#nothing better for the ego than to compare new art to old art and look at what weve changed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serenadeonacanoe · 3 years

Text

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

#namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #artist!namjoon

84 notes · View notes

crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

Photo

Got good old Albedo next on the list for redesign and rewrite, and oh boy do I have a lot instore in how I ended up writing this character. There's just a lot to do with the idea of him, and I happened to pick a pretty depressing route, but I think it works in the end. Vilgax will be done next, though I'll be a little busy for the next two weeks so not much art will be done in a while, then eventually Rook and Rayona. But, onto the rewrite for Albedo!

-Albedo-

Albedo's background is...something. When he was growing up, he exceled in many of his classes, projects, and many even theorized that he could have potentially become the next First Thinker if Azmuth hadn't come back. Because of this, Albedo grew up with nonstop praise, parents that would brag about him, and people building up this idea of him having a grand future. So, as you can expect, he became arrogant, prideful, and due to issues in Galvan culture, did look down on those lesser, mostly other species in the galaxy. When Azmuth arrived back and was giving the role of First Thinker, Albedo wasn't too bothered by it, either believing he would get it one day, or find something better for him, but he felt honored when Azmuth took notice of him, and suggested that Albedo be one of his assistances, and even apprentice. Albedo agreed, wanting nothing but the best of the best, and having Azmuth as his teacher would surely benefit him quite a bit.

But that's when his prideful fantasy began the start of it's downfall, those little cracks showing up. Azmuth was by no means cruel, but he wasn't one to give blinding praise, knowing criticism was good to shape a young ego, something he had also been doing with Ben at the time. What he didn't realize was that, because Albedo had been nothing but praised his entirely life, he didn't know how to handle criticism, especially since Azmuth does have a dry sense of humor and can sound harsh when he means well. It started making the young Galvan insecure, because he had to be the best, he had to be perfect, that's what everyone else said, so why did Azmuth see it differently. Did Azmuth not think he was good enough?...Of course, that wasn't true at all, and Azmuth saw a lot of potential in Albedo, but will admit he missed many signs of what kind of mental state his young friend was in.

It didn't help when it came to Albedo's behavior towards three other people Azmuth worked with, that being Ben, Myaxx and Eunice. Not only did he look down on them for not being Galvan, but he just couldn't understand what Azmuth saw in all of them. He saw Myaxx as loud, rude, and would never admit she was smarter than he gave credit for. Eunice, who is Azmuth's bodyguard Galvanic Metamorph, felt a little too free for his taste, since while she did do her job, Azmuth let her mostly do what she wanted, far too chipper for Albedo's taste. And then there was Ben...the most baffling out of the three. He was nothing but a dumb, chaotic, little brat that for some reason Azmuth saw so much potential in, and even had enough faith and trust in Ben to let him handle the Omnitrix. It didn't help that Ben could not only handle Azmuth's criticism and suggestion, but he even dear talk back against the First Thinker and test his judgement, and Azmuth would actually listen or let it slide. Just what exactly did Ben have that he didn't??

Eunice and Myaxx weren't really bothered by Albedo's attitude towards them, and Ben always had a proper comeback to tease Albedo, but Azmuth did tell him to knock it off often. Albedo did bring up his concerns many times, especially about letting Ben run around the watch, and while Azmuth tried to tame his worries, Albedo felt like he wasn't listen...or at the very least Albedo wasn't willing to see from a different view. And yet he still tried, and worked under Azmuth for a few years, even getting involved in the Malware situation which he tried to deal with in his own way, only making it worse though. He will admit he was somewhat happy that Ben stopped wearing the watch sometime after that event, but still annoyed that Azmuth let him keep it just in case.

It finally came to head when Ben put the watch back on and was getting involved with Highbreed stuff. Albedo just couldn't understand the relationship between Azmuth and Ben, especially when Azmuth gave a lot of his time to Ben (Because of the Highbreed issue), and Albedo still felt like he wasn't good enough for Azmuth. So, after trying to understand the whole thing in how he saw it, Albedo pinpointed the idea that it must be the omnitrix that connects all of this, why else would Azmuth care about some kid on earth? If he could prove to Azmuth that he could do just as a good of job as Ben, even better, then Azmuth would finally see him as the worthy Galvan he was...expect, that's not what happened. Albedo found himself trapped in Ben's body, and Azmuth was furious with him for making another watch, and when Azmuth said, for the first time in Albedo's life, he was highly disappointed in him. Something in Albedo finally just snapped.

Azmuth said he would help turn Albedo back to normal if he gave him back the copy watch, and to get help for this problematic state he was in, but Albedo refused. He now jumped to the idea that Ben and Azmuth were the route to all his problems, and that he was going to prove that his way of life and thinking was better than whatever Azmuth could come up with, even wanting to prove he could fix this human body issue he had going on his own. Azmuth will admit, he was surprised from this outburst, and is somewhat upset with himself that he didn't notice sooner to help...But for now, he ask that Ben keep an eye out for Albedo and make sure he doesn't do anything to harmful to him or anyone else, which Ben agreed to, feeling bad for Albedo and the obvious effect on how blind praise for years ended up hurting him in the end.

Now Albedo runs loose, crafting plan after plan after plan to prove he's better than Ben or Azmuth, as if trying to convince them he's worthy of something...or perhaps, to convince himself...

Notes:

Because Azmuth still feels responsible for Albedo, he does send him supply packs of food, water, medicine, blankets and anything else he might need when he can. Ben also pitches in, by getting Albedo things human teenagers need that Albedo isn't too well versed in, and even gets him his clothes since they're both the same size. Albedo often tells them both to bugger off...but does even up using their gifts since he doesn't have the money to buy his own things.

Albedo is an albino Galvan, and all the aliens he turns into are albino too, or at least the equivalent for certain species.

After he fled, Azmuth had returned home to info others what happened, and Albedo's parents kind of...disowned him after that, though they weren't the best parents anyway, only really enjoying the fame their son brought for them originally. Azmuth did give them a good talking to about his disguised he was of them.

Albedo isn't sure why he enjoys chillfries so much, since Ben admits he takes it to a whole other level. Maybe a glitch in the watch, maybe because it was cheap to get, maybe a part of him that he denies kind of likes some of the food not from home...

Azmuth knows he can't force Albedo to accept his help, as that would just make things worse, so he said he will always offer the chance to turn him back to normal, but Albedo has to be the one to take that help, and to still hand over the watch and perhaps get some therapy too. But he keeps rejecting this, saying he doesn't need Azmuth's help.

The moment that actually starts to make Albedo doubt himself in what he's trying to do was when Vilgax out tricked him and betrayed him at the end of Alien Force. Something about it was different compared to when Ben and his crew would win against him...Perhaps because of the idea that another alien race could do something he could not...But he wouldn't admit that...

Albedo does get involved during the Malware arc, due to his previous connections to it and Azmuth, making him a target for Malware. Begrudgingly, he does ask for Ben and Azmuth's help in that to stay safe...

Despite hoping Albedo would come back, Azmuth did eventually have to get a new assistance, another Galvan by the name of Abacas, who Albedo is aware about, and hates that his spot has been replaced, even if he was the one who up and left.

He does not get enough sleep, thus the bags under his eyes.

Since Galvans are insectivores. Albedo does still eat bugs as a human, mostly out of habit.

Is really bad at understanding humor.

#I did not mean to make this kind of depressing #But I thought it was a good way to explain his character and not make it just Ben and Azmuth being dicks to him #Also adds the interesting elements of making a villain who's own worst enemy is himself #Ben 10 #B10 #Ben 10 Albedo #Albedo #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 original series #Ben 10 Azmuth #Ben 10 Ben Tennyson #ben 10 redesign #Ben 10 rewrite #My Art

108 notes · View notes

fresh-prince-of-denmark · 3 years

Text

New Dawn Fades — Literary References Analysis Part 4: The Id, the Ego, the Superego

Cyberpunk Spoiler Warning

Here’s part four of me going through all the endings and looking for the literary references in each of the endings, which I believe allude to what happens to V/Johnny, possibly in future DLC. If you haven’t read my other posts, you should read them here (Johnny’s Mikoshi poem, V’s Mikoshi Poem, The Star ending) first since we’re gonna loop back to them later.

New Dawn Fades was such a pain in the ass; because Johnny is such an art hoe, I found three different poems/stories scattered around. Not only that, but two of them are translated from Polish, and one of them us from Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. I studied English literature so…forgive me if this is super surface-level. Also, stuff gets lost in translation, so the original meaning sometimes gets lost. If Polish literature is anyones niche, please teach me a thing two, but all I can do now is my best! But from what I could tell, damn…paints a pretty depressing picture. Let’s start with the two Polish writers first:

Bolesław Leśmian, "Why so many candles...”

Why so many candles, these faces above me?

No more harm shall ever meet my body.

Everyone is standing - while here alone I lie -

Grieving, feigning. One must be true when one must die.

And so, buried under these wreathes of leaves, I lie -

Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.

Death, gone silent, once again rushes to my head,

Though by now I know all my comprehension is dead.

How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.

This one is…yikes. Depressing. As I talked about in previous posts, V’s poem is more pessimistic: nothing we do matters, we’re all just dust in the wind, you know, the good stuff. Johnny’s poem has a very different stance; art makes us immortal, and we can change the world, etc. With this…Johnny seems to have given his larger-than-life attitude up in favor of V’s resignation that life sucks. Much like Prufrock in V’s poem, Johnny is lying “Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.” Almost as if he didn’t want V’s body, not as a selfless gesture…but because he has grown accustom to his previous form. In Johnny’s version of Alt’s poem, it almost seems as if he embraces being a construct — the form of immortality it, and his legacy, grants him (remember all that hokey about being a golden bird to sing his message to the youth?). Blackwall was a kind of death Johnny knew — yet now:

“How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.”

Interesting. We never find out where Johnny is going when he leaves Night City, but it makes me wonder. Is he truly starting anew? Or hoping to fix what went wrong?

In the next room, we find another poem, this one an excerpt from Labyrinth by Wisława Szymborska:

So this way or that,

Or no, the other,

By ear or by your gut,

By your wits or by shortcut,

By any means necessary,

Cutting crooked corners.

Past whatever row in a row

Of corridors and gates,

Quickly, in the meantime

Your time grows short,

From one place to another

To one of many still open,

Of darkness and plight

But also delight, held just ajar,

Where there's joy, though sorrow

Lies well-nigh nearby,

And elsewhere, somewhere,

Wheresoever and whereabout,

Fortune in misfortune

Like a parenthetical parenthesis

Acceptance of it all

And suddenly - a fall

I’m a little shaky on the meaning behind this one. My immediate response is to compare it to the poem found in The Star — which contains a piece from The Marriage Between Heaven and Hell by William Blake. The overarching use of this poem, by my interpretation, is an explanation for what the Blackwall is: hell. But not hell how most would perceive it. In fact, according to Blake, hell isn’t so bad. Our views of heaven and hell, good and evil, are wrong. Everyone contains both good and bad within them, and neither is wrong, simply two opposites; between conformity and rebellion, art and obedience. If we were to look at it this way, V would most likely belong in “Heaven,” the world of the obedient, those who play by the worlds rules (at least, in the beginning of the story, before Johnny influences them toward the rebel path), while Johnny represents “Evil,” and would belong to Hell. In some dialogue choices, Johnny will even state that he no longer believes he is a human, and is in fact code, no longer belonging in the world of the living. In this scenario, both have found themselves where they don’t belong. Not only that — but one is supposed to be a healthy mix of so-called “Good” and “Evil.” The “Soul,” and “Body,” are one, not meant to be separated. Uh oh. The tone of this poem in Johnny’s context just seems so…lost, to me. Someone who found their other half, their perfect foil, a soul and body as one…and now it’s gone. What does one do after such a loss?

And finally, the most grim of the three stories: Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. Specifically, Book III, Narcissus and Echo. This one most likely has the greatest significance; not only is it a shard you can pick up, but an open copy of the book can be found in Johnny’s hotel room, drawing further attention to it.

If you haven’t read it, let me give you a quick and dirty summary:

At the beginning of the story, Narcissus’ mother, Liriope, asks the prophet Tiresias if her son will live to see old age, which he replies “only if he does not know himself.” One day when Narcissus is 16, he is out hunting when he finds a mountain Nymph named Echo. Echo, as one might guess, was cursed by Hera and can only repeat what is said back to her. You know. Like an echo. Echo falls in love with Narcissus at first sight and follows him throughout the forest, waiting for him to speak so she can communicate with him. Narcissus eventually gets separated from his hunting group, and calls out for them, which Echo…well, echos. Eventually Echo reveals herself and Narcissus freaks out, telling her basically he’d rather die than be with her. She hides in a cave and pines until she whithers away from hunger, and only her voice remains.

Many other nymphs fall for Narcissus because apparently he’s a straight up snack, but he rejects all of them. Apparently someone gets so salty about it, they summon the Goddess of Vengeance to do something about it. She leads him to a crystal clear pool, in which he is able to see his reflection. Remember the thing about knowing oneself? Yeah…At first, Narcissus thinks the reflection is a different person and falls in love. He smiles, the reflection smiles, so it must like him back, right? Eventually he reaches to touch it, and realizes that it’s him. He freaks out, and much like Echo, stays by his reflections side until he withers away. Having a total meltdown, he cries out “Alas!” which is echoed, by well, Echo. Her voice lived on, and she watches him die as he calls “Farewell, dear boy. Beloved in vain.” Once again, Echo repeats this. Narcissus dies and all the thirsty hoes make a pyre to burn him, but when they go looking for him they find the Narcissus (flower) instead (nooo...dont transform into a flower, you’re so sexy ahaha).

So what does this mean for Johnny/V? Well, two main things pop out to me: transformation, and reflections. Much like Echo and Narcissus are reflections of each other, V and Johnny reflect each other. As @ellitira pointed out in my analysis of the Star, V and Johnny constantly reflect each other. One of the most obvious ways is their literal reflection; if you look in a mirror during a relic malfunction, you’ll see Johnny, not V. But scenes are reflected as well; the first and last time V meets Johnny, they grab him by the shoulder from behind to get his attention as he turn to face them. The first time Johnny and V have a civil conversation, they’re sitting at a table in Tom’s Diner, Johnny’s foot on the table. This mimics their conversation in Mikoshi with Alt. Their conversation about taking a bullet for one another in the Pista Sofia where Johnny is sitting backwards on a chair while V is on the ground is also repeated moments later, as Johnny and V have their final conversation about who will stay and who will go with Alt. Johnny also mentions that he spent his first few weeks in NC laying in bed, staring at the ceiling fan. When he awakens in New Dawn Fades, what is he doing? Staring at the ceiling fan…in Pacifica, not far from the Pista Sofia. The boy who he gives the guitar to is even wearing V’s “favorite shirt”…the one we see them wearing in the first scene they’re introduced. There’s probably loads more, so feel free to share if you find any more. If you want to know more about why this is significant, make sure to read about V’s version of Alt’s poem.

So why do these reflections/echos matter? Well, what does one do with a reflection? Reflect. Johnny begins to examine himself through V, and he begins to realize he doesn’t like what he sees. If V calls him the man who saved her life, he’ll respond with “you have no idea how badly I want that to be true.” He tries his best to right his wrong only after this conversation with V, not only in Burning Love and Chippin’ In, but in other ways too. For example, it’s Johnny’s idea to call V’s loved ones to say goodbye on the roof scene, because “he wished that he had had a chance to.” Because of V, he grows, changes, and becomes a better person, just as much if not more as he seems to change V. As he leaves V’s grave, he even states that he has changed; that he’s wiser now, and won’t make the same mistakes. He states he won’t dwell on what happened, but somehow I doubt that, considering everything above.

The other theme of Narcissus and Echo is of transformation; after all, metamorphosis actually means "to change or transform.” Echo becomes, well, and echo, and Narcissus becomes a flower. V and Johnny also transform; not only physically between engram and human, but they transform one another. Both of them fall in love, and neither will move on. Echo falls in love with Narcissus, and Narcissus falls in love with his reflection. Because they refuse to transform the way they feel, they must die and transform physically. So who represents who in this scenario? In a way, Johnny is both. Johnny is a bit, well, narcissistic. He’s self-absorbed in his flashbacks, and adored by countless fans, yet ignores them in favor of his own company. He thinks everything is about him (Alt’s death, Samurai, etc.) and is willing to die for his beliefs. He is also constantly reflecting on himself through V. However, what really kills him is losing Alt; she tells him not to follow her (much like Narcissus tells Echo to leave him alone). He does anyway, and avenging her leads to his demise.

What’s especially sad about this is the way Johnny views transformation; he is very concerned with the idea of one’s individual identity, and hates the idea of turning into something you’re not. He despises that he’s going to turn V into himself by force. He hates dolls because he sees their behavior chip as something that changes them into something they’re not. He’s scared of V going to Blackwall not because it’s death, but because they “won’t be the same.” I don’t think Johnny ever wanted V’s body; again, not as a courtesy, but because it’s not him. After all, he could have just let nature take its course and let himself re-write their psyche, but instead he actively tries to save them as best he can. If V chooses to let him have their body, he hardly seems happy about it; especially compared to how happy he seems to see that part of him will live on in the way V refuses to give up should they choose to live on. By taking V’s body, he is no longer himself; rebel, rocker-boy, legend, and the guy who promised to save V’s life. Johnny in A New Dawn has lost his entire sense of self, his entire new and improved identity; one that learned from his mistakes and became a better person because of V. Johnny has The Tower tattooed on his arm, the card of (often painful) transformation and change. Yet this is what Johnny is most afraid of; not death, or even the not-so-bad sort-of hell that is Blackwall. He’s afraid of losing himself, and by losing V, he has lost a part of himself. The part of himself that was supposed to be a better person; who was supposed to save V’s life.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk 2077 v #cyberpunk spoilers #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #new dawn fades #my posts

65 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

would you ever write a drabble for the MEKA squad? Happy holidays!

Tfw you really want to give Overlord they/them pronouns (because nonbinary characters aren’t just robots, Blizzard!!) but the Wiki is he/him, so you’re like “Okay he’s he/they.”

...this originally started out as a one-off gag and then mutated into this. Have fun.

------

It had been a long day of being slumped behind desks while government officials bickered through translators for the Meka squad. They were in Russia for what was supposed to be a “Joint Defense” conference discussing the applications of sharing Meka and Volskaya technology to better defend against the Gwishin and the Siberian Omnium, but communication had quickly broken down. Russia, it turned out, didn’t take too well to Korea granting citizenship to Omnics with only a handful of the EU restrictions (”and not even the UK restrictions!” one politician had blustered.) The Meka squad itself had been scoffed off as “celebrities” and “mascots” and so the day was ending with D.Va, D.Mon, and Casino standing around the hotel lobby. D.Va was scrolling through her phone next to a roaring fireplace while D.Mon stooped over her shoulder, and Casino leaning against the hotel bar, examining some vodka in a shot glass and ready to pretend it definitely tasted like something other than burning to impress the cute bartender. The three of them perked up at the sound of the lobby elevator dinging and Casino knocked back his drink and suppressed a wince as a blue-clad figure waddled out of the elevator and into the lobby.

“Woah,” D.Mon blinked a few times as she and D.Va walked over.

“What--woah,” said Casino, still blinking a few times through the vodka still burning the back of his throat.

“What?!” muffled the waddling shape in blue.

“Is...uh... that really you under there, Seung-hwa?” D.Va tilted her head, trying to hold in snickers.

“I have a low cold tolerance,” Overlord’s voice was muffled through their scarf. He was a veritable sausage of a long puffer jacket, and apparently heavily layered even under that by the way his arms were spread away from his torso, and clumsily thudding around in heavy boots. A fur-lined trapper hat virtually swallowed their head and nearly all of their face was covered by a scarf.

“You’re T-Posing,” said D.Va.

“I’m not T-posing!” muffled Overlord indignantly

“...I wanna try something,” said Casino, stepping forward.

“Don’t be mean,” said D.Mon, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not,” said Casino.

“What are you doi--” Overlord started but Casino put his hands on the outsides of Overlord’s arms and pressed down, trying to push Overlord’s arms to the sides of their torso. Casino pulled his hands away and Overlord’s arms sprang back to their previous spread position. Casino snorted.

“Ooh! Let me try!” said D.Va, quickly walking up and pressing Overlord’s arms down to their side as well and letting them spring back into place.

“Okay that’s enough--” said D.Mon.

“We should get some selfies in--!” said D.Va.

“Can we just get going?!” said Overlord.

“Can you walk?” said Casino, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes I can walk,” said Overlord.

-----

“Waddled” was a closer word for it.

“...are they still behind us?” said D.Va as she, D.Mon and Casino walked down the sidewalk.

Casino gave a glance back to Overlord practically duckwalking, their arms bouncing slightly at their sides since it apparently took physical effort to move them from their positions in a normal walking manner.

“He’s still behind us,” said Casino, smirking slightly, “Kind of reminds you of those penguin documentaries, March of the Mek--” He got elbowed by D.Mon.

Admittedly as they walked through the streets, all three of them had flashes of jealousy towards Overlord for being so bundled up. Russia had a cold that sank deep past the skin and made them starkly aware of every injury they had ever received in the Meka program, feeling old fissures in bones. It was past Christmas but not yet New Year’s, and lights and decorations still hung on some buildings. The city was a hodgepodge between stately old pre-crisis buildings, more modern skyscrapers, and several massive industrial-looking defense bases armed with massive long-range anti-aircraft turrets. The massive Svyatogors stood sentry at the city’s borders, surveying the city and beyond it with a sort of lumbering casualness that made you believe they were simply fully living giants rather than piloted mechs. D.Va watched as one turned its head slowly.

“...kind of glad the deal fell through,” muttered Casino, following her line of sight, “Can you imagine those ugly things in Busan? Gross.”

“...I could see myself piloting one,” said D.Mon.

“You would,” said Casino.

It wasn’t too long of a walk from their hotel to the park, and King was waiting for them at the wrought iron gate marking its entrance. He was scrolling through his phone while backlit by the blue, white, green, and pink lights being diffracted through the massive ice sculptures dotting the park behind him. The park was noticeably more crowded than the streets, a mix of locals on dates and tourists admiring the ice sculptures.

“What took you guys--” King started but then glanced at Overlord plodding along behind them, “Nice coat.”

“Thanks,” muffled Overlord.

Despite the crowds, the Meka squad’s walk through the park was quiet, pausing to look at different ice sculptures, getting hot smoky tea with a hint of orange peel from a little kiosk. Aside from Casino, who was only wearing earmuffs over his sleeked-back white hair, the five of them pretty much blended into the crowd. The subject matter of the ice sculptures ranged from whimsical and natural forms such as narwhals and giant flowers with real petals and blossoms suspended frozen inside them, to more technically impressive architectural forms of famous buildings from around the world and reproductions of classical sculptures, to a large collection of propagandistic figures of Svyatogors, fresco reproductions of posters, and Omnic crisis heroes. D.Va paused to see a line had formed next to an ice sculpture of a heroically flexing Aleksandra Zaryanova, glowing in pink, with tourists and locals alike eagerly posing and flexing next to it.

“...maybe you’d get a statue if the deal hadn’t fallen through,” D.Mon spoke next to her.

D.Va huffed. “I don’t know if that’s what I want people to remember me for,” she said quietly.

“Mm, yeah saving the city multiple times is nothing compared to the rush of gaming tournaments,” D.Mon said teasingly.

“...gaming tournaments mean everyone’s safe,” said D.Va and the teasing expression on D.Mon’s face was wiped away. Wordlessly, D.Mon slipped her arm through the crook of D.Va’s elbow and pulled her close.

“I know they’re wrong, here,” D.Va went on, “I know the omnics who live in Busan aren’t like the Gwishin--they aren’t the same---but what if the Gwishin finds a way to control them, somehow? There was that incident in Giza...” she shook her head, “But then I feel like a big jerk for thinking that! Like that’s not fair!”

D.Mon just leaned her cheek on the top of D.Va’s head. “I wish I could say there’s an easy answer for it. Most of the time I just worry about flying and keeping the team alive and let everyone else sort that junk out.”

“...we saw how they sort it out,” muttered D.Va, “They don’t. One side wants to put them all in a trash compacter and the other side wants to treat them like people so it all gets broken down country by country, but no matter what we’re all scared. And--I remember being a kid--and my dad taking me down to the basement when the air sirens went off, and giving me his old Fujita-Via with his pirated Starcraft port, and his noise canceling headphones that were too big for me, but I could still feel the house shaking--”

“Hana--” D.Mon squeezed her arm slightly.

But if I kept playing... it felt further away,” said D.Va, “Playing used to make it feel further away.”

“...and now we play to keep them away,” said D.Mon, quietly, “...you’re not alone, you know,” she added.

“I know I’m not--” D.Va started.

“But you’re not the only one who’s gone through stuff like that--that’s literally why we’re all here,” said D.Mon.

D.Va blinked a few times.

“I’ve been talking to Dae-hyun,” said D.Mon and D.Va gave an exasperated huff, but D.Mon pushed further, “He’s worried, too. That night when you overclocked your reactor---”

“I had it handled!” D.Va said quickly, before catching herself, “We--we had it handled. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without--”

“Without Dae-hyun,” said D.Mon, “And I know it’s different with him, there’s no stupid pro-gamer egos, he’s not in the field like we are---But... is it that unfair of me to ask you to trust us like you trust him?”

D.Va glanced down.

D.Mon pressed her lips against D.Va’s snowflake-flecked hair, more of a nuzzle than a kiss, before gently pulling her along to the next ice sculpture. “At least hang out with us more. We have pit crews, you don’t have to keep pulling late nights tweaking Tokki.”

“Yeah, but I’m--”

“Picky,” D.Mon smiled, smoothing snowflakes away from D.Va’s hair with a smirk, “I know.”

D.Va sighed and leaned against D.Mon, “...I’ll try,” she said, quietly, then thought for a second, “I’ll make it a New Year’s resolution! Hang out with you guys more! Get away from the garage...”

They were making their way to an art nouveau-looking sculpture of a woman holding a pouring out swirling water when their comms buzzed. D.mon pulled her comm from her pocket.

“Guys, we need to regroup,” Casino said on the other end.

“What’s going on?” said D.Mon, “Call from headquarters or--?”

“Casino lost Overlord and we accidentally kidnapped a small Russian lesbian,” King’s voice sounded flatly on the other line.

“You lost Overlord too!” Casino argued.

“What--” D.Mon stammered, “How did you--”

“Just meet us back at the narwhal,” said Casino, before clicking out of the call.

D.Va and D.Mon exchanged glances.

“We don’t have to--” D.Mon started.

“Yes we do,” said D.Va, squeezing D.Mon’s arm and dragging her through the crowd. The narwhal sculpture was back towards the front of the park, and the crowds made it slow going, but they were able to find Casino, King, and what looked like Overlord’s heavily-layered t-posing figure next to them.

“What do you mean you lost Overlord?” said D.Mon, “They’re right--”

The figure, with some effort given the thick layers of their clothes, took off their trapper hat to shake off a shaggy asymmetrical bob and pulled down their scarf to reveal a convex nose.

“Not Overlord,” said D.Va.

The girl with the shaggy bob said something in Russian and pointed at Casino.

“We got into a really dense crowd back at the svyatogor sculpture,” said King, “My audio translator app says she thought Casino was her girlfriend from behind.”

“It’s mistranslating ‘girlfriend,’” said Casino, flatly.

“It’s really not,” said King.

“...which means Overlord must be following someone he thought was Casino!” said D.Va.

“Stunning powers of deduction,” said King, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, where was the last place you saw your girlfriend before?” said Casino, looking at the girl.

King rapidly tapped something into his phone. “G’dyeh te pahsled--” he started reading before going, “Fuck it--” and hit a button on his comm. The phone fired off a phrase in Russian and the girl shrugged. She paused, then said something questioning in Russian and pointed at D.Va.

“Can you say that again?” said King holding his phone up to her.

The girl repeated her question more slowly and the phone translated the phrase, “Is that D.Va, from the holos?”

“...uh...” D.Mon seemed hesitant to reveal their identities after such comfortable anonymity but D.Va cut in.

“Yes, I’m D.Va, do you know where our friend is?” she said, and the phone translated for her.

The girl almost squealed but managed to control herself and cleared her throat. “Big fan,” she managed in thickly accented english, gesturing at herself.

“Look just text Overlord and we’ll get this mess cleared up,” said D.Mon, looking at King.

“We’ve been texting them. No answer. I don’t think they can feel the comm buzzing through that coat,” said Casino.

“Look, I’m sure he’s already figured it out and is on his way back to us,” said D.Mon, “Overlord pilots the most complex mech out of all of us, he can control the movements of 27 airborne mini-drones simultaneously, I’m pretty sure he would notice pretty quickly if he was following some Russian chick and not Casino.”

All of their phones buzzed at once and they flipped them open to see their groupchat.

0verl0rd: HELP.

0verl0rd: ON A TRAIN.

0verl0rd: RUSSIAN LADY WASN’T CASINO.

0verl0rd: DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING.

DeeVaaaaaa: WHY ARE YOU ON A TRAIN!?

K1ng_Soo: Literally when did we say we would get on a train.

0verl0rd: I DON’T KNOW I WAS JUST ROLLING WITH IT.

0verl0rd: NOT CASINO LADY IS YELLING AT ME IN RUSSIAN NOW.

Casi_no: How did you not notice they were speaking Russian before?

0verl0rd: THIS HAT IS REALLY THICK AND IT WAS HARD ENOUGH KEEPING UP.

Yuna-Mon: Okay just stay calm and stay where you are.

Overlord: AGAIN I’M ON A TRAIN.

The Meka squad glanced up from the group chat and looked at Overlord’s thick-coat look-alike, whose phone suddenly buzzed. Through the thickness of her own coat it took her some effort to pull it out and answer it. They watched as she argued in Russian for several minutes, then turned to talking very quickly in Russian for another, minute, then laughing, then she gave a glance to the Meka squad, cupped a mittened hand over her mouth and spoke into the phone a bit more quietly and excitedly, before apparently reaching a satisfying conclusion, peppering in what sounded like a dozen pet names, and then ended the call. She gestured at King to hold his phone up to her and spoke Russian into his translator app.

“My Nadenka and your friend are heading to Vasily’s--our usual spot in Dumskaya,” the translator app’s automated voice made her easy tone sound much more halting, “You can pick him up there. Maybe grab drinks, yes? Big Meka fans! We love D.Va!”

King was apparently feverishly web-searching Dumskaya but D.Va said, “Great! Lead the way!”

The girl patted her mitten against her thick coat, “Uliana,” she said,

“...Hana,” said D.Va.

The girl made another high-pitched sound but caught herself, cleared her throat, and managed to get control of herself again. “Come on!” she said, waving them across the park. D.Va and Casino followed, but King and D.Mon hung back, slightly.

“Sounds like a recipe to wake up in a bathtub full of ice,” muttered King under his breath.

“I’m sure they don’t need ice with all this snow,” said D.Mon with a slight smirk. “It’s going to be fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well I guess there will be a messy international incident concerning the ransoming and eventual brutal murders of Korea’s primary anti-Gwishin defense force, is that the conclusion you want me to jump to?” said D.Mon.

King opened his mouth, then furrowed his brow and readjusted his glasses.

“We grab Overlord and get out,” he said firmly.

“Mm-hmm,” D.Mon nodded her head.

-----

Vasily’s was a dive bar but it wasn’t a dive bar. It was warmly lit, had a handful of floral-patterned Slavic tchotchkes, some granny-chic doilies that suggested the place served lunch and tea, and a long garland of fake pine dotted with pink ornaments trailing along the wall. There was definitely a lived-in feeling to the place, but it was offset by an almost persnickety cleanliness. As King pushed the door open, he readjusted his glasses, finding the bar brighter than expected. It was virtually empty, but Overlord was sitting at the bar, having shed his thick coat with the trapper hat in his lap. He was apparently gesturing with several overturned shot glasses on the bar counter and talking to... Casino?

King gave a quick glance to Casino, who was still standing next to him, then glance back at Overlord and his bleach-blonde companion and snorted as she turned her head.

“She does look like you from behind,” he said to Casino.

“Shut up,” said Casino.

“Nadenka!” Uliana called out and then excitedly pointed at D.Va before unzipping her own thick puffer coat and hurrying over for a pecking cheek kiss from Nadenka.

“Sorry for mix-up, Meka Squad,” Nadenka looked over at the four of them.

“You speak english?” said King.

Nadenka made an ‘eeehhhh’ gesture with her hand, “Not very good,” she said with a shrug, and then elbowed Uliana, “Better than this one, though. She didn’t tell you?”

“Ah!” Uliana scoffed, “Hey!” She admonished her in Russian but Nadenka just gave her a smug smirk.

“I was telling her about that amphibious gwishin mech back in the fall, remember that?” Overlord swung around on their barstool, eyes bright, “The crawler?”

“Yes, we all remember the crawler,” King said quickly, “Now, we should get back to the hotel, before you wander off after another random woman who looks like Casino from behind--”

“But I’m not finished yet!” said Overlord.

“Is true,” said Nadenka, “I want to hear rest of story. I think little blue guy should be D.Va, yeah?”

Uliana gasped as if her girlfriend had just spoken blasphemy, but Overlord just beamed smugly and D.Va snickered a little.

“...we can stay for the story,” said D.Mon.

“What?” said King, “But--”

“And shots,” said Casino.

“Shots!?” King repeated.

“They got snacks, here?” said D.Va, “Kind of want something salty.”

“Hana--!” King was pressing his fingertips to his forehead but Uliana was already flagging down the exhausted looking bald bartender and feverishly talking to him in Russian. D.Va was able to make out the words ‘D.Va’ and ‘Meka Squad’ in her rapid rant. Within seconds shot glasses and little doily-skirted opened mason jars of pickles were being set out on the bar. “...this isn’t happening,” muttered King, but D.Mon just bumped her shoulder into him.

“Come on,” she said, “Think of it as... ‘regional immersive research for the Meka program’s future collaborative efforts.’“

“...I’m writing all of you up to our CO,” said King flatly before Casino held out a filled shot glass to him and he sullenly took it.

“Is this that glitz and glamour you guys are always heading off to?” said D.Va, pushing herself up onto a barstool.

“It might be,” said D.Mon grinning and taking a barstool next to her, “If you came with us more often.”

“New year’s resolution,” said D.Va, crunching one of the bar pickles.

#meka squad #dvamon

20 notes · View notes

writtenbyvenus · 4 years

Text

What We Do In The Shadows

( Warning, this is in RP format, but has been edited and proof read for grammar/flow. A change between writers with both characters is symbolized by italics. )

Chapter 2: Entering The Wolf’s Den

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they have too much baggage they carry.

Alfred could tell he offended his baby bat. From his body language to ‘Don’t wait up’, his vampire was not pleased with being forced alone and having to wait. It seemed that the vampire had a lot of pride, they were prideful creatures after all. Being told by the wolf ‘Hang by yourself then’ must have hurt his ego, as he reached out to hang out with Ivan in the first place. Smelling the man’s disdain, once he got back into his room, he hoped that Ivan would knock on his door again. But when he didn’t he did pout. Perhaps he was too harsh on his crush. Rethinking his actions, he did wish Ivan would have knocked on his door. He would welcome the man in and enjoyed some light cuddling while he watched dragons breath fire on people. However, it seemed to be that the man was too offended by the idea. Watching the show, he got bored as he wished Ivan was next to him. Thinking for a moment, he came up with an idea to tempt Ivan into his apartment. Standing up, he didn’t bother to pause the show as he went into his room. Grabbing his pencil and sketch pad, he decided to let Ivan see his secret hobby: drawing. His love of anime and cartoons inspired him to take up drawing as a hobby. But he was very embarrassed about it, and would rarely show people his artwork. Even if it was great and matched up well with popular artists on social media, his own anxiety made it a hidden talent. He’d let very few people see his drawings, for him it was about the fun of it. He didn’t need validation for it, it was his hobby. He’d color, sketch, and draw, just for himself. Sitting back on the sofa, he decided to use a more cutesy-anime style. Drawing him and Ivan, he gave Ivan little bunny ears, and wolf ears on himself. Nicknames like ‘bunny’ and ‘ kitten’ were ones he saved for people he found cute.

It was ironic since it was the prey of wolves. He did want to eat up a cute bunny or kitten, but more in a playful manner. Ivan’s foreign accent made him think of a hot blonde he’d see at a ski resort. With the cutesy image of him and the bunny, he made sure to draw him smirking and showing off his canine teeth. Ivan didn’t look scared in the art, only giving the cocky smirk he usually gave Ivan. It was only their heads and torsos, and on the top, he wrote ‘After your sister’s leave, wanna get something to eat?’. It was Alfred’s peace offering. Getting up, he walked to Ivan’s apartment door. Instead of knocking, he simply slipped the art under his door. Ivan would come across it once he was around the area. He didn’t want to disturb the blood-sucking bunny current if he truly had plans. Going back to his room, he continued on his Game of Thrones binge, praying that the vampire would come by later. In terms of a ‘meal’, it could be anything the man wanted. They could go hunting together, Ivan finding some unsuspecting human, and Alfred a lonely deer. Or, more orthodox, actually somewhere to snack. Or just stay in his house and cook something homemade. Whatever the man had a thirst for, blood or food.

Over in his own apartment, Ivan put a sponge to his red-stained mugs, putting his strength into getting the crusted blood left to the bottom. When he turned his heel to load his dishwasher something white caught his eye. He set his dishes in the rack before scanning the floor before his door. Stepping away from the sink, he approached the mysterious note and turned his head to look down upon it. Recognizing the resemblance of his face, his cheeks flushed with red. He bent down and snatched up the paper into his hands. His heart nearly lurched from his chest and onto the freshly spotless floor. He'd have to deal with the recycled blood burning his face for a few more minutes before getting over the gesture. The strange conversation and insight earlier blended oddly with the feeling he had now. Mostly charmed, but slightly uneasy. He found it bold, not unwelcomed, but surprising from Alfred. His finger traced over the leaded indentations as he took a seat at his breakfast nook. It was beyond flattering, a style he hasn't seen before, but charming. He thought of it slightly egotistical to be set next to the man who drew it, but grateful for it. It made it easier on his eyes. Bunny ears. That was a new one for him. Bat wings were a popular addition for scriptures and etchings. He wasn't used to seeing some draw him in a kindly way. Most depictions of him resonated with evil tellings and horrifying accounts of his figure hunched over a decaying body. Town folk never were pleased when he would make an appearance in their streets. It's why moving was a must for him, he needed supplies like everyone else. Curiosity struck him as he wondered how much moving Alfred must have been up to. Being ageless caused too much suspicion. 'My, Avgustin, you don't look a day over twenty-five' were the last words he heard before leaving his old home behind. Sometimes he wishes to grow old.

The little question scribbled down beside the art was one he had to consider thoroughly. One that made his heart stop. He rattled his fingers across the surface of the table and reread the words. 'your sisters' it didn't make any sense to him, he swore up and down that he didn't whisper a word of his relations. Sighing and sliding the paper away from him, he sat quietly to calm his nerves and lay his head down on the table. He did plan on inviting his sisters over and that included sharing his haul of blood, but now all he wanted to do was head next door and talk to Alfred. The warmth clung to him like it usually did, an unbearable heat holding to his face. It would only embarrass him further to give in so easily. He pressed his face into the cool wood and closed his eyes for a moment before leaving it behind. Nothing would give him closure, he wanted to be next to Alfred and that would be the only way to get the werewolf out of his thoughts. Groaning, he began finishing up the rest of his dishes. After flicking on his dishwasher, he took the art and walked it back to his room. He was trying to wait out the lingering warmth to his face and most of it faded, but not all of it would give him that peace. Before he finally left his apartment, he messaged his sibling group that he wouldn't be home. There wasn't much his poor sisters could do if something were to go wrong, but he just didn't want them asking him to death about where he went. Hesitantly, he knocked on Alfred's door and waited. His heart didn't stop racing, he didn't find himself nervous around werewolves very often, but Alfred had that effect on him.

It was good for Alfred’s ego that he wasn’t there to witness Ivan’s reaction to the note. Seeing blushing, flattered Ivan would cause the wolf to grin, and show off his canines in the glory of knowing he charmed the vampire. It would be in Ivan’s best interest to let Alfred enjoy it if he enjoyed the ‘bunny’ persona, as Alfred would happily go with it. A cute nickname for a cute boy, not to mention, Alfred understood the niceness of not being referred to something scary. Alfred was like Ivan in that way, no one knew better than him what it was like to be personified into a godless beast, with nothing charming and cute about it. Being compared to something as harmless and pretty as a bunny was probably emotionally soothing, which was part of the reason Alfred did it. A bunny is adorable, warm, and cozy, the last thing that goes to someone’s head is fear over the animal. Ivan could be Alfred’s harmless, sweet bunny if he wanted too. Even if Alfred drew himself to be a wolf, he was still a childlike puppy in many ways, even with the slight bloodlust that he had. Minus that, he was a silly, carefree man. But the transformation did take some part of his personality and make it more intense. Alfred was lost in his marathon when he could smell Ivan walking down the hallway.

Sniffing the air, a smile popped out when he could smell the nervousness on him. Has the note made him nervous? He wasn’t sure if it was ’I’m nervous about how excited I am to see him...’ or ’I’m just scared of him’ anxiety, he couldn’t smell that. Only that the man was dealing with some emotions due to the note. He wondered if the part about his sister’s had made Ivan worried. In all honesty, it was just a bold guess on who was coming over. Alfred was aware that Ivan had siblings or at least relatives, he could smell other vampires around, and two females had a similar scent to him. He concluded that someone was either related to him, and a female. Sister’s were the most logical answer, but cousins, aunts, and other distant relatives were all possible. Alfred’s lucky guess had helped his case. Standing up, he walked to the door, offering Ivan a gentle smile as he raised a brow. “Did your plans cancel? That sucks. But, you’re welcome to come in, babe. I got a spot on the sofa for you.” He stepped back to let Ivan inside his house, the first time he’s ever done that. Inviting a vampire into your home? The biggest no-no in the world, but here was Alfred not caring, per usual. He was going to bring up how they’d dined tonight, either traditional or unorthodox, but he’d give Ivan a moment to settle in before speaking of murder and hunting. He was a gentleman after all! Sitting down on the couch, he leaned back and patted the seat next to him.

Being a man who admired his dignity more than his enjoyment, Ivan had already become irritated with his own decision. He was visiting a friend, he didn't understand why he had to make it stand out so much for himself. There wasn't any loss to giving in to spend time with someone you enjoy, but he couldn't help but consider how overly friendly the drawing was. Trying not to overthink it, he mimicked the grooves he felt and pressed them into the palm of his hand. He adored the small act, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Alfred was a suitable match against him. The fact that he actually found himself pining after the chummy little wolfman was alarming at times. He was risking many aspects of his life by even accepting the invitation to come over. If he ever got closer to Alfred, it wouldn't be logical. With the outgoing personality Alfred shined out constantly, he was sure that he couldn't be a lone wolf. There were others. He smelt them when he walked down the street or by chance in the meat section of the corner store. Werewolves, vampires, they all hid in plain sight, but it wasn't right for him to assume that all of their kind knew each other. Much like dogs though, he knew that werewolves must greet each other. Alfred had to have at least, he guaranteed himself that. It confused him to be welcomed in with that case, it scared him almost. He didn't understand why Alfred trusted him so much when he knew what he was. Unfortunately, a vampire's sense of smell isn't as powerful as a dog's thus he wasn't able to detect other bodies in the apartment. His nose was just used to Alfred passing by and in his baskets of clothes.

He wrote off the name babe quickly, trying to blame it on habit. "My plans didn't cancel. You were just acting particularly lonely so I thought I would give in and offer you some company." Teasing, he calmed down significantly at the sight of Alfred smiling patiently. Elated by the idea of finally setting foot into Alfred's humble abode with the help of some keywords, he beamed and eased his head through the doorway. He's never seen beyond the door so it was a new experience for him. It wasn't much different than his habitat, the layout was a given, but he didn't catch any deers hanging from the ceiling so it was a bonus. Ivan liked to keep his living area tidy along with his kitchen, but once someone hits his room, that's when everything starts falling apart. Never does he bother to make his bed or take out his clothes from the basket to hang them up. His nightstand, though barely a foot wide, somehow holds a lamp, three different alarm clocks, and always a few dirty dishes. A part of him wanted to head through Alfred's apartment and check out his bedroom. "When were you going to tell me that you knew how to draw?" He paced over to the sofa and took a seat away from Alfred, a cushion between the two of them so he had some space.

Alfred was pleased to have Ivan enter his house. The bunny entering the wolves den, almost. Stretching out his legs, he rested one of his arms on the headrest, eyes lingering to his shows. Ivan's excuse was cute, he didn’t even cover up with a lie about them canceling. He canceled on them for him. What about that, it added to Alfred’s ego. His eyes were careful not to linger too long, but every few moments, they’d turn to Ivan’s body as he found a quick way to verbally eat him up. “Well, thanks for giving the company. And I don’t really like talking about it since I get shy... It’s kind of a personal thing. I just draw things for myself, and no one else.” It truly was a personal hobby, but he would draw more for Ivan again if it made the man come around often. It worked the first time, so why not again? He wouldn’t mind after all. He smirked when someone was murdered on the screen. Alfred’s house proved to be on average with a clean to messy ratio. He wasn’t the cleanest guy, but he wasn’t the stereotypical dirty, living off of paper plates type of dude either. He knew how to mop, take out the trash, and vacuum, but sometimes would get lazy with dishes and let it pile up.

His habit of being sexually open also gave him a reason to keep his apartment good looking. Showing a cute boy or girl a disgusting, dirty apartment would be embarrassing. His room was surprisingly not that bad, his only problem with being lazy and letting clean clothes stay in a pile and not putting them away. He’d also never make his bed, but he’d always throw away garbage in fear of getting ants in his room. He was proud of a fox fur blanket that he had, he’d love to show Ivan. It was during a couple of days in wolf form, he hunted down several silver foxes. They are known for being used heavily in the fur trade, and lucky enough, he was able to find some living in the wild nearby. It took a few days of stalking, but he was able to hunt down enough for the blanket. Another older werewolf knew how to skin fur and make coats and blankets, and helped him with the process. It was special to him, proving his strength and hunting skills. It was also soft and luxurious; usually, he had to lie to people and say it was a gift or passed down in his family. There wasn’t much pride in saying someone gave it to him. But with Ivan, he could open up and tell how he got something worth thousands of dollars in his hands; he worked for it. The warm fur was perfect during cold winter nights in upstate New York. “I’m so lucky to have a nice friend like you. I owe you a warm meal after this...” He teased, patting Ivan’s leg before putting it back in his own lap, eyeing the TV.

"You being shy? That's a first. With the way you draw, I thought you would boast about it." Ivan was trying to compliment his host, something small, but not enough to curse himself with. In both ways, Alfred's ego was something he had to handle with caution. Cheer on the man too much and he'll be putting up with cocky smirks up until the time he had to leave. Say something a little too cruel and the bubbly wolf will turn into a babbling mess. Simply acknowledging that fact to Alfred would tear him up one way or another, Ivan knew it and planned to keep things nice and light. "You somehow captured your narcissism on a single piece of paper, it's really impressive." He made sure to sound disingenuous, eyes taking note of Alfred's position. As time went on, the show became less interesting to him. Any shock value or plot development was drowned out by the way the werewolf's face lit up. The small dust of color that humans held in their cheeks was pumping across Alfred's face. He could feel the warmth radiating off the other body. If he buried his face into Alfred's shoulder, he could get a little taste. He didn't plan on chomping down hard, just a small nip. All he needed was a drop of blood to satisfy his burning curiosity. Alfred was too smart, the vampire knew that he'd be shoved away if he even kissed his neck.

There was pride in tackling down a difficult opponent, he understood that. He had grown immune to feeling too miserable about killing some creature or human off. Animals weren't inherently evil, but humans could be. He's witnessed hundreds and hundreds of years of solid proof of how villainous a single human can be. It gave him some peace to think that he was killing off someone who deserved it, but the consequences of his actions stabbed into his thoughts when a moment was too quiet. They were all just people like him and his sisters, but he couldn't help the survival of the fittest. It was inevitable that he would kill again, he knew that his blood bank job wouldn't last forever. Eventually, he'd have to relocate again, find new prey and discover more immortals. Alfred, for now, was a dash in his timeline, but he hoped to extend it. He wanted to stay a little longer and enjoy his time with the werewolf. The thought of dining outweighed heavily on his mind, but one he was certain that what he was nearly drooling over wasn't what Alfred was implying. He could lurch over and sink his fangs into the nape of his dear friend's neck and sample the blood. "I'm lucky to have a good friend like you too... and, as friends, I'm sure you don't mind me asking how old are you- how old you really are." Returning the physical contact, he reached over and pinched at Alfred's cheek. It slightly broke his heart to be called a friend, but it was what they were and he'd rather be on Alfred's good side than be against him.

“I’m glad you like my art.” He commented, rolling his eyes as he slightly blushed from the words. He was embarrassed by the skill but loved it still. He had plans of doodling Ivan later if he had the time. Perhaps even slipping it under his door again. But it was the best of Ivan’s interest to not kiss or go near Alfred’s neck. While he did adore the vampire; he wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it, and it would win a physical push or any other action that showed dominance. The wolf inside him was an Alpha, no doubt. There would be no neck biting, kisses, or smooches unless Ivan wanted a bite back in his neck. But Alfred did accept the pinch, finding it cute that the man was finally getting to the point. After all the time they’ve been neighbors, now he wants to know some real information? He’d play, as long as Ivan played back. “My age? Well, I like to tell people I’m twenty-three. Most people buy it. I was really born in 1941 though, so I guess I look young for my age! Ha! What about you?” He turned, his eyes smiling along with his lips. Raising a brow, he looked at Ivan up and down, checking out the man. He picked up details from his encounters with Ivan and compared to it how other vampires acted. “What are you? Four? Five? Six hundred? Oh wait- Are you post or pre Catherine The Great?” He teased, knowing basic Russian history. His adulthood was during the height of the Cold War, so he knew a lot about Russia.

He was about to make a joke about if Ivan was post or pre ‘Commie-Russia’, but he didn’t want the man huffing and puffing out of his house. Ivan appeared to be the type that might be highly offended by a stereotypical ‘commie’ joke, so he wasn’t going to play his cards. He had the bunny in his den, no need to ruin it. Taking a chance, he decided to lay his head on Ivan’s outer leg. Adjusting his body, he laid on his sides as his eyes stayed on the screen, but his head was resting on top of Ivan’s thigh. He wanted a way to feel Ivan without touching her per se. His messy, blond hair was screaming to be touched, Alfred’s cheek pressing against his leg. He tried to act relaxed as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Man, sometimes I feel old but I bet you feel ancient when anyone speaks to you, huh?” He joked, appearing not to be startled by the conversation. He wondered, was Ivan’s skin soft? Could he blush? Was his fat soft? If he squeezed him, would it feel like a stone? Or skin? He never got close enough to a vampire to touch them intimately, the only times he’s had his physical contact with vampires was in wolf form, killing them in his bite. Not a great comparison to what he wanted to do to Ivan.

Ivan was thrilled to receive a blush, it always warmed his ever slow and cold heart. It made the involuntary expression even more rewarding when regarding that Alfred was a perilous creature just as he was. He felt a bit guilty for not having anything ready to give back when he came over. Drawing wasn't much of a passion for him, he was more into crafts. He could knit something for Alfred, but he wasn't sure if that would be too bold. With how high strung he wound himself up to be, he figured that the werewolf didn't fall far from the feeling around him. Anything made to comfort was suspicious as if to butter the other up. He had to be careful not to cross any lines and set alarms off in Alfred's head. Even if he wanted to drag the relationship further along and at least get to hug on Alfred without being awkward or stepping over bounds, he knew he had to be slow. It was a precaution for himself and Alfred. Hearing the werewolf's real age was a good step, not too big but not too small of a step. "Ah, so you're... in your seventies? My, I guess you really have aged well. Twenty-three does fit you more than an old man who's lived through a world war." It was better to congratulate Alfred than to compare himself to him. To be given a seemingly honest answer was a bit of a surprise to him in the first place. There were a dozen more questions he wanted to ask about the American. He's never found a werewolf civil enough to sit down and talk to; he wanted to know everything about the culture and the process. He wasn't clear on whether or not Alfred was joking or not, grimacing either way. "Do I really come off as that young? Young enough to be post Catherine the Great... That's nice to know." The home he knew wasn't quite developed enough to secure the capital and allow a ruler. "I was there before they even had tsars."

He held his tongue when Alfred cozied up onto his leg, a faint smile to his lips as his hand twitched. "I prefer the term antique... even if being born in 1174 does make me more of a relic." Propping his head upon the armrest, he inched his fingers along his thigh towards Alfred's head. He could abuse the trust, grab the werewolf, and snap his mouth around his waiting neck, but he had better control over his intrusive ideas. "How do people become... werewolves? Is it by a bite from a werewolf or maybe something more ritualistic? I assume they don't consent to it, right?" Asking along, he slowly combed his fingers through Alfred's hair. Later on, he'd have to scrub himself down to get rid of the scent before his family meets him pinching their nose. "Or should I not ask that? It might be too personal." His smile calmed as he teased the other by scratching at the area behind his ear. "I'm sure you don't mind though."

He was happy to feel Ivan’s fingers play with his neck and hair. Ivan not rejecting his touches, but accepting them was all he wanted. Yawning, he closed his eyes as he let his body relax around the man. He was even getting used to the smell, the overly sweetness not bothering him much anymore. “Wow... You are antique... I feel young compared to you, and I can remember Vietnam, Korea, the Middle East, and the Cold War.” Fighting for freedom and America was close to his heart. “My father fought in world war 2, and I entered Vietnam.” Coming back from service due to some injuries was how it happened; one day, camping with his comrades celebrating a return from service, they were attacked by a wolf. Alfred was the only one who survived, getting a deep cut on his chest. He put a silver bullet in the chest of the wolf, making it pay for taking his friend’s lives, but in the end, it’s curse never stopped. “You get bit or scratch. I got scratched, really hard. Most people die when they get bit or scratched, but I survived. I killed the wolf who attacked me and my friends. One silver bullet. That’s all it took...” Alfred whispered, his leg twitching when his ear was scratched. “How did you become a vampire...? It’s your turn to tell....” He asked, wanting to know every detail. “Did it hurt?” He asked, wondering if the transformation caused pain. It did for Alfred, becoming human to a werewolf the first time. The pain he wished he could forget. He turned his head up, looking up at Ivan with big eyes. Curious eyes that wanted the truth, not games. He pushed his body up, so more of his back and head was laying across Ivan’s lap, not just his thigh. Like a true puppy, he wanted to take all the attention and show his dominance. Laying on Ivan, and getting a pet was truly dog-like at this point. But the man could be more of a puppy than a wolf, he just had to be in the right mood. A great, calm, playful mood.

There was no heat coming off Ivan’s body, the only source of warmth was Alfred. He couldn’t feel any heat over his clothes, he guessed if it put his hands on bare skin, Ivan would be chilly. He wondered if vampires feel hard or still have a softness to them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just curious. Vampires, are you guys stone? Or is your fat soft? Do you guys blush?” He asked, attempting to seem innocent. Blinking a few times, his innocent expression turned into a cocky grin. “If I grabbed your ass, would you move in my hand and turn red? Or? Would it be like grabbing a rock?” He asked, knowing he’d get an eye roll from Ivan, but he didn’t care. He needed to know the answers to his weird questions. His brain wondered a lot of things about Ivan and vampires overall. While he assumed that Ivan wouldn’t let him touch him with a ten-foot pole, he still is curious if the occasional thought is accurate.

"I guess you really earned your dog tags that day." Ivan offered lightly, laughing quietly at the puppy-like mannerisms of a grown man visible unwinding over his lap. Turning into a werewolf sounded just as much of a travesty as being a vampire to him. He didn't have to imagine what waking up in a new body was like, but he didn't think that he could ever really fully understand what Alfred went through either. How he earned his status as a vampire was a shorter story, but he'd spare Alfred the details. There wasn't much special about the day when he first laid eyes on the tall lanky figure barrelling toward him, but the pain was still distinct and stabbing. If he hadn't been at death's doorstep that day, he would have put up a better fight, but being at his age back then was a time for letting the earth take you. His body was preserved in the age he died and awakened. His eldest sister landed at twenty-nine and his youngest encased himself with health by being eternally twenty. They could age at will, but never make themselves younger. In that aspect, he considers himself lucky, but being a vampire wasn't his fondest thing. The moment was still fresh on his mind, how vulnerable he was, and how he let the same fate happen to his sisters. It was embarrassing to retell his inevitable cowardice. Since then, he's become more agile and stronger, but that was mostly due to his transformation. "There's a serum that comes out only from certain fangs, but you can feel it course all over your body when they stab into your neck... It hurts about as much as someone sticking two needles into you- you don't like those, do you? That's fine." He continued to tease Alfred over the blunt lie, refusing to call him out on it. It was hard for him to give that up. "I couldn't turn you into a vampire though, I'd only end up sucking your blood because I don't have the stuff to inject you with."

The science behind being a vampire wasn't widely available, but he tried to pass on the information he learned over the years as best he could. "The original vampires are the only ones who carry the serum to turn others into vampires... I'm not sure how they came about- no one does, but them." He separated and wiggled his fingers through more sections of Alfred's hair as he explained, grinning at the way his leg jerked like a dog. It was precious to his heart. "Every millennium or so, they show their face from their tomb and bite a few more unsuspecting victims. That's what I and my sisters have gathered from different vampires at least." The facts were hazy and never written down in fear of discovery. His thoughts trailed off as he enjoyed the heat coming off Alfred when he stretched across his lap. The inquiry seemed wholesome enough at first and he didn't mind answering it until Alfred had to make it dirty. "Oh, I don't know. If I slapped you in the face, would it be soft? Would you be blushing?" He snapped sarcastically, squishing Alfred's cheeks together in turn. "We're not gargoyles! Our skin is just the same as human flesh... So, yes... I guess if you were to grab my ass, it would turn red and move, but I'm not about to give you an example." Patting his face before returning to play with his hair, Ivan furrowed his brows. He grew up in a different time, getting those sorts of comments wasn't something he was used to. "Why are you curious about that sort of thing anyway? What makes you think I'll answer any questions after that?" Frustrated, he went back to scratching behind Alfred's ear to calm himself and the warmth sprouting over him. "Make it up to me by telling me how the moon affects you.

Alfred was shocked to learn the truth about vampires. He was told that all vampires had venom that had the potential to kill. Finding out that only a few did make him relieved, vampires aren’t as dangerous as he was told before. Seeing that even other vampires were unsure how they got the venom explained why his own kind was misinformed. Not to mention, vampires never made it clear about that little fact, nor would Alfred see why they would. Most vampires would rather seem scary and dangerous, having a poison inside them looming over someone’s head. “So? If you bite someone, you don’t have any venom? You’d inject nothing? That’s crazy, everyone thinks all vampires have something in their teeth.” This didn’t mean vampires were harmless, he knew that the creatures had superhuman strength and skill just like him. If a vampire wanted a werewolf dead, it was completely possible. Alfred was biased, and always thought he had the upper hand against vampires. In his personal, werewolf opinion, they were faster and stronger than vampires. But it came to pride than anything else, Alfred would never let his kind down. Even if he thought being a werewolf was more of a curse at times, he would show honor and stand up for himself and his other pack members. They weren’t human anymore, but they were still living beings. “Werewolves, we are different I guess. In wolf form, I think our saliva and body fluids when entering someone else’s skin, can turn them. I think of it as an illness... You get exposed, you’re one of us. With bites, it’s easy to see why it gets into someone’s bloodstream. I’m less sure about scratches though, how it turns us into werewolves. I’m gonna guess there’s just something in our claws that carries the virus.”

Alfred was no scientist, and there wasn’t exactly anyone out there experimenting and explaining the biology of werewolves. He couldn’t hold back his laugh when Ivan pinched his cheeks and got annoyed with his question. He deserved all the cheek squishes! “I just wanted to make sure my wet dreams were scientifically actual, that’s all.” He teased, closing his eyes when Ivan scratched the back of his ear. “Mm....” He lightly groaned, his leg twitching slightly. “Ugh. I hate full moons, man. It doesn’t make us mindless or crazy; we just are forced into wolf form as long as the moon is out. So usually, we have to stay outside. It isn’t too bad in the summer and spring, but when it’s cold out it's kind of annoying to have to find shelter. Nowadays, I go over to my friend Allen’s house during full moons. He has basically a farm and tons of areas that we can just... chill and wait out the full moon. It’s why I left the city, it’s one thing to find somewhere to hide during the countryside, another thing we’re everyone’s running around.” Alfred viewed it as more of an inconvenience if anything. Having to plan his life around one night was annoying! Making sure he had no work, no one visiting, no one expecting him, and if anyone needed to contact him, he was M.I.A for about twelve hours. Alfred got over being horrified about his werewolf status, so more just bothered. “It’s just irritating to have to plan around full moons. But it’s just one day of the month a least....” He took a deep breath, deciding to ask Ivan a question. “Vampires, do you guys like....? Do you guys have a preference when it comes to blood? Like, do certain races taste different? Or is there a difference between boys and girls?”

"I may not be able to turn you, but I can still drain every ounce of blood out of you and leave you as a husk." He didn't like being underestimated. While he found Alfred semi charming, it was made clear to him that the werewolf was still a threat. It was only right for him to assure that he was the same, someone who shouldn't be tampered with. He didn't plan on devouring the sweet neighbor, but he's considered it. The man might just be naive enough to feel safe around a vampire. He didn't even feel comfortable around a vampire he barely knew. It came down to territory between him and a member of his kind. If there were too many vampires in the area, then suspicion rises. Too many bodies are dropping and someone isn't getting enough to drink. He's never personally killed a vampire, but he fought a great few years ago. Times have changed, most vampires have mellowed out and found alternatives to slaughtering a cognitive being. While Ivan has cooked up some solutions to give him the nutrients he needs in a blood-soaked diet, he finds the rich frothy taste of real blood to be too tantalizing. It's been a few months since he's actually stalked and killed someone; he's proud of himself for it. If his tracks are uncovered at the blood bank, he may have to come back to that lifestyle. Living life as a murderer was less glamorous than living life as a hunter. Hearing Alfred say that he could only turn people when in wolf form was a relief. He thought that at least he wasn't stumbling around accidentally making people immortal. "So you can only turn people into werewolves when you're a wolf?... I've never heard about the claws part, that's new to me." It wasn't known to him whether or not he would become a werewolf too if he was bitten, but it was most definitely a concern to him now. A werepire? A vampwolf? Whatever it was, it was conjured up disturbingly in his head. He'd keep his distance from now on if that was the case.

Rolling his eyes at the wet dreams comment, he stopped rubbing his hands through Alfred's hair. "Are all werewolves this dense and vulgar? Or is it just you?" He'd roll the big puppy off his lap if he wasn't going to end up on the floor. Angering a werewolf was something he found surprisingly easy so he kept calm and tried not to seem too upset with Alfred. He liked the company; he didn't want to lose it. "Only during full moons? So you're essentially powerless up until then." Werewolves weren't too strong if they couldn't change at will. He felt significantly less threatened by Alfred's habit of showing his teeth. It was more of a parlor trick to him now, a small way to tease him. He thought of himself as lucky to have his powers with him all the time. It meant that he could tease and frighten Alfred all he wanted until the full moon popped out. He smiled to himself, gently rubbing a thumb to the American's open neck. "We do have preferences actually. The flavor really only varies with the blood type. My least favorite type is B-negative... it's a little bitter. Ah, but my favorite blood type of all has to be O-positive... thankfully, the most common." Shutting his eyes, he leaned back onto the headrest. It was always funny to him when someone walked into the clinic asking for a blood test to be done on them when he could just tell them then and there what they were. To remain undetected, he had to take a blood sample and let the customer wait out the process. He's seen a handful of mythical beasts walk through the blood bank doors while undercover, but those were the only creatures he couldn't seem to smell around. "Usually I can sniff out someone's blood type as they stand- but I can't detect your type on you. Your... werewolf musk has been blocking me." Furrowing his brows with sorrow, he twirled a piece of Alfred's hair between his fingers. "It's made me nothing but curious to find out yours- mere curiosity, trust me. I don't bite."

Alfred wasn’t scared of the warning of getting his blood drained, as Ivan didn’t scare him. The vampire could puff out his chest and appear more frightening than he is, but Alfred stayed unfazed. He was too prideful to let a vampire put any terror into him. He scoffed when Ivan said that he was only powerful during a full moon. “Ha! Who said that I can only turn during a full moon? I said I’m forced to turn during the full moon, I can turn anytime I want the rest of the month. I could turn right now. It rips my clothes off, so I would rather not give an example.” Ivan shouldn’t feel any more relief in it, Alfred had his power all year round. “Don’t think I could turn you, though. I think our... virus is immune to you guys. Vampires aren’t alive, so it just... dies on you. We just end up killing you with our strength and fighting powers.” He explained, never hearing of a vampire and werewolf crossbred. He didn’t think it was possible, but who knew. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying getting his hair played with. A smirk crept up his face when he was accused of being vulgar. “I’m just a vulgar guy, that’s all. I say what I think.” That was true as well, Alfred didn’t have much of a filter, especially around other immortals. He was a man who laughed and cried easily, who displayed all the emotions he had in his heart. It was just who he was, and he didn’t want to change anytime soon. He offered a cute act of nuzzling his cheek on Ivan’s thigh, wanting his attention again. Getting his hair played with was a major comfort. His body would relax, and calm down when someone’s fingers ran through his dirty blond locks. There was something about Ivan that offered him comfort, even if he was a vampire. His disgustingly sweet scent wasn’t bothering him anymore, and his soft voice was more soothing by the moment.

He smirks again when he hears about the blood type. “Oh? Then you’d love me. I’m O-positive.” He confessed, not scared since he knew Ivan wouldn’t bite him. If Ivan was going to drain him of his blood, he would have done it by now. Ivan didn’t need to cuddle up with him on his sofa to do it. “I’m glad my werewolf musk blocks it. Protects us from being victims of hungry, thirsty vampires like you. I’m not shocked at all that you work at a blood bank. I’m just surprised that you haven't noticed that you are stealing all the blood. How do you steal it anyway? Don’t they have protocols and stuff for this?” He questioned, always wondering how Ivan did it. He was either extremely talented, or the office was just stupid and lazy with their security. Who knew a man could get away with stealing countless pints of blood, but it was better than him going into town and murdering men in cold blood. “I’ll be honest... if you need some victims, I got a list of every sex offender, pedophile, and creep in town. Some people escape justice. So if you are hungry.... just tell me. I’ll get you a meal.” He had a sneaky grin, loving the idea of Ivan doing his dirty work. Instead of hunting these sickos in wolf form, his blood-sucking bunny could find a use for them.

It shut Ivan's small victory down when he heard about the ability. The possibility of seeing wolves walk around during the day skyrocketed and he wasn't sure where his emotions landed on the issue. Everything about having the upper hand over someone was comforting to him, but he felt as if it wasn't that overwhelming. Alfred was harmless and most of his worries about werewolves came from prejudice. The only rivalry between the two creatures was one he welcomed. He had fun flirting with and teasing Alfred, but he didn't want to risk being too attached. If something were to come up that jeopardized his facade, then he'd have to book it out of New York with his sisters not far behind. Knowing Alfred's own immortality, he was sure the situation would be the same for him. He'd end up miserable if he grew even fonder of the man only to disappear the next day. Anyone else, he didn't care to shatter their heart, but the cute playful furball was just too hopeless. "You talk like a child telling me about how strong their favorite superhero is when you describe your own species." He humored, rolling his eyes at the nonchalant bragging. There wasn't much that annoyed him about Alfred, the man was pleasant to be around, but he had his own honor to attend to. Being a blood seeker wasn't glamorous by all means, but he had to defend what was a part of him. The relief felt from immunity still didn't suffice against the show off's insistence. Every step of the conversation was an act for him to prove that he could stand up against a werewolf; the worn-out joke tired him. He wanted to feel comfortable around Alfred, but nothing felt genuine as if he was waiting for something specific to come out. It reminded him of a patient puppy. Most stereotypes held about the bouncing, yapping few. Like dogs, they roll onto their back and practically beg to be pet, loved on at the very least.

Giving in before the manchild started whining, he scrubbed his fingers along Alfred's scalp and through his strands. His eyes lit up at the confession, a big grin attached to his face. "Oh really? It's the most common blood type... but the most special to me. The rarity of it is only measured by my own longing for it." He wormed the corners of his mouth slowly down to mask his eagerness to jump on Alfred and dine out. "It's a very sweet taste- you should let me lap up any cuts you have in the future. I'll come over in a heartbeat and suck your wounds dry." The talk of blood left him parched, he distracted himself by fluffing up Alfred's hair. He wasn't entirely sure how his blood stash was known by the mutt, but he wasn't about to question it. His trust was growing high enough that he didn't care. "Most people don't know a pint from a pint and a half... it's a little dangerous for the donors, but I do sneak out an extra snack for myself when I think someone's gullible- so, I'm technically not stealing from the blood bank because they still get their pint of blood... I just drain another pint for myself. " He assured, hoping Alfred wouldn't rat him out. It would slip his mind often that the man was a cop. The only reason staff picked up on his master plan was the high rate of lightheaded donors coming out of his section. Now and then, they sent someone to check the equipment he was using, but nothing came of it. He's slowed on the packs he takes home to cool down the heat trailing behind his tail. "I might take you up on that offer someday, but my hands haven't been this clean of blood in a while... Unless you're in dire need of my assistance then I can help mark off some names for you- at a price, of course." Leaning down, he placed a chaste kiss to Alfred's forehead and gently brushed back the hair in his way. "Come over to the blood bank and I'll give you a donut if you behave... then maybe we can go track down some pedophiles and rip them apart together."

Alfred didn’t have too many plans for leaving the town soon. He only had lived there for a few years, and he knew he could get away with his non-aging status for a while. People usually only would start to talk about how young he looked. Alfred would just lie and credit on genetics. ’My parents look super young too. ‘Our whole family doesn’t age.’ he’d lie, and it worked. He looked young and was young to everyone else, so no one questioned his age. He guessed he could last until he was in his mid-thirties before people thought it was just downright weird that he hadn't aged. It was why he attempted to stay out of the spotlight. Keep to himself a few groups of friends. It was hard, he was an extrovert. He is a popular personality, everyone would know who he was and wanted to be around him. But that changed when his mortality did, and unless he wanted to become a scientific experiment for the government, he had to keep a low profile. But he always came out at night, hitting clubs and finding relief in intimacy. If he couldn’t be surrounded by dozens of friends, he’d surround himself with pretty girls and boys, even if it was just one night. A sucker for love, it was even more troubling knowing he couldn’t get into a relationship with anyone. That was the hardest about this life, knowing he’ll always be alone. Almost everyone in his pack was male and straight. How come there were only a few queer werewolves? He was aware that he should branch out to new immortals, but it was difficult since his pack was so tight. There was a sense of betrayal being around other werewolf packs, it was frowned down. Your pack was your family, case closed. You suffered with them.

[ Here is the link to my Ao3, thank you if you read it <3 ]

#rusame #amerus #aph russia #aph america #fanfic #I've just decided to keep it in its OG format #but i still edit for flow #yeee everyone have a good night

26 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

Sins of the Past Pt.20

Wonderland. (Lighting candles on an altar, Morgause looks up to see Ella standing nervously beside her.) Ella: "You said you had answers about my mother. Please, tell me all that you know about her.” Morgause: “I’m sorry, Ella, but your mother is dead. She’s been gone a long time now. (Ella drops her head, her worst fears confirmed:) Perhaps you would like to see her?” Ella: (Raising her head quickly:) “What? Oh I... I want that more than anything.” Morgause: “As you wish. (Morgause holds out her hand, which Ella takes. Turning her so that Ella's back is to the altar:) Close your eyes. (As Morgause begins to chant, a breeze blows through the garden:) Arásae mid min miclan mihte þín suna to helpe. Hider eft funde on þisse ne middangeard þín suna w’æs." Cecelia: “Ella. (Ella opens her eyes:) Ella.” Ella: “Mother.”

Wonderland. Red Queen’s Dungeons. (Returning to check on her prisoner, Anastasia stands outside Will’s cell.) Will: “You’re a funny wonder you are. I thought the whole point of becoming Queen was that so you never had to get your hands dirty again.” Anastasia: “Will, I still get my hands dirty.” Will: “That’ll be because you’re not actually queen of anything! So what, you've just come to gloat? Laugh about how you’ve got half of Wonderland thinking you’re still queen?” Anastasia: “That's not why I’m here.” Will: “Then what is it?” Anastasia: “I came to tell you that while you might be feeling cavalier about your life, there are those of us who think you’re one of the finest men they’ve ever met. I’ve locked you in here to get it into your head that there are people out there who want you dead!” Will: “I’m well aware of that, thank you!” Anastasia: “Oh I know you are, but what about the people you care about? Do they know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in just by being here?” Will: “They don’t need to know all of my sins.” Anastasia: “That’s where you’re wrong, Will. Back when I was being hunted by Cora’s men, you were there to make sure I survived. I became the Red Queen to save myself and you became a thief for the same reason. A long time ago you reminded me that no matter how bad things may seem, the one thing that will always be there for you is family. Well today I'm the one standing outside these bars and I've brought your family to you.” (Will watches as Tiana climbs the steps towards his cell, followed by his sister, Alice.) Tiana: "We're not going to let anyone hurt you, Will, but I'm gonna need a real good reason to not kill you myself. (Will drops his head:) How could you not tell us about all this?" Will: "I didn't want you to know. Either of you. (To Alice:) The things I did while you were locked in your tower, I couldn't have you worrying about your big brother. (To Tiana:) I never wanted you to find out what kind of man I was back then." Alice: "So you'd rather risk your own life than let us down? Don't you know how stupid that sounds?" Will: "It wasn't stupid to me. I thought I was protecting you from the truth." Alice: "What truth? That you were so desperate to survive that you stole a few things? Are you forgetting that we used to pinch stuff together? Back when it was just the two of us, right after Mum and Dad died. We were a regular Fagin and Artful Dodger, you and me." Will: "That doesn't make it right, Alice." Alice: "No, but I also remember who we used to steal from. Only those who could afford to lose a little here and there. (To Tiana:) I bet you that's who he stole from for the Caterpillar. (To Will:) I'm right, aren't I?" Will: "It's not that simple-" Alice: "See? I told ya." Tiana: (Moving closer to the bars:) "I never would've asked you to come on this journey with Ella if I had known just how dangerous it was going to be for you." Will: "It's me own fault. I should've told you." Tiana: "You're damn right you should. Because of you, we've got blondie over there thinking she's still queen." Anastasia: "Excuse me?" Tiana: "Oh I'll get to you in a minute. For now let me just say this, if you ever even think about keeping secrets from me again, the Caterpillar will be nothing compared to what I'll have in store for you. Are we clear?" Will: "Yes, love." Tiana: "Pardon?" Will: "Yes, Your Majesty." Tiana: "Mm hmm. Now, speaking of Ella, where is she anyway?"

Wonderland. Oracle's Garden. Continued. Cecelia: “My daughter. (Cecelia goes to Ella and embraces her:) When I last held you, you were just a child. You were the most precious thing in my life. I’m so sorry.” Ella: “You have nothing to be sorry for. Alice and Will told me what happened, that you were cursed.” Cecelia: “I should have told you. The pain I’ve put you though-” Ella: “No, you are not to blame.” (Cecelia releases her, holding Ella’s hands in her own.) Cecelia: “I cannot bear the thought that you believed I didn’t love you, that I wouldn’t have done everything I could to find my way back to you and your father.” Ella: “It’s me who should be sorry, for doubting your love for us.” Cecelia: “Do not think that. It is the Evil Queen who should carry the guilt for what happened.” Ella: “What do you mean?” Cecelia: (Hesitates:) “It is not important. What matters is that you are happy.” Ella: “Why should the Evil Queen feel guilty?” Cecelia: “It’s better left in the past.” Ella: “You cannot leave me with more questions. Please.” Cecelia: “Shortly after I left you, the Hatter’s travels to the Dream Realm came to an end. With the loss of his wife, Sarah, Jefferson had to do whatever he could to keep his daughter safe. He decided they would leave Wonderland and start afresh in the Enchanted Forest. The Hatter offered to take me with them, but I refused, believing the answer to my curse lay in Wonderland. So I remained behind, living in Jefferson’s old house in Tulgey Woods.” Ella: “So you were there?” Cecelia: “Yes, for a short time. By night I would read books about Wonderland’s many different poisons and by day I would search the forest looking for them. Until the day she came looking for Jefferson.” Ella: “Regina?” Cecelia: “After my dealings with the witch who cursed my heart, I knew evil when I saw it. Jefferson was trying to begin a new life away from the kind of wickedness the queen courted. I couldn’t let her jeopardise that for him, so I told her he wasn’t interested. The queen attacked me, insisting that I tell her where the Hatter had gone, but I couldn’t betray him.” Ella: “So she killed you?” Cecelia: “I sacrificed my life so that Jefferson could live his in peace, together with his daughter. (Ella closes her eyes, shaking her head:) Please, do not let this knowledge change you.” (The wind blows once more. Ella looks back up and sees that Cecelia is gone.) Ella: “No! Bring her back!” Morgause: “I cannot. Once the doorway is closed, it is closed forever. I am truly sorry that you learnt of your mother’s fate in this way. I can only imagine how it must feel to discover Regina is responsible for her death. It is an unforgivable betrayal.” (Morgause walks away, leaving Ella standing alone, a fire burning behind her eyes.) Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Regina: "What the hell are you talking about?" (Standing outside on the porch, Emma and Regina have been visited by Mulan and Ruby.) Ruby: "A friendly contest between two of the hottest couples the world has ever seen." Regina: "And what makes you think we'd be interested in something like that?"

Ruby: "Hey, I'm just the messenger, it was Xena who laid down the challenge." Emma: "Xena did?" Mulan: "She told us to tell you when she and Gabrielle took over our watch in the forest." Ruby: "Apparently her ego was bruised after what happened at the gym." Regina: "Xena has nothing to worry about, loss of flexibility is perfectly natural, for a woman of her advanced age." Emma: (Scoffs:) "That's cold." Mulan: "Wait, aren't you both the same age?" Ruby: "Well let's work it out. (Regina rolls her eyes:) Let's say Xena left home at sixteen, had ten years of dark deeds." Mulan: "The Evil Xena phase." Ruby: "Right. Then she spent five years or so travelling with Gabrielle before they were frozen in ice for twenty-five years." Emma: "Don't forget the year she spent without her memory. (At Regina's look:) What? It's a great show." Ruby: "I think Regina was around the same age when she cast the curse so... they're pretty much the same age, yeah." Regina: (Flatly:) "Well that's two minutes of my life I'm never getting back. (To Mulan:) Shouldn't Xena be spending her time coming up with a battle strategy should we need to lay siege on Camelot?" Mulan: "We have discussed it. As things stand right now, if Morgana's army is truly behind her, there's no one who can match it." Ruby: "And that's if it remained a non-magical battle." Mulan: (Nods:) "Because if Lily and Maleficent are being held in the castle, we can't go in blasting through Camelot's defenses without the risk of retaliatory action being taken against them." Ruby: "It's your classic impasse." Emma: (Sighs:) "Any sign of Mordred?" Mulan: "No, but we're covering a lot bigger area now that there are more volunteers." Regina: "We can't just sit on our hands and continue to do nothing." Ruby: (Mischievously:) "So, does that mean you're accepting Xena's challenge?" Camelot. Dungeons. (Morgana accompanies Elsa to the dungeons for a second time. Having previously inspected each cell the night before, Elsa curses under her breath after finding no trace of either Lily or Maleficent.) Morgana: "I understand your frustration, Elsa, but they are simply not here." Elsa: "It doesn't make any sense. The potion lead me to Camelot." Morgana: "You are free to search wherever you like. (Taking Elsa's hand:) Please, if there is anything I can do for you, all you need do is ask." Stables. (Anna and Kristoff speak in hushed voices.) Anna: "Of course they're here, they're just very well hidden, that's all!" Kristoff: "How can you be so sure?" Anna: "Because Elsa used the same locator spell when she found us washed up on the beach in that old trunk." Kristoff: "Yeah, but I think Morgana's sense of hospitality might waver if Elsa were to start blasting through walls!" Anna: "Well we have to do something!"

Kristoff: "We've searched every inch of the castle including Merlin's tower. Where else is there to look?" Anna: "I don't know! If you like questions so much, why haven't we seen Morgana's sister since we've been here? Huh? Answer me that." Kristoff: (Shrugs:) "Maybe Morgause has her own life to lead? Not all sisters are joined at the hip all the time you know." Anna: (Ignoring this:) "Or maybe she's where Lily and Maleficent are being held. Guinevere said Morgause is untrustworthy and has dark tendencies. It doesn't get much darker than kidnapping." Kristoff: "Well, there's murder. That's definitely darker than kidnapping, but there's been no proof of that either. And don't most kidnappers leave a note or a list of demands?" Anna: "Don't try and sway me with your cool-headed logic, Mr. Questions, this isn't the time." Kristoff: (Dryly:) "Of course not." Anna: "Camelot's a big place so we have to check anywhere and everywhere. Lily and Maleficent are family and we are not leaving without them." Kristoff: (Putting his hands up:) "Agreed. So where do you wanna look next?" Storybrooke. Sheriff's Station. (Emma and Regina meet up with the Charmings.) Snow White: "I think it sounds like a great idea. It could be just what everyone needs." Emma: "What, a chance to see me get my ass handed to me by Gabrielle in a staff fighting contest?" Snow White: "No, an excuse for another festival. (Emma and Regina groan:) Last time it was to raise the spirits of the people of Dun Broch. This time we can invite everyone from all the realms." Regina: "Oh great. Your mother's going to sell tickets." Snow White: "I just think that given the current situation, Storybrooke needs as many allies as possible if we're on the verge of going to war with Camelot. David thinks it's a good idea, don't you?" David: (Smiling:) "Absolutely." Regina: "Well of course he does. After knocking that knight over with his truck, he's got his swagger back. You'll probably challenge everyone you can to a joust." David: "Actually, no, not this time. I'll be helping Snow with organising everything. Guinevere's already got her hands full so I thought I'd offer my services." Snow White: "Plus Jasmine's offered to help Queen Roberta, so David won't have a chance to ask Aladdin for a rematch." Regina: “Mmhmm.” Emma: "Yeah, well that's great and all, but we haven't actually accepted the challenge yet. We don't even know if it's something we want to do." Zelena: (Entering:) "Oh you're doing it all right. I've got a lot of money riding on you two to win." Regina: "You only want us to do it so you can spend more time with Maria." Zelena: "And what's wrong with that? Someone's got to look after the poor girl, while you're off gallivanting. Tell you what, (Her hand already on Maria's baby carrier:) why don't you two go discuss it over coffee at Granny's (Picks up the basket and places five dollars in it's place:) My treat." (Before either of them can say anything, Zelena turns and leaves the station with Maria.)

Forest. (As the search for Mordred continues, Hook and Robin walk together along the forest path. Hook stopping occasionally to look through his spy glass.) Robin: "So, how are you holding up?" Hook: "Not great if I'm honest with you. It would be one thing if we knew for sure where Lily and Mal are so I could then go and rescue them." Robin: "Yeah, it's the not knowing that's the worst. Have you heard anything from Elsa and the others?" Hook: "No. I should be there with them in Camelot. (Sighs:) But it was agreed, what with my temper, that my staying here was best for everyone. (Notices Robin glancing at her watch:) Am I keeping you from something?" Robin: "What? Oh, no, it's just that Robin Hood was supposed to come take over for me. With Maleficent gone, it's been down to me to run the bar and-" Hook: "You've done a grand job with that place, Robin. Mal knows it too, though she'd never say it to your face." Robin: "Tell me about it." Hook: "That's just her way. She shows her appreciation differently to other people. You'll get to know her quirks the longer you work together." Robin: "I hope so. Did she really say she likes the changes I've made?" Robin Hood: (Arriving:) "Sorry I'm late. I was just rounding up the Merry Men. Your brother's back there with Little John." Robin: "Great, I'll say hi to him on my way back. Thanks for covering me." Robin Hood: "Not at all." Robin: (To Hook:) "Well, I guess I'll see you." Hook: "Aye, it's the best thing anyone can do for now. Keep doing what you have been and make Mal proud. (Robin smiles and turns to leave, almost bumping into Robin Hood. They share an uncomfortable nod and Robin Hood steps aside to let her pass:) Well that was awkward." Robin Hood: "Shut up and give me that. (Hook allows himself a smile as he hands over the spy glass:) I know this might not be the best time but, do you have any advice... on how to be a good father?” Hook: “Robin giving you the cold shoulder is she?” Robin Hood: “Oh we’re perfectly civil to each other, it’s just... me being with her mother and-” Hook: “And the fact that you’re not actually her father but look exactly like him? Yeah, that’s a tricky one. My advice would be not to force these things. Robin knows you’re not her dad and at this stage she’d probably resent you for trying to be. The one you have to worry about is Zelena.” Robin Hood: “Zelena? Why’s that?” Hook: “That woman’s got baby fever in the worst way. (Holds out his hand for the spy glass:) So good luck with that, mate.” Wonderland. (Striding along the forest path with a new sense of purpose, Ella is stopped by two men who are cooking their dinner beside the road.) Man 1: “Hold on there. Where do you think you're headed?” Ella: “I'm heading west. I need to find someone, and you're blocking my way.” Man 1: “If you keep heading west, you'll end up in the Black Forest, luv. You won't find anyone there.” Man 2: “They say it's so dark, you can't even find your own nose.” Ella: “I'll take my chances. Thank you.” (Man 1 blocks her path.) Man 2: “That seems awful dangerous, don't it? A little girl traveling alone. She might not know the rules.” Man 1: “See, this here's a toll road. You needs to pay the toll.” Man 2: “Now be a good girl and give us that necklace.” Ella: (Draws her sword:) “You even touch this necklace, and you'll lose your hand.” (Man 2 laughs.) Man 1: “Careful who you threaten, luv. No bauble's worth losing your life.” Ella: “This one is. (Ella knocks Man 2′s mace out of his hand and hits him with a spinning back elbow. Blocking Man 1′s overhead strike with her sword, she kicks him in the gut and he falls hard to the ground. Side stepping another attack from Man 2, Ella knees him in the gut and pushes him face first into a tree. Ducking Man 1′s wild swing, she punches and elbows him several times before hurling him to the ground. Standing over him with her sword in his face:) Be careful who you threaten, luv. (Picking up a flaming log from the fire:) Thanks for the light.” (Ella sheathes her sword, using the log as a torch, and continues on her way.) Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Taking Zelena's advice, Regina and Emma discuss Xena & Gabrielle's challenge.) Regina: "I mean just the fact they even challenged us shows that they're the ones who have something to prove." Emma: "Well, it sure as hell beats sitting around waiting. Besides, Mom was right when she said we need allies." Regina: "The other realms wouldn't possibly choose Morgana and Morgause over us. They love us. We're still wading through all the baby gifts the people have given us." Emma: "Yeah, but that was before Morgana reminded everyone that I killed Arthur." Regina: "Oh, no one cared about that bearded buffoon when he was alive, why should they care about who killed him?"

Emma: "Hm. You know, it might not be so bad. Do you remember the first time we had a friendly wager between us?" (Emma conjures a piece of paper into her hand and gives it to Regina. Looking at it, Regina sees that it is an old poster depicting Emma as a firefighter with the words 'Vote Swan For Sheriff' written on it.) Regina: (Smiling:) "I remember very well." Storybrooke. Past. Mayor's Mansion. Night. (Answering the door, Mayor Mills opens it to find Sheriff Swan standing on her porch.) Regina: "Miss Swan, it's late." Emma: "Is Henry asleep?" Regina: "Yes, why?" Emma: "We had a bet, winner take all. (Puts on a large fireman's helmet:) I've come to collect." Regina: "What the- Ahh! (The mayor gives out a yell as she is lifted over Emma's shoulder into a fireman's lift. Struggling momentarily with the door, Emma closes it and heads towards the staircase. In a hushed voice:) Emma put me down, this is ridiculous!" Emma: "Sorry, can't do that." (Emma readjusts her grip, so that one hand is now firmly squeezing Regina's ass. Resigning herself to this indignity, Regina ceases any pretense of a struggle. As they travel across the hall however, one of Regina's shoes falls noisily to the floor just outside Henry's bedroom door.) Regina: (Her voice serious:) "Put me down, I mean it." (Emma lets her down. Straightening her dress, Regina takes a deep breath before slowly turning the handle and gingerly enters her son’s room. Seeing that Henry is still fast asleep, she backs out of the room and closes the door.) Emma: "Well?" Regina: (Nods:) "He's still asleep." Emma: "Good." (Immediately, Emma scoops Regina into her arms and resumes carrying her across the hall.) Regina: "Well this is much better." Emma: "Yeah, but you're so fun to mess with." Regina: (Reaching her bedroom:) "I'm even more fun to fu-" (The door closes sharply behind them.) Wonderland. Present. (Walking past a sign that reads ‘Dead End of the Queen’s Road’, Ella continues undeterred.) Ella: (Reading more signs:) "‘Abandon all hope ye who enter.’ I'd have to have hope in order to abandon it. (Seeing yet more signs:) Seems like an awful waste of wood, when one sign would do. I mean, is it really that bad? Worse than finding out your mother-in-law killed your mother? (Reaching the end of the path, Ella sticks out her hand into the darkness which ripples like a wave, enveloping her fingers. Gasping, she removes her arm:) Okay, Ella, a little bit of darkness might be just what you need.” (Taking a deep breath, she steps inside the darkness and disappears.)

#sq #swan queen #swanqueen

9 notes · View notes

ghoulgeists · 4 years

Note

I HAVE QUESTIONS!!! ABOUT FLINT!!!! a lot so have fun :D 4, 9, 10, 12 :) 13, 14, 17, 23, 27, 42, 44, 50, 56, 57, 59 (i think i asked this before but i forgot the answer lol), 61, 63, 67 !! also i ask about seaweed boy !! 3, 5 lol, 11, 18, 21, 30, 40, 44, 51, 59, 61, 64 !!! and a few for cadma !! 11, 19, 30, 36, 48, 53, 64, 69

UM HEWWO?!?!? THATS A LOT OF QUESTIONS! I am so excited to answer these...

Answers are under the cut! This will be... Long

Flint

4. If they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Magic in their setting is a little different, and these questions are dnd centric, but I think I can still answer this! Flint would probably be VERY interested in divination magic, of any kind. So spells that could divine futures, locate objects, or show hidden things.

9. Do they care about their appearance? How much effort do they put into presentation?

In public, appearance is a top priority. They mingle with plenty of people whenever they can, and it's important to them that they give others a good first impression, so Flint's grooming is off the charts compared to most people.

When they're crawling around in the ancient dust of a tomb, however, the way they look isn't nearly as important as grabbing as many valuable burial goods as they can!

10. How often do they lie? What situations cause them to be dishonest?

Flint's no saint, and lies plenty enough to prove it. Most of the time it's white lies to spare feelings or to get out of doing something, but the bigger lies come when people probe about their past. It's pretty obvious they don't want people to know about who they used to be, and the bigger the secret the bigger the lie they tell to keep others off their tail.

12. Have they ever been in love?

Plenty of times! Enough to count on a few hands. It's infatuation that strikes them most often, but they have been serious on occasion too.

13. What do they dislike about themself? Why?

They dislike how weak they can often be, as well as how easy it is to take advantage of them sometimes. It drives them to take the easy way out of difficult situations no matter the cost.

14. What is something they love about themself?

They love their body! All the little details from the way their hair curls, the blue of their eyes, their stature, etc. They're very comfortable, proud, and happy being themselves!

I think this is the first character I've ever made who wouldn't want to change anything about their body for any reason :'D

17. What do they dream about, when their dreams are their own?

Beyond gold and riches, they dream about travelling to destinations both new and old, discovery, and about what stories they'll tell when they're old.

23. How do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? How do they feel about their name?

Nicknames are encouraged, but only between close friends and significant others! They don't have any titles or labels because they're not quite that infamous. Everyone who knows them refers to them by their first name, and that's what they're comfortable with because it's what they're used to!

As for how they feel about their name, they don't have strong opinions either way. It's the name they grew up with so they can't just toss it aside, but it has bad things attached to it as well. I'd say they think it's a ledger of all their (mis)deeds, and that's about it.

27. How do they mourn?

They carry on. But they swear to do better.

42. What are three words they would use to describe themself?

Confident, gorgeous, and amicable!

44. What do they need to learn?

To stop sticking their nose into trouble.

50. Can they sing? Can they dance?

Yes, Flint can sing and sings often! They will occasionally busk for lodging funds if they are ever scarce a few dollars, and have a very soothing voice that ensures at least a few people will toss them some coins. As for dancing, it's not something they're interested in, but you could always coax it out of them you can promise you'll be a good dance partner :)c

56. What animal do they most relate to?

Probably a dog? Fiercely loyal and trusting, but with a good nose (figuratively) for who they should let in on their vulnerabilities to.

57. What makes them angry?

Injustice, and the ideology that law and order outweighs the importance of the human condition.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

While not exactly quiet, they have a passion for music! Singing and playing the guitar is one of their favourite pastimes.

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

This is impractical, and they also aren't exactly found in meadows, but they would go for sunflowers. Something big and bold and bright!

63. What fight has scared them the most?

They haven't gotten there yet in the story I'm building around them, but any fight where someone almost dies and they're powerless to help is always terrifying! :^)

67. What makes them laugh?

Clever jokes, outrageous stories, and the thrill that comes from doing something dangerously stupid and getting away with it.

Tangle

3. What is their goal right now?

Two things: serve their unfathomable god to the best of their abilities, and get sweet, delicious revenge on the fishermen that almost killed him. The former is his current priority, because he knows he has plenty of years to hunt down his would-be murderers. Revenge is a dish to be savored :3c

5. Do they follow a higher power? What are their thoughts on divinity?

Before he met his patron the only thing he was concerned about was surviving. There's no time for gods when you're eking out a poor life in some nowhere village, after all!

After meeting his patron, there is honestly nothing in this world he could devote more time and attention to. So their relationship with higher powers and divinity etc all are attached by one string to a single entity!

11. What skills are they proficient in? Why?

Arcana, religion, and insight for obvious reasons! However he's also proficient in intimidation, because while he may look like a sweet boy he's actually kind of creepy (in an insane cultist kind of way), and that's sufficiently off putting enough that he can be rather intimidating.

18. Do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

lmao… definitely a follower.

21. Do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

HMMM, I am not too sure about this yet, but probably his heart! He seems like he would be easily emotionally driven.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Open-mindedness! People who would be -cough- willingtosubmittotheoldgods -cough- -cough- I mean, people who won't judge him for his faith.

40. Do they enjoy poetry?

Nope! Not that he's had any exposure to the arts, though. I guess it would be more accurate to say he doesn't have an opinion :'D

44. What do they need to learn?

That he's not special, and his devotion to his god means barely a thing. He has in his mind this idea that he's some kind of glorious, special vessel through which his patron does its dark bidding, but in reality he's just a pile of meat labeled "minion." Until he learns that awful truth, he's got an ego about his position.

51. What is the most beautiful thing in the world, for them?

The rotten bones of shipwrecks stuck deep in the sand. They're a good source of materials, a home for the night, and they make lovely silhouettes against stormy seas.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

It's done out of necessity, but they enjoy sewing up and mending clothes!

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

Nothing specific, just any bud or bloom he can find :'D

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Probably justice! Although he's indifferent to things that happen to others, he is technically seeking justice for what happened to him, in his own… special way.

Cadma

11. What skills are they proficient in? why?

Athletics, performance and acrobatics because he's an active, swole boi! As well as that he's proficient in stealth and slight of hand because he is a smooth criminal, and he's also proficient in religion for a reason I cannot fathom or remember the reason for.

19. What haunts them? What doesn’t?

Like most of my characters… the past lol… specifically, the people he's abandoned on a whim, and more pressingly his former captain, who kind of wants to spill his guts :')

What doesn't haunt him is his decisions to leave. In every instance he's left people he's found himself in a grander adventure, and he's thankful and at peace with those life decisions!

Essentially, he has the mentality that people only stay in your life for part of the journey. There’s no such thing as a lifelong partner or friend, so while he does remember people he’s left behind he thinks that charting his own course in life is more important that unbreakable bonds.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Damn good company! If you're an interesting person in any capacity Cadma will probably take a shine to you. He can't stand a stagnant lifestyle, and wants to surround himself with people who will bring adventure into his life.

36. What’s a secret they’ve kept?

It's not exactly a huge secret or anything, and anyone with eyes can tell because he has scales, but Cadma is very hush hush about his dragon ancestry and blood. It's caused him no end of troubles and he'd really rather people see him as a person rather than the inheritor of a rare bloodline.

48. What do they see in their future?

Adventure, and lots of it. Maybe a couple near death experiences too, which he is not so keen on but it comes with the job :')

53. Which is more frightening to them: day or night?

Night. Visibility is low and it's too quiet. Fires burn too bright. You have to let your guard down eventually.

It's not a fun time.

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Definitely mercy! Cadma believes in second chances, and sometimes thirds. He's needed his fair share of them, so everyone else deserves chances too

69. How would they describe their party members?

Good fun and better friends! He's never been with people so easy to latch onto emotionally, and MAN is he attached to them…

---

Thank you so much for the ask, ilu!! It's so much fun talking about my characters, I love them a lot and the opportunity to get it off my chest has been really nice uwu

I am still accepting asks! And I finally have a page with links to my character's tags, in case anyone wants to peruse!

pwease... talk to me...

#ask #ask meme #sydney-jielin #flint locke #cadma #tangle #ilusm....#wild weast

2 notes · View notes

ishgard · 4 years

Text

Title: Gifts & Curses Chapter 1: Nothing if Not Consistent Words: 2,545 Rating: T/PG-13 AO3 Link A/N: I opened one of those RP prompts ages ago that said something like 'Gaius gets cursed and Ahru can heal him', and then at like 4am falling asleep it burst wide open. One day I might go back, tweak it up, and fit it in to the grander story at large, but for now it’s just a stand-alone, for fun, deal.

________

Curses were tricky things, suffice it to say. They didn’t work in the ways one expected, or in ways that were obvious. Other times the cursemaker may not have been practiced in the art of it, bringing forth spite-driven but clumsy results.

As it stood, it was difficult to say one way or the other what Gaius Baelsar’s particular case was, but the effects had been wearing on him for days.

“I’m not sure, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before…” Yulania frowned, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest. She was still reluctant to help the ex-legatus, but she’d come at Ahru’s behest just the same.

Moving almost in unison with her, Arsh instead leaned forward, tilting his head this and that as he looked Gaius over, scratching his chin.

“That’s because it scarcely resembles anything it ought to. A mess is what it is. Someone slapping together whatever bits of knowledge they could assemble…” He restrained a chuckle -barely- and shrugged. “I’d be surprised if they themselves didn’t suffer for the casting of such a foolish attempt.”

In a small, dim-lit storage room in Ala Mhigo, Gaius sat in silence, gaze cast low to the ground before him, head sunk between his shoulders. He’d always thought himself a decently sensible man - arguable to some, he could reason, when he’d been blinded by grand ideals and the promise of power.

Such was neither here nor there though; whatever this curse, it weighed on him. Hushed whispers and babbling played at the back of his mind, barely audible - only to be crashed by a sudden scream, or angry shouts. Countless voices, all in unison, sometimes dulling to silence, as if to offer him some mild hope of reprieve only, of course, to come barreling over his senses again in a rush.

Sleep was impossible, his performance in battle suffered, and though he held himself together best he could, he could no longer deny the threads were growing thin.

“Can’t say I’m too surprised, there’s no small few who would love to see the Black Wolf hang - or worse.” Yulania sighed and shook her head. While she wasn’t so comfortable with their new ‘ally’, capital punishment didn’t sit right with her either.

“Think you could… I dunno, trace the aetherial patterns or some shit?” Ahru waved a hand at the air. "Track down who might have done it?" She may have been better at the aetherial arts than she’d ever been in her life, but hells if she knew how to deal with any of this. At best she could muddle her way through more basic healing, and instinct had often guided her well, but it had been clear from the moment Gaius had come to her this was well beyond anything she could pull off.

Yulania scrunched up her nose. “You really think the Elementals are going to give me a hand with this?”

“Pff, of course not. I just figured you might have some handy witch-y tricks up your billowing sleeves.” She didn’t give a piss about the Elementals, Yul was one of the most gifted healers she knew, and that wasn’t because of them. Catching her meaning, Yulania’s cheeks gave a faint pink glow, though she hid it with a frown and shake of her head.

“Unfortunately, it’s such a mess, I’d be afraid to apply any of my usual remedies. Fixing one thing could cause something else to worsen.”

Together they both looked to Arshadaya, who was now crouched down in front of Gaius, waving his hand not five ilms from his face. Gaius, however, didn’t seem to notice, his eyes wide and glazed over, mouth agape. The lines of his face were writ in horror, as if he were seeing some fearsome, terrible thing beyond Arsh’s palm and wiggling digits.

Ahru reached over and smacked Arsh’s hand back - even that did not draw the man out of his stupor, however.

“Gaius.” Bodily shoving Arsh out of the way she instead clapped her hands on either of his shoulders, trying to bring his gaze to hers. She’d seen him go like this once before already, and nothing had worked to bring him out of it then, yet still she could not help but try. There was little use in trying to wrap her mind around whatever their relationship was at this point, but she didn’t enjoy the idea of any she counted among her allies suffering.

“Another part of another stitched-together hex,” Arsh shrugged dismissively. “I don’t think wiggling him around will snap him out of it.”

“Your pointless commentary is not why I asked you here,” she grumbled back. He knew that, he knew everything, and she was oh so certain he knew how to fix this, but it was ever his wont to play so frustratingly coy.

“Yet it’s all I’m capable of offering.” Feigning a crestfallen pout, he dramatically shrugged his hands out to either side of him. Now that she knew better, these little gestures of his at times reminded her of Emet-Selch. But she quickly shoved that thought away, as she was becoming accustomed to doing every time the dead Ascian surfaced from the deep to haunt her.

“Oh, come now, that can’t be true.” Yulania was the first to speak up, as exasperated with the Ascians usual antics as Ahru herself was. No matter how accustomed to it they may have been. “According to Ahru, Emet-Selch could snap his fingers and pluck souls from the lifestream. You’ve practically done the same with her. Surely a tangled up little curse can’t pose such a problem.”

“Ah, but it can. And I’d like to remind you I very nearly died saving our darling Ahru. Emet-Selch was nothing short of prodigious in his abilities to see and understand the movements of the lifestream, and I but a paltry babe suckling at the teet by compare.”

“Imagery I could do without,” Ahru muttered. Her hands remained on Gaius’s shoulders, her eyes on his - still swimming in mute, abject fear. What nightmare of his own making must he have been seeing this time? Unable to scream, same as the dead bodies in his wake. Such was as much as he’d conveyed to her the last time this had occurred. That he’d found himself trapped in the corpses of those who had suffered for his ego, watching with lifeless eyes as even greater atrocities ensued. Their fears and horrors became his, but their anger and resentment wrapped gnarled fists around his throat and strangled him.

“Unfortunately, messy as this curse is, it’s effective. Patchwork bits of one hex and another strewn into his very soul, all twisted and knotted together with one great thread of hatred and murderous spite. Removing one could cause upheaval of another, but worse still is the very potential to unravel his very being.”

It was, at times, difficult to grasp just what Arshadaya really felt on a matter. One sentence or word weighed with amusement and curiosity, another with pity. Such was the case now, but Ahru knew the truth to be simple enough. He was fascinated, but not without sympathy.

“So… it’ll keep going like this…”

“Until it kills him, yes. Perhaps he will go mad and take his own life. Perhaps he will act rashly, or from exhaustion, and get himself killed. Or perhaps the shock will soon grow too much for his withered old heart.”

“Arshadaya, please…” Yulania’s voice was soft and small, the barest rustle of leaves on a spring breeze. “There’s no need to elaborate on what we already know just because you relish the chance to talk more.”

Again, Arshadaya shrugged, but his flippant demeanor slowly began to slip away, like a mask discarded. Instead he watched Ahru’s face in profile, the way it furrowed and stared deep into the Garlean’s gazeless eyes. Her fingers were sunk deep into the folds of his coat, making the subtlest of movements as if she hoped to massage away the tension even while knowing it would do no good.

“It’s not really a problem, is it?” The moment the words were out of his mouth she was snapped back to the present, face an amusing blend somewhere between a ‘glower’ and aghast. This did not dissuade or give him pause. “By the laws of mortals, this is a just fate, is it not? To suffer all he has made others suffer, to bear every fear and scar upon his soul. In fact, I daresay it’s better than what any judicial system might be able to fathom up. Beheadings are much too quick.”

With each word her face scrunched up more and more, but so too did her obvious annoyance. Alas, it would seem he’d become much to predictable to his favorite little mortal.

“Can we please skip the part where I have to justify my desire to help people?”

“Even old enemies who’ve done so very, very, many terrible things?” He spoke as if he were talking to a puppy, the sarcasm dripping. What fool mortal could possibly have had more blood on his hands than an Ascian, after all?

Ahru turned partway to him now, drawing her hands back from Gaius’s shoulders to fold them across her chest. She was good at nailing this particular expression, half pleading pout, half stubborn glare. But then, it did precisely encapsulate two of her most prevalent emotions; long-suffering exhaustion and willful defiance. She was not so gifted in the Echo that they could share thoughts, but he could hear her loud and clear. ’Do not make me work more than is necessary for information you could just as easily provide me freely.’

“Fine, deprive me of my fun,” Arsh pouted right back at her, though his he would argue was far more heartfelt. “I could, possibly, fix him up if you are truly so adamant about it, but it will require ample payment. Sacrifice, you might even say.”

Had the current situation not already been sobering enough, Ahru and Yulania both tensed, listening with rapt attention. ‘Sacrifice’ was no small word to them, who had buried the bodies of countless comrades, and something neither of them took lightly. Arshadaya, however, simply grinned at them both, shaking his head.

“Ahru, my darling, you’ll have to take him home with you. To Hyr’asra, and your mother.”

Immediately Ahru blanched, eyes wide and mouth agape, not looking all too different now from Gaius.

“You… have to be joking.” There was no emotion to her words, she wasn’t processing much in the way of thoughts let alone emotions, and the thoughts that did get by simply came out like some automated recording on old Allag tech.

Yulania arched a brow. While she was well aware Ahru’s relation with her mother and birthplace were not particularly great, she didn’t realize it was quite so bad as to warrant such a flabbergasted response.

“Mm, as I recall, the Hiraeth don’t take too kindly to outsiders…” Instead Yul grappled for the easy, obvious answer - or question, rather, which she posed to Arshadaya. “So, wouldn’t it be difficult taking a Garlean there?”

“Oh, that’s not the problem.” Arsh moved over to Gaius now running a finger over the crease in the mans brow as if he were naught more than a statue to bear his intrigue. “Ahru can, technically get away with almost whatever she wants-” at that, Ahru nearly choked on a sudden, bitter laugh. “…The problem is she’s been avoiding it so long she hasn’t the faintest clue how to face going back.”

“Yeah, and marching in for the sole purpose of healing an ex-legatus isn’t exactly going to sit well with the uma’taja.” Ahru piped in, her words betraying her reluctance. But even as unwilling as she was, the greater reluctance was saying no to the suggestion if it might really help.

“I mean… will they punish you at all?” Yulania muddled over what they were telling her, unable to pick apart what from what. Arshadaya, conveniently, was more than willing now to be silent and pin any answers on Ahru, his golden gaze locked on her. Ahru simply shook her head.

“It… really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“Well that doesn’t sound promising.”

“The worst punishment she’ll endure is her mothers disappointment and dissatisfaction,” Arsh offered.

“No, I’m sure they could do a lot worse.” Ahru rolled her eyes, but she was already coming to her decision. Arsh joked of payment and sacrifices, but as far as she could see it was only her own stubborn pride at stake. “Will you really be able to help him if I take him there?” She frowned, squinting at Gaius. “You said… mother could?”

“Maybe. First I’d try the ruins. We may be able to fix him there, where the aether is strong and pure. But if nothing else,” he grinned - vicious and cruel. “They could always sing it out of him.”

Ahru shivered. The phrase, however, was perhaps comically lost on Yulania - and for the better.

“Are they… bad at singing?” She hazarded, voice small and uncertain like a mouse. To that, Arshadaya laughed.

“The worst,” he answered, clapping her on the shoulder in a way that did nothing to alleviate her unease. “But if we’re going to do this, I should go on ahead and prepare.”

This time he did not wait for assurances or firm glares. A dark portal opened for him, and he was gone, leaving the women and nigh-catatonic legatus behind. Yulania sighed, looking to her friend for some sort of assurance that there was not some worser fate awaiting her. As did, unfortunately, seem to often be the case.

Frustratingly, Ahru simply smiled back at her. That same, tired smile she’d seen countless times before when, inevitably, she rallied herself off to some great battle despite however much she needed the rest. The same one she used to ‘jokingly’ breath the words ‘No rest for the weary.’

“Ahru… You really don’t have to do this.”

“Hah, I do too. I’d do the same for you, or Regi. Any of you.”

Face scrunched up, she fixed her friend with a most ungrateful and quizzical look. “I do hope Regi and I place a little higher than Gaius, Ahru.”

She laughed outright at that, genuine and hearty, and it seemed to liven her up. “Without a doubt, but the sentiment remains the same. So I have a painfully awkward family reunion waiting for me? Not much of a price to pay if it means saving someone.”

Sighing, Yul was near to agreeing, but stopped herself short seeing the apologetic grin now unfolding across Ahru’s features. “…What?”

“Besides~” she sang, “you’ll have the much more arduous task here, letting the others know what’s going on. Should probably start with Valdeaulin.”

“Oh, he'll be pissed, don’t you dare saddle me with-”

“You’re a gem, Yul. I couldn’t do this without you!” Before she could utter another word of protest, Ahru had seized her by the shoulders and given her a kiss on the nose. “Look after him a moment while I grab my things!”

And then she was darting out the storeroom door, leaving her blinking and grumbling to herself.

“You’re as bad as the Ascian…”

#ishgard writes #(let us find the answer together)#eventually #ahru hiraeth #gaius baelsar #yulania borael #arshadaya idaeus #-shrugs a lot-#i'm not 100% happy with it but I Made Progress and that's what matters... (???0 #cross-posted to ao3 solely cuz i know what a bitch my tumblr layout is #'yume why don't you change your tumblr layout'#listen.#[crickets chirp]#exactly.#i don't have a good reason #no betas we die like rabid hounds #anyway this was more me hammering out exposition and getting it out of the way in my head #which is a great sales pitch i know X'D

16 notes · View notes

bishielurvmaxxie · 4 years

Text

10 Things I’ve Let Go and How This Has Set Me Free

By Sara Fabian

“I do not fix problems. I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.” ~ Louise Hay

Looking back on my life, I came to understand that perfection was my worst enemy. I was raised in an environment of high expectation, and every day in school felt like I was competing with others and fighting to be the best in class.

At the age of ten I believed I was stupid just because my brain couldn’t work out physics and math. I was good with literature, arts, and foreign languages, but that wasn’t a sign of brilliance in the Eastern-European culture that shaped me.

Much later, as a grown-up woman, I didn’t see myself as good enough, beautiful enough, smart enough, or successful enough. I felt unworthy of being loved by a wonderful man, unworthy of getting a good paycheck to reflect my skills and talents, too unworthy to apply for a tempting position at work.

My life looks completely different today, and I embrace the new me with much gratitude and joy. I love myself as I am. I am happily married and doing what I was born to do in the world.

So how did this shift happen?

I can recall myself feeling overwhelmed after a long meeting at work, and looking for some inspiration to help me release the stress and feel better. As I was searching for The Secret movie on the YouTube, I “accidentally” opened another video that went straight into my heart: You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay.

Today, I know that was no accident. The teacher shows up when the student is ready—so true! I was so touched and absorbed by that movie, I couldn’t stop watching. Listening to Louise was pure magic; every single word went straight into my heart. I finally felt home, in a space where it was perfectly okay to be me: “I love and approve myself as I am. I am whole and complete and life loves me.”

Over the next year, I discovered the work of other enlightened souls—Wayne Dyer, Byron Katie, and Don Miguel Ruiz—inviting me to precious moments of self-reflection and deep learning. Their teaching helped me to let go of old thinking patterns and cultural limiting beliefs that didn’t serve me well.

After much trial and error applying their wisdom to my life, I have found a new sense of freedom. Here’s how:

1. I’ve let go of the need to be perfect.

I am perfectly beautiful and beautifully imperfect, and this is what allows me to be me.

Perfection is an illusion—it doesn’t exist. I stopped stressing myself out trying to be perfect and now I am always aiming for “good enough.” I have learned to embrace my mistakes as much needed opportunities for growth, blessings in disguise that make me wiser. If I fail at anything, it doesn’t mean I’m a failure, because I am not what I do. Sometimes we win, sometimes we learn. We never lose.

“Your best is going to change from moment to moment: it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz

2. I’ve let go of the need to be busy all the time.

Being in a rush isn’t a sign of virtue. I have learned to listen to my body, and I no longer feel guilty for doing nothing. I know I sometimes need to recharge the batteries of my body and soul, and I don’t feel like I owe anyone any explanation for doing that.

If I don’t have time for myself, I make it. Watching a good movie, listening to relaxing music, reading a good book, singing, taking a walk to connect with nature—I do whatever makes my heart sing.

“I am a human being, not a human doing. Don’t equate your self-worth with how well you do things in life. You aren’t what you do. If you are what you do, then when you don’t…you aren’t.” ~Dr. Wayne Dyer

3. I’ve let go of self-criticism.

I pay attention to my inner talk; I don’t call myself names, and I treat myself with dignity and respect. I stopped telling myself things I would never tell a good friend. I am enough, whole, and complete.

I have come to understand that in life, we don’t get what we want. We get what we think we deserve. That’s why it’s necessary to believe in ourselves and see ourselves as enough and worthy of the best things life has to offer.

“You’ve been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” ~Louise Hay

4. I’ve let go of blaming.

I now know that each time I blame someone else, I am making myself a victim. Blaming others for taking my time, my money, or my love is unfair, because I always choose how much I give and to whom. No one can hurt me or upset me without my conscious (and often unconscious) consent.

Instead, I now take responsibility for the way I feel, act, and think. I am in charge of my actions, and I know my future is the result of my current choices. I am what I believe and whatever I choose to be.

“All blame is a waste of time. No matter how much fault you find with another, it will not change you. You may succeed in making another feel guilty about something by blaming, but you won’t succeed in changing whatever it is about you that is making you unhappy.” ~Wayne Dyer

5. I’ve let go of judging.

I know that everyone is on their own journey, and my job is to focus on my own. I also know that each time I am judgmental with people, I’m reacting to something that bothers me about myself. If I believe you are mean, it means I can also be mean; how could I see that in you, otherwise?

“Placing the blame or judgment on someone else leaves you powerless to change your experience; taking responsibility for your beliefs and judgment gives you the power to change them.” ~Byron Katie

6. I’ve let go of making assumptions about what other people feel, want, or think.

I am not them, so there’s no way to know what they’re feeling and thinking.

I stopped making up imaginary scenarios and letting my mind play with me. Each time I find myself disturbed by what people do or say, I know it’s time for a reality check.

From “The Work” of Byron Katie, I’ve learned to examine the thoughts that trouble me and ask myself: “Is that true?” Many of my assumptions likely aren’t. For example, I might assume someone doesn’t like me, when really she’s just having a bad day. Or maybe she’s just shy. Not everyone is the same.

The moment I realize I can’t know what this person thinks, simply because I am not her, my mind gets clear and I am able to meet her with an open heart.

“I found that my unquestioned assumptions were the cause of all war and all peace in my world.” ~Byron Katie

7. I’ve let go of competing with others.

I now know that my need to fight is nothing but my ego’s scream for self-validation. I don’t need anyone to lose any game so that I can feel good about myself. I love harmony, collaboration, and win-wins.

I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. I choose to connect with people from a place of love instead of fear, and I believe in abundance. I choose to believe that we live in a supportive Universe, where there is enough of everything and for everyone, including myself.

“Love is cooperation rather than competition.” ~Dr. Wayne Dyer

8. I’ve let go of chasing happiness.

I no longer project my happiness into an imaginary future, hoping that someday, when I have that job, that house, that car, that success, I will be happy. I have learned to find happiness in the small pleasures of life, and I embrace the only reality that is, the present moment, with gratitude and much joy.

I stopped waiting for the weekends to feel like living because each day is a gift and every single moment is precious and equally important.

The day I shifted my focus from stressed to blessed, everything changed. I am thankful for everything I am and for everything I have: a healthy body and mind; a loving family; a few genuine, last longing friendships I’ve made over time; and a job I love and believe in.

“I have noticed that the Universe loves gratitude. The more grateful you are, the more goodies you get.” ~Louise Hay

9. I’ve let go of worrying about the future.

I accept that there are things in life that I cannot control, no matter how hard I might try. Each time I find myself worrying, I keep telling myself “Time will tell.”

I might not always get what I want, but I know I always get what I need. I trust the flow of life, and choose to believe we live in an intelligent Universe, where everything unfolds perfectly. Sometimes in life, even the time needs time.

“Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late. You don’t have to like it…it’s just easier if you do.” ~Byron Katie

10. I’ve let go of pleasing others.

I no longer seek external validation so that I can feel liked or accepted. Worrying about what others think is a waste of time. Other people’s opinion of me is all about them and what they see in me, filtered through their lenses; it has zero to do with me.

I’ve stopped expecting others to give me what I wasn’t giving myself: love, care, and attention. Loving myself as a whole—body, mind, and soul—is not selfish. I keep my cup full of self-love, and I take good care of my needs and my heart’s desires.

I have learned how to make powerful choices for my highest good without worrying about disappointing people. People disappoint themselves by setting expectations for who they want me to be or what they want me to do.

Saying no to things we don’t want to do is a learned practice and a sign of self-care. If it sounds like a “should,” I don’t do it. I go for the things that feel like a want. My wants come from myself, instead of being imposed on me by others. I always choose how I am spending my precious time and with whom. I know my time is my life, and it’s never coming back.

My life is about me and I have the right to make my own choices. Life is to be lived, not existed, and I choose to live it authentically, with no apologies and no regrets.

“Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz

—

My self-transformation into the mindful person I am today didn’t happen overnight. It’s been an ongoing process that required continuous inner work.

Today, I am still a student at School of Life, and every day is a great opportunity for new learning. I know that I have the power to create my own reality, by the way I think. So I make sure I nourish my mind with healthy thoughts, knowing my mind has power.

And now, I would like to hear from you. Are you holding on to any of these things? What’s preventing you from letting them go?

Not mine. This was taken from tinybuddha.com and written by Sara Fabian.

#this is one of the most inspirational posts i have ever read from the website tinybuddha #i feel that everyone should be able to learn some thing from this #sara fabian #tiny buddha #buddhist #motivational #life #life quotes #beautiful #mindfulness #positivity

13 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 4 years

Text

we summoned... a pizza delivery guy

Datura looked wistfully at the (rather cute) behind of their new demon friend as he followed after Prometheus and Pollux. The shapeshifting, gender fluid was definitely attractive -- both as a man and a woman. Her musings on what other forms the demon could take were cut short by Grisha's irritating voice.

"Well, you heard Prom, we have to clean this mess up," Grisha called out to Datura, fixing her with an expectant look. The kind of look that screamed 'I'm in charge, so you do it.' The look that drove Datura crazy.

Forcing a sickeningly sweet smile upon her face, Datura turned her full attention to the weak warlock. Time to try and feed his ego just enough to distract him. She let out a breathy laugh.

"Oh, Grish, I would love to stay and help clean all this up, but I can't," she pretended to pout, already gathering her candles into a box. "Besides, since you're such a better cleaner than I am. I mean, if I tried to clean this up, the humans would grow suspicious -- what with remnants of the pentagram, and I'd probably forget a crystal or two. And since you're so much better than me, you could probably clean this place up real quick with a little spell. So I've gotta run, but you have fun!"

Grisha was about to protest, but Datura was already well on her way out the door. His magic skills weren't enough to stop her, so short of physically restraining her there was nothing he could do. And honestly, given how drained he was from the summoning, Datura could have taken him. (Well, she maybe could have taken him before the spell too).

*******************

It'd been a long time since Mormo had stepped foot on Earth. Last time he roamed the world, he was assisting other demons in the development of the Black Plague. To say it'd been a while was an understatement.

And boy, did he miss it.

Granted, he expected much more fanfare when he returned. He always expected a large coven of the world's most powerful witches, only true followers of Hectate, to be the ones to summon him back. He was a little disappointed with the sight that befell him when he stepped out of the fire and brimstone.

Four measly little witches. Still in their twenties. Practically babies compared to the high priestesses he used to surround himself with. Not only that, but they couldn't have even been that powerful. One of them fell to his knees. And not in reverence and admiration to the great demon before him! He was simply that weak of a warlock.

Mormo was almost offended.

He rationalized that his restraints in Hell must have grown weakened over the many, many years. Other witches had surely tried to summon him, loosening the chains so-to-speak for the children who had broken the last link.

At least they were attractive. And much more open about their sexuality.

"So, thanks for pulling me out of hell and all that," Mormo murmured, sidling up closer to the young female he presumed to be the high priestess. She was the one giving orders back there, anyway.

He noticed her boyfriend's grip on her hand tightened as he got closer.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything," he continued, flashing a charming grin at the girl, Prometheus. "But, uh, why exactly did your little coven summon me?"

Prom smirked back at him. Mormo could see the balance of chaos and genius in her eyes. A dangerous combination, especially in such a young witch. A combination that (excuse the pun) brewed reckless ambition, which always inevitably led to tragedy. Mormo didn't know what she had planned, but he was already excited to see the destruction and downfall that would come with it.

"We'll discuss that later," she assured him, as the trio entered an apartment. "But first, we need to clarify a few things."

Mormo raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your story," Pollux piped up, earning a confused look from the demon.

"You all summoned me and you don't know my story?" Mormo was definitely offended now. Were these kids even trying to summon him? Or just any old demon?

"Your fake story to tell the humans," Prom clarified. This earned even more confusion.

"Until we can use your powers for Prom's plan, we need to keep you with us. Unfortuantely, that means you're going to be staying with us at our apartment. You're also going to have to blend in with the other college students."

Mormo was starting to regret leaving hell.

"You're going to need a more... human name? Mormo is nice and all, but it would raise too many questions. Obviously, we're going to tell everyone you're a transfer student, but we need to figure out what your backstory is. Where did you come from? Why move here? What's your major? How do Pol and I know you?" Prom continued off her boyfriend's explanation.

"Woah, woah, woah. Wait!" Mormo interjected, holding his hands up. "I have to actually go to school? You summoned me out of hell, and now you want me to attend college classes with you? Do you realize how old I am? I've learned everything I need to learn. Sitting at a desk with a bunch of humans while some geezer drones on about physics isn't really my cup of tea."

"So not a physics major," Pollux replied, a smirk gracing his features. If Mormo didn't find the warlock's sass so hot he probably would have burned him alive.

"You're also going to need a job," Prom added, a hint of laughter in her voice. "So you can help with the rent."

"YOU summoned ME and now I have to pay rent?" Mormo shouted incredulously. "I didn't even ask for this!"

"Quiet down! Our neighbors are humans and don't need to know we summoned a demon," Pollux snapped, his voice reaching a much lower timbre than Mormo thought possible for a man of his physique. Again, really hot. Then again, Prom was also really hot. Maybe it'd just been a while since Mormo had been with someone...

"Excuse me, but you've ripped me from a comfortable living situation and are now telling me I have to go to school, get a job, and pay rent. I'm allowed to be upset," Mormo insisted, crossing his arms.

"Comfortable living situation?" Prom asked, raising her eyebrow. She called bullshit.

"Hells not that bad," Mormo shrugged. "Sure, the whining of the damned can get pretty annoying. And there are more rules about what you can do and who you can eat than you'd think. And you don't get the simple pleasures of Earth to enjoy like alcohol... Okay, fine it wasn't great."

"So, you should be more grateful to us for pulling you out of there," Prom advised, a joking pout on her lips. Mormo wanted to either smack that pout off or kiss it. He wasn't sure which.

But he also knew he needed to comply with these witches. As much as he hated it, they had summoned him for a reason. And for some crazy reason, demons had to repay their debts to witches who summoned them out of hell.

At least this was guaranteed to be fun if the devious look in Prom's eye had anything to say.

"Fine. I'll go by Ambrose," Mormo conceded. "An old warlock buddy named Ambrose had helped me back in the day securing children for dinner. I kinda got him killed by his wife -- long story. Taking his name is the least I can do."

"Alright, now we just need to figure out the rest of your story," Prom grinned, that devilish look in her eye again. “You could be a pizza delivery guy.”

*******************

After summoning a demon, Datura headed straight to the art studio on campus. She had a piece to finish for class, and since Prom had already forced her away, she figured she might as well go finish it. Now it was seven in the morning, and Datura decided she needed some rest before going to class, so she headed back to her apartment. Struggling to carry her box of candles up the stairs and fish her keys out of her purse, Datura almost missed the flash of red hair above her. She almost jumped though at the voice a few steps above her.

"Do you need help with that, Datura?"

Datura looked up, smiling graciously at Fiona. She was one of the humans who lived across from her. Datura got along swimmingly with all her neighbors, but she and Fiona had only shared a few conversations in the hallway. Datura knew the redhead had a class with Prom and had shown interest in their little "friend group" (coven), but Datura had tried to keep herself from getting too close to her. Datura was known around campus for her eccentricities. Her "party tricks" were wildly known, and students often found her at social gatherings to get their tarot cards read, palms read, or other such things. To most humans, it was all just a gimmick of a kooky girl. But that's cause no one tried to look closer. Fiona seemed to be the nosy type. And Datura was not going to be the reason was discovered by humans and hunted down, despite what Grisha had accused and warned her of.

But Datura also really needed some help getting into her apartment.

"Oh, could you just unlock my door for me please?" Datura requested, handing her purse to the other girl. "The keys are somewhere in there."

Fiona dug through Datura's purse, pushing past the deck of tarot cards, a few crystals, and what appeared to be a small, homemade cloth doll, to find the keys in question. Unlocking the door, Fiona waited as the other girl pushed into the apartment and set the box of candles on the floor.

"Thanks, Fiona, you're a doll," Datura cooed, taking her keys back and hanging them by the door.

"Not a problem. What's with all the candles, though?" she smiled innocently enough, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Oh, nothing," Datura waved it off. "Just had a little get together with some friends. Candles were... for the mood."

"Prom and Pollux?" Fiona guessed, having seen Datura with the couple in question. There was often a fourth with them, but Fiona hadn't learned his name. He seemed a little cold to other people.

"Yeah, Prom had us help her summon-"

Datura nearly screamed at herself. While she was a talkative person, she had never effed up this badly. Almost blatantly admitting to the activities of the coven? Datura had never been so reckless. But she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, working on an art piece for a class, and then Prom had forced them all out of bed at an ungodly hour, and now she just wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and snooze before her first class.

"A pizza delivery guy," she finished, cringing internally at her cover.

"You summoned a pizza delivery guy?" Fiona asked, skepticism written all over her.

"Yeah," Datura nodded. "Prom called us over to hang out. And then she wanted pizza. So we summoned some by calling the store and ordering some pizzas."

Fiona nodded, still clearly not believing a word Datura was saying. Anyone else, and Datura may have been able to get away with this. She was just "quirky" enough in people's eyes to get away with saying she "summoned" a pizza delivery guy when she meant she ordered pizza. But Fiona was nosy and suspicious of Datura, to begin with. So this wasn't going well.

"Well, I really gotta go take a nap," Datura laughed, offering Fiona a wide smile. "Thanks for the help! Have a great day!"

And with that, she slammed the door in the nosy human's face, praying to Satan that this wouldn't bite her in the ass later.

#witches and ghosts and demons oh my

2 notes · View notes

snkpolls · 5 years

Text

SnK S3E15 Poll Results (Manga Reader Version)

The poll closed with 321 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results of the manga reader poll. Anime only watchers are suggested not to read if you do not wish to be spoiled about certain events! Anime only viewers, click here to view your poll results!

RATE THE EPISODE 308 Responses

Overall the fandom enjoyed the episode, with the vast majority of votes being at either a 4 or 5.

Best ep of the season thus far, Bert's monologue/transformation was amazing. Some fantastic VA work by Tomohisa and Inoue as well. CG CT also looked far better than I thought he would. These next few episodes are going to kill me. I can't wait.

Fantastic episode. Bertholdt's monologue was the best part.

Great episode, very dramatic, awesome OST. I am not looking forward to the next few eps, except for Floch's villain origin story!

Can’t wait for the next episode, this one was so good!

Editing was a bit choppy, voice lines cut half a second too quick a few times.

First ep of S3P2 to get a 10/10 from me <3

The animation was pretty lacking in this episode. R&B’s running animation on the wall felt pretty lazy, there was that reused shot of the beast Titan’s throw from season 2, Bertholdt’s character design felt inconsistent as well as Zeke’s. They really need to get the old team back on the animation cause the current team clearly doesn’t know how to handle aot. It’s getting on my nerves.

The episode was absolutely awesome.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT? 308 Responses

The Bertl Bomb™ was the scene that respondents were most excited about. Following behind that was Mikasa’s brief skirmish with Bertolt, and closely behind that was Armin and Bertolt’s shouting match on the rooftops.

BERUTORUTO=GOD

I’m mikasasexual

As a huge Bertholdt fan, it was so great to see Bert as the centre of attention for once. It makes me really sad knowing what comes next.

Bert bomb made my bomb go off

I love Bertholdt's resolve. This scene made him one of my favorite characters.

Bertholdt vs. Mikasa was so fire 🔥

One of the best episodes without a doubt. Bertholdt's monologue before transforming was even more impactful than in the manga.

Explosion aftermath was disappointing. I expected a sea of fire. The one they gave us doesn't feel like something big just happened

That "Levi's 5 seconds of screen time" was good, too!

Why isn't "Mikasa comforting and protecting Armin" an option for favorite moment in this episode? Because those were definitely my favorite moments in the episode

The partner gesture between Reiner and Bertl is the death of me

Am I the only one who get's goosebumps in the scene before he transformed himself into the colossalus titan and said: 'I feel like, no matter how this all plays out, I can accept whatever happens. That's right, nobody's in the wrong. There's nothing we could do. Because this world....is just...that cruel.' This scene was impressive back in the manga and I'm proud how good Tomohisa Hashizume nailed it. He's an amazing voice actor, especially for Bertholdt.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE APETITAN AND YOUSEEBIGGIRL REARRANGES? 296 Responses

Overall the fandom was excited about the new versions of familiar songs with 71% of respondents feeling that they were “totally epic!” 18% agree that the rearranges were good, but that they can’t surpass the original versions.

The soundtrack was lit.

Music was awesome!

Ngl I've watched the episode many times bc the OST during some scenes is just SO GOOD!!

WHO WON THE SHOUTING MATCH? 308 Responses

Over ¾ of the fandom agree that Bertolt dominated the shouting match on the rooftop.

I feel Armin won the "debate" because Bertolt, in his zeal to convince himself that he wanted to kill people he used to see as friends, wasn't making any sense

HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT BERTOLT’S DEVELOPMENT AT THIS POINT? 308 Responses

46% of respondents were happy to see how far Bertolt had come as a character at this point in the story, while 34% were just happy to get more dialogue and thoughts from him. A small percentage had been curious where his character would go from here.

Godtolt on the way

He ditched the alter ego built up out of guilt, and it's cool to see him truly one of the strongest characters fighting off Mikasa while in human form

I wish we had more Bertl development! He could’ve been really complex, but just isn’t due to a lack of screentime. Compared to someone like Reiner or Annie, this was his one moment of pure raw character development

He reveals his true warrior colors

I loved it, one of my favourite chapters because of his resolve and how he himself was surprised about it.

He's only moving forward as a character and does what needs to be done. Bertholdt, your doing amazing sweetie!

With all this development just to kill him off was heart breaking.

Honestly, I’m so proud of him. He was amazing and it’s so nice to see a confident Bert. I don’t think it’s a development worth praising in terms of moral standards but it suited and made sense for his character

I feel like this is where his character peaked. It was pretty flat before season 2

I just don’t like bertolt in generalI really like his development but it's a shame that he severely lacked screen time before this episode

I'm not really a fan of Bertolt so I'm neutral on this

I still hate his traitorous guts and can't wait for THAT scene to be animated

Fucking loved it. It's one of my favorite chapters (and now episodes) just because he's talking so much and he's badass af. My boy is finally shining!

HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT ARMIN BLUFFING ABOUT ANNIE A SECOND TIME? 306 Responses

Just over half of respondents feel that Armin should have tried a different tactic with Bertolt, while 46% felt that it was worth another shot to try and manipulate Bertolt’s feelings for Annie again.

Has Armin ever convinced anyone of anything they didn't already believe?

He was so used to Bertholdt’s behavior and there was nothing that would’ve made Armin think Bertholdt would have the reaction that he did

Lame. He didn't use much of intelligence here.

It's low, I'm happy it didn't work again

He learned some pretty vital things - how far the Warriors are willing to go, what their priorities are, what Bert's state of mind is, and where his loyalties truly lie. I don't imagine Armin went down that track solely because he thought it would have the exact same effect, but rather to 'check something' - exactly the same as Bertolt.

I think it not only was a good attempt to take (it worked before, why not try it again), but I also think it is incredibly important to show Armin's flaws. Yes, he's an amazing strategist. He's also still sixteen and not always entirely confident. Having Armin make mistakes like relying on old ploys that worked keeps his character more grounded and realistic

Smart people tend to use the same tactics over and over again as long as they're successful and for good reason. After all, why wouldn't you use the same tactic if you know it brings success? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. It's only when said strategy or tactic doesn't work where the individual would entertain the prospect of changing it or never using it again.

That’s Very Unfortunate!

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT CGI COLOSSAL TITAN? 306 Responses

36% of respondents aren’t very impressed with the CGI colossal titan, while 29% actually found the effect to be pretty awesome! 13% feel it’s disturbing and a small 7% just find it cringeworthy.

Alright

CGI doesn't bother me. What bothers me is how animators overly rely on it. Several decades ago animators made great masterpieces without cgi, all by hand. I understand using it because it makes things easier, but exceeding quality should still be top priority. If you can't make it better with CGI, then go old school and do it right.

Decent but could be better

U can still notice it is CGI but I think their CGI has gotten better compared to some of their earlier uses of it

Doesn't fit with the art style, which is as bad as unfair splitting potatoes

Not too bad but could definitely have been better. Understandable since there has only been one full body shot of it before and that was a sharp backwards, down looking angle.

Don’t really care much for cgi complaints, animating that would be a lot of work, their efforts are better elsewhere

It was necessary and didn't look appallingly bad.

I don't get why people hate it so much? I think it's fine

I hated it in season 2 and I hate it more now

Bad

Don't like CGI anything in any anime so take from that what you will

Most angles he looks fine! The only part that he looked off was when we got the face shot of him panning out to the rest of his body

Thought it looked solid. There were some really great shots of him this ep imo. Hopefully the action bits will look as good, and they mix in some 2D shots as well.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE 104TH RIDING ON TITAN EREN? 306 Responses

Over half of the fandom agree that this detail is something that’s very adorable, while 22% feel it’s just pretty neat. A combined 21% of respondents either feel it’s not that big of a deal or simply don’t care about it.

>AMJCS who cares?

Good boy protecting his friends? Hell Yeah!

I want to ride pieck - Not an innuendo, i just want a go in one of her turrets

It's gay

Lads you would never get me off that thing, I'd be saddling him up to go grocery shopping

Save me a seat guys!!

HOW WELL DID THE EPISODE ADAPT THE CORRESPONDING CHAPTERS? 306 Responses

Manga readers are overall happy with the adaptation of chapters 77 and 78, with over 90% saying that it was close to being perfectly done.

DID MARCO’S DEATH AFFECT YOU AS MUCH AS IT DID IN THE MANGA? 305 Responses

41% of respondents felt more heartbroken to see Marco’s death play out in the anime, while 31% say they felt more sympathetic toward Marco. 14% weren’t affected when this scene played out in either story-telling medium.

About the same level, still utterly heartbreaking, though

DEATH TO THE TITAN TRIO!

Didn't feel as much. Not because it was a bad adaptation, but just because I've already read it and knew what went down.

I felt more sorry for RBA than Marco in this version

I still had lot of emotions with the adaptation, but there's no compare to experiencing it for the first time

I was absolutely sobbing when I read it in the manga. Anime-wise I was more prepared to handle the scene

Watching Marco die again reminds me of why, even in current manga, I still completely and utterly LOATHE/DESPISE/HATE RBA. No, I don't care about their "tragic backstory", they don't deserve empathy of any kind.

It had the same impact when I first watched the trailer for the Lost Girls OVA, which spoiled me his death

It was tough to watch, but it was necessary to deepen Reiner, Bertolt, Annie (and Marco)'s characters. It was very well done, dramatically

Oh fuck it was WAY WORSE animated. Actually hearing his cries and screams is something that can never be duplicated in written form

I did not anticipate being as affected as I was by the Marco flashback. That doesn’t give me hope for how I’m going to handle the rest of the RtS arc. The emotions of the characters are being portrayed very well this season.

NOW THAT WE’VE HAD A CHANCE TO LISTEN TO ZEKE HAVE MORE DIALOGUE, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HIS VOICE? 305 Responses

The majority of the fandom believe that Zeke’s seiyuu is a good fit for his character, although over half of the fandom had expected his voice to sound a bit different. 10% feel it wasn’t the best choice, while a small sliver of respondents don’t care for the voice at all.

I can't unhear DIO. Thanks Zeke, thanks Koyasu.

Zeke's VA also voices a lovely, kind character in Violet Evergarden, so his lines are making me really, really uncomfortable

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT PIECK’S TITAN VOICE? 307 Responses

30% of respondents are excited about Pieck’s titan voice, while 28% feel it’s not what they expected to hear. 18% find the voice “acceptable” while 17% want to wait and hear more before making a final verdict.

Pieck's voice was unexpected in that it was terrifying, much like Ymir's Titan voice

Holy shit. I'm gonna hear it in my nightmares

I rabu Piku.

REGARDING CURRENT MANGA EVENTS, DO YOU THINK REINER STILL WANTS TO STAY TRUE TO HIS PROMISE TO YMIR? 308 Responses

Nearly half of the fandom believe that Reiner would still like to honor his promise to Ymir, but feel that he will never actually get to pull through. 15% believe that he’s still determined to save Historia no matter what, and 18% believe that he’s actually stopped caring about his promise (or perhaps just Historia in general) altogether.

Good question. I really want to have a scene with him facing Historia, his reaction to her pregnancy should be interesting

He doesn't want to save HISTORIA because he doesn't know her. The one he wanted to save was KRISTA. But she is already "dead"

I think Reiner has done what he needed to

I'm not sure, I think his main concerns are the kids and stopping Eren

It has to be real low on his priority list right about now given the circumstances

Of course not, Reiner only cares about his own manpain

He still calls her Krista and she probably has already chosen a side most likely Yeagerist

ARMIN HAD WISHED FOR A CHANCE TO NEGOTIATE AT THIS POINT, SIMILAR TO CURRENT MANGA EVENTS. IS THIS PROOF THAT HE HASN’T BEEN CHANGED BY BERTOLT’S MEMORIES? 308 Responses

44% don’t want to say either way whether Armin’s pre-titan behavior is indicative of the influence that Bertolt may or may not have over the Armin we know in the current manga. 39% believe that this is proof Eren’s words to Armin were total B.S., and 12% think this isn’t really proof of anything.

Armin Has always been the diplomat, while Eren is a man of force. Mikasa is in between. It has always been that way.

Past and future are influenced the same when paths are concerned so there's no way to tell.

I don’t think it’s enough to prove or disprove but this is an interesting idea

I don't get this 'changed' shit. Of course having access to someone else's memories has its own influence on a person, but that's true of anyone on the planet who's read a memoir as well. Everything has its effect. The titan shifter thing is obviously a bit more invasive than that, but it doesn't mean he's now suddenly possessed by Beartoto's fucking undead spirit.

I'd like to think it is but with everything Isayama's been throwing at us from out of left field who knows

he's always wished for negotiation, but he seems to have changed in his methods for negotiation. armin used to be more abrupt and upfront, whereas now he seems more tentative

No, he wasn't chanced that much. He understands RBA better and has more sympathy for Annie (maybe even has a crush on her) but it has nothing to do with being a slave.

SIMILARLY, MIKASA POINTS OUT HOW BERTOLT FEELS LIKE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON. ARE THE MEMORIES OF HIS PREDECESSOR AFFECTING HIM IN THIS ARC? 306 Responses

Over half of the fandom feel that Bertolt’s current behavior at this point in the series is of his own will, and not influenced by any prior holders of the Colossal Titan. 38% think it’s possible he’s being influenced by memories of his predecessor(s) at this time, while a small percentage feel that he is definitely being influenced by someone else’s memories.

He was badass but I think he was affected by memories of the previous CT owner.

I think that Mikasa thinks he’s acting like a different person because he is. I think this is what Bertholdt is really like but with the 104th he was playing a role so he didn’t get too attached to them.

Still wondering if the "he seemed like a different person" comment was a note about development or supposed to foreshadow something about the Titans influencing their hosts.

I think it’s original Ymir controlling him through the paths

Probably. It seems like a bit of a drastic change to go from quiet, self-deprecating and remorseful to cold, outspoken, and trying to morally justify his actions. It's just too drastic a change.

Confidence boost is completely irrelevant to paths.

We don’t even know Bert’s previous predecessors!

Nope, that's have something to do with "character development", people change sometimes after time and grown more indepented and strong of their own shadow.

I always thought of it more as Bertie finally coming down on a side and the pair picking up on that. He was always so meek and indecisive, but now he's been forced to make a choice and to do it he has to shed his old skin and become more ruthless.

Not at all he ditched his guilt that made up the act they knew him for.

WHAT SCENE ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO IN THE PREVIEW? 307 Responses

The overwhelming majority of respondents are looking forward to the Survey Corps’ suicide charge against the Beast Titan and his flying boulders. Nearly 30% are looking forward to the moment that Levi gives Erwin his promise to kill the Beast Titan. A small percentage are most looking forward to Armin and Jean decide who’s going to lead the 104th to victory.

I am not ready for the next two episodes

I’m gonna get my ASS FUCKED SO HARD I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO. THERES GONNA BE SHIT EVERYWHERE. ERWINS GONNA FUCKING DIE. LEVIS GONNA BE SAD.

fuck next week's shit is good, hype

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

The "predecessor's memory affecting current shifter" is, as far as I'm aware, just a theory that I don't buy into. I've only seen a person "changed" because of the Founding Titan's vow. Otherwise, the shifter's personality remains the same. Armin has always been an advocate for talking and negotiation. We see this in the Trost arc when the Garrison nearly kill Eren with that cannonball. So no, I don't think anyone's memories are "affecting" anyone, including current Eren.

Loved pretty much everything in this episode except for the CGI CT. Didn't expect to see uncensored Reiner, which was weird because Mikasa cutting off Bert's ear was more censored. And I'm a bit disappointed we didn't see more shots of Bert with his V fringe off his forehead. He looked so cool in the manga!

This episode gave me anxiety 'cause I know what we'll going to deal in the next three ones. The soundtrack gave intensity in every scene that its put on it, plus the fantastic job of the VA, perfect work. And just thinking about how the next episodes will be.... *goosebumps*

Wit studio handled the cgi very well imo. It's very difficult to animate this action heavy arca with rubble, smoke, odm scenes etc. and I think they are adapting the manga very well with the right pacing per episode which is also a challenge to fit within 20 minutes.

Bertolt is best boi and this episode was the best of all 3. He deserved to survive and mature up. Hashizume nailed him JUST RIGHT and his interactions with Reiner this episode were on point. The scene where he outsmarted Armin and countered Mikasa was worthy of applause.

i wish it wasn’t too rushed some moments aren’t as emotional as they should be

mikasa looked so good this episode and i'm so happy with how wit isn't screwing her over

After seeing this episode and Marco's death, it makes me sad that Reiner lost his pal Bertolt. They should be suffer bois together. Even still, some of the animation this episode was reallyy not great, so I rated the episode a 4.

Bertolt has proved on this episode that he's one of the best character of the series

I miss berthold so much and seeing him at his best was awesome but it’s really hard knowing what’s going to happen next

This is shaping up to be the best season of Attack On Titan. Cheers for more!

zeke’s beard is the tenth titan shifter

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 295 Responses

Thank you to everyone who participated! We’ll see you again in a few days!

#snk spoilers #snk s3 #snk poll #snk polls #poll results

18 notes · View notes

pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

Text

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ant-Man (2015)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, once.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Four (22.22% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Fourteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

It’s delightful.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Maggie passes with Cassie as she puts her to bed.

Female characters:

Peggy Carter.

Hope Van Dyne.

Cassie.

Maggie.

Male characters:

Howard Stark.

Hank Pym.

Scott Lang.

Peachy.

Luis.

Dale.

Kurt.

Dave.

Darren Cross.

Frank.

Paxton.

Gale.

Mitchell Carson.

Sam Wilson.

OTHER NOTES:

Dave calls Scott a pussy, and Scott is not fussed at all about accepting the attempted insult.

Ah, the old ‘wish you’d call me dad’ cliche, the most worn-out lazy way to establish an antagonistic parent/child relationship.

“a sustainable environment of well-being”, what an excellent fascist euphemism.

Maggie is very reasonable with Scott about the conditions for seeing Cassie; it’s refreshing to not have this played as ‘harpy ex-wife refuses to let man see his child because she’s just the worst!’ Maggie has a child to look after - and has been doing so for years now while Scott was in jail - and she has every right to impose rules on how things proceed, Scott doesn’t get to just march in and have things his way ‘because she’s my daughter!’ Children are not possessions or status symbols, and this movie does a nice job of recognising that and having the adult characters recognise that and behave in reasonable and understanding ways for Cassie’s benefit rather than their own egos. Other films should take note. Also, real people.

“Yeah man, it killed DiCaprio.”

Turning lambs into goo is worse than kicking puppies. What a monster.

They do a pretty solid job with the reason for Hope not being allowed to don the suit instead. It has strong potential for seeming like flat-out sexism, the idea that a woman can’t get the job done (in universe) and that a female hero won’t sell (out universe), and while that may indeed still be the core reason, they still pull off the reasoning as if it’s genuine.

Pym’s excuse for why he never told Hope the truth about her mother’s death, on the other hand, is pretty fuckin’ weak. Tell people to stop pretending ‘I was trying to protect you’ is a reasonable explanation for lies. It’s super-high - easily Top 5 - on my list of Worst and Most Tedious Cliche Lines.

Kurt suggests that the suit is the work of gypsies and it’s...not the best line they could have picked. Something less racist instead, maybe? No?

Cross is really fixated on Pym as a father figure. It’s different. I like different.

“That’s a messed-up looking dog.”

Scott and Paxton making peace is so great. Paxton peeing in all the corners and Scott being all jealous and threatened by Paxton ‘usurping his place in the family’ would have been such a predictable cliche for them to use, and this very palatable mature adult behaviour is sooo much better. This is how you stop normalising petty possessive rivalries.

Luis is magical, and also, mad cultured. I love it, but I love even more that they don’t hang a lantern on it, they just let it be part of his character.

Ok, I confess, this is probably gonna be a weird sort of meandering review, because I’ve had this post sitting in my drafts for two months gathering dust while I deal with the mental and physical fatigue of the first trimester of a pregnancy (it’s FUN), and now the due date for this post (pun definitely intended) is right on the horizon, so...I’m just gonna get it done, and it’ll be whatever the heck it is in the end. This is not a complex film filled with deep nuance, it’s basically just an action-y heist movie with some hand-waved scifi on top. And there’s ants. It’s not a hard film to talk about, so you’ll excuse me if it doesn’t get my very best effort. I’m kinda busy growing a human over here.

I remember a lot of grumbling and even some outrage in fandom, back when this film was announced; a lot of people upset that the MCU was bringing in a comparatively little-known and perhaps little-loved superhero like Ant-Man when they still hadn’t bothered with a single female-led film yet, and various complaints about the problematic nature of the Ant-Man character from the comics (referring, I believe, to the Hank Pym version). And then, of course, there was the doubt about whether or not an Ant-Man story was just a fucking idiotic idea in the first place, what with the questionable application of science and the even more questionable appeal of a tiny little man running around playing with ants. Expectations were not high. And yet, Ant-Man pulls through, not just with a great fun romp, but with what I consider one of the more entertaining films the MCU has churned out to date.

I have made my fair share of sour comments about previous films in the MCU and their unimaginative paint-by-numbers plots, and so what I’d like to talk about with Ant-Man is how it manages to be such a success to me despite an essentially uncomplicated story that follows a predictable narrative arc the likes of which we’ve all seen a hundred times before. The basic tenets of a heist movie are all there; the basic tenets of a good vs evil story play straight, alongside a low-key but typical redemption plot, and some plight-of-the-regular-guy vs corporate greed and warmongering, and the leading man hooks up with the leading lady in the end and proves himself as a hero to his family and all that jazz. We know every one of these story and character beats. So. Why do they work?

Let me back this up a second to talk about a couple of major-league pet peeves of mine, the one a microcosmic version of the other: firstly, when people say ‘all Marvel films are basically the same’, and secondly, the Advanced Level Faux-Intellectual Douche version of that sentiment, when people declare that ‘there’s no such thing as originality anymore! There are only seven types of story in the world anyway! Everything is derivative!’ It’s an obnoxious absence of a viewpoint that betrays a lack of imagination and a use of such broad-strokes surface-level comprehension as to be essentially meaningless. Sure, if you break down story concepts to their most fundamental core drives, you can summarise their arcs in a relatively small number of ways, and familiarity with these core concepts can provide a degree of predictability in the way things play out. But that doesn’t mean that every single version of, say, the classic Hero’s Journey is the same damn story, and therefore a useless derivation from which no entertainment or message can be gleaned. If someone asks you to tell them the plot of a movie and you just go ‘oh, it’s a Hero’s Journey’ and leave it at that, you’ve told them almost nothing about what to actually expect. The Matrix is a very, very different Hero’s Journey to The Lord of the Rings, which is a very different Hero’s Journey to Finding Nemo, which is not at all the same as Iron Man. And which of them is closest to The Odyssey, anyway? One of the most obvious differences with all of those examples is genre, and the traditional trappings which often (but not always) follow from them. Sure, the MCU films tend to all fit superhero-comic genre conventions, and some of them (particularly origin stories, as with Iron Man and Thor) may employ a lot of the same tropes while they’re at it. But does anyone really, genuinely think that Ant-Man is ‘basically the same’ as Captain America: The First Avenger? Is Guardians of the Galaxy almost indistinguishable from Black Panther? Does anyone who says ‘Marvel movies are all basically the same’ actually believe the words out of their own mouth, or do they just hope it makes them sound smart if they imply that they’re ‘above’ enjoying mainstream popcorn action?

All of this is to say, what makes Ant-Man work where other trope-heavy films fall apart? The same thing that makes literally any story ever work, and be worthwhile, whether it ‘breaks barriers’ or ‘teaches something’ or is considered ‘high art’ or not: details. Some films are too light on details, which makes them boring because they never really bother to build anything on top of those core foundations we know so well. Sometimes, the details - numerous as they might be - are too generic to have an impact, and the dull result is the same. Sometimes the details are too absurd to land, or there are too many to keep track of, or they require too much extraneous qualification to fit into the flow of the rest of the story, or they’re irrelevant to the rest of the story anyway. The thing about details? There are countless options. People come up with new ideas all the time, through the exercise of imagination or through developments and innovations in the real world. Basic, core plot arcs may be distilled to a handful of options, but story details are limitless, and the possibility of fun new combinations is always there, whether you’re inventing something entirely never-before-seen or not. The idea that you have to be shocking and unexpected to be worthwhile is ridiculous, and shepherds illogical contrivances and gimmicks without narrative cohesion or purpose much more often than it achieves something genuinely surprising with merit (and storytelling that prioritises ‘shocking twists’ is usually so busy trying to look clever it forgets to actually be clever, but, that’s another conversation). The point is, Ant-Man being a delightful film isn’t rocket science. It’s as simple as just a little forethought in the construction of its details.

As noted back near the top, the whole Ant-Man concept and its wobbly science was something that drew some doubt regarding whether or not it could be pulled off in a convincing manner; the solution to achieving that is to do more than just lean in to the idea. The film throws itself whole-heartedly into its core conceit and its tropes, and it drags us along with it to gleefully delight in the act. The story is not embarrassed by itself, it doesn’t try to keep its distance; instead, it gives us a flying ant named Antony, and a dramatic death scene for that ant. What is the point of the Pym particle science conceit if we don’t enjoy the comedic potential of an epic battle inside a briefcase, or on a child’s train set? Relevant to this also is the subject of casting choices (as much a detail-of-interest as anything; a single casting choice can legitimately make or break a film). Paul Rudd has a perfect blend of leading-man charisma and affable comedic chops; he plays Scott as a beta-personality, which is always a refreshing change-up for a lead, and one which invites other refreshing changes around him. It avoids tedious masculine antics in his interactions with other men, while encouraging balanced and respectful interactions with women; Scott never asserts himself as the boss or leader in his relationship with Luis and the rest of his crew, allowing for a smoothly-cooperative dynamic; no time or plot is wasted on pointless jostling for control of the operation with Pym; the idea that Scott needs to prove himself to the three female characters in his life - Hope, Maggie, and Cassie, each for similar but different reasons - is given legitimate weight, instead of implying that Scott and his perspective is inherently superior and correct and the onus is on the other characters to realise that, rather than being on him to live up to other people’s reasonable expectations. It should come as no surprise that the latter element is especially interesting and heartening in the context of this blog.

This is particularly good news when it comes to the kinds of relatively minor details which can make a huge difference in whether or not one reflects on a film in a positive or negative manner; the fact that the narrative supports and validates Hope’s anger, her frustration and resentment and her all-business-no-fun attitude, is vital to keeping a viewer like myself on-side with the film. Hope is never presented as someone who should ‘just loosen up’, or ‘have faith in her father’s plan’, the fact that she is denied the Ant-Man technology because Pym ‘can’t bare to risk losing her’ is offered as a reason but not as an excuse for something deeply patronising, and Scott proving that he can get the job done despite Hope’s misgivings about him is not framed as her being ‘wrong’ - her concerns were legitimate, as all her emotions across the film are, and the story never compromises on that in order to bolster another character. Whether or not Hope is well-handled is not important to the operation of the central narrative plot in a technical sense, but it means a lot in terms of delivering strong characters with satisfying arcs, and a central plot can easily fall flat if the characters participating in it don’t work well, individually or together.

I’m trying to wrap this up coherently, but it’s just as well that I disclaimered myself in the beginning because all I’ve got are frayed pieces of, probably, five other paragraphs I could waffle about. It’s not a complex film, no, but it has a surprising amount of quality details, the more I think about it, even regarding aspects of the movie that I liked less than others (Pym, for example, I did not love, but I like that the movie never tried to pass off his ‘genius’ as an excuse for him being a significantly flawed figure in the lives of most people who encountered him, often with bitter consequences. I’m also a big fan of the fact that both he and Scott have complicated but loving relationships with their daughters, considering that Hollywood has a hyper-obsession with the idea of ‘A Man And His Son’ as the beating heart of family narratives). I’m going to close this out with what may be my personal favourite refreshing detail of this movie, and that’s the mature adult relationship between Scott, Maggie, and Paxton. I mentioned it already in the notes, but honestly, how many times have we seen that toxic cliche, with the shrewish ex-wife and the terrible new man in her life, where the main character (who is Doing His Best!) has to prove through [insert plot heroics] that ex-wife is WRONG and should have stayed with him, the father of her child(ren), because did we mention, her new man is terrible and the main character is always right and good and better! In the end, ex-wife almost certainly leaves her terrible new man to get back together with the main character, because he is Doing His Best and that’s more important than actually being a stable/responsible person! The American nuclear family is the ideal! Divorce is for heathens! Y’all know that toxic plot. I can think of three different examples of it in action right off the top of my head, with no effort required. Point is, the degree to which I was utterly thrilled by this movie subverting cliche at every turn of its family saga really cannot be overstated. Maggie is a reasonable person! Scott respects that Cassie’s needs are more important than his wants! Paxton cares about his family and genuinely wants Scott to land on his feet, for the benefit of everyone! There’s no jealous posturing and Scott acting all hurt about being ‘replaced’! HE LITERALLY THANKS PAXTON FOR EVERYTHING HE DOES, WHEN HAVE I EVER SEEN THAT BEFORE?! Honestly, you don’t have to tell the most original story in the world to tell a story that resonates. You don’t even have to avoid common tropes, you just have to think about what you want to do with them. It’s not rocket science. It’s just good honest storytelling.

With ants.

#Marvel Cinematic Universe #Ant-Man #MCU #Bechdel Test #female representation

13 notes · View notes

eryiss · 5 years

Text

Blade of the Wanderer - Chapter Two

Summary: Laxus’ life was fine. Not comfortable, not as good as it could be, but fine. Then a stranger entered the walled town of Magnolia, a stranger named Freed Justine, and everything changed. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter | T for Violence]

Hey all! Here’s a new five-chapter fic for you all, and it’s a samurai AU. It’s part of the @ft-bb event, in which I’ve been signed up with @fyo-schii who’s made this amazing art!

You can read it on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. And you can see all chapters right here. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter Two – Unwanted Truths

Year: 1539x. Luna-cycle: 8. Day: 18.

Laxus was sick of fish. He was sick of the cold, dying old forest that he had been forced to take up residence in. He was sick of waking up on the dirt with nothing but a ratty old blanket to cover him. He was sick of feeling the aches and blisters that remained from the untended wounds that still covered almost all aspects of his body.

But right now, he mainly was sick of the fucking fish.

Only a week had passed since the stranger had arrived in Magnolia. Only a week since Laxus had been forced into fighting the green haired man, had lost and been forced out of his village as retribution. It had been a tough fucking week.

He'd pitched up camp – if it could be considered a camp – at the edge of Hakobe forest, just out of Ivan's territory. He had been forced to rely on the limited skills that he'd gained from the survival training, which he was now incredibly thankful for. He was camping beside a river for fresh water, on an elevated mound of rock that would counter any negative impacts of the rainfall that populated the area and made sure that his food was tied up from a tree as to keep it safe from any animals taking it in his sleep; thankfully, that particular issue hadn't yet arisen.

Laxus wouldn't doubt it if Ivan had instructed his guard to kill all wildlife just to stroke his ego.

The guards were something that Laxus had worried about, but it seemed fate was at least being kind to him in that respect. On the first day, he'd heard the guard approaching and made sure to keep himself hidden, but he had felt a small amount of hope when he heard the loud and familiar voice of the guard patrolling his area of the forest. When he risked taking a glance and looking at the guard, his suspicions were proven right. It was Bickslow.

Although their reunion was short-lived – Laxus knew the guards had a lot of ground to cover in a short time – Bickslow promised his friend that he would help anyway he could. They agreed that Bickslow would smuggle things out of the town and hide them in the large knothole of a tree of an equally large tree.

It really was a blessing. On the first day of their agreement, the knothole was filled with a blanket, some large sheets of slightly torn leather, a large spool of rope, and a bed roll. He'd tied the leather on the trees that overhung the rock he was camping on to create a makeshift shelter and used the bedroll and blanket to get a relatively good nights sleep. Every day, Laxus had checked the knothole and every day, Bickslow had left him something: ranging from a box of match so that he could easily set fires for himself and keep himself warm, to the daily half-finished loaf of stale bread with an equally old pot of jam. It wasn't luxurious, but the blonde didn't care.

But he couldn't rely on Bickslow for everything.

On his third day he'd made himself a spear from a fallen branch and had used it to fish in the river. He knew Bickslow could only smuggle him food for so long without getting caught, and he didn't want his friend to be punished for helping him, so he would have to become self-sufficient. On the morning of the fourth day, he used a knife Bickslow had given him to scratch a note into some leather that he could handle food himself now so he didn't have to worry, which he then left in the knothole for Bickslow to find.

However, after four days of eating hardly anything but fish, and with only enough bread left for two slices and a near empty jam jar, Laxus found himself sick of fish. But he couldn't do anything about it, which was why he found himself holding the impaled salmon over the fire as he cooked it.

He couldn't live like this forever. He needed a plan on what to do next.

As he slowly turned the fish around, he tried to think through what he could actually do. The obvious answer was that he should find another town, see if he could make a new life for him there. The only issue, Magnolia was entirely secluded, and Ivan made sure nobody knew what life was like outside of the town. Hell, the maps probably didn't even include the part of Hakobe forest that Laxus was camping at, and it was less than fifty yards from his settlement.

With a sigh, Laxus leant back. His best options were either to stay in the forest and hope not to get caught, or to choose a direction to go and hope he reached a town that would accept him. Either plan needed a lot of hope, and he didn't feel particularly hopeful at that moment.

He ran his hand over his face, still slowly rotating the fish that would be his dinner for the night. He allowed himself to listen to the sound of the forest. If there was one positive aspect of his exile – and there truly only could be one – it was the calmness of the forest compared to the town. The sound was calm and only consisted of the river flowing nearby and the insects chirping around him. It was a short moment of unbroken peace.

Until it was broken. By the sound of branches cracking.

He shot up immediately, leaving his fish resting on the rock as he picked up his knife. He'd set up in thick circle of fallen branches around his camp, so he could be alerted to a threat if it approached. So far, it had been unneeded, but even if he had misheard it, Laxus wasn't going to risk it.

His approach to the source of the sound was cautious, and he was holding the knife with a tight grip. He carefully looked over the landscape, looking either for an animal that could have caused the cracking or perhaps an attacker of some kind. His gaze was narrowed, and face contorted into a scowl, hoping that he could scare the attacker away if they existed.

It took him less than a minute to see who had caused the cracking of branches. His jaw clenched when he did.

Freed fucking Justine.

Laxus had been thinking about the man since his exile, and no thought had been pleasant. This man had been the reason his life had been upended in the way it had, and Laxus' mind had contorted him into a man easy to hate. Seeing him again, Laxus was forced to confront the reality that he was a normal person.

He was wearing the clothes that Laxus had first seen him in, with a sword attached to his belt and a passive expression on his face. He hadn't yet noticed Laxus, but the blonde didn't Care. Because all he was looking at a normal man, and it pissed him off.

"Why the hell are you here?" Laxus snarled through gritted teeth.

This was what alerted Freed to Laxus' presence. He seemed a little startled, but not exactly scared by the sudden arrival of the other man. He looked him up and down, seemingly assessing Laxus in the same way that he had during their fight. This time, Laxus didn't allow himself to be affected by the other man, and his grip around the knife tightened to the point where his knuckles were white and hand nearly blistering against the knife's hilt.

Suddenly, another option of what Laxus could do struck him. If he were to return to the town, holding a knife to Freed's throat as an offer, there was a good chance it could do well to get his father's favour. So he found himself confused by the what he said next.

"I don't care, actually," He grunted. "Fuck off, don't wanna end up getting your neck slashed, do ya?"

Freed raised an eyebrow at that, and slowly grabbed the hilt of his sword. He pulled it out slowly, and it glinted in the light of the fire. He didn't raise it, simply kept it open as both a precaution if Laxus attacked and as a warning to stop him from doing something stupid. Laxus didn't move, so Freed slowly started to walk forward and diminish the gap between them.

"Mr Dreyar," Freed began, his expression patronising. "Given our last encounter, I have to wonder if you're capable of that."

Laxus' jaw clenched. His grip on his knife was as tight as it could possibly get.

"If you're insistent, I will fight you. Just be warned that I not only have the better weapon, but I also know how you fight and know how to counter it, meaning I have a considerable advantage over you," Freed smirked. "So I think it would be in your benefit if we're civil, don't you?"

With a glare on his face, Laxus found himself questioning why he hadn't acted on his impulse immediately. He could have overpowered Freed before he had the chance to pull out his sword if he moved when the ideas struck him. If he had, he could have removed the man's weapons and would already be walking him towards the town, hoping it would be enough to appease his father again and allow him to return to his normal life.

So why the hell hadn't he taken the chance while it was still there?

Wearing a small snarl, Laxus knew there would be no point in fighting. He hadn't slept well, nor eaten anything of substance for a week, so he was in no fit state to fight. And, as much as he wasn't going to admit it, Freed had outfought him before and might do so again.

Instead of speaking, he slammed his knife into a nearby tree and lowered his hand, leaving the weapon where it was; admitting Freed was right with his actions rather than words. Freed seemed to understand what that meant, as he pushed his sword into the ground and pulled a knife from his coat pocket, slamming it into the same tree that Laxus had. With that, an uneasy truce was made.

"So," Laxus muttered. "This a coincidence, or did ya hunt me down to take the piss out of my fighting skills?"

"A coincidence," Freed chuckled a little. "And I wouldn't mock how well you fought. You were good."

Laxus huffed sharply at that. If he was good, he wouldn't be in the fucking forest eating an unappetising fish with a spear hole in it- Shit, his fish.

He walked back to the open fire and picked up the salmon and started to rotate it over the fire, taking note of the sound of Freed's footsteps following him. He glanced back to see that the knives still remained in the tree and his sword was still sticking in the dirt, so he didn't see any point in worrying as he sat on the cold stone and continued to cook his dinner.

It was slightly demoralising, cooking as crap meal in front of the person who lead him into this situation wasn't something that he enjoyed. But he would rather do this than keep his pride and go hungry until Freed left; hopefully that would be sooner rather than later.

"You don't believe me?" Freed said, sitting beside him.

"If I was any good at fighting, we wouldn't be sitting here," Laxus muttered as he slowly started to rotate the fish. "I wouldn't even be in this fucking forest."

"Just because you lost, you can still be good in a fight," Freed continued, seemingly not bothered by the fact that Laxus was half attempting to make him feel guilty. "And I can assure you, you were good at fighting. With a few adjustments, I'm sure you could have beaten me without much trouble."

Laxus kept his gaze forward, though his expression was somewhat impassive. He had turned Freed into someone who was relentlessly cruel and vicious, and that was how Laxus had justified both his loss to Freed and his anger towards him. so, to not only see him as a regular man, but to also have him give Laxus compliments completely destroyed the version of his opponent that he had created. Now sitting next to Freed, who was less of a caricature that Laxus had hoped for, the blonde didn't know how he should behave.

He wanted to fee angry. The only aspect of control he had over the situation was his memory of Freed, and now that his memory was disproved, he lost all control over what was happening. He should be angry, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Instead, he settled for tiredness.

"Please, enlighten me to how I could have done that," He muttered, sarcastically.

"Well, on any technical standpoint, you should have won," Freed said, either not picking up the sarcasm or ignoring it. "Everything you did was correct, and you followed the techniques up with impressive physical strength and you were relentless with how you acted. It was obvious that you've been training for quite some time. You were probably quite good at it as well, correct?"

"Yeah," Laxus said, humouring the guy with a small frown.

"And that was your issue. From what I saw of your town, it was very routine," Freed continued. "So was your fighting style. Following the disciplines of that fighting style, you're obviously very good. But, the problem that fighting in such a disciplined way means, once I know your fighting style, I know how to counter it."

The impaled fish stopped rotating, and Laxus looked towards Freed with a small look of confusion. He'd grown up thinking of fighting as a sport, something that was more artful than anything else. The practicality of it had never come up because he'd never had to fight for something other than entertainment. It was obvious that Freed had a different opinion on fights, that they were things to be won and nothing more. In hind sight, Laxus probably should have gone into the fight thinking the same thing.

An almost nauseating sensation filled his stomach, something akin to regret. What Freed was saying – or at least what Laxus had concluded from what he said – was that he could have won their fight if he was more instinctive and less restrained. It was a small thing, and if he had done it things would have been pretty fucking different.

He ignored the voice in the back of his mind that questioned if that would have been a good thing or not.

"You're burning your salmon."

Laxus blinked at the sound of Freed speaking again, and his gaze snapped towards him. After realising what he had said, he looked towards his fish that was now burning at the bottom and had become the same colour of the burning wood. He quickly removed it from above the open flames and hissed; this was the last fish he had, and he wasn't in the mood to spear-fish again, so he would have to deal with eating this for the night.

As he brought the ruined food to his lips and took a tentative bite, he saw Freed remove the large bag he was holding from his shoulder. Wincing at the taste of the fish, he saw Freed remove a large mass of brown paper from his bag. He watched as the other man unwrapped the paper to reveal a large mass of pastry.

Freed didn't speak as he brought a breadknife from his bag, that was also wrapped in the brown paper. He slowly cut the pastry in half, revealing that it contained a large amount of meat inside. He wordlessly handed one half to Laxus, who frowned at it.

"With how you've cooked that, you'll probably chip a tooth," He commented, looking to the fish.

It was tempting not to take the offer of food, to claim Freed was being patronising and that his comments on the fish were just him being a dick. But Laxus wasn't in a position turn down food at this point – certainly food that wasn't fish or stale bread covered in a thin layer of jam. And if a small amount of mocking was what he needed to get this, he could accept that.

"Thanks," He nodded, taking the half pie for himself. "Fish is all I've eaten for like a week, would've thought I'd figure out how to fucking cook it."

"I'm sure you'll pick it up," Freed chuckled, and Laxus couldn't be sure if he was being mocked or if Freed was just making conversation. "I will admit, I didn't think I would see you again. After the expression your father was giving you, I assumed you'd be spending the next few months doing any dirty work that he could think of."

"That's him on a good day," Laxus chuckled spitefully.

He took his first bite of the pie, relishing in the flavour of what he concluded was breaded pork. As he swallowed, he caught sight of Freed side-eyeing him with confusion on his face. After finishing the bite, he looked to Freed and sighed.

"He kicked me out," He explained.

"Of your house? Just for losing a fight," Freed frowned, shifting slightly. "Seems like an overreaction."

"Yeah," Laxus let out a bitter laugh again. "Wasn't just the house, either. Not allowed in the village."

"Really?" Freed seemed shocked. "For how long."

"Don't know what your definition of an exile is," Laxus muttered. "But for Ivan, it means I ain't allowed back at all."

Funny, that was the first time he'd said it out loud. He expected it to fill him with the same sense of dread and nausea that he had felt when he had first been told of his exile, but instead he felt almost hollow. Perhaps he was just tired of the situation – as well as being generally tired – and was just accepting everything for what it was. Unchangeable.

Freed was frowning after taking a bite out of his food, not bothering to hide his expression as he looked towards Laxus. The blonde couldn't blame him for acting like that; even without knowing any other life, Laxus knew that Ivan ran his town in a way that wasn't the norm. He mindlessly wondered if Freed would have acted differently if he had known the consequences Laxus had faced for losing beforehand. Probably not; Laxus wouldn't have risked losing his life if the only consequence his opponent would face would be losing their home.

"Just for losing a fight," Freed finally spoke again. "That's… that's just ridiculous."

"The kinda man my dad is, I guess," Laxus all but shrugged, tearing into another bite of the pie. "The way he saw it, he'd put his reputation into that fight. You didn't worship the ground he walked on and, if I lost, it might tell other people they can get away with treating him the same way. Kicking me out was restoring his power."

"If that's true, you're father's pathetic," Freed frowned.

Laxus shrugged, not finding it in himself to disagree. In many ways, his father really was a pathetic man. He hid it behind layers of sadism and false power, but Laxus had always felt that he would be all bark and no bite if actually challenged. The only issue was that the layers of sadism and false power meant that nobody was going to challenge him. Laxus included.

"Guess he is," Laxus sighed. "But that's just how that town is, now. Ivan's in charge of the place and you do what he says. If you don't, he'll make your life hell until the next person pisses him off, and even then, he'll hold a grudge."

"Has he always been like that?"

"For as long as I can remember, yeah," Laxus took another bite of the pie. "The town used to be better, though. Before he died, my grandfather was in charge and it was a different place entirely. We used to export all the time, people could actually leave the damn place and Ivan had someone who would stand up to him. After he died, Ivan could do whatever the hell he wanted and destroyed anything that was good about the town. Said he wanted to make it strong, whatever that meant."

Freed nodded a little. He wouldn't say it, but his reason for visiting the town was the small mystery that surrounded it. Seemingly without reason, the town had cut off contact with everyone and refused all trade. Obviously, that unknown reason was Ivan.

The conversation ended there, and Laxus continued to eat the pie that he had been given. It was strange, he having a conversation with the man who had completely changed his life for the worse and he felt no anger towards him. If anything, they were talking like they were acquaintances. Perhaps it was the uneasy truce that had come by the abandonment of their weapons, or the food that could have been seen as a peace offering, but Laxus really didn't feel any hatred towards Freed when he knew he should. Most likely because of the unwanted truth he was denying himself from believing.

An unwanted truth Freed was going to voice.

"Not to trivialise what you're going through," The stranger said, almost hesitant. "But maybe it's better to get away from that kind of life."

There it was. The reason he didn't feel his blood boil at the sight of Freed. The reason he hadn't been dragged out of the town kicking and screaming. The reason he didn't take Freed to his father when he had the chance. Because compared to living in the town, camping alone in a forest he was ill equipped to deal with was actually the better alternative.

He didn't voice this, though. He just shrugged.

"What are you plans now, then?"

And there was the other thought Laxus had been pushing to the back of his mind. He had no idea what to do next. Staying in the forest for the rest of his life was ridiculous, and he couldn't put his hopes into finding a town by coincidence and hoping for the best. And those were his best options.

"I haven't got a fucking clue," He laughed, running a hand over his face. "I'll be fine, though. Somehow."

There was silence between them for a moment, and Laxus found himself doubting his own words. He could say that he would be fine, but that really wasn't a certainty. He had no idea how to deal with living outside of the village, he had no idea if he would be able to make a living for himself even if he did manage to find some kind of civilisation. Nothing in his life was certain right now, and it was yet another fact that he was trying to push to the back of his mind.

He looked towards Freed to see that his face had tensed slightly. It looked as if he was calculating something, and Laxus didn't care enough to think what that was. He simply waited and watched as Freed was brought back to reality.

"Would you like to travel with me, at least for a little while," He eventually offered.

Laxus paused at this, and his face turned into a frown. He grunted his next words. "You taking pity on me?"

"Yes," Freed said bluntly. "But given you're in a situation that is completely foreign to you, and that your best option seems to be eating burnt fish until you die, I don't think you're in a position to let your pride get in the way."

The blonde's jaw clenched. Freed was still an arrogant asshole, it seemed.

"It's up to you entirely, of course," He continued. "But I imagine I'm considerably more experienced in traveling, and I'm aiming to go to some of the larger cities, which will probably be the places best suited to your needs currently, I can probably get you there with minimal trouble. Unless, of course, you've grown fond of eating the charred remains of the local wildlife."

He knew Freed was mocking him, but he couldn't find the effort to feel offended. What Freed was offering wouldn't come again. Having a guide to the cities, and perhaps even someone to help him find work when he got there, was something he needed.

His jaw clenched a little. His pride needed to be put aside for this. Practicality needed to take its place, a lesson he had learnt from his fight. A lesson he needed to take.

"You got anything I can write on?" He asked.

Freed reached into his bag, pulled out some paper and a stick of chalk, and handed it to Laxus. The blonde wrote a small message for Bickslow, explaining that he was moving on from being at the edge of the forest, that he was thankful for the help Bickslow had given him, and that he hoped to see him again eventually under better circumstances.

He had felt Freed looking over him, reading as he wrote. The note was as much confirmation Freed was going to get on his offer; Laxus was putting his pride behind him for most situations, but not completely.

After finishing his note, he started to walk towards the tree Bickslow has been stashing things in, telling Freed that he wouldn't be long. The walk only lasted a few minutes, but it gave Laxus the time to feel the nervousness return, but this time it wasn't nauseous. This time, he wasn't being forced to do something against his will, he was taking a step into the new life he found himself. Making the first decision he had all week about what he was going to do.

His mind strayed to Freed as he carefully placed the note in the knothole. He had no idea what their relationship would be. Maybe they would not grow out of their cautious truce, maybe they would bond, or maybe Laxus would realise he had made a mistake and leave Freed before they got close to a city. It was all uncertain.

But one thing was for certain, Freed was Laxus' best and only chance of moving on.

#ft bb #fairy tail big bang #fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #fairy tail #freed x laxus #fanfic

16 notes · View notes

hcrris · 5 years

Text

can ….. i come in ????? have been watching unbreakable kimmy schmidt for 3 hours pretending time isnt passing , life isnt real and in fact.. i am dreaming (-: lajdfksl hey <3 im jay im 21 and i love those instagram profiles of hamsters in little clothes ( when they got little purses? ???? dont talk to me im cryin. ) below u will find info about jane harris aka literally the vine of the little kid scribbling hard like his life depended on it. shes a mess ?? but a semi enjoyable mess. a mess with good intentions. if u want to establish some connections, LIKE THIS and i will come annoy u <3 alternatively u can ease my social anxiety and msg me here or through my discord sencha tea#4035 (و ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و♡

( lily collins, cis female, she/her. ) — jane harris has been a medina complex resident for three years, now. they’re twenty-three years old, and they tend to avoid making eye contact. sometimes when i walk by B06, i hear cherry-coloured funk by cocteau twins playing. lately, i’d say they’re pretty effervescent, but sometimes that’s overwhelmed by the fact that they’re neurotic. i mean, they usually pay their rent on time, though, and that’s most important fact here.

repeatedly fixing the apartment number on the door when it swings down to a nine, a split moment of shadow after the radiance of laughter, carl sagan’s pale blue dot, a life of frequent minor accidents, constant hunger for balance overshadowed by emotional turbulence.

🇧🇦🇨🇰🇬🇷🇴🇺🇳🇩

TW ALCOHOLISM EMOTIONAL ABUSE DEPRESSION & ANXIETY !!!!! ok moving on

her parents met in art school in paris.. her mom is french and studied art history while her dad was an exchange student from california with a skewed artist mentality. it was that saccharine, toxic sort of love. her mom always felt like she needed to be the guardian angel in the relationship who would always hold him up when he was feeling down and he was feeling down….. a lot. because she was putting all that energy to save her relationship, she was drowning too but never enough to walk away. there was a lot of love there but it was twisted and uncomfortable at times

when they found out jane was on the way, it felt like they needed to suddenly grow up. her mom was ready to make changes, adapt to the new lifestyle. her dad, on the other hand, urged they rethink if this is what they want but he didn’t push for abortion.. he understood it was jane’s mothers choice to make and reassured that he would be there for the both of them no. matter. what.

but ??? the reality was he felt trapped by the idea of a child and he struggled to acknowledge and accept how quickly his life was flipping upside down and how he lost all control of it. he wanted to travel around europe ???? soak in nature, daydream and make art . but jane’s mom wanted to settle. instead of embarking on adventures after graduating, they decided to move to california.

things just seemed to fall apart like domino from then on. janes mom was lead astray.. thinking that what california would bring them was stability but instead, it was all chaos. they rushed to get married .. turned out janes father wasnt on good terms with his parents. he was irresponsible financially, put both his parents in huge debt, was blinded by his ego to ever realise his mistakes. lied constantly .. convincing janes mom that there’s light going forward. that once he finds a sponsor for his art .... once he sells his first piece ... once they see in him what he always saw in himself , he was going to make it right. and he reassured he would make it right for jane.

janes mom was so pathetically in love that she pushed through .. living in a sort of imagined world, believing that things were better than they actually were. and her dad was good at persuading that narrative. he would come home with a pocketful of cash and the bills paid. oftentimes, it was all an act. his art wasn’t selling and a lot of what he bragged about was borrowed or stolen. behind the curtain, he was absent and unmotivated. he would come home in the evening claiming that the whisky breath was celebratory but in reality, he was complaining to the barman two blocks away about how his life feels monotone .. like a french black and white movie.

the day of jane’s birth was a whole mess. her father decided to drive her mother to the hospital, knowing he had one too many. they were caught for speeding and while janes dad spent the night at a nearby station for driving under influence, her mom was at the back of a cop car, crying for one too many reasons .. jane decided to hang on for a little while longer and was born at 3am the following night. cradled in her mothers arms and her dads voice humming on the line

jane would only ever hear the romanticised version of this story from her mother. this ??? fucked up sense of security that no matter what, love conquers all. that love means supporting each other, loving each other extra when everything else falls apart. but truth is.. her mother was forced to give up her own dreams, lost all connections to her past, worked days and nights at a nursing home to support her family and pitch in to her husbands alcoholism while she’s at it. making excuses that jane was too young to contradict. all while the only source of happiness for her father was the haziness of his evenings, when he felt like floating and he could barely hold onto to his paintbrush. he was a stranger living in their basement .. more than he was ever a father

growing up, jane watched her mother mask her depression. carry empty bottles out from the basement, trying to hide it from jane .. it brought her shame. she was doing the same thing to jane that he was doing to her for all these years .. consistently expressing a certain attitude, this unwavering satisfaction for the life they are living and so ... it hardens. you start to believe it. except unlike her mother, jane was observant.. she had other lives around her to compare to her own, voices of reason that pierced through the skewed perception her mother drilled into her skull. when jane grew into her skin, she felt so ... disgusted and angry. she tried to pull her mother out of her fantasy but nothing worked.

through her high school years, she felt helpless .. her home life was a nightmare and she made every possible attempt to stay out of it for as long as possible. she took on jobs and extracurriculars .. stayed at her friends’ house until she couldn’t. and she would think.. think so hard, she would start crying. pushing her own problems away .. in her head, she would imagine herself in a different skin, a different place. it was the only way she could calm her breathing. only to have to battle the same thoughts the following morning

after graduating high school, jane went to community college for product management got a job offering after her placement at a big company and moved out shortly after ( and MOVED IN to medina... can i get a yee yee ) .. she got insurance for the first time in her life and eats too many of free pizza slices at work to save up on groceries every week <3

she doesn’t visit her parents bc she no longer feels like her mother is on her team. she’s lived a maddening and terribly draining life and living alone has brought her deserving peace.. although she’d rather keep contact with her mother to a minimum, its obvious that jane is her mothers anchor. if she feels as though her daughter is not fighting for her, she breaks down.. as much as jane wants to run away from her past, it always seems to catch up

if ur still reading literally who are u lafjdkl. ill be done schoon ..... oof

🇨🇭🇦🇷🇦🇨🇹🇪🇷 🇹🇷🇦🇮🇹🇸

if they are friends ... jane. will. talk. ur. ear. off. but probably not for the right reasons lol .. she has never been assessed by a professional, isn’t taking any treatment but she definitely needs it :( shes a chronic overthinker.. the voice in her head keeps chattering away most of the time which gets a little nauseating. she hates silence and feels like she needs to fill it with words. she often says the wrong things .. to the wrong people ... at the WRONG time and she is very aware of it. its the culprit for her self doubt and struggle to open up emotionally to the people shes close to. shes very critical towards herself, she micro analyses everything from the way she acts, the way she looks and what she says. shes also not a fan of confrontation !!!!!!!BUT!!!!!!!!!!!

she is a FIREBALL when she stands up for others. i dont know how she hasnt gotten into a physical fight yet. she would literally rip ur side mirror off ur car if u didnt wait for an old lady to cross the street. is intense in every possible way. if shes angry, shes angry and impulsive and out of control, when she is in love, she feels it in her bones and simultaneously wants to rip her hair out, when she’s passionate about something, she is persistent until she isn’t and when she loses motivation, everything feels bleak .. theres never any emotional balance, even though she fights so hard for it every day

likes sci fi movies .. literally when they are Floating in space ???? SIGN! JANE! THE! FUCK! UP! letterboxd is probably her favorite app. sometimes she will post a review, read it over and over, find something wrong with what she said and then delete it. shes very neurotic. she either has good days where she can comfortably be herself or bad days, when it feels like everyone is judging her every move when in reality. ... it is always .. all in her head.

and she is mostly in her head. she creates fantasies of her life, relationships platonic and romantic and as a result, nothing ever seems to measure up. she feels secure in her fantasies but oftentimes when it hits her that they are just that, fantasies, she ... feels really alone.

will trip over her own feet . has like 5 bruises from washing the dishes </3

she works as a part of a product design team in a big company.. probably has the knowledge to move up the tier but does not have the courage to stand up for herself . she doesnt believe in herself and is kind of a pessimist .......

got high one night and decided she wants to start an uber ....... only for women. but doesnt think its a good ide a (its a good idea. id like to think in 10 years time ... bitch made it)

really weird. likes eating broad beans and frozen strawberries .. will literally eat a lemon.

she will have different interests every week but never seems to be any good at anything ???????????? makes her sad.

claims tidying up with marie kondo changed her life LAKJDSKLDJ

*draws curtains* anybody else tired?

#mediocre.intro #»-.-°-ỽ-⸰-ｓｈｕｔ-ｕｒ-ｔｒａｐ-⸰-ỽ-°-.-«#4 hrs ago : yea ...... i could finish this intro in like 2 hours :) why not. whats gonna stop me ???? writing doesnt take that long.#it takes literally ?? 2 miliseconds. lol .......#im shtupid !!!!! have to take a shower. this is longer than all shakespeare plays combined.#if u read this im manifasting a good year for u.

5 notes · View notes