one has ever beaten Lambert though.

Much to Vesemir horror the new library is a majority erotic novels (which they do try to hide from Ciri when she arrives).

One year Lambert brings home a story about a wandering knight and his faithful squire. He likes to read excepts to the wolves to get back at them for insulting his cooking, ripping the fancy blanket he won last year, beating him at qwent. Any opportunity really.

And the first few chapters are them going to brothels and wooing ladies. the standard stuff.

But then. Then they start sharing beds and brothels and the other partners just. fall away and they're Only with each other.

Lambert LOVES reading this to Geralt especially cause it can Actually make Geralt blush and run from the room. He's NEVER managed that with Geralt. Fuck YEAH.

And Geralts Dying. Because he recognized the prose during the First Chapter. and the pen name the writer used.

Dandelion.

Jaskier had written a gay romance novel about the two of them. Chocked full of the squires effusive praise for the ‘knight’.

And then one day Lambert stops reading it. Seems even shorter than normal with everyone.

"Lambert you wanna stop being a prick and read your dumb gay romance novel to us? Promise to only throw food at you this time." Eskel said.

"No. that was a shitty Fucking book and I hate it."

"Oh did the gays die again? Lambert you know they won't get published if they have a happy ending. Just rip the last pages out like always."

"No! The knight went and rode off into he Fucking sunset with that damn princess! Left the squire behind without a Fucking word!!!! I hate that Fucking knight and wanna rip his Fucking dick off!"

"Oh. Huh. Well they didn't die for once. happy ending."

"It's not a happy ending Eskel how -

"The knight and the princess were Fated to be together Lambert! all the foreshadowing was there!"

"The princess treated him like a moron! The squire Actually knew him and cared about him!"

"The squire caused him nothing but problems Lambert! Of Course he went with the princess who loved him and could give him the peaceful life he craved! Not every damn bi man has to end up with the guy Lambert!"

Eskel and Lambert continued their Screaming match. Vesemir appear to be regretting his every life decision. Ciri popped in the earplugs and continued reading her book. Geralt stared into his ale, frozen.

"What happens to the squire Lambert?" Geralt asked his drink quietly.

"THATS THE WORST PART. HE SMILES AND SENDS THEM OFF. LIKE HE ALWAYS KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN AND WAS HAPPY FOR THEM. AND YOU CAN JUST TELL HOW HEARTBROKEN THE MOTHERFUCKER IS AND WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY WITH THAT."

"This is why we told you not to bring gay novels Lambert. You always get upset with how they end."

"It's not Fucking fair."

Geralt’s chair screeches against the stone as he stands up - an oddity since they all Hate that noise and actively avoid making it.

"Where are you going?" Eskel questioned as he stroad to the door.

"I need to talk to Jaskier."

"And how do you intend to do that? Gonna ride down the mountain in a Fucking blizzard Geralt?"

"I." The door slammed closed behind him.

"Should." Ciri started. "One of us check on him?"

"No." They all said in unison.

(They did all at some point check on him)

Ciri was first. with a timid and then assertive knock on his door before she entered. Crawling into his arms and burrowing into his chest.

"We can go find him as soon as the snow melts. Okay?"

"I don't think he'd be very excited to see me." He mourned tucking her closer and burying his nose in her hair.

"It's Jaskier." She said simply about a man she only knew from their stories. "He's always excited to see you."

"You going to Brood all winter or do you actually want to figure out how to apologize wolf?" Eskel asked dragging him to the courtyard for a spar.

"There's nothing I can do. He'll never forgive me."

"Oh like he'd Never forgive you for the Djinn? Or for ripping his favorite doublet? Or telling him his singing sucked?" Eskel landed a hard jab. "And what happened every one of those times he'd Never forgive you?"

"That's different." He said returning the blow.

"Uh huh. Guess we'd better make sure you've got a damn good apology ready then?" Eskel smiled easily like he knew the punchline to a very funny joke. "Tell me what happened."

So he did.

Vesemir eased into the spring water across from him with a groan. He wondered how long he had before Vesemir started making fun of how long he spent in the bath again. Longer than if it was Eskel or Lambert at least.

They sat there and a question curdled in his belly until it forced its way out.

"How are we supposed to not get attached?"

"I think we're well past that point lad."

"But How? I can't. All these years and I still can't." He buried his head in his hands so he couldn't see how he'd failed Vesemir yet again.

"If I knew I'd tell you Geralt." Vesemir said, exhausted.

He glanced up and was Viscerally reminded how much Vesemir had lost over the long centuries of his life.

How he'd seen the school founded and fall. How he'd known every child who'd walked these halls and died in them.

How he knew exactly how many had died in the raid.

He remembered how Vesemir had fallen to pieces when the last Witcher he'd ever teach, Leo, had died.

And he remembered how Vesemir put himself back together for them.

"I can't. I can't Vesemir." If Ciri or Eksel or Lambert or Vesemir or Jaskier died. "I'm not as strong as you. I Can't."

"You will. You are." Vesemir squeezed his shoulder as he stood. "Make it worth the loss Geralt."

He sunk into the hot water and wondered how it could be.

He was half asleep when the door Slammed open and only had half a second before Lambert was cannon-balling into his chest.

"FIXED IT!"

He breathed through the pain. "Fix my ribs ass."

"You're fine whiny old man." Lambert shoved a book under his nose. the scent of barely dried ink filling his nostrils. "Read it!"

"Just tell me what happened. I'm not reading your handwriting in the dark." He said shoving it back.

"It's better than yours!" It wasn't. "The knight gets his head out of his ass and tells the squire he loves him and they go on countless more adventures." he puffed up proudly.

"And the princess? what happens to her?"

Lambert scowled at him. "Who gives a fuck about the princess?"

‘I do.’ He thought. "The knight does." He said.

"Ugh. uh. she meets another princess and they go ride off into there own sunset. okay? Happy you ungrateful prick?"

He smiled in a way that made Lambert gag. "I think that's a much better ending Lambert."

"Of course it is!" He preened from atop Geralt. Toes digging into his abdomen painfully.

"Now get out of my room or I'll throw you into the snow bank Lambert."

Lambert tried to call him on the threat so he made to make good on it. Lambert dashed from the room with a crass gesture.

That did sound like a better ending. He gripped his medallion and hoped that in the spring they'd get that ending.

An ending that lead into a very very happy beginning of something new.

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