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bonsaiiiiiii · 4 years

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100 Weird AU's? Yes.

So, I had these AU prompts on my phone for quite a while, and I was actually thinking about using them. And what better way to do it than using them with the Tracy's?

Reading and reading these prompts again (and under the gentle guidance of @willow-salix ) I thought that these prompts doesn't exactly match the brothers' everyday situation, but what if we push it past its limit? Yes, biting more that you can chew can be a little difficult, but I don't think it will be impossible. And that's where this challenge is born!

Get the Tracy's out of International Rescue's bubble and let them live an everyday situation as normal people! They can also be medieval nobles or even futuristic robots, the choice's up to you! You can choose from soo many things others don't even think about (and not even me, for a while)!

Many thanks to @tag2060 for the cover and @willow-salix for the support (both emotional and 'fic-ical'. I love both of you💚

NOTE: THESE PROMPTS AREN'T ALL MINE. I TOOK THEM FROM A GIRL I'M NOT IN CONTACT WITH ANYMORE, BUT I WAS TOLD I COULD USE THEM. ALL CREDITS FOR THESE AU'S GO TO HER, WHATEVER IS HER NAME (lmao). THE GOLD MARKED ONES (7, 11, 20, 23, 39, 47, 63, 64, 70, 83, 89, 91, 93, 96, 100) ARE ALL MINE, IN SUBSITUTION OF A FEW THAT WERE THERE, SO CREDIT FOR THE GOLDEN MARKED ONES GOES TO ME, BUT NOT EVERY ONE OF THEM.

NOTE²: SOME OF THE PROMPTS CONTAIN STRONG THEMES, LIKE DEPRESSION AND SEXUAL CONTENT. IF YOU'RE SENSIBLE TO THESE THEMES, DON'T DO THEM, NOBODY FORCES YOU IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

To participate in this challenge, all you have to do is take one of the AU prompts from the list, one or more (or all) Tracy characters, and post your fic (can be a ficlet, or a series) under the tag #100weirdTracys and #100weirdAUs.

If you don't want to participate, please don't harass/bully me. I made this challenge just for fun, and I don't want for it to feel like something bad. In fact, I don't even regret doing this thing, even if it's strange.

Ah, I almost forgot: this challenge will be over in December, so you have 4 months to choose a prompt and make a fic about it. On December I'll review all the fics, but I'll always be reblogging and reading during these 4 months lol.

If you want to tell me something, hit me up on DM's! I hope you have fun with those prompts and those bois!

(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ

TO RESUME:

• Swearing is allowed.

• You can write as many words as you want!

• Oc's and muses can pop in too!

• Make sure to tag your fic(s) under the '#100weirdTracys' and '#100weirdAUs' tags, so that I can find them easily.

• Always tag or contact me if you need help with anything! I'll be more than glad to help you!

• If you decide to do the mature prompts (19, 90, just to state an example) please refrain from using a too mature language and don't go further than making up. I don't like that kind of language, so it would be peachy to just avoid writing so they make wild sex behind a bush. Any kind of very mature fic or language won't be read by me, I'm sorry. You can still use those prompts, but don't work their bed life too much.

• Any dialect or first language apart from english is more than welcome in this yard! I would love even to read snippets of foreign language in fics, as long as there's a translation near it, but you're not forced to write in another language. If you don't feel comfortable doing it just don't do it, even if I'm telling you. (For the record, I love Irish so much I could listen to a person speaking this language for hours and you won't hear me complaining).

• I will accept this challenge in whatever form it takes, be it a fic, a drawing, a song, etc. I’m open to anything and I watch everything that comes before me!

φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)__φ(．．)

That said, you can find the prompts down here:⬇️

#1 I saved you from drowning!AU

#2 I broke into your house at two in the morning because I was drunk and I thought it was my house!AU

#3 I am a door-to-door seller please buy something!AU

#4 I grabbed the wrong luggage at the airport!AU

#5 I know we hate each other, but a wedding would be more convenient for both of us!AU

#6 I accidentally poured you a love potion!AU

#7 I sent you 12 messages but you left me on read!AU

#8 I am your secret admirer and I leave you anonymous cards!AU

#9 Sorry, but I was first in line!AU

#10 We don’t know each other but let's pretend to be together because someone is bothering me!AU

#11 We pack up to do a funny trip but we end up in Bolivia without fuel!AU

#12 Locked in quarantine and we're bored! AU

#13 I do everything to find out the identity of this superhero and you try to mislead me because it’s really you!AU

#14 I got into a taxi just to find out it was already occupied!AU

#15 I called the wrong number!AU

#16 I got into the wrong car OMG I'm ashamed, but while you’re there why don’t you give me a ride!AU

#17 I found a wallet and my business is to find the owner and return it!AU

#18 I am a street artist and you complain that I play in front of your house at night!AU

#19 I caught you watching porn!AU

#20 We're two strangers that start chatting while waiting for the bus!AU

#21 Nosy and sloppy roommates!AU

#22 Old childhood friends who come back after years!AU

#23 I got shot to the arm/leg but you're there to save me and OMG ILY!AU

#24 We’re sitting next to each other on a plane and please don’t throw up on me!AU

#25 We accidentally switched phones!AU

#26 We are both contestants in a reality show and let's pretend to be together because the audience will ship us!AU

#27 I am a wedding planner and my ex’s wedding had to happen to me!AU

#28 I learned sign language to communicate with you!AU

#29 Professional model and novice photographer!AU

#30 Sorry I ran you over!AU

#31 We make out and then I find out that you are my roommate’s boyfriend!AU

#32 I’m quoting aloud the last book of a series and I’m spoiling you!AU

#33 It is a universally acknowledged truth that a bachelor with a large fortune must be looking for a wife!AU

#34 I am a Partisan and you are a fascist!AU(Italy during World War II!AU)

#35 I am the blood of the dragon!AU (Iron Throne!AU)

#36 Your dog is hitting on mine!AU

#37 I’m depressed and I decide to call a hotline!AU

#38 You are my soulmate but I am in love with someone else!AU

#39 Strange encounter at tattoo shop!AU

#40 On my mark, unleash hell!AU(Roman Empire!AU)

#41 I am an Elf, don’t look at me for ears I am ashamed of!AU(The Lord of the Rings!AU)

#42 Maybe my life should be more than just survival!AU(The 100!AU)

#43 I am an activist and I am trying to convert you to the cause!AU

#44 We are occupying the school but you are a spoilsport!AU

#45 All our friends are drunk and we're not!AU

#46 We’ve been together for three months and now you’re telling me you’re a werewolf!AU

#47 X has to go into a rocket to the moon and Y has to train X!

#48 Knight in shining armor and damsel in distress!AU

#49 We reluctantly team up against the zombie apocalypse!AU

#50 I’m a vampire and your smell is driving me nuts!AU(Twilight!AU)

#51 Monsters have attacked the Earth and the only way to save humanity is aboard giant robots piloted by two people who must maintain a mental union!AU(Pacific Rim!AU)

#52 My timer stopped as soon as I saw you!AU(Soulmate!AU)

#53 I need a lawyer and you are the best!AU

#54 I’m a Viking and I plundered your ship!AU

#55 I’m a classic dandy from the Regency Age and you’re just a silly girl from the lower middle class!AU

#56 I’m a policeman and you’re an intrusive journalist and I really shouldn’t give you any information about the new murder!AU

#57 You are a wannabe actress and I am a theatrical director who is losing patience and health!AU

#58 Due to a computer error, X and Y become college roommates!AU

#59 X wants to see the world of Y, how he lives and what he usually does, and ends up spending a night in prison!AU

#60 I attend the yoga course just to watch how flexible the instructor is!AU

#61 I am a bounty hunter and you are my prey!AU

#62 I am a secret spy and pretend to be your friend only to get information about your father!AU

#63 I discuss with you about a thing but you have in mind another!AU

#64 We are forced to be best friends just because our moms were best friends too but you're too bossy for me!AU

#65 We broke up but I never changed emergency contacts and now I’m in the hospital and they called you!AU

#66 I am an angel and you are a demon!AU

#67 I hit you on the balls during a game of paintball and oh my god I am so sorry!AU

#68 We live in a dystopian world where your partner is chosen by society!AU(Matched!AU)

#69 I’m a dragon trainer I’ll prove to you that they are peaceful creatures!AU(Dragon Trainer!AU)

#70 Date at japanese restaurant!AU

#71 You’re a cheerleader and I’m a punk and we live in two different worlds!AU

#72 I was a zombie and I was "re-animated" but you treat me like I’m still a monster!AU(In the Flesh!AU)

#73 I am your son’s teacher and I am calling to talk to you about his conduct, would he also come to dinner with me!AU

#74 I am an Achaean warrior and you Trojan and we are fighting the Trojan War!AU

#75 I met my asshole boss at the bar but I found out he’s pretty cool!AU

#76 It was not my intention to touch your ass, it’s just that the bus is crowded, it’s not my fault ok!AU

#77 I went fishing and accidentally fished a mermaid!AU

#78 I just committed a crime and I need to use you as a hostage!AU

#79 You’re the bastard who always parks in front of my door and in spite I’ll scratch your car!AU

#80 I accidentally went back in time and fell in love with you, too bad you’re a barbarian!AU

#81 I urgently need you to fix my computer but please don’t judge me for my chronology!AU

#82 I work on the cruise ship where you are spending your holidays!AU

#83 I'm out in the rainstorm without an umbrella because the weather forecast was sunny!AU

#84 I hugged the wrong person from behind!AU

#85 Celebrity on the run and ordinary citizen confused!AU

#86 Stuck in a ranch cleaning horse poop but it doesn’t matter because that cowboy is a badass!AU

#87 We got married in Vegas, but we’re total strangers!AU

#88 But, officer, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was just smoking a joint, want a hit!AU

#89 X is an astronaut and Y is a weird but funny alien that likes to scream, overreact and laugh!AU

#90 I slept with you for a bet but I loved it and I’d like to keep seeing you!AU

#91 I reveal to some friends that you wear boxers/underwear with green aliens on them but you're behind me and oh gosh total shame!AU

#92 Oops I accidentally entered a busy dressing room!AU

#93 You're a stranger but I keep crossing paths with you and I'm kinda confused right now!AU

#94 X is a medium and Y a ghost!AU

#95 X is a guardian angel and Y wants to die!AU

#96 X accidentally enters in a cat and Y has to rescue it from up a tree!AU

#97 X risks losing the house because Y’s company wants to buy the land!AU

#98 I’m an artist and I need a model do you want to pose for me!AU

#99 I’m not really sick but the new doctor is so beautiful that I found out I have a disease with an unpronounceable name!AU

#100 A strange job application!AU

φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)__φ(．．)

If you find them more practical, I also have some photos down here with all the prompts organized:⬇️

That said, enjoy! Hope it brings you joy and makes you happy while you do it!💙💚🧡💛❤💜💖🖤

#100weirdTracys #100weirdAUs #Thunderbirds are go #ThunderChallenge #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #oc's #muses #fic #drawings #first challenge ever!#enjoy!

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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Right now could last forever - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Inspired by “A daydream a way” by All Time Low and the following request: Okay so I wrote this prompt and i’d love to see it with best friend!Billy. “Are you jealous or something?” “Have i not made that obvious? Of course i’m jealous!”

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

For the longest time, I was convinced of two things.

One, I was convinced that in every friendship there comes a moment when the line between friendship and more becomes extremely visible. You can see it quite clearly. And in that moment you get to decide whether to cross it or not. Once the moment has passed, that’s it. That one little choice defines that relationship from that point on.

And two, I would never get myself tangled up in a relationship where that line was not clearly defined.

For the longest time in my life, I was a fucking dumbass.

Billy Hargrove came into my life in the fall of 1984. He swept over me like a thunderstorm in summer. Loud and unforgiving and filled with rage. Someone, and I can’t remember who that was, once said that misery loves company. I never believed in those words until I met Billy.

There was something about him that was so intoxicating. I wanted to know him, genuinely know him. He had a perpetual scowl on his face but that wasn’t what I cared about, I didn’t entirely buy that. His eyes, they were so sad, so deeply sad. I knew that sadness because it was the same feeling that looked back at me every time I looked into a mirror.

For a while, we were orbiting around each other like two planets always close but never destined to meet. And then, somehow, somewhen, the universe shifted and we collided and life as I knew it was never the same again.

He asked me to tutor him in English, said he didn’t really understand the shit he had to read, said those big words didn’t make sense to him. I said yes because if someone like Billy asks you for a favour, you don’t say no. Billy who was always so effortlessly cool and unbothered.

I looked at him then and I knew then, that we would never have that moment where lines had to be defined. Because a guy like Billy didn’t even know lines existed when it came to girls like me. I did though. I knew there wasn’t gonna be a moment because I took it away from us. I drew the line myself. Nothing was ever gonna come of this that was ay more than a friendship. I thought I knew it then and so I took it upon myself to define things that never needed to be defined. And I drew the line and I thought that was it.

Back then I was so sure that we could never be anything but friends. I was a rainy day in spring. I was muted colours and damp grass and hayfever. Billy was the middle of summer. He was warm august evenings, BBQs with friends, 4th of July fireworks.

I tutored him about 2 or 3 times and it felt like it was always supposed to be this way, Billy and me. Like two puzzle pieces fitting so well. We bonded over our love for the same bands and our hatred for the same stupid things. But what really brought us together was the realization, that the same sadness lived in both our hearts.

From then on, Billy was a permanent fixture in my life. Like once he was there he wasn’t gonna leave again, ever. Like my life was a vinyl record and he was a scratch and no matter how much you polished or scrubbed it wasn’t gonna go away. No, that metaphor doesn’t hold up because Billy wasn’t a bad thing. He was maybe the one good thing in my life. He was permanent, like a tattoo. Something, someone, I chose to have around. Someone to make me remember what it felt like, being alive.

Tuesdays were my favourite days because we had his whole house to ourselves. My parents didn’t give a shit where I was and his dad and Susan had to work all day. Max was hardly around either way and so it was just us.

We sat on the ugly gray linoleum floor of his kitchen passing a joint back and forth, goofy smiles on our faces. That’s how we spent most Tuesdays, getting high and just — being. Just being around each other. What else was there to do for a teenager in Hawkins Indiana in 1984 though? What do you do in a town where kids and teens go missing on a regular basis and yet everyone goes about their day as if it was nothing special? I mean, yeah they built us a huge ass mall but what good did that do? All they did was add capitalism to this mess.

So we sat there, giggling and dreaming dreams too big for us and using words we didn’t really understand. Or maybe we did but we surely weren’t aware of the gravity they held then. Words like forever.

“ What’s your favourite colour? “ Billy asked me one Tuesday afternoon. He didn’t give me time to finish though. “ And don’t say shit like seafoam green or something. I don’t got a fucking clue what seafoam green is. Just — just gimme a straight answer. “

I didn’t tell him that my favourite colour was the exact shade of blue of his eyes. Or maybe the red of his lifeguard shorts that made him almost glow in the summer sun. I thought it then but I didn’t say it. You don’t say stuff like that and expect the line not to be crossed.

The line. That fucking line I draw myself. I had to remind myself of it every once in a while when my thoughts went drifting and the line felt like it was going to smudge a little. I had to draw it again. In the sand. In the clouds. Anywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t let myself forget about it. Because forgetting would only end in heartbreak.

“ I like red. “

“ Yeah? I like red too. “ And that made perfect sense to me then because he was red. Anger and wrath and chaos. Warmth. Comfort. Love.

“ What are you grinning about, huh? Looking like a fool over there. “ I wondered, nudging his thigh with my foot. He just kept grinning, tiny wrinkles forming around his smile, his eyes. He always smiled with his eyes, at least when the smiles were genuine. I adored that.

“ Nothing.”

“ Wish you could see your face right now. It’s not nothing, clearly”

“ I don’t know, “ Billy replied and shrugged “ I’m just — I like our Tuesdays. I like not having to get back to anything. Right now, right now could last forever and I wouldn’t mind. Wouldn’t give a single fuck.”

That made my heart beat so fast, I could feel it in my chest, drumming in my ears, tingling in my fingers. But that’s what friends do, right? Spend all their time together. Share a place that feels safe. Even if that place isn’t a specific place at all. Maybe that place could be a person. A heart.

It was clear to me then, that Billy Hargrove was my soulmate. Maybe not in a romantic way but in a way that meant much more. My heart was his, my soul was his, my mind was his. And in return, I had all of him. No longer were we orbiting around each other, we were the same then. One lone planet floating around in the universe. Terribly alone but never lonesome.

The thing about the line is that something I wished I hadn’t drawn it. Sometimes I wanted to smudge it like lead on paper. I knew I couldn’t do that, it would ruin what we had. I could’ve just as well have ripped my own heart out, the pain would’ve matched.

So when things got all quiet and I felt like life wasn’t gonna judge me too harshly, and when I felt really really down or really really brave, I let myself get lost in daydreams. Ones where I stepped over the line, into something else. Something more. I let myself relish in those daydreams, soak them up like a goddamn sponge. They overwhelmed me sometimes, leaving me with nothing to say, because I just didn’t know where to start and where to stop. But those daydreams felt safe. I could watch from this place of security and if I kept my mouth shut and keep my feelings in those daydreams, it meant I never had to lose what we had.

Weekends meant going out. They meant getting away from everything but each other. Never from each other. Sometimes we would go to Carmel, sometimes Lafayette, sometimes Terre Haute. Most of the time though, we ended up in some dive bar at the side of the road in some tiny village. No one knew us there and maybe that was the charm of it all. We could be anyone. We could be anything. Even to each other. If only I would’ve let myself feel those things.

Billy drove the Camaro to wherever it was we were going and the we’d decide on who would drive us back. Usually, we took turns. One weekend I would stay sober, the next he would. I didn’t realize then, but Billy letting me drive his car, his baby, that meant a whole lot. To the both of us. It’s just that neither of us was terribly aware of it then.

It was the summer of 1985, a warm June night. The fireflies were back, the cold of the winter and spring finally gone, making way for summer heat and longer nights. We drove aimlessly around, trying to find a place to waste away our youth, get drunk of things they shouldn’t have sold us, to feel alive. It was an escape for us. From our lives, our fears, everything that made life feel so wrong. Those nights driving along the roads, music blasting from the car radio, those were the little moments that my life felt right.

Like nothing mattered but us and the vastness of the world waiting before us. A world that didn’t know us yet. One the let us be whoever we decided to be. Sometimes I wondered if in that world I could be a girl that Billy liked. But then I remembered the line. And I shut those thoughts out.

O'Charley's was an Irish pub a few towns over from Hawkins. It was, I assume, founded by someone that had never been to Ireland in their life nor did they know anyone Irish. It was very little authentic Irish pub and quite a lot party city with all the paper shamrocks and tiny flags everywhere. It was charming though, in all it’s mess there was something about it that made us come back time and time again.

That June night, I was wearing a red dress I had snagged from my mom’s closet. For all her faults, she really was a looker in the 70s and her clothes had no business hanging untouched and unloved in her closet because she had decided the 80s were her time to shine in boring velour pants and blouses that made her look 10 years older.

So I wore that red wrap-around dress that flowed around my knees with every step I took and I thought that if I can veil myself in red, in Billy’s colour, maybe I can trap a little of him, of his energy, of his confidence, of his warmth, in me.

All the people here knew about us, was our faces and the fake names on our fake IDs. We could be anyone we wanted to be in here. And for a pair of 17-year-olds that is the biggest power one can only possess. To be whoever you want to be in a world that tries so hard to put you down over and over again and squish you in a mould of picket fences and loveless marriages. Time stood still for the nights I was with Billy in a bar where no one knew the real us. Or maybe they did. Maybe we were the real us when we were there.

I can not tell you what Billy wore that night, this boy had 4 different outfits that he kept rotating. In the end, it didn’t really matter though, he looked hot in all of them. I know that it was hot though and his shirt was unbuttoned more than usual, letting me see more of his chest. Sometimes I wondered if he knew what it was doing to me despite the fact that he was my best friend. My person.

We sat at the bar, I ordered a beer, Billy ordered a cherry coke. That was tonight's driver decided. I gave him a grateful smile and he just smiled back with his casual coolness. So we sat there, Whitesnake playing from the stereo, smiles on our faces. And life was right how it should be all the time. For a short while, the demons we both carried on our shoulders were mute. We could breathe.

“ Look at that douchebag. “ Billy laughed and nodded his head towards the corner of the room. A guy that looked about our parents' age, hair slicked back, shirt stuffed into his jeans, tie hanging loosely from his neck, was leaning against the wall. His lips were almost glued to the ear of a beautiful woman. She must’ve been around the same age he was though beauty wasn’t lost on her in those years. It was hard to watch though, as her eyes were so desperately vacant. There was nothing there. No joy, no excitement. He was wearing a ring, she was wearing one too. We could only assume that those two had seen a few years together. Maybe this was their night out. Kids dropped off at the sitter those two felt like hitting the town, reliving their youth.

Only when you’re stuck in a gray, loveless, sad mess for too long, it takes over your entire being. It turns you into a gray mess yourself. I knew that because I could see it every day in my own parents. Billy knew because his mother had to break his heart in order to escape her own heartbreak and the mess.

“ He’s trying too hard, the idiot. “ Billy chuckled. This was something we did a lot, sit and watch people and pretend our lives would never end like theirs. And god, did we hope and pray we wouldn’t end up like this.

“ She’s so desperate to just get back home,” I pointed out, taking another sip from my beer.

“ Their names, “ Billy started “ are Jeff and Hillary. They’ve been married for 20 years now. Jeff is an accountant at Hillary’s dad’s firm. Good ol’ Hilly dreamed of becoming a model for Sports Illustrated. Then she got knocked up and settled for a life in the suburbs with Jeff who’s as exciting as a piece of untoasted toast.”

“ They have three kids, and she loves them, “ I continued, “ but god sometimes she really resents them for being the reasons she had to give up on all her dreams. Give up on the person she used to be. “

“ Two more drinks, then they’ll go home and have boring, unsatisfying sex. He’ll hump away and break a sweat and two minutes later he’ll fall asleep and she’s gonna stare up at the ceiling and consider finishing the job herself, cause Jeff clearly doesn’t care. And she’ll just stare and wish that this wasn’t her life. Because she hates it.”

Where things had started out fun, they turned quite sad quite quickly.

“ Promise me we will never end up like this, “ Billy said, now facing me. My favourite shade of blue, so vibrant, so soft. I nodded, because I was lost for all words. That’s the effect Billy had on me and everyone else.

The line! You drew it! Remember it!

I ordered a tequila then. “ We’d never stand a chance,” I thought “ at love, not Billy and I.”

So I tried to forget about my thoughts, with a little salt and a little lime and a shot that burned all the way down. Tried to forget about those intrusive little words and images that I knew could never be.

I don’t know how much later it was but at some point, Billy’s warm big handheld onto my arm to steady my swaying frame. I could tell you what it felt like when he looked at me then, if I had the vocabulary to properly put it into words. I knew then, that if no one else, Billy was there to take care of me. That with crossing the line I would give up on this. This love that was certainly there even if it was in a completely different way. Maybe this was all the love I would ever need in my life.

“ Let me take you home. “

But did he not know? Home was wherever he was. Home was him.

We arrived back at my house which was deserted, as always. Weekends were when my own parents tried to rekindle a flame that had never been there in the first place. I was invisible. Maybe that’s what drew me to Billy, he saw me. All of me. And he understood in ways I had never been understood before.

“ Are you okay getting up by yourself ? “ he asked, his eyes looking towards the window of my room. Was I okay? Sure I could’ve managed by did I want to? Did I want to be all by myself in a house that felt so cold even in those warm summer nights? No, I really didn’t.

“ I thought you’d stay over again ?”

“ You’re not sick of me yet ? “ the way he said it sounded so nonchalant, like he was completely joking. He wasn’t I knew him better than that. When everyone always makes you feel like a burden, it’s hard to accept that some people actually want your around. It’s hard to accept love when life’s always made you believe you didn’t deserve it.

“ I’ll never get sick of you, Billy” and I had never been more serious about anything else in my life.

Okay, maybe the line was getting a little smudged.

“ I’ll lend you one of my sleepshirts.”

“ Lucky me.”

And he held my hand as we got up like it was nothing. And maybe it wasn’t to him at that point, but it was everything to me. Maybe to him it was just holding a friend’s hand who has drank a little too much. But that’s all it had to be to send my heart beating faster.

There had been countless times before that Billy had spent the night but the more I let myself get lost in those comforting daydreams, the more my stomach started fluttering when he was near. We wouldn’t cuddle, not really, not when we got to sleep. We’d just lay next to each other, two pillows one blanket. We’d just exist around each other and try to not let the weight settle back in just yet. He was so close I could feel the warmth

his body was exuding, could hear him breathing. He was so close and yet the most we’d touch was my legs accidentally brushing his or the other way around.

“ I never wanna live in a house like this ever again, “ I told him then, sheltered by the dark of the night. “ It’s so empty and sad and big and I just — I hate it here.”

He was real quiet for a moment but I knew he would answer soon enough. When he was with me, Billy had a habit of really considering his words. Maybe because I knew I listened to what he had to say, I cared.

“ Yeah me neither. No offence to your parent’s decorating skills or anything. But god, this house sucks. It’s so — “

“ Sad. It’s a sad big house. “

“ Yeah. “

“ What kind of house would you want? “ I asked and I swear in that moment I felt his hand brush mine. Only for a second. But it was there. It was there.

“ One by the beach. Where I can just open the door and walk onto the sand and down to the shore. I’d like a fire pit on my property, those are cool. “

“ They really are. I can see us sitting by the fire pit, eating smores, watching the waves. That sounds nice. “

Shit, did I say that? I did. And I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Right there and then. Lines, (Y/N) !!! Remember the god damn lines you drew yours—

“ I’d like that. “

That moment, the moment he said those words, I wondered for the first time if maybe Billy didn’t see the line between friendship and relationship because to him there was none. Not because he didn’t see me as suitable but because he just didn’t think in those convoluted and ridiculous ways I did. There were no lines because Billy didn’t need them to define anything, he chose to define things himself.

“ I want a house that’s a home. Something that’s more than 4 walls and a roof. “ he said and smiles at me. Billy Hargrove smiles were rare but when he would grant them to you, they were magnificent.

I fell asleep with lines smudged and everything I knew shaken up. I also fell asleep with my hand in his.

The next morning, I woke up cuddled into his chest. I closed my eyes again to hold onto the moment just a little longer.

Things didn't drastically change after that, my world didn’t suddenly shift. Billy and I were still best friends and if I am being completely honest, they seemed rather stagnant after that night. Like either of us was afraid of making a wrong move.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I was a fucking dumbass back then because instead of trying to have a grown-up conversation with him about it, I decided to look for romance elsewhere.

Kyle Davis was a nice guy. He was part of the school newspaper, drove a red BMW and worked part-time at Sam Goody inside Starcourt mall. Kyle Davis was also the son of one of Hawkins most respectable lawyers and was sure to follow in his father’s footsteps one of these days.

And Kyle Davis, for some reason I don’t understand to this day, was interested in me. Followed me around like a lovesick puppy. I had no real interest in him but as I said, he was nice and I wanted to see what it felt like, having someone who wants you too and who isn’t afraid to tell you that.

So when he asked me to the summer formal, I said yes. Something that Billy did not like. Not one bit.

“ Kyle Davis ? “ he all but yelled as he slumped down on the bleachers next to me. The sun was shining down on us with warm, golden rays. I was trying to focus on some stupid math problem, papers and books spread on the bench next to me.

“ What about him ? “

“ You’re going to the dance with him ? “

“ Yup. Is that a problem ? “

“ I mean — “ he said then huffed “ I mean yeah. It’s Kyle Davis. Kyle. “

“ He’s nice. “

“ Sure he is. A nice guy with a stable future. Someone’s already warming his chair at dad’s cosy office where he gets everything handed to him. Let’s see how this is gonna play out, huh ? “

“ Billy don’t.”

“ Nah, let me have this one. So Kyle takes you to the dance, you smooch a little, maybe he gets to cop a feel. Obviously he wants to keep you around because you’re pretty great. So you date and at some point you gotta talk about the future because graduation isn’t all that far off. And Kyle is the kind of guy that expects you to stay with him, follow him wherever he goes. Let’s pretend you would. Soon enough he’d get you knocked up with little Kyle Junior. He’d be out at work all day letting you turn bitter and resentful and hate the life you have, all alone in a big empty house with a kid you can’t love properly because you don’t love their dad or the life he made you live. And soon enough you’d end up in a shitty pub trying to chase something that wasn’t there in the first place. I don’t wanna watch you end up like Hillary at the pub. “

“ God, Billy. Don’t be so dramatic, I’m just going to the dance with him. What’s wrong with you, are you jealous or something ? “

I was expecting him to deny it, to blow me off with some stupid yet charming one-liner. He didn’t though, he stayed quiet. And that made my eyes shoot up to look at him.

There was a sincerity in his eyes that I wasn’t used to. An indescribable confidence and yet he looked more nervous that I had ever seen him before.

“ Have I not made that obvious? Of course I’m jealous! ”

“ I — what ? “

Everything I ever thought I knew, was pure and utter bullshit.

“ Jesus, (Y/N). I have been in love with you since the first time we hung out. I asked you to tutor me because I wanted to be around you, I was really fucking good at English class if I’m being honest here. I didn’t need your help but I needed to know you. I wanted to know you. You just don’t fucking realize how — incredible you are. In everything you do. Your grilled cheese sandwiches are so good, you manage to remember the lines to every song instantly, you don’t know how to pronounce melancholy and I think that’s so adorable. I feel incredibly lost and angry and disillusioned with life. I hate so much about myself but you, you understand it and you feel it with me and — you're everything I love about the things I hate in me. So please, if there’s even a teeny tiny chance for me, don’t go out with him.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know what to say at all. And then a second passed and I knew this was the moment.

This was that moment where I got to decide how my life was gonna go. Where I got to chose the person I wanted to walk alongside. And it was Billy. It always had been.

I’m not sure who kissed who first then but one moment he was pouring his heart out to me and the next our lips were touching. That’s when my summer truly began. His red-hot took over my dull gray and turned it into something bright and wonderful and exciting.

“ Do you actually wanna go to the dance ? “ he asked as we pulled away, “ cause if you do I’ll take you. I just — don’t own a suit., so … “

“ How about we ditch that stupid dance and take and just get away from it all. I just wanna be with you, Billy. You are my home. “

It was the summer of 1985 when I learned what love really was. It doesn’t come with rules or regulations. There’s no rhyme or reason to it sometimes. That’s a scary fact to realize and even scarier to accept. You can’t trick it, manipulate it. It’s no game to be won or lost. It’s — I believe it’s bigger than any human can fully comprehend.

So all that we can do, it let it move us, allow ourselves to feel it and accept the love when it comes our way. No lines needed.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfics #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

33. Olivia and Lydia vs. The Darach

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x09; The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Word Count: 7,103

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, attempted murder of main character, kidnapping, sacrifices

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating in a while. My Gram is in hospice and I haven’t been into writing. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please make sure to reblog, like, and let me know what you think!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Olivia had only been to Peter's apartment downtown once before, and that was to bring over a polite welcome-home casserole that he probably didn't eat. Now, she had business to attend to. She had questions for Peter. Questions about herself and Lydia.

Only a half-hour before she made her way downtown to talk to Peter, she left Lydia in her bedroom after a couple of bad hours. Lydia and Olivia had been going out for ice cream with Allison before they went back to their house for a girls' night, when Lydia drove them to the school. Not only had Lydia been drawn to the area—just like she had the night she found the body at the pool—but Olivia, herself, had felt the same thing as Lydia.

She just didn't know if it was because she and Lydia shared abilities or because she was so connected to Lydia due to their shared DNA or relationship. Her only option for answers was to go to her father.

"All right, tell me again what happened," Peter blinked the sleep out of his eyes; it was around one in the morning when Olivia knocked on his door and woke him from a deep sleep.

"Lydia found another dead body," Olivia repeated herself. "What ever your bite did to her, it led her to the body and I felt it to. Now, I know you bit Lydia for a reason. That's why she was able to bring you back with that ritual. I want to know what she is and how it's affecting me."

Peter sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, exhausted. "Okay."

"I want the truth," she said firmly before he could begin. "No changing the story this time."

"All right, fine," he agreed. "To start off, you have to know what your mother was. Grace was eighteen when she inherited her abilities. She was a banshee."

"A banshee," Olivia repeated in slight belief; she hadn't known that banshees were a real thing. They weren't even in the Argent bestiary.

"A wailing woman, harbinger of death, same thing. They're not really like the Irish myths. They don't attach themselves to a family line, and their echoes don't cause death, either" he informed her. "Only females can be banshees and their abilities are inherited from their bloodline."

Olivia knew what he was getting at. "So, Mom got her banshee abilities from Nana Lorraine and because Uncle Thomas is a male, he passed it down to Lydia."

Peter nodded. "Exactly. The only reason you're not a banshee is because the werewolf genes you got from me. Anchorams are rare, very rare, but there have been two recorded instances before."

"As results of a banshee and werewolf union," Olivia assumed.

"Yes. You're neither werewolf nor banshee, but instead you have some abilities of both," he crossed his arms over his chest. "Instead of predicting just anyone's death, you're connected to your pack—that's the werewolf part of you. That's why you knew Boyd was going to die."

Okay, that made sense. It also explained the screams that came out of her when her pack members were in deep trouble, like when Erica had her seizure from the kanima venom or when Mrs. Argent was trying to kill Scott. It was the banshee side of her.

"So, that's how I'm connected to Lydia."

"Banshees are drawn to each other. And you're related to Lydia, which gives you two a deeper connection. On your own, you wouldn't have felt the dead body tonight, but because you were with Lydia, you did."

"But I can hear her scream even if I'm far away," Olivia pointed out. "That night when Boyd and Cora were out of control, I could hear her scream from the public pool. I screamed with her."

"It might have been because it was the first time her powers really came through," Peter said thoughtfully. "I mean, other than the time when I got into her head."

Olivia narrowed her eyes at him, wishing he hadn't brought that up. It still infuriated her that he took advantage of Lydia when she was in such a delicate place.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he apologized without meaning it. "Everyone is different, though, and since you're, what, the third Anchoram in history, some things we're gonna have to figure out as we go."

Olivia nodded. She realized that. It was just hard to comprehend. She hadn't even gotten to the bottom of her collection of abilities, and already she had a lot. It was a little daunting to know that she had more to learn to learn about her abilities, along with honing them.

"Okay," she said finally. "Can you tell me more about banshees?"

"Sure thing, sweet pea."

"So, I can find dead bodies," Lydia scoffed as Olivia pulled into the school's parking lot. "You know what, I can already tell that this banshee thing is gonna be a pain in the ass."

"You can do more than that, though," Olivia reminded her while parking next to Stiles' Jeep; it was empty, but she knew—thanks to his text message—that he was going to eavesdrop on his dad, who was supposed to be talking to the principal before school started. "You'll experience something like me, like the whispers or the warnings in your head."

"Yeah, and you handle those so well," Lydia grumbled.

"I know I don't, but they also help," Olivia stated firmly. "I know when my pack is in danger and it helps because most of the time, I have a warning and we can stop whatever is supposed to happen. You'll know if someone's dying, Lyds. What if you're able to stop it?"

They got out of the Olivia's new car—courtesy of the insurance company and Peter, who wanted to spoil her instead of being a good parent—and started making their way up to the school. Olivia was supposed to meet Stiles by the main office but she wanted to make sure Lydia was okay before she left her.

"I guess you have a point," Lydia conceded finally. "It's just a little..."

"Scary?" Olivia offered; Lydia nodded. "I know. But I'm gonna be there for you, Lydia, I swear. You don't have to go through any of this alone."

Lydia sighed and pulled Olivia into a tight hug. "I love you," she rubbed Olivia's back; Olivia awkwardly patted her back, making Lydia laugh. "I know, I know. No PDA."

"It's okay," Olivia assured her as they parted. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know you do," the corners of Lydia's eyes crinkled as she studied her cousin and the awkward face she was making. "You know, the fact that you can only be lovey-dovey with Stiles is really disappointing."

"That's not true," Olivia said adamantly. "I'm lovey-dovey with you, too. I just don't like showing my affection for people out in public."

"It's the Hale in you," Lydia shook her head with a smile. "All right, you're released. Go on and meet Stiles."

"Thanks," hurriedly, Olivia kissed Lydia's cheek and ran away from her, waving teasingly. "Love you!"

She knew that her show of her love would amuse Lydia. It was the only reason why she did that. She had to make an exception for her person.

Outside of the main office, Stiles hid behind a pillar. His eyes were sharp and his ears were perked as he spied on his father, one of his deputies, and the principal. Unfortunately, he couldn't hear much. In fact, the only thing he did hear was Noah excusing himself from the conversation when he locked eyes with Stiles.

"Hey!" Stiles frantically pulled his backpack up over his head as he rushed to get away from his dad; unfortunately, Noah was pretty quick for a man in his forties. "Hey, hey, hey, back it up," he sighed and turned to face his father. "I know what you're thinking. I know you've got all these ideas about patterns and people dying in threes—"

Stiles cut him off. "Dad, they were murdered," he then corrected himself. "Sacrificed, actually."

"I've got half the state, including the FBI coming in on this," Noah told him. "They're not getting away with killing one of our own."

Stiles almost deflated at his father's words. Up until then, he hadn't thought about just who was sacrificed. It was Deputy Tara. She had been Noah's right-hand woman ever since he was elected to be sheriff, and she was a big part of Stiles' life after his mom died. She used to bake him cookies and helped him with his homework when he was having trouble. She was a good woman.

"Dad, they killed Tara," his voice was shakier than he cared to admit. "You know, how many times did she help me with my math homework when I had to wait at the station for you?"

Noah inhaled deeply and Stiles could see the sadness in his eyes. "Just, uh, get to class, okay?" he nodded behind Stiles and greeted Olivia, who Stiles hadn't even noticed had walked over to them. "Hi, Olivia."

"Hi, Sheriff," Olivia waved at him politely.

Noah went back to his conversation with the deputy and the principal, leaving Stiles and Olivia to themselves.

Olivia gave him a sympathetic look. "How are you feeling?"

"Not the greatest, but I'll live," Stiles took her hand and locked their fingers together.

"Well, if you need to talk, I'm here," she promised him, letting go of his hand and ignoring the pout he sent her to wrap her arm around his waist.

"What happened to no public displays of affection?"

"I'll think I'll make an exception for just today."

"Just today?" Stiles stopped walking and when she tilted her head up to look at him, grinned down at her.

"Just today."

"Well, then I better make the most of it," he remarked before ducking his head and slamming his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. She easily returned his affection but when he attempted to slip his tongue into her mouth, she pulled back. "Sorry, too much."

"A little," Olivia laughed. "Come on, we have English and I don't want Ms. Blake to tell on me to Derek."

"Would she really do that?"

"God, I hope not."

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors, and similes; all tools the writer uses to tell their story," Ms. Blake stated as she walked around the classroom. She paused in between Olivia and Lydia's desks, glancing down at Lydia's drawing of a tree. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents."

"You and ever guy I've ever dated," Lydia smirked up at her, causing Olivia to snicker.

"Oh," Ms. Blake was surprised by her reply. "um, well, that was an idiom, by the way. Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or the culture..."

Olivia did not like the meaningful look that Ms. Blake gave her, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia. They all knew that she knew about werewolves—she was there when Boyd died, after all—but they didn't need her to act like an amateur and blow the big secret by acting nervous.

"They're phrases that only make sense if you know key words," she continued. "Saying 'jump the gun' is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race, or a phrase like 'seeing the whole board.'"

"Like chess," Stiles offered.

"That's right, Stiles," Ms. Blake smiled down at him. "Do you play?"

"Uh, no," Stiles shook his head. "My father does."

Ms. Blake smiled at him again and faced the rest of the class. "Now, when does an idiom become a cliché?"

Olivia raised her hand to answer and Ms. Blake gave her the go-ahead.

"When you say the idiom too much," she reported. "It's like saying, 'it's raining cats and dogs,' Eventually it'll catch and more people will say it. It's an overused idiom."

"Great answer, Olivia," Ms. Blake grinned at her and then went on with her lesson.

Once Ms. Blake was far enough away that they could whisper to each other, Scott leaned over in his seat to speak to Stiles and Olivia. "I think I can get to Ethan. I'm pretty sure I can make him talk."

Olivia scowled at the mention of one-half of the alpha twins while Stiles asked, "What do you want to do that for?"

"The druids are emissaries, right?" Scott pointed out. "What if the Darach was an emissary to the alphas?"

Olivia pressed her lips together in agreement. "You've got a point."

"Thank you," Scott grinned at her and then turned to Stiles to wait for his response. "So?"

"So, I can't believe that we've gotten to the point where a sentence like 'what if the Darach was an emissary to the alphas?' actually makes sense to me," Stiles huffed. "Second of all, we're gonna have a huge problem getting to Ethan."

"What's that?"

"Going through Aiden," Stiles stated matter-of-factly. "Ever since he's been back at school, they're always together. How are we gonna separate them again?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Olivia tried to think of something that would distract Aiden. She didn't like the guy whatsoever, so the only thing she knew about him was that he liked to hook up with Lydia in Coach's office.

Wait.

"I have an idea," she spoke up. When the boys looked at her curiously, she nodded toward Lydia, who was still concentrating on her spooky drawing of the tree.

Feeling eyes on her, Lydia looked up at them and sighed, "What now?"

Just staring at Ethan's face made Olivia want to slap the shit out of him. Normally, she would think that she'd be somewhat friends with Ethan. But with the situation they were in now, she doubted that she would ever want to be. She didn't see what happened with Boyd, but Isaac had given her some details. She knew that Ethan and Aiden had picked up Boyd's electrocuted body and dropped him onto Derek's claws. She knew that they watched as Derek's claws ripped up his internal organs, and she knew that they walked away without a care that they had left a teenage boy dead behind them.

However, at least she wasn't joining Stiles and Scott in order to talk to Aiden. She didn't know if she could even look at his stupid smug face without attacking him. She didn't even care if he was ten times stronger than her. Ideally, she'd be able to calm his ass down and then Stiles or Allison could get the drop on him. Lord knows that Scott wouldn't.

"Why are you even talking to me?" Ethan asked, his eyes flitting between the three of them. "I helped kill your friend. How do you know I'm not gonna kill another one?"

Olivia gritted her teeth at his words and when he looked at her toward the end of his question, she stiffened. Stiles did, too. In fact, his temper flared at the way the alpha talked about Boyd and how he had the audacity to look at Olivia, like she hadn't been affected by Boyd's death.

"Are you look at her? Are you threatening her?" he snapped at him, standing up straight and stepping closer to Olivia. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your fucking ass, you absolute dick—"

"Okay, Stiles," Scott cut him off nervously, while Olivia gently grabbed his arm and reached through their tether to calm him down. She loved that he was willing to stand up to an alpha to protect her, but she didn't want him to get hurt. "Woah, we get it."

Stiles gave Scott an irritated look and wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulders, exhaling deeply as his anger started to concede.

"Look," Scott looked back at Ethan, who had been staring at Stiles blankly throughout his whole rant. "We're talking to you because I know that you didn't want to kill Boyd. And I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn't do it again."

Ethan shook his head shortly. "You don't know what we owe them, especially Deucalion," he told the three of them. "We're weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren't alphas."

"What were you?" Scott asked.

"Omegas," Olivia frowned at Ethan's answer; he and Aiden really didn't deserve any sympathy but she was going soft and couldn't help but feel a bud of it. Being the type of omega that had a pack—not ones who chose to be by themselves, like Derek had been—was said to be horrible. "In actual wolf packs, omegas are the scapegoat; the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "So you and your brother were, like, the bitches of the pack?"

Olivia hid the smirk that threatened to spread her lips and nudged Stiles as Ethan gave him an annoyed look. "Something like that."

"What happened?" she spoke up instead, wanting to know how he and Aiden managed to make it into the alpha pack.

"They were killers," Ethan shook his head in disgust, which Olivia found to be ironic. "I mean, people talk about us as monsters. Well, they were the ones who gave us the reputation. And our alpha was the worst of them."

"Why didn't you guys just fight back?" Stiles brought up a good point. "Form Voltron-Wolf, you know, and kick everyone's asses?"

"We couldn't," Ethan stated flatly. "We didn't know how to control it back then."

"Deucalion taught you," Scott realized.

Ethan nodded. "And then, we fought. We took down the whole pack, one-by-one," his voice got a little vicious. "and by the time we got to our alpha, he was begging for his life. We tore him apart, literally."

"What about your emissary?" Ethan shook his head at Scott's question. "They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?"

"All of them except for Deucalion's," he confirmed.

"You mean Ms. Morrell?" Olivia gave him a pointed look and then paused as her mind seemed to leave her body and then zap right back into it. "Oh, my God."

Cora...Cora...Cora...

"Livvy, are you okay?" Stiles asked as Ethan grunted in pain.

"What's going on?" Scott asked both of them.

"My brother's hurt," Ethan answered at the same time as Olivia told Stiles, "Something's wrong with Cora."

It didn't take long for Stiles to put the pieces together; Cora and Aiden were obviously fighting somewhere nearby. "Where are they?" he asked as her eyes flashed back in forth between purple and blue. "Babe, you gotta focus."

"I...I," she stammered before she was able to pass through into Cora's tether and find out where she was. "They're in the boys' locker room."

The four of them took off into the empty hallways, trying to get to the boys' locker room before any more damage was done between Cora and Aiden. Luckily they weren't far from Coach's office and they made it to the locker room just in time to see Aiden whip Cora in the head with a fifty-pound weight.

"Stop, stop!" Olivia shouted as Scott and Ethan took a hold of Aiden on each of his arms. She didn't bother visualizing the anchor that she put on him, she was too angry about him hurting her cousin that it came easy to her.

Aiden's wolf features immediately melted away, calming down in his brother's hold.

"You can't do this," Ethan reminded Aiden as Olivia and Stiles knelt down by Lydia beside Cora's injured body.

"She came at me!" Aiden shouted. He would have growled, but Olivia's hold was still over him.

"It doesn't matter! Kali gave Derek until the next full moon. You can't touch him, Cora, or Olivia."

Stiles placed his hand on Olivia's back and glared up at the alpha twins. "Get the fuck out of here."

It looked like Aiden wanted to argue but Ethan wouldn't let him. Without a word, the twins left the locker room. Olivia hardly noticed, she was too focused on her cousin and the huge wound on her head that was pouring blood.

"She's really hurt," she said softly. She looked at Stiles and Scott and asked, "Can you help me get her up?"

Once Cora was up on her feet, Olivia escorted her over to the sinks. She got some paper towel and dampened it in order to wipe the blood off of her face. Cora was not pleased with her cousin's hovering and grunted a few times when Olivia cleaned the wound.

"Stay still," Olivia got some antibiotic cream from her bag and gently smeared it over the wound. "You're such a bad patient."

"Shuddup."

"Are you okay?" Scott asked Cora.

Lydia scoffed. "She doesn't look okay."'

Cora gave Lydia an irritated look and carefully pushed Olivia away from her. "I'll heal," Almost immediately after she took a step away from the sink, her legs weakened and she faltered. She would have fallen if Scott wasn't there to grab her and keep her steady. "I said I'm fine."

"Stop being so stubborn," Olivia sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist. At least Cora would let her help.

"Do you realize how suicidally crazy that was?" Stiles pointed out sternly. "What were you thinking going after them?"

"I did it for Boyd," Cora snapped back at him. "None of you were doing anything."

Olivia sighed. "You know that's not true, Cora."

"We're trying," Scott added.

"And you're failing," Cora addressed all her ire at Scott, Stiles, and Lydia. "You're just a bunch of stupid teenagers running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed, but all you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies."

"Cora, shut up," Olivia's voice had hardened as she turned and carefully dragged her cousin out of the locker room, not hearing Stiles' comment about the both of them definitely being part of the Hale family. "I know you're grieving and you're angry and hurt, but you can't say things like that to them."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"You shouldn't say it because we're trying our hardest to figure this out," Olivia stated, annoyed. "And I get it, I can feel Boyd's loss, too, but you can't take it out on people who are doing their best to help you and the whole town."

Cora let out a drawn-out sigh and winced when a flash of pain went through her head. "I'm not apologizing," she said stubbornly.

"That's fine. Just give them some slack."

"Hey!" they heard Stiles call from behind them; he was soon at their sides. "Do you need a ride?"

"Um, yeah," Olivia nodded. "I can leave my car here and pick it up later tonight."

"Sounds good."

Halfway to their journey to Derek's loft and after three attempts to make contact with Derek, Allison called them. She informed them that she and Isaac had been searching her dad's desk and found a Celtic knot that was labeled with each group of the sacrifices. She listed the groups of sacrifices that had already happened and then the two that had yet to come.

"Philosophers?" Olivia asked in surprised. What exactly did that mean? There were a lot of occupations or people that could easily fit into that category. It would be someone like Plato, or a teacher, or a scientist, or even a really smart person. But, at the same time, how did Deputy Tara fit in that category?

"And guardians," Allison added; that made more sense in Tara's case since she was a police officer. "which after last night, has to mean something like law enforcement. Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need but you have to get him to believe. Tell your dad, warn him."

"Okay, okay, okay," Stiles said quickly, his mind racing a mile a minute. "I know."

Olivia ended the call and looked at her boyfriend, seeing the anxious look on his face. "You're gonna tell him right?"

"I have to," Stiles nodded. "but I'm gonna need both of your guys' help."

Olivia nodded and took his hand from the steering wheel, squeezing it tightly. "Whatever you need."

Olivia watched from Stiles' bed as her boyfriend paced back and forth, trying to come up with something to tell his dad. Personally, she had never gone through telling a parent about the supernatural world and because she was pretty sure that Natalie had some sort of knowledge about it—and she was in deep, deep denial that Olivia and Lydia were a part of it—she wouldn't really need to. She couldn't put herself in Stiles' shoes properly and it annoyed the crap out of her because she wanted to be there for him like he was always there for her.

"Okay, okay, okay," Stiles murmured under his breath. "Yes, okay...No, no..."

"Stiles?" Noah cleared his throat.

Stiles quickly faced his dad. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm trying to...I'm just trying to figure out how to start here."

"Hey," Noah said sternly. 'I don't have this kind of time."

Stiles blew out a heavy breath, causing Olivia to speak up encouragingly, "Stiles, just start with the cases."

"Right, right, the cases," Stiles nodded jerkily and looked back at Noah. "Okay, um, for the last year, you've had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right? I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who drowned him, and all these murders right now. It's like...it's like you've been playing a losing game."

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. It was clear that he didn't know why Stiles was going through his "failed" cases. "Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own son."

Stiles rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I know," he looked over at his dresser in order to pull his thoughts together and spotted the chess board he and his dad would play with from time to time. "Okay, see, but that's—that's just it, Dad."

He hurried to his dresser and grabbed the chess board, which folded into a case to keep all of the pieces together, and then set it on his desk. "The reason that you're losing the game is cause you've never been able to see the whole board," he opened the game and tossed out all the pieces. "I need to show you the whole board."

While Stiles carefully labeled each and every chess piece with sticky tabs, Olivia let Cora lean against her. She made sure that she didn't fall asleep, but soon she was swept up into an episode. She could hear Lydia screaming and it took all of her control—and biting down on the inside of her cheek—to make sure she didn't scream too (she didn't realize that it would have helped Stiles convince his dad that the supernatural life was real until afterward).

Noah did not look over at her—and therefore, did not see her purple eyes—because he was too concentrated on watching Stiles label and explain each supernatural creature and the names of his friends that matched up with them. By the time Olivia was pulled away from Lydia's tether and back in control of her mind, Noah was sufficiently caught up.

Well, kind of.

"Scott and Derek are werewolves," he said flatly, looking across the desk at Stiles.

"Yes."

"And Kate Argent was a werewolf?"

"Hunter," Stiles corrected him, pointing to the piece where he labeled Kate with a purple tab. "That's...Purple stands for hunter."

"Allison and her dad are hunters, too," Olivia told him, leaving out the part where they were supposed to be retired. If Mr. Argent and Allison were retired, then normal grandparents would be working overtime.

"Yeah," Noah gestured to Dr. Deaton's piece. "and my friend, Deaton, the veterinarian, is a kanima?"

"No, no, he's a druid, okay?" Stiles stated. "Well, we think."

Olivia and Cora exchanged a look. They didn't really think that Dr. Deaton was a druid, they were 99.9% positive that he was one. Then again, Olivia could see why Stiles said what he said, Noah could only handle so much.

"So, who's the kanima?"

"Jackson," Olivia responded, thinking of her friend; she missed him.

"No, Jackson's a werewolf."

"Jackson was the kanima first, and then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf," Stiles explained. "Now, he's in London."

Noah frowned. "Who's the da-rack?"

Stiles corrected his pronunciation. "It's da-rock."

"We don't know who the darach is," Olivia piped in.

Stiles pointed at her in agreement. "We don't know yet."

Noah blinked at them. "But he was killed by werewolves?"

"Slashed up and left for dead."

"We think."

Stiles pointed at Olivia again. "We think, yeah."

Noah sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Why was Jackson the kanima?"

"'Cause sometimes, the shape that you take reflects the person that you are."

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier-by-the-second father take?"

"Uh, that would be more of an expression like the one you're currently wearing," Stiles replied nervously.

"Yeah," Noah heaved himself off the chair and started toward the door.

Stiles scrambled out of his, too. "Dad—Dad, would you wait?" he begged his father. "I can prove it, okay? Cora's a werewolf and Livvy's an anchor. You ready?" he asked Olivia and Cora; they nodded and Olivia helped Cora stand. "All right, Dad, just watch this, okay?"

Olivia didn't know if Noah managed to see any sign of their supernatural nature or not. Cora's name popped up in her head and she was dragged down to the floor when Cora collapsed.

"I wished you would have answered my calls," Olivia muttered to Derek as they sat side-by-side in the hospital waiting room while Cora was being examined and placed in a room.

"I know, Ollie," Derek replied softly. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand why she's not healing. She should have healed by now."

"We'll find out why she's not," Derek assured her and squeezed her hand. "I already called Peter. Hopefully he knows something we don't."

"Hopefully," Olivia sighed; her phone started vibrating in her hand. When she was that it was Scott, she excused herself from Derek and walked over to Stiles, where he was talking to Melissa. "Hey."

"Hey, is Stiles with you?"

"Yeah, hold on," she waved to Melissa silently and grabbed Stiles' arm, pulling him into an empty hallway; she put him on speaker. "Okay, you're on speaker."

"All right, it's philosophers as in teachers," Scott told them hurriedly. "Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover."

"That makes sense," Stiles glanced at Olivia. "Tara, she wasn't always a cop. She used to teach middle school."

"Then the last one's gonna be another teacher."

"There's close to a hundred teachers employed at the high school," Olivia pointed out worriedly. "There's even more at the middle and elementary schools."

"And they're all headed home," Stiles added.

"No, no they're not," Scott said after a few seconds of silence. "They're all going to the recital."

"Fuck," Stiles cursed in annoyance. "All right, I'm gonna go talk to my dad."

"I'll borrow Derek's truck and head over there now, Scott," Olivia took the call off speaker as Stiles walked away to find his dad. "I'll only be a couple of minutes."

"Okay, but Liv..."

Her eyebrows furrowed at the worry in Scott's voice. "What's wrong?"

"I talked to Morrell. She told me that the alpha pack wanted me because I'm supposed to be a true alpha."

"A true alpha?" she repeated in disbelief. "Wow, Scott."

She was impressed; true alphas only came around once in a while and the fact that their own Scott was going to be one was special.

"Yeah, but that's not the only thing she told me," Scott sighed; Olivia braced herself for more news. "She told me that the alphas want you, too. She said that anchors are rare and you have powers you haven't even untapped. Deucalion thinks you be a good addition to the pack."

Shit, shit, shit, shit...Olivia cursed herself. Why did I have to be a rare species?

"Well, that is not good," she breathed nervously before collecting herself. "but we can deal with it later. We need to stop the darach before someone else dies."

"Yeah, we do," Scott agreed. "All right, I'll see you in ten."

"Okay, be careful."

"You too, bye."

The recital had already started by the time Olivia arrived at the school. A storm was brewing overhead and the faint music she could hear coming from the auditorium made the environment even more eerie. She ran through the parking, wishing that she hadn't worn heels that day, and rushed into the building.

She got to the lobby but stopped right in her tracks outside the main part of the auditorium, her gaze taking on a purple tint. An indescribable feeling flashed through her body and then she moved, letting whatever the feeling was take her where she needed to go. It was like the time that Derek had been shot with the wolfsbane bullet and she was led on autopilot throughout the school until she found him.

Lydia...Lydia...Lydia...Lydia, Lydia, Lydia...

She found herself in the English hallway, automatically making her way to Ms. Blake's classroom in a daze. She stopped just outside of the classroom when she heard Lydia and Ms. Blake talking.

She didn't take time to listen to what they were saying. She stormed into the classroom but was immediately airborne. Her back hit the wall painfully and she was risen until her feet were a couple feet off the ground. She was stuck and she was useless.

"Glad you joined the party," Ms. Blake—no, fuck that, I am not giving her any respect by calling her anything but her stupid first name! –smirked at her. "I was wondering when you would come for her."

"Let her go," Olivia snapped at her, her eyes darting to Lydia, who was terrified and staring at her with wet eyes. "What do you even want with her?"

"Nothing special," Jennifer shrugged. She flicked her hand toward a chair and Olivia flew to it, slamming against the hard, wooden back. "You, on the other hand..."

Olivia was unable to move as Jennifer used duct tape to secure her hands and legs to the chair. When she was finished, she picked up a small wooden dowel and started wrapping a length of strong cord around it. She was making a garrote.

"What are you doing?" Lydia whimpered, still fighting off unconscious from the hard hit she took from Jennifer when she first walked into the classroom.

"What's necessary," Jennifer stated. "I'm still surprised none of you seem to get that. You call them sacrifices but you're not understanding the word," Olivia rolled her eyes at her dramatic monologue. "It's derived from the Latin 'sacrificium', an offering to a deity, a sacred rite. A necessary evil."

"Oh, shut up," Olivia groaned, hoping to get her attention away from Lydia. "I'm pretty sure that killing fifteen innocent people isn't necessary."

"You know, on the outside, you appear so tough, emotionless," Jennifer stood from her crouched position in front of Lydia and sauntered over to Olivia. "but I know you're afraid right now. I know you're afraid all the time. This shell?" she poked Olivia in the cheek. "Well, it's all an act."

"Who cares if it is?" Olivia hissed right back at her.

"Oh, I don't care. I was just taunting you before I kill you and your precious cousins. The useless ones, I mean," Jennifer grinned maliciously. "I think I'll keep Derek around."

Olivia harshly snapped her jaw together, speaking through her clenched teeth, "Stay away from them."

"I would but I won't," Jennifer giggled. "See, you were my target. Deucalion wants you and you're powerful. If I kill you now, he won't be able to use you against me."

Olivia's heart started to race and her own name was starting to be repeated over and over in her head. Scott had to know that Lydia had disappeared and that she never made it to the auditorium. She had to stall so he could get there. "So, you're doing this to go up against the alpha pack?"

"Correct. Let's just say that you don't know the alphas like I do," Jennifer twisted the garrote in her hands and stepped behind Olivia. "And because they currently don't know my plan, I think Lydia is going to have to go, too. She knows too much. First, she can watch you die."

"No, no, no," Olivia said frantically, locking her scared eyes on Lydia, who stared fearfully back at her.

"Stop!" Lydia whimpered. "Stop, stop!"

Jennifer didn't stop. Before she could fully press the garrote against Olivia's throat, she forcefully tore the duct tape around her right hand and slipped it between her flesh and the cord. She gasped as the cord dug into her fingers. "Lydia!"

As if they had rehearsed, Lydia let out the loudest scream that had ever passed through her lips. Olivia screamed only a second later, unable to fight the urge that came from Lydia's tether. It was kind of weird, warning people of your own death.

Olivia's scream died out first and then a couple seconds later, so did Lydia's. Jennifer dropped the garrote from her hands, letting it hang on Olivia's neck, and walked over to stand in front of Lydia.

"Unbelievable," she gasped, studying Lydia intently. "You're a banshee. A wailing woman, right before my eyes. You're just like me, Lydia. Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it."

"She's nothing like you," Olivia spoke up fiercely, her voice hoarse.

Jennifer shrugged, the comment not bothering her. "It's too bad, though, and too late," she walked back over to Olivia, taking her place behind her and picking up the garrote. The garrote pulled tightly around Olivia's neck, making her choke. "One last philosopher."

Olivia couldn't breathe. There was no room for her trachea to move, causing her to suffocate. It was almost as if she could feel her throat being crushed, causing her to panic and squirm around in the chair, kicking her feet to try to fight back.

Olivia...Olivia...OLIVIA, OLIVIA, OLIVIA!!!!

"Stop, stop!" Lydia shouted frantically, choking on her tears as she watched Jennifer pull out a knife from her person and hold it up to Olivia's throat; the second part of the three-fold death.

"Drop it!" a new voice joined Lydia's.

With Jennifer sufficiently distracted, the garrote dropped from Olivia's neck. She took in a deep breath, her throat sore inside and out. Something urged her to look over at who had interrupted Jennifer, but she recognized the voice. Noah had ran into the classroom, gun cocked and aimed right at the darach.

As soon as she laid eyes on her boyfriend's father, Jennifer whipped the knife that was going to be used on her at him. It lodged itself into his shoulder so forcefully that it splayed him flat on his back. Noah wasn't technically in her pack, but he was someone Olivia cared for very much; that meant that she knew he was in danger, but he wasn't going to die. She couldn't explain it, but there was a different between the whispers that warned her of a pack member in danger and then the ones that warned her of the pack member's death. Noah was okay, for now.

Jennifer turned back to Olivia, intending to finish what she started, but a roar filled the room. Scott had arrived, his werewolf features fully on display as he snarled at Jennifer. He lunged at her, but Jennifer easily dodged each of his blows. She was more powerful than him and the way she sent him flying across the room and into a pile of desks proved it.

Olivia didn't know exactly what Jennifer did to him, but it was obvious that she did something else to him. Scott was spitting up blood and hitting desks that didn't weigh much didn't seem like it would do something like that to him.

She whimpered through the pain in her throat, "Scott!"

Her attention was dragged away from Scott as Jennifer slid her desk across the room and right into the door, slamming it closed. Before she could even wonder why Jennifer had done that, she saw Stiles' head pop into view from the small window at the top of the door. He was slamming his whole body against it, but with the weight of the desk, it wouldn't budge. He couldn't get into the room.

With Stiles and Scott taken care of, Jennifer focused on Noah, who had grabbed his gun, got to his knees, and aimed it at her.

"There was a girl," he said tiredly as Jennifer took slow steps toward him. "years ago. We found her in the woods, her face and body slashed apart. That was you, wasn't it?"

Jennifer glared at him. "Maybe I should've started with philosophers with knowledge and strategy."

She closed in on Noah and he pulled the trigger, shooting in her in her right thigh; Jennifer simply shook it off and continued on to him. "Healers," she grabbed him by the knife in his shoulder and held him high in the air, the blade slicing through the fleshy part of his shoulder. "Warriors..." she ripped his badge off of his shirt and crushed it with her fingers. "Guardians...Virgins..."

"God, leave him alone!" Olivia shouted to the best of her ability as Jennifer placed a wet kiss against Noah's mouth. Jennifer's face warped into a horrifying figure and screeched while she grabbed Noah and flew toward the windows. "No!"

Jennifer had disappeared with Noah. Scott had woken up from whatever daze Jennifer had put him in and the force that was shoving the desk against the door had disappeared. While Scott had rushed toward Lydia—on Olivia's insistence; the redhead was unconscious from the blow Jennifer had landed on her—Stiles rushed into the classroom and to the windows.

"Dad?" there was no answer to Stiles' call and it hit them all like a punch to the gut. "Dad?!"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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moniquill · 4 years

Text

I’m going to talk about Greedfall. Fight me.

So recently Greedfall was on 70% off on Steam, and I bought it.

I did so fully in the knowledge that this game is a garbage fire. I knew from the moment I saw the trailers back in August 2019, and I made some posts about it:

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/187141616836/greedfall-comes-out-next-month-on-the-10th-get-so

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/187185773016/no-i-will-not-absolve-you-geek-friend

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/187213116466/i-think-youve-fundamentally-misunderstood-the

And reblogged people saying more and better things:

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/187152585746/dalishious-untilthisdreamisgone-akedhi

A particularly large FUCK YOU to Darkfreya, who said this in the comments:

“ I will definitely buy this and hope it does well. We need more games like this. The fact that is a game about colonization does not bother me at all. Your character is neutral (and probably desperate trying search for a cure to a disease that is killing your people) Who you side with is your choice, and I seriously doubt siding with colonizers is seen as being the “good” choice.”

But there’s a valid argument to be made that you can’t REALLY criticize a game just based on trailers and synopses and lets plays and all that. You need to PLAY it, to play it all the way through and get the CONTEXT of the STORY.

So strap in chucklefucks, I did that. All spoilers, no repentance.

Note: I am writing this reaction on the fly as I play. I have had no spoilers except what’s in the promotional material. This isn’t so much a game review as an admonition of bullshit; I will be focusing on the main questline; the things that the game forces you to do to progress the story. I’ll also follow native-specific sidequests.

I am De Sardet, a man or woman who is the cousin of the new governor of The Congregations’ colony on Teer Fradee. I have an unexplained green birthmark on my face. My first quest item is saying goodbye to my mother, the Princess De Sardet, who has the mysterious and fatal illness that’s plaguing the land - the malichor.

There is no mention whatsoever of my father at this time.

In Serene, I futz about doing minor sidequests, meeting my first two companions (Kurt and Vasco), and levelling up by looting boxes and murdering bandits. I get to witness the ravages of the malichor; the streets are full of dead and dying people, there're corpse wagons and bonfires, generally looks like a good time.

I meet with the two representatives of the Not!European nations that The Congregation is a neutral ally to both of. One is Theleme, the super religious spanish inquisition types who dress in Cromwell-era English and French clothing. The other is The Bridge Alliance, who are all about science and technology and seem vaguely middle east to north african flavored - they wear turbans and kaftans, their architecture has domes and minarets, etc. Each representative gives me a quest with MORAL DILEMMAS! Do I deliver the heretics to the guard for arrest, or allow them to escape? Do I do the same for the charlatan alchemist? If I listen to them, they’re all totally innocent, but letting them go is bad for my reputation with the diplomats. Except that I can lie. So yeah… this is pretty much a ‘Do you BE EVIL because you can, or do you act benevolent at absolutely no expense to yourself?’ choice.

As I’m getting on the boat to head to Teer Fradee, I am railroaded into my first boss fight! This bursts out of the side of an adjacent ship:

All I know about it is that it was brought back from Teer Fradee, and that ‘it was supposed to be out for days’ - presumably it’s drugged. It’s visibly injured. I see it take another bad hit from a falling mast in the pre-battle cutscene.

I have no choice but to kill it.

I beat it into submission (with magic, because that's what I spec’d into) and then get a cutscene where it’s helpless and desperately scrambling away from me, gazing at me with intelligent, desperate eyes.

I dispassionately shoot it in the head.

I am hailed as a hero.

Like seriously here’s the video (not mine, just pulled from youtube)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQfIHBIJiAU

We cutscene across the ocean, Vasco gets real serious with some shorebirds, and we arrive at Teer Fradee.

On the steps of the governor’s palace, I have my first encounter with a native - Siora, daughter of a chieftain, who is here to seek an audience with the governor. She speaks to me in the native tongue, presuming that I will understand. She has a facial marking similar to my own. I use my political clout to get her into the palace. When we meet my cousin the governor, he goes on and on about how similar Siora and I look; as if we could be related.

This is the first clue, in the story, that I - De Sardet - have native ancestry. There is no avenue for me to explore this at this time.

Siora wants us to be allies to her clan in their hostilities with the Bridge Alliance. I’m sent to speak with Mal Bladnid - the chieftain, her mom.

I’d like to mention at this time that the designers clearly went out of their way to NOT invoke NDN visual tropes with regards to be people of Teer Fradee - No beads, braids, and buckskins, no flute and drum music. They have an irish/celtic/norse/pagan vibe, as I read it. They have a ‘what even is that’ accent. They also wear a ton of different styles of face paint, the significance of which are never explained.

The game at large seems to assign characters without regard to phenotype - any person of any faction may be european/black/asian in appearance. There are about a dozen faces in the entire game, endlessly recycled. It comes off as :FINGERS IN EARS, SHOUTING “WE DON’T SEE RACE!!!”:

At the first opportunity to talk to Siora back at my legate pad in New Serene, I can ask Siora if she really thought I was a Native. She says that yeah, she did, because I look like one, and she’s never seen a foreigner who’s an on ol menawi - she doesn’t tell me what that means, and I don’t have an option to ask.

Following the main quest line and going to see Siora’s mom, I learn that she’s already taken off to fight a battle. We catch up at the tail end of the battle, hundreds of people on both sides are dead. I meet Siora’s sister, and I can talk her down from a roaring rampage of revenge. We find out that their mom’s been taken. We spend some time optionally looking for and healing survivors - you can also just let them die. Save them, and you gain a reputation boost with the natives. Then we explore the ruins, which are continental in style, and learn about the legend of super doom battle of old vs wave of colonizers the first - the native people made a pact with the land which raised guardians, and in exchange certain people become ol menawi. What this means is not explained at this time, other than it’s a pact with the land and why the native people have magic.

At this point I diverge from the main quest to find out what happened to Siora’s mom; we go to the Bridge Alliance camp and find that she died on the way there. We have to argue/finagle/blackmail the captain of the outpost into allowing us to take her body.

Upon returning to Siora’s village, we find that her mother’s remains have been delivered, but new complication: there are missionaries from Theleme insisting that they had an agreement with queen Bladnid - the village would convert to Not!Christianity and in exchange Teleme would aid them against the Bridge Alliance. If they agree to this, they’ll have to bury Bladvid according to Theleme religious standards. Siora thinks this is bullshit, we must investigate. It is unclear how I’m supposed to pursue this.

I return to Constantin and report on the ancient ruins where the battle took place. He tells me to go see Lady Morange, who tells me to go check out some other ruins near some mines. This continues the Ancient Mystery questline.

I proceed to San Mateus (which is also where I need to go for main questline things regarding talking to the Theleme leaders on the island)

Entering the city for the first time thrusts me into a cutscene so fucking upsetting that I had to put the game away for a while and come back later. Upon entering the main square, I see a priest strangling a native man, while a creature not unlike the one I was forced to fight back in the first boss battle is being burned alive. The priest is demanding that the native man denounce his gods. He then strangles him to death. I am given no opportunity to intervene. Afterward, when I’m able to talk to the priest, I can declare myself as a believer or not - I can answer yes or no, or attempt charisma to weasel out of the question. If I fail charisma I have to answer yes or no. If I declare that I’m not a believer, we have a fight scene. I am not allowed to kill this man; the fight ends as soon as he’s incapacitated. He wanders off, declaring that he won’t forget this and that I’ll have to fight him again later.

THE BURNED CORPSE OF THE TREE-BEING REMAINS IN THE SAN MATEUS SQUARE FOR THE REST OF THE GAME.

In the palace I meet Petrus, after talking to the Mother Cardinal, Petrus becomes one of my companions. The Mother Cardinal asks me to investigate a native village that she believes is worshipping a demon. Yeah sure I’ll get right on that.

I proceed to Hikmet to talk about their science team’s work on the Malichor, and learn that the natives are very antagonistic toward their people. A soldier interrupts the conversation to tell us that an outpost has been routed in a native attack. I’m asked to assemble a team to investigate a science party that’s gone missing.

I return to Constantin to tell him about meeting the governors; he tells me to proceed with all the questlines I’ve opened and whines about how his parents never loved him. Worth noting at this time that Constantin appears not at all well. He’s pale and has dark circles under his eyes. He claims to be fine, just nauseated.

My main questline threads are now:

An Ancient Mystery

Scholars in the Expedition

Demonicial Cult

I choose to follow the cult one first, because Native involvement.

I proceed to Tir Dob, and meet with the investigators. The leader is frustrated because the natives don’t want to talk to her, and she’s convinced that there’s deep evil afoot. When I talk to the villagers, they dismiss me and tell me it’s not my business. Which, I mean, fair!

Notably, one woman asks about my mark/status an on ol manawi. When I say I’m not bound to anything/I didn’t do anything to bind myself, she tells me that one of my parents must have been a doneigad. I have no opportunity to pursue this.

There is no story-continuing option for me to leave it, or to pursue a path of gaining the villagers’ trust. I am required, by the game’s narrative, to spy on a villager. I break into his house and look at his things; I comment on how terrifying his fresco is and how morbid his altar and how horrible his mask. Siora points out that the mask is just worn to intimidate enemies in battle. It’s identical to the warthog spirit mask I can buy at any number of native merchants and wear. Petrus says that there’s obviously demon worship going on.

I tell sister Ephesia, and she sends me to follow the villager on his journey into a secret place in the forest. He disappears into a sacred grotto. I commune with a tree and experience a narrative, then have to solve a very obvious puzzle to enter the grotto - to invade a sacred place that I am obviously not welcome in. There is no option to refuse to do this that forwards the story. In the grotto I witness a ceremony that’s presented, through cinematography and music, to be SO TERRIFYING AND OBVIOUSLY EVIL because there’s… a small amount of bloodletting? A glowing tree spirit speaks at the end of the ritual and all participants triumphantly shout.

Siora, if in the party, says that the rituals of her tribe aren’t so scary, cementing that the game feels that this ritual is intrinsically horrifying in some way.

We go to ask the chief of the village about what we spied on, and she explains that it’s a ritual to evoke the strength of warriors and invoke a blessing against the Theleme investigators. She tells us that the voice we heard one one of the many faces of nature, and that if we proceed to another location and perform a ritual, we may hear from another face of nature - but that we might not be happy with the results.

We proceed to Vedvilvie, where we meet Aged Hermit. He tells us that a detachment of Bridge Alliance soldiers was here a long time ago, and gives us information about where to find their camp. We explore the swamp, looking at assorted corpses and ruined tents and ancient frescoes, then talk to Aged Hermit again, who tells us about a ritual to summon the earth.

We perform the ritual, and are thrust into a boss battle with Nadaig Vedemen. There is literally no choice but to kill her. The Aged Hermit rebukes us for having done so, calling us murderers and monsters. Gotta say, I absolutely agree with him. Siora tells him to calm down, that we were only defending ourselves. She explains to me that he knew her before she became a Nadaig - that Nadaig are Doneigada who’ve called upon the power of the island to the point of physical transformation. That it will happen to her and to me, eventually. That’s what on ol menawi and the mark means.

There is no opportunity for me, as a player, to avoid killing the Nadaig.

We return to Tir Dob and confront Derdre about sending us into a death trap; she had hoped the Nadaig would kill us. We now know secrets that no one outside the clan has ever known. She asks us not to tell.

I proceed to the Bridge Alliance Scholars’ camp and find they’ve been captured by locals, who want to trade them for prisoners that the Alliance has previously taken. We run into some locals who give us important information about where the prisoners are being held, because they feel it would be better if the prisoners were gone. We meet Aphra, who joins the party and leads us to where prisoners are being held. Two options here - guns blazing bloodbath, or ghost sneak mission where we bust the prisoners out undetected and harm no one. I choose the ghost option. Regardless, upon bringing the rescued scholars back to camp I’m confronted by three natives who I have to fight with. Once defeated, I have the option to either spare their lives or finish them off. Only Siora argues that I should let them live. I do.

We return to Hikmet and talk to the governor. This opens the Search for Panacea questline. Aphra is now a permanent possible companion.

Aphra’s personal quest: More required spying on the natives. Siora greatly disapproves. I have no option to shut this shit down, to tell her ‘No, we are not doing that.’ We spy on the elders, who are having a meditative session where they listen to the voice of en on mil frichtimen. They catch us spying and call us down, chastise us, and then invite us to watch the rest. Aphra makes comments about how ‘it’s almost like they really can hear a voice on the wind; must be delusion-level faith!’ She then says she has to mull this over and to talk about it later.

We proceed to the ruins that Lady Morange mentioned; two of the three required fetch items are in the general vicinity of a Nadaig. It is possible, through sneaking, to reach them without having to fight the Nadaig, so I do that. We find that the people who built the ruins were…. DUN DUN DUN…. From the congregation! We used to be EVIL! Like we’re totally not now!

We report to Constantin, who is looking even more sickly. He tells us to investigate this history with the Nauts and laments more about his daddy issues. He also says that I look too much like a native for it to be a coincidence which, at this point, fucking DUH. This opens the The Prince’s Secret questline.

Meanwhile, on the quest for panacea, I head back to the village where I freed the Alliance prisoners to talk to the chief. There’s several dialog options, since I didn’t go bloodbath when rescuing the prisoners, but there’s also a spying option. One way or another, I gain the information that I need to go to the village of Vigshadir in Frasoneigad to find the Tierna harch cadachtas. Siora knows how to get there.

Upon arriving, I’m told that this is one of the holiest sites on the island and I’m not welcome. Alas, I can’t continue the story while respecting that answer - I can insist forcefully or I can gain the villagers’ trust with a couple of fetch quests. Either way, I end up learning where the Tierna harch cadachtas can be found. I disturb her taking a nap with some salamanders. She’s not at all happy to see me, even when Siora speaks on my behalf. She sicks her salamanders on me and takes off; I have to kill them. I then follow her up a path to a root door that requires an offering to unlock. Siora suggests that it’s a seed; we go back to the village and talk her bodyguard into letting us into her house to poke around. I should mention that there’s a bunch of lootable stuff in her house, and the game doesn’t punish me in any way for taking it. I find the correct seed and we proceed through the root door to a maze that Siora says is SUPER SACRED. Nevertheless, I’m forced to kill a bunch of animals on my way through. I tried sneaking several times; due to bottlenecking, the animals always become hostile. Toward the end of the path, we also come upon an instantly hostile native man, who I am also forced to kill.

We come out on the other side of the maze in Credgwen, just in time to witness the tierna running from and being gunned down by an Alliance solider. Cradling a bullet wound to her abdomen, the soldier is poised to execute her with a pisol shot to the head when Nadaig Fresamen appears and throws him ass over head. The Tierna then tells Nadaig Fresamen to attack us, and I’m once again in a mandatory boss battle where I am forced by the narrative to kill a Nadaig. Once again it ends in a cutscene where I shoot the Nadaig in the head. I think maybe the game designers think this looks badass, instead of coldly sociopathic? The Tierna is visibly distraught, screaming and crying at what we’ve done. She’s about to attack us when she’s shot in the back by the Alliance Soldier, who then says a bunch of Evily McEvil things, then tries to fight us. Upon besting him, I get to either kill or spare him.

I kill the shit out of him.

We bring the very very wounded tierna back to her village, where she wakes up and tries to kill me (Siora calling her off). She explains that the panacea she made is to treat islanders who’ve escaped captivity from the Alliance; those who are captured are gruesomely tortured in the name of science. She suggests that the malichor might be a curse from En on mil frichtimen.

We take this news to Constantin. It is now super duper obvious that he is very sick.

Siora tells us who we need to talk to about En on mil frichtimen, Constantin tells us to do that.

I’m level 16 now.

I hop back to the other main questline, grabbing Petrus and Vasco to go to San Matheus and investigate the Nauts’ problems there. Go to talk to Bishop Domitius but am pulled into a cutscene where Mother Cornelia asks me to get back some sacred tablets that she thinks were stolen by island natives. Yeah, lady, I’ll get right on that. I talk to Bishop Domitius, who accuses the Nauts of being the origin of the malichor. I go to the docs to investigate the rumors. Long story short, the Nauts are fine and I shut down the Inquisition’s investigation of them. When I get back to my residence, there’s a letter asking me to come see some natives at the embassy. Because Native rep[resentation and Native storylines are pretty much all I care about in this game, I pause everything else to pursue that, bringing Siora and Petrus.

I meet with them in the woods, where they’re camped out with the body of an inquisitor they killed. Petrus greatly disapproves. We get some keys and a letter from them, learn that there’s a camp that Native captives are being brought to, and go to investigate the inquisitor’s house for more details. We rummage through his house, find another letter detailing the camp and a chest in the order headquarters. We also find a key to said chest. On our way out, we’re confronted by a bunch of ordo luminus thugs. I have the option to get Petus to talk them down, so I do.

We go back to the place where the natives are holed up and find we’ve been followed by inquisitors. Talk talk fight; we kill them. The natives thank us and say they’ll report this to queen Derdre. I’m now level 17.

I head back to Admiral Cabral to tell her about shutting down the Naut investigation. She tells me that the Nauts discovered the island 200 years ago, the congregation tried to colonize, a few bad apple lords got all tyrannical, and both the natives and thier own workers rebelled against them. The colony was destroyed and only a few survivors made it out. The princes of the congregation swept it all under the rug in humiliation. Then she drops the bomb that I’ve been waiting for the whole game: I am the product of a later Congregation expedition. I’m the child of a Native and was born on a Naut ship. So yeah, I’ve been playing as a stolen child divorced from my native culture this whole time. I’m just gonna leave this link here:

https://www.vox.com/2019/10/14/20913408/us-stole-thousands-of-native-american-children

I immediately go to demand answers from Constantin.

This is a major act shift; things I find out in the next string of cutscenes:

Constantin has the malichor and is totally dying.

Kurt comes in to warn us about a coup d’etat that’s in the works - the coin guard plants to take out all three governors and seize control of the island. Apparently if you haven’t followed his personal questline about abuse within the coin guard ranks, he betrays you at this time. I’ve been doing the companion quests all along but not commenting on ones that don’t involve natives.

After putting down the coup d’etat, I go back to Constantin to rally. We’re now in Act Two, and my main quests are as follows:

The Suffering of Constantin, where I have three leads - San Matheus, Hikmet, and Native.

The Trial of the Waters, where I need to go speak to Glendan.

So I head to Wenshaveye to talk to the healer there. The village is having problems with missionaries and with abruptly and violently aggressive tenlens - animals that are usually docile. The aggressive tenlen attacks started right about the same time the missionaries showed up. Hmm.

There’s an interlude here where I come upon a bunch of merchants fighting a Nadaig and for a brilliant moment I thought I could kill the merchants and save the Nadaig but no. It’s instantly hostile to me and I have to kill it. The killing of Nadaig in this game is treated as a neutral action, like killing wild animals.

So yeah turns out the missionaries brought a vicious white tenlen, holed it up in a cave, it was riling up the others, it killed two village kids who went into the woods to canoodle. I shut all that down, kicked the missionaries out, and was able to bring the healer to Constantin. Plot thread resolved! Let’s go see Glendan.

I can’t get in to see the council without having a seal proving that I’m the chosen representative of a current council member. Fetch quest time - literally I just have to go back and talk to Cadasach, the healer, and he hands me the seal I need. I presume it’s more involved if I’d chosen one of the other healing paths.

I talk to Glendan, he tells me I need to complete the trial of the waters, a new questline opens. Also, the next part of Siora’s questline - promises set in stone - opens. I drop everything and follow that because I’m kind of in love with Siora.

We head to her village and talk to the missionaries, they send us to go see the stone that the agreement was engraved on, we get there and fight a bunch of enemies, the stone is destroyed and we can’t read it. Time to go see the engraver, Caradeg. We get to his house to find it absolutely destroyed. The only clue is a stone bearing the mark of the Dunncas’ clan. So we head to Vigyigidaw. Dunncas tells us that they exiled Caradeg because he wanted to make war on the settlers. Have fun, bootlicker. On my way out of the village I’m snagged by a guy with a side quest; he wants me to get some settlers to stop preventing the clan from going into a sacred glade to replant trees that the settler clear cut. See sidequests for details on that.

Before doing Trial of the Waters, I decide to go check up on Eden and Father Iustinius, bringing Siora and Petrus.

Stolen tablets, lots of talk about how primitive and naive the natives are and how those who aren’t converted are obviously worshiping demons and that’s who must have stolen the tablets.

Siora comments that this place is horrifying, and wonders how the people could have tolerated the priests building continental-style buildings over the top of their village.

We go to talk to the theologians, then to Ler. Because I’m not awesome at Charisma, I’m left with no option except to threaten and bully my way into him giving me the name of an old woman, mother of one of the warriors who left the village. I lose re with both the natives at large and Siora personally. The old woman tells us where to find the exiles, and gives us hints on how to avoid traps and sneak in unseen. She implores us not to hurt her son.

We head for the exiles’ camp. I choose the option where I sneak in and don’t murder everyone, and the old woman meets us as we’re leaving and thanks us for that, saying she’s going to try and talk her son into finding a new clan. We head back to Eden.

They thank us for the tablets, are excited to set out a new expedition, the game tells me to wait 24 hours for the results. So I have to hike my ass to out camp, sleep 24 hours, and haul back to where I just was to find out that a party that went into the swamp ran afoul of…. something.

Siora points out that the survivor was obviously bitten by a poisonous swamp creature and that a local healer probably knows the remedy. We go talk to Ler again.

Ler tells us that the village doneigad is one of the exiles, but that the old woman we talked to earlier knows plants well. I’m pretty sure that if we’d murdered her son to death in the previous quest, she’d refuse to help us. Because we didn’t, she makes us a potion. The wounded guy wakes up and begs us to go and rescue his dumbass loser friends, so of course I do.

We’re going back to Vedvilvie, because of course we are.

We arrive at the camp, listen to both the ordo luminous guy and the research sister whine about how the other is mean/incompetant, and go to investigate the dig sites. We find a dude with a caved in skull who was clearly struck from behind with a mace, a guy who was killed to death by lewolans (big lizards), and a poor chump was was obviously stabbed to death before being fed to lewolans. Siora says it’s pretty clear that Mr Inquisition orchestrated this to frame the research lady. I agree. We go to confront him. Choices: Take a bribe and side with him, tell him to leave the expedition, expose his bullshit to everyone.

The ‘correct’ choice in the game is not to reveal his crimes before everyone, but to banish him. Because [Centrist.jpeg goes here]

We follow the path of San Matheus, come up against a nadaig magamen, murder it to death, and enter a cavern. Long story short, Saint Mat totally became a doneigad. He saw on en mil frichtimen as an extension of the concept of light and prayed to him. Also I found a bitchin’ set of holy armor. I put it on Petrus.

Theleme’s gonna be big mad. We head back to Eugenia to tell her, are confronted by Virgil and the Inquisition. He wants to destroy the relics and evidence that Sait Mat converted to the faith of the island, we kill him to death and go tattle to Mommy Cardinal. I push her to make the decision to reveal the truth to the masses, and to visit the cave herself.

Theleme is not, in fact, big mad.

Anyway, returning to the main questline.

So there’s two options through the cave of testing, bloodbath or sneak. I chose sneak. Touch a basin, have a vision, solve a very easy puzzle - just like the tree one from earlier.

There’s a Nadiag waiting, and the command prompt I have for it after solving the puzzle is ‘Tame’... yanno, like one does with an animal. Because indigenous people are fauna. Fucking gross.

I see a fresco depicting a spirit of the volcano. I go to talk to Glendan. He sends me to find the high king, who is missing. I need to see the rest of the high council: Derdre, Dunncas, Ullan. Guess it’s time to finally deal with the Ullan plotline. See side quests for details.

When I head back to Hikmet, I get a whole string of cutscenes because it’s been a while since I’ve been there - including one where I follow up with the islander rebellion. The governor asks me to parlay with the leaders of the rebellion, where I find out that the on ol menawi who the alliance have been kidnapping from villages have been taken to laboratories for experiments - where they have been tortured and killed. This lines up with all earlier accusations, and with that Hikmet dude who was trying to murder the tierna and me - he said they were going to dissect her. So yeah. I go to thier main camp, and fucking surprise, I was followed by Alliance soldiers who promptly stark attacking. I have two choices: fight alongside the natives or put an end to the rebellion. I, of course, fight on Team Native. I then proceed back to Hikmet to ask What The Entire Fuck, Sir? He denies knowing anything about natives being captured; he assures me that this lab is a medical research center. I declare that I”m gonna take a look at it myself.

I grab Aphra for this, and in the process agree to continue her personal questline. We ask the young apprentices about how to get into the Cave of Knowledge, which, I cannot state enough, IS A SACRED PLACE CLOSED TO OUTSIDERS. Only people who are becoming doneigad are supposed to go there. The narrative makes me. This happening, over and over, gives lie to the premise that the game allows you to make good or evil moral choices - that you can DECIDE to be a good guy or a bad guy. You can’t. You can either choose to violate the sacred spaces of the indigenous people or -not play this game-. There is no ‘Sit Aphra down and tell her that it is implicitly wrong to do this’ option.

So we go to the cave, it has a seed gate, we find some brigands who’ve murdered a native, they’re planning to dynamite thier way into the cave, we can talk them inot leaving or murder them to death, guess which one I chose just guess. We get the seed and enter the cave.

In the cave, we examine several frescoes; one depicts a ritual where, in a circle, someone is pouring blood on a stone in the presence of a Nadaig. Another depicts the same figure, but now marked as an on ol menawi. We then hear people coming and are prompted to hide, because being caught here would sure lose us the trust of the natives. Which we do not deserve at all, after this. The game prompts me to spy on the young people, which I do, listening in on thier conversation. When we leave the cave, Aphra says that clearly we need to spy on a whole, actual ritual. The game teases me with ‘accept’ or ‘refuse’, but the choice are actually ‘start the time now, or later’ - the story doesn’t allow me to ACTUALLY refuse. We show up, and Dunncas actually gives us permission to watch if we don’t interfere.

After the ritual, Alliance soldiers show up. We kill them to death. The chiefs thanks us for having been there. Aphra says we should look into Dr. Asili. So off to the lab we go.

I’m pretty sure, narratively, that I’m supposed to have stealthed my way through this. However, after seeing a pit of burning bodies and people in cages right as I entered, I just bloodbathed my way through. Also arrested the apprentices and killed the fuck out of Asili. Fun fact: Asili gave Constantin the malichor! Also me, but I’m resistant, since native and on ol menawi.

I return to talk to Constantin about the sanctuary and the Hikmet problem and everything and find that he’s gone on a journey with the doneigad healer and things have gone wrong. I set out after him. I follow combat signs and talk to Aiden in wenshaveye, then head to the alliance outpost. We catch up with a badly wounded and unconscious survivor, get him a potion, and then have to wait 24 hours. This is a repeated feature of the game an annoying as hell, because the only way to wait is to return to camp. When he’s awake he describes the attack; animals controlled by some kind of native sorcerer and fire and explosions. A native grabbed Constantin and ran off with him. We continue the investigation - I go to talk to Daren. Daren says that they weren’t behind the attack - no one would ever attack Catasach. Catasach is, btw, super dead. I examine the body. He was killed by something than can wield magma. Good times. Daren tells us there’s a ritual by which a doneigad can see the last moments of his life - only tierna can perform it. Good thing we saved her earlier…. From danger that we put her in….

So we head off to see tierna, and she readily agrees because I avenged her earlier. Pretty sure it would have taken more convincing if I’d let the dude who shot her live. One fetch quest to get spell components later, we’re able to perform the ritual.

Vinbarr did it.

I go to question Derdre, Ullan, or Duncas. The latter two have the best opinion of me, so I hit up Dunncas first. Dunncas tells me to go to Wennshavar. Folks there give me some backstory, tell me to find Cera at the cave of knowledge.

We come upon alliance folks torturing a native woman, presumably Cera. This bitch has a whole ass villian speech. I’m pretty sure she’s one of the people I saved with Aphra’s science team? Could just be a recycled face though. We run down to interrupt. Aphra wants to reason with her, Siora wants to kill her. Yep, it’s the science team I saved. I have several options here; fight them, use intuition to remind them I saved them, threaten them, or let Aphra speak. I choose to let Aphra speak more because I want to hear what she says than anything.

Aphra shames her and reminds her that they left Asili together because of his cruelty. She whines that Aphra knows she’s not REALLY like that, and stomps off like an angry toddler. No fight. Cera thanks us for saving her, leads us to the cave, and opens it for us.

Inside the cave we find a fresh new fresco; it shows Vinbarr going to talk to the spirit of the mountain. He’s gone to join En on mil frichtimen. We see another fresco depicting a nadaig meneimen - the bird/mountain form. Vinnbar’s gonna turn into one. We look at some other murals, I let slip that I’m looking for Constantin, Cera peaces out and seals us in the cave because she thinks we’re looking for Vinnbar on a vengeance quest. We find another way out. The path is now laden with traps because she doesn’t want to be followed. Sorry, Cera, that no one informed you that I am a protagonist and thus no one can prevail against me.

We go to the mountain passage depicted in the fresco, go through a cave maze, and find the mountain trail to the sanctuary. We meet up with Cera, who forces us to fight her. We snag a seed from her body after killing her and her folks to death. Which the game offered no way out of doing. Now we have both seeds and can open the sanctuary. We scamper through some scenic vista and arrive to find Vinnbar burying Constantin with rocks using telekinesis. He says the on en mil frichtimen told him constantine is the bringer of doomtimes. Now we have to have a boss fight. Partway through, he transforms into a nadaig. We continue fighting andf kill him to death.

I sure do murder a lot of nadaig in this game.

We return Constantin to New Serene and I’m pretty sure this is the break into act 3… Catasach made Constantin on ol menawi and he is stoked about it. He has branch antlers and pointy teeth and yellow eyes and feels great. I am concerned.

Time to go talk to Glendan again.

I lose three rep with the natives over, yanno, having murdered their high king to death. I now have to go and talk to the three potential high kings and gain the support of one of them - Derdre, Dunncas, or Ullan. Of those three, Dunncas is the only one who hasn’t tried to murder me or betrayed my trust so… off to Dunncas. His agenda is balance and healing. He easily agrees to let me see en on mil frichtimen if he’s chosen, and tells me how to make sure that he is - if I get a spectacular ancient crown from the grave of the high king that became the first guardian. He expresses distaste for using such a method. Siora is also worried about me making a decision that will impact all of her people. Gotta say that I agree, I have absolutely no place being involved in this decision at all - let’s see if the narrative lets me opt out of meddling! I go to see the other two candidates and hear out their agendas, out of fairness.

Ullan’s agenda is peace and alliance with the colonizers. He also readily agrees to help me.

Derdre wants to repel the colonists and take back the island. She says she’ll let me see en on mil frichtimen only if I rally Eseld/Siora’s tribe and join in the attack on the Ordo Luminous camp. Which, morally, I am absolutely all for. However, it seems like the game is heavily leaning on Dunncas as ‘the right choice’.

But yeah, fuck it, I’m backing Derdre all day long. Lets fuck up some Spanish Inquisition!

I have the option to inform the mother cardinal of the coming attack. Why the entire fuck would I do that?

So I destroy the fuck out of the camp and murder a bunch of inquiition torturers and free the surviving prisoners and gather evidence of war crimes. Then I go to mommy cardinal, who is big mad (Theleme -2 rep) that I didn’t tell her first. Boo. Fucking. Hoo.

Having done that, no there is no way to proceed in the questline without retrieving the crown, which involved murdering a Nadaig Magamen. I get the crown, and Derdre meets me there and rebukes me for entering a sacred place, trying to take the crown and throw the election, as an outsider. She is 100% correct. I give her the crown.

I wait two days and then go see en on mil frichtimen, who tells me that the malichor is the result of how the continental people treat their land. I’d like to pause here and talk about the role of Magical Natives in Green Aesop stories. Let’s review some tropes:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CloserToEarth

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/InHarmonyWithNature

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalNativeAmerican

This some some colors of the wind / Avatar’s blue cat people bullshit, the idea that indigenous people are implicitly and intrinsically more -one with the earth- and that ‘modern civilization’ has lost this, to their detriment, and can only heal through <s>cultural appropriation</s> learning and adopting deep earthy truths known by indigenous people. The point of this in the story is to tell a Green Aesop - https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GreenAesop - it sets a paradeigm of indigenous people being the noblest of noble savages - https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/NobleSavage - of indigenous people as a simpler, greener form of humanity. It’s othering. I’ve written a lot about this in the past, check out my post about woo: https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/32577796262/the-following-is-a-post-about-woo

This particular brand of othering of indigenous people directly and personally fucked me up, as an indigenous person, when I was a kid. That could be why I have a personal grudge against it.

Moving along.

en on mil frichtimen alo tells me that Constantin is the bringer of doom times, and that Catasach essentially stole power from the island to keep him alive. I need to put a stop to his endless bitter hateful hunger. So yeah, that’s a thing. I go check up on my dear cousin.

When I show up, emissaries from the alliance and theleme are there begging Constantin for troops and also me; they’re suffering horrible attacks on their outposts and people. They’re blaming the natives. I mean, to be fair I did just crown queen Derdre Kill ‘Em All so….just saying. But moving on, I talk to Constantin about the sanctuary. He...doesn’t react well to the warnings about himself. When I ask him about his body with the island, it sure does seem like he got high on apotheosis and wants another hit. He doesn’t believe that the malichor on the continent is the fault of the continentals.

My main quest lines are now

The attack on San Matheus

The attack on Hikmet

And honestly fuck both those places because both of them were running torture camps but whatever, I guess I’m off to investigate.

Mommy Cardinal over in San Mateus wants me to hit up an outpost that’s being attacked relentlessly by wild animals. Speculation is that ‘island demons’ are controlling them.

Governor Burhan says the same thing’s happening to his folks.

Upon checking it out, the islanders are also being attacked; the animals are attacking indiscriminately, and while having that conversation a guy bursts in to say the guardian of the village (a nadaig glendemen) has turned on his people. So we kill it to death in a boss fight and it’s revealed that the corrupted nadaig was causing the animals to be killrabid. Now that it’s dead, the animals are back to normal.

Samesies over near San Matheus.

A human must be responsible, the creatures wouldn’t be so coordinated otherwise.

Is it my cousin? I bet it’s my cousin.

We go talk to Constantin.

He says ‘ha ha ha nothing to worry about….peace out, my adorable cousin!’ and takes off to parts unknown. I shake down his guards, but all they can tell me is that he’s going north outside the city. I rummage through his papers, and find his journal. Yeeeeah he’s super high on apotheosis and wants to become a god. Like, supplant and replace on en mil frichtimen. And he’s off to ‘get rid of’ some natives in Cwenvar who saw him the other night and might denounce his actions. I’m gonna have to take out my cousin by the end of this game and it will be a tearjerker cutscene. Calling it now.

We head to Cwenvar to talk to the natives. They show me how to spy on Constantin. We follow him to a sacred grove, where he’s clearly gone cuckoo bananas. He’s commanding a corrupted nadaig, which he tells to hold us back - but not kill me. SO we kill the nadaig, and then have a chat with on en mil frichtamen, who confirms that Constantin is trying to gain godhood by murdering god and taking his power. Yanno, as one does. In a cutscene, I list all the people who will totally help me against Constantin. This includes… pretty much everyone, because I’ve diplomatted my way through the game and everyone likes me. Time to go rally armies.

It’s worth noting at this time that on en mil frichtamen calls me ‘flesh of my earth’ and earliet called me ‘the child that was stolen’ - there’s a very ‘YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE’ vibe here, implying that I’m only able to succeed at this task because I’m native by blood - I’m not REALLY a continental and thus a Tainted Person made of Endless Greed. It is my native-ness and my bond to on en mil frichtamen, passed down from my donegiad parent, that allows me to be the hero of this game.

I want you, dear reader, to stop and think about the gross racial implications of that.

Moving forward: We go to ask Dunncas for help in how to break Constantin’s links to the land. He gives me seeds to place at the base of the stone Constantin has erected, to topple them. I have to fight a corrupted Nadaig each time. At this interval Siora points out how wise and attuned to en on mil frichtimen Dunncas is, and I express regret at not choosing him to be high king. TOO SUBTLE, GAME.

So yeah, couple of tedious boss fights.

Having broken his links and gathered my allies, it’s time for the endgame. We go back to the sacred grove where I talked to en on mil frichtimen, I get a series of heartwarming cutscenes with my companions and allies as I ascend to Constantine’s heart stronghold.

I reach Constantin. I have to fight a big bad ultra nadaig, which Constantin tells not to kill me.

He has a long cutscene in which he pleads his case, asking me to bond with him and rule together. I can either bond with him and join him in godhood, which is implied to doom all of humanity to eventually succumb to the malichor because no land can ever be healed now, or I can kill him and save the world like a big damned hero.

Then Mr. deCourcillion narrates the epilogue, where I get to hear about the consequences of all my decisions through the game. My decision to crown Derdre results in forcible decolonization of the island and healing thereof, but the old world nations are plunged into war and the malichor gets worse there. Am I supposed to feel bad? I don’t!

In the ‘best’ ending, Magical Native Healers travel to the continent and teach the sad tained continentals how to live in harmony with nature and heal their lands.

Here, have an every possible ending video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcUByGfNXgY

Know what weirds me out as an actual indigenous person? Learning that I’m a stolen child way back in Act 1 never resulted in a quest where I in any way question or explore my real ancestry. I never try to find out what clan my real mother was from or if I have any living relatives. I never look into why the Congregation abducted my mother and why I was raised by Princess De Sardet. The game just feels that this is unimportant. The important thing was that I have Magical Native Blood.

So yeah. That’s the game.

In studying the fandom presence of this game, roughly no one is interrogating the fuckedness of the premise or narrative. The active fandom seems to be mostly people who want to bang Vasco, people who think Constantin is a sad wooby who deserved better (including a lot of people who chose the ‘bad’ ending because they wub himb) and people who want to bang Constantin and justify it because he and De Sardet aren’t REALLY cousins… and people who are just here for The Aesthetic. Fun fact there are exactly 12 F/F fics on a03 set in this universe.

Here, have some examples, all from https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/GREEDFALL and https://archiveofourown.org/tags/GreedFall%20(Video%20Game)/works

https://destiny-rahl.tumblr.com/post/616743783790460928/constantin-de-sardet-my-beloved-otp-this

https://swiveldiscourse.tumblr.com/post/615782041344147456/not-sure-who-needs-to-hear-this-but-this-game

https://totallyamoral.tumblr.com/post/615651870535532545

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766497/chapters/49345631

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676554/chapters/49106921

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20747450

Lots of people compared this game to Dragon Age: Inquisition when it first came out because the gameplay looks similar. But here’s the thing… the first time I finished DA:I, I immediately wanted to turn around and play it again, as a different character, as someone who made different decisions and followed a different romance and brought different companions with me on quests to see their different reactions.

I do not want that with Greedfall.

My first thought upon fisnishing was ‘Oh thank fuck, I’ve seen this to fruition, I don’t have to play this anymore.’

That is not how I should feel at the end of a game.

I feel tired and broken and hurt and used, much like I felt after reading Sister Raven.

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/165881710831/so-today-i-read-a-book-called-sister-raven

Native-specific sidequests of note:

In An Aspiring Merchant, you meet a native merchant in New Serene who’s trying to set up shop; because he doesn’t have the correct paperwork and didn’t follow the bureaucratic process, his stuff keeps getting confiscated. I do not have any opportunity to explore why his lack of paperwork gets his stuff repeatedly confiscated, rather than just getting him sent home.

While I’m getting the paperwork for him, his cousin arrives with a shipment of goods. The guards confiscate the goods again, and arrest the cousin. I go to investigate, and find that cousin threw some punches when the guards once again confiscated all of the goods, and was arrested for disorderly conduct. Ok. So I proceed to the jail and find that he has been sent to fight -to the death- in the arena?! When the prison guard says ‘Hey, it wasn’t me, I was just following orders’ I’m not given an opportunity to ask who’s giving the orders or pursue the miscarriage of justice. I head to the Arena. Despite being a Legate, one of the highest governing offices of the colony, I have no option to put a stop to these shenanigans. I can’t just spring him, or pay bail; I am required to fight beside him to secure his freedom.

Completing this quest opens the Ullan/Vignamri questline.

Ullan wants to trade with Hikmet, Hikmet wants us to secure the roads, we visit another chieftain, he agrees to a meeting, Ullan shows up and shanks him, I shout at Ullan about how that was bad to do, Ullan thanks me for giving him the opportunity.

In Logging Expedition, I follow up on the quest hook about settlers clear cutting a glade that I got in vigyigidaw. Standoff between the natives and the settlers, natives want to plant trees, settlers won’t let them. Three settler woodcutters died recently - after investigation there was a conspiracy to poison them by an elder in vigyigidaw - my character refers to this as an act of vengeance by a hateful old man. Despite having literally just had it explained to us that it was supposed to be an object lesson in why not to clearcut the forest - the meat would have been fine if it had been prepared with a particular (possibly now extinct?) berry.

So we pop all the way down to the congregation colony to ask Mr. Courcillon how to diplomacy this ‘property disagreement’. He tells us to go to the basement archives and then see Lady Morange. Just from a gameplay perspective, this - like many sidequests - is fucking tedious. Just running from one place to another, grabbing a few lines of dialog in each place, with no player decision or engagement. This is a poorly designed game. So we hash out the contract, which was created back where neither side had any understanding of the other side’s ideas of what land ownership means. Manhattan was bought for 60 guilders worth of glass beads, etc etc. https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/12657/was-manhattan-really-bought-24

We have to prosecute the old man for murder if we want a new land deal signed. To prosecute the old man, we have to go stop a mining operation. It’s just one thing after another, and all of it boring and tedious. I had to stop in the middle of this questline and put the game down not because it was upsetting, but because it was -boring-. I hope that the readers appreciate the work I’m putting into making a detailed critique of this garbage fire.

#Greedfall #NDN stuff #Indigenously Angry #Clusterfuck #NDN #Colonialism: The Game

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Serendipity (Rated PG13)

Summary: Aziraphale’s best friend Tracy sets him up on a blind date, but the man who shows up isn’t what he expects. (4351 words)

Notes: Written for the @ineffable-valentines prompt ‘perfect date’ and inspired by a post I saw @miraworos reblog on tumblr, which happened to be the exact premise of a story I had written a long time ago for another fandom. So I brushed it off, re-sculpted it, and voila. I hope y'all like it

Read on AO3.

“So … how’re the crepes treating you? Are they everything you dreamed they’d be?”

“Oh my yes! They’re absolute Heaven!”

“They should be. This place is famous for them.”

“Good, because they’re my favorite.”

“I know. That’s why I brought you here. More wine?”

“That depends … are you trying to get me drunk?” Playful blue eyes, twinkling above cheeks darkening from baby pink to dusty rose, meet seductive liquid gold.

Lush lips split into a devilish grin. “Maybe.”

Those blue eyes dip down to those inviting lips and linger there, lost in a daydream of mouths meeting, tongues sweeping, kisses traveling, caressing pale skin … “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

Wine pours. Glasses clink and the robust red sipped. Fingers snap, and like magic, another bottle of wine appears.

“Now,” the devilish lips ask, “where was I?”

“You heard something in your walls?”

“Oh yes. For days I’m hearing scritch-scritch-scritch, and the pattering of tiny feet on my marble floors morning and night, like little ghosts wearing tap shoes puttering about my flat.”

“Ooo! That’s spooky!”

Subtle shrug. “Don’t bother me. I like spooky. Big spooky fan me. So I look and look. but I can’t find where it’s coming from. And I mean, I look everywhere …”

Aziraphale covers his mouth and giggles, blown away by how drawn in he’s become to this story. Reuben is such a dynamic storyteller. Aziraphale feels like he’s there with him, searching his house for the mysterious scratching that’s plagued him day and night, shivers as his description of them runs its nails delightfully up his spine. For good or bad, Aziraphale is invested now, even though the events of this tale are over and resolved. Reuben pauses his story; chuckles shyly, too; while Aziraphale waits patiently to hear the rest of the saga.

“To make a long story short, I take apart the entire wall unit, and finally I find the culprit – the cutest family of white rats I have ever seen! Momma had made a nest in the insulation and had babies! Five of them! I couldn’t believe it!”

“Oh no!” The tips of a mouth turn down as those shivers make a return trip. “I don’t personally fancy rats. What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do.” Reuben takes a sip of his wine – a 2014 Bogle Petite Sirah. It sounded so scrummy when Reuben ordered it, Aziraphale couldn’t help himself. He had to have a glass, too. And Reuben was not wrong. Its dense blueberry and blackberry flavors compliment the crepes exquisitely. The alcohol doesn’t overwhelm the palette, but it’s racy enough to bring color to Aziraphale’s cheeks. “I adopted her. Named her Rogue.”

“You adopted wild rats!?”

“Turns out - not wild. After a little investigating, I found out that momma rat had belonged to a neighbor who moved out a week ago. They couldn’t bring the rat with them, or they didn’t want to, so they set her loose in the garden downstairs. She ended up getting back in somehow.” Reuben runs his index finger around the rim of his glass. “It may sound bonkers but I admire Rogue. I really do. Abandoned by the family she thought would love and take care of her, she fights and struggles to find a safe place to have her brood, which ends up being the place she was cast out from. I couldn’t just put her on the street.” He sighs, a fond but sad smile crossing his lips. “Reminds me a bit of my mum, to tell you the truth - the unforgiving life she had raising me and my sisters after our father left …”

Aziraphale gasps, that confession wrapping around his heart and giving it a solid tug. He could listen to Reuben talk all night. But he’s not just a great storyteller. He happens to be sweet, funny, attractive (God is he attractive! But, of course, Aziraphale has always been a sucker for hazel eyes like his, with flecks of gold that brighten the irises when the alcohol flows or the lighting is right). And as if that wasn’t enough, he works at one of the most successful (and philanthropic) firms in the city. But he doesn’t wear his wealth on his sleeve, doesn’t flaunt it like a selling point. His shirt is vintage, the wine he ordered costs $20 a bottle, and he came here on the tube. Personality, modesty, good looks, environmentally conscious, a stable career … Aziraphale sighs. In his opinion, Reuben is close to the perfect guy, and this blind date is going swimmingly!

Too bad it isn’t his.

“Oh Reuben …” Lorelei – Reuben’s date – blots her eyes with her napkin. She reaches across the table to touch his hand. Reuben’s eyes flick towards the touch and he smiles brighter.

Oh yeah, Aziraphale thinks, raising his glass and finishing the last of his Sirah. They’re having a fabulous night.

Aziraphale pulls out his pocket watch and checks the time.

9:45.

He’s been sitting at the table next to theirs for over an hour, waiting for his own Reuben to appear. Aziraphale figured out thirty minutes ago that his blind date wasn’t coming. He’s gotten no texts, no calls, no apologies, no explanation why. Reuben and Lorelei might have a glowing future together, but his date for the evening is definitely a bust. The wait staff knows it, too. Every time the waitress stops by, offering to refill his water glass, it’s with a sympathetic smile. She’s long since stopped asking him if he wants to pack up what’s left of his crepes to go.

What’s left.

That’s a joke.

It’s pretty much the whole order.

He lost his appetite a long time ago.

Aziraphale reaches for his cell phone but stops with his hand on his pocket. He’s not going to be that guy. He’s not going to send another text. He’s not going to give this man an easy out, refuses to give him the benefit of the doubt and say, “Well, I guess you got caught up. Text me back and we can reschedule for another time.”

Aziraphale is done.

He just wishes he knew why.

Why doesn’t dating work out for him?

He’s not a bad guy, if he does say so himself. He’s reasonably attractive (at least, he’s always thought so). He owns his own small business, even if it doesn’t necessarily turn a profit, but money isn’t something he needs to worry about anyway. He’s doing what he loves, therefore he’s living the dream.

He’s not asking for much. He’s not looking for the perfect man, just a nice one. One who might share some of his interests like theater, food, music, wine, food, books … food. But on the whole, he wants to find a man who wants to spend time with him, get to know him, who maybe isn’t ashamed of doing cutesy, romantic things, like hold the door open for him, pull his chair out for him, offer him half his desert the way Reuben did with Lorelei.

Reuben.

Aziraphale peeks back over at the happy couple.

As Reuben stares into Lorelei’s eyes and signals for the check, Aziraphale knows that he needs to face facts and be done with this. His roommate Tracy has, yet again, succeeded in finding him a date that’s not interested in actually dating.

Where does she even find these guys?

More to the point, why hasn’t he learned to say no to her?

Unfortunately, he won’t get to gripe to her about it until Monday when she comes back from some spiritualist retreat she went on with their friend Anathema, so Aziraphale has a long, lonely weekend of reading Oscar Wilde and drinking (Irish) cocoa to look forward to until then.

Aziraphale takes one last sip of the lukewarm water in his overfilled glass and decides to ask for the check. He feels awful. He may have ordered a full meal but he’s barely touched it. Plus, even though he’s done his best to be as polite as possible, he has wasted over an hour of their time occupying a table that could have been made available to other paying customers on this busy Friday night.

He prays he has a forgettable face. On the off chance he ever comes in here again, he wouldn’t want them spitting in his food.

He looks around the dining room in search of his waitress – a lovely young red-head with freckles across the bridge of her nose and a permanent pout. He doesn’t see her, but spots a man rushing towards his table – a tall, remarkably handsome man dressed all in black and wearing designer sunglasses (indoors!); cheeks flushed as if he’s been running in the cold; a warm, inviting smile aimed his way.

“Hey there, handsome. Sorry I’m so late,” the man says, pulling out a chair, spinning it around, and straddling it across from Aziraphale in a move that makes Aziraphale’s breath catch. “I wish I could say I was stuck behind a seven car pile-up or something, but I really have no exciting excuse. Not that the M25 isn’t a bitch at this hour, but I didn’t take it so, again, no excuse.”

The man smiles at Aziraphale, waiting for him to laugh at his joke. Aziraphale looks suspiciously back, turning his head left and right, searching for an explanation.

“I … I’m sorry,” he says, addressing the man, mostly through side-eye glances. “Are you are you … looking for me?”

“Yes.” The man extends an arm across the table. “I’m your date for the evening. I’m Tracy’s friend Gabriel.”

“You?” Aziraphale raises an eyebrow. “You’re Gabriel?”

The man’s smile becomes wider in a tense sort of way. “Yes, I am.”

Aziraphale looks left and right again, obviously skeptical.

The man folds his hand on the table and sighs.

“Look, Aziraphale, I know I was supposed to be here at a quarter to nine, and I know you’ve probably called and texted a hundred times. I’m really, really sorry.” He looks down at his thumbs, fidgeting as he speaks. “I know this is going to sound lame, but I got caught up at work, and then my car ran empty. I wanted to call you, but I left my phone at the office.” The man sighs again, deeper, the air leaving his body causing him to flatten a bit. “This has been a pretty shite day, all things considered, and I was really looking forward to this date tonight. I would like the opportunity to make it up to you.” The man looks at Aziraphale from behind dark lenses, a sincere expression of regret on his face, eyes peeking over the frames pleading for a second chance.

Hazel eyes, with so many gold flecks crowding in they practically shine.

“Will you let me try?”

Aziraphale is stunned to silence. He doesn’t quite believe that Gabriel ever intended on showing up at all. But then, why is he here? Did some other plans he made fall through? Did he feel guilty about blowing Aziraphale off and turn around at the last minute? Aziraphale knows he has every right to leave - stand up, say goodbye, and go on his merry way. But Gabriel did show up – the first of three blind dates to even bother – so maybe Aziraphale should give him a chance.

He’s mulling it over when he catches sight of the man staring at him, a flirty smile on his lips that Aziraphale can’t help find alluring.

“Please?” the man mouths, the hands he’d folded on the table finding their way up to his chin to aid in his begging. “Please?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes to pry his gaze away from the man’s mouth. “Alright. It sounds like you had a hard day. I can’t fault you for that.” The man looks relieved. His smile turns slightly impish, and Aziraphale finds himself giggling without meaning to. “Why don’t we have a nibble and get to know one another?”

Gabriel smacks his hand on the table in triumph. “Great!” he says, reclining back on the chair like a large snake relaxing in the sun. “Thank you! I promise, you won’t regret it!”

A hint of a smirk twists Aziraphale’s mouth at the corners as his waitress makes a sudden and unexpected appearance. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, my dear. You have a bit of time to make up for.”

***

“So my mate rings me up, and he’s screaming …” Gabriel gestures with his hands as he gets more into the story he’s telling, and Aziraphale watches, utterly captivated. If Aziraphale thought Reuben was a good storyteller, it’s only because he hadn’t met this man yet. “He’s straight yelling, “They’re everywhere! They’re everywhere! And it’s bloodcurdling, ya know? Like straight out of a horror movie. And I’m trying to pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about …” He pauses to catch his breath in the middle of a laugh while Aziraphale, already in tears, pictures Gabriel sitting at home, listening to his friend Ligur yelling while trying to make out like he has no idea what the man is on about. “And I’m just like, “Calm down, buddy.” But at home, I’m biting my fist trying not to blow my cover. And the next thing I know - bzzt.”

Aziraphale sobers slightly, his eyebrows shooting up. “Bzzt? What does that mean? Bzzt?”

“Bzzt as in the line goes dead. And on my end, the world might as well’ve stopped spinning because I knew what happened.”

“And what did happen?” Aziraphale asks, on the edge of his seat.

“They’d destroyed it! The rats! Those furry little buggers, they managed to knock out the phone system! And not just in my neck of the woods, but the whole of London!”

Aziraphale’s eyes go wide. “That was you!?”

Gabriel points to himself proudly. “That was me! All because …”

“All because you fed a rat!?”

“All because I fed a rat!” Gabriel guffaws so loudly, other diners turn their way to make sure he’s not choking.

“I remember that day!” Aziraphale says, but not too upset since he’s not all that fond of his cell phone. Necessary evil in his opinion. Tracy made him get it so he could field calls from potential suitors. But Tracy, who spends hours on the phone talking to her fiance, was livid!

It gives Aziraphale no small measure of satisfaction to say he now knows the man who inconvenienced her.

“I didn’t know its whole family lived in the building! Extendeds and all! I thought it was just one rat!”

“And what happened to them?”

“Exterminator, I guess,” Gabriel says with a hint of regret in his voice. “Rats are smart, though. Resilient, too. I’m hoping they got away.”

His story brings to Aziraphale’s mind Reuben’s story about the rat in his walls. He looks towards the table where he and his date were sitting, but a new couple has taken their place.

Huh, he thinks. Wonder when they left?

Aziraphale, having ordered a second glass of wine, takes a healthy sip, but the buzz he gets from the alcohol is nothing compared to the one he already has from this date with Gabriel.

“I have to say,” Aziraphale says as the laughter dies down, “I was a little wary about being set up. I mean, you hear so many stories. Best case scenario, you find your soulmate. Worst case, you wind up in the boot of someone’s car. But this is going so well!”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” Gabriel agrees, becoming suddenly quiet.

“I’ve never met a real live Pied Piper before!”

Gabriel laughs, but it’s not like before - not as effervescent and carefree. Aziraphale looks down at the empty plates on the table, at the stray pieces of crepes and deviled eggs they’d ended up splitting, not a single full bite left. As it turned out, they both ordered really well. Aziraphale didn’t think it was possible for two things to be so compatible.

He was wrong, pleasantly so.

“I know you had a rotten day but thank you for showing up. This was probably the most perfect blind date ever.” Aziraphale watches Gabriel, concerned that his attention seems to be slipping away.

Before he gets to comment, Gabriel beats him to it.

“Aziraphale, I have a confession to make.”

Aziraphale feels the butterflies that have been dancing in his stomach during dinner drop dead, as if hit by a sudden frost.

“Yes, Gabriel?”

“I …”

“Crowley! Hey! Fancy seeing you here, ya old bastard!”

Aziraphale’s attention pulls to the left, to a man with white hair and dark eyes heading their way. No, Aziraphale amends. He’s going to go past them, to a table on their right since neither of them are named Crowley. Aziraphale peeks at the handful of tables there, but no one seems to notice the man calling over their heads.

No one named Crowley is responding to his call.

He is sort of making a scene. Maybe this Crowley is trying to ignore him?

But the man coming their way seems completely focused on Gabriel.

Aziraphale looks to Gabriel, staring down at his plate and concentrating on it, as if praying this man, whoever he is, will pass them by.

Who could it be to him to elicit such a reaction, especially when it’s obvious he’s got the wrong man?

“Gabriel?” Aziraphale says, worried that perhaps something they ate soured his stomach. “Is there something the matter?”

Gabriel closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Aziraphale, I …”

“Crowley!” The man comes right up to their table and claps a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, hard enough to make him flinch. “How long has it been, huh? Two months? Three?”

Gabriel sighs. He turns to the man looming over him and smiles the strained smile of a man about to commit a murder. “Hastur! Buddy! What a pleasant surprise!”

“Yeah.” The man chuckles. “You look like it is.”

“I thought you were vacationing down under.”

“Well, I’m back now. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asks, taking no time cutting to the chase.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel … no, Crowley … says, doing everything in his power to avoid the full intensity of Aziraphale’s confused gaze, “I’d like to introduce you to Hastur. He’s … uh … an old friend of mine from school. Hastur, this is Aziraphale. He’s my … date for the evening.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Hastur says, extending a hand. Aziraphale takes it and gives it a shake. It’s cold from the outdoors but not unpleasant. Hastur, on the whole, isn’t being impolite. He’s just oblivious.

As is Aziraphale.

“I’ve been tellin’ this asshat for years now he needs to get off his high horse and start dating again. Nice to see he finally took my advice.”

“Yeah, well, now that I have, why don’t you make yourself scarce so Aziraphale and I can continue?” Crowley grumbles, shooting Hastur several venom-filled glares.

“A’right, a’right,” he says, putting his hands up in defense, “don’t mind me. Just headin’ to the bar anyhow. Ring me up later, Crowley. We’ll go out for a few. Maybe your friend can come with us.”

“Will do.”

“You gentlemen have a nice night.” He bumps Crowley with his hip, winks at Aziraphale, then turns on his heel and heads for the bar.

The silence he leaves behind at Aziraphale and Crowley’s table is so thick, it could suffocate a wild boar.

Aziraphale clears his throat first. “So …”

Crowley follows, a bit softer. “So …”

“Tell me the truth,” Aziraphale says, too emotionally charged to keep frustration from cracking his voice.

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” Crowley looks at Aziraphale’s hands worrying his napkin, as if he’s longing to reach across the table and take one. “Are you going to leave?”

“I’m going to leave anyway. I just want to know who I’m calling the cops on when I get outside.”

“Don’t do that. I’m harmless. I promise.”

“Who are you?”

“Well … as you probably already know, my name isn’t Gabriel,” he says, finally removing his glasses and setting them aside. “It’s Crowley. Anthony Crowley. And I wasn’t your blind date. I’m not the man your friend set you up with.”

Aziraphale moves the napkin to his lap and smooths it, giving himself something other than Crowley to look at.

“To tell you the truth, I had a feeling,” he confesses. “I mean, you don’t seem like the type of man my friend would usually set me up with.”

“What kind of men does she usually set you up with?”

Aziraphale chuckles. “I don’t know. They don’t tend to show up.” Crowley growls, shakes his head in disgust. Aziraphale is flattered by his reaction. But he has to ask, “I don’t understand why? Why did you do this?”

“I stopped in for a drink and I saw you sitting at this table, waiting for your date.” Crowley grins. “I have to admit, I thought you were a looker, so I kept looking. I heard you talking to the waitress, making jokes. You sounded like a nice guy. You told her how your friend set you up, how excited you were. Then I heard you calling, saw you texting, and waiting and waiting and …"

“And you took pity on me,” Aziraphale says, embarrassment wearing a pit in his stomach.

“No, I was angry! I was angry that some dumb fuck got the chance to have a date with such a great seeming guy like you and he bailed. Opportunities like that don’t come by all the time and he threw his away. But I saw an opportunity and I took it. And no matter what you think about me now, I’m glad I did. Because you’re great. You’re really great. And I hope that you’ll forgive me and let me take you out on a real first date.”

The table becomes quiet again - Crowley watching Aziraphale, Aziraphale looking at his lap. The whole restaurant seems to have gone silent, as if everyone around them who has listened to them laugh and talk and watched them share their meal is waiting to see what Aziraphale is going to say. From somewhere off toward the kitchen door, Crowley thinks he sees a few of the waitresses peeking around a corner, watching their table a little too intensely.

“What else was a lie?” Aziraphale asks. “Everything you said over dinner, was any of that true?”

“All of it,” Crowley says. “Everything I said about living in Mayfair, owning a Bentley, taking a permanent gap year, working as a nanny for kicks, being an obnoxious trust fund baby, tormenting my friends with a rat army … here … wait …” Crowley opens his jacket and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He touches the screen, swipes it a few times, then hands it to Aziraphale. “Take a look. Granted I’ve only had this since the recent iPhone hit the bricks, but I’ve got a few pictures on it that should back me up. My Bentley, my flat, a few of my plants …” Crowley ticks photos off as Aziraphale flips through them. “There should even be one or two of the rats. Ligur sent them to me before he ran screaming.” Crowley snickers in such an off-handed way, Aziraphale can’t help believing him. And speak of the devil, next photo up is of a work station covered in black rats rooting through the works and apparently sending London skidding back to the dark ages.

Maybe Aziraphale just wants to believe him, but as far as he’s concerned, Crowley is telling the truth.

“I … I don’t know,” Aziraphale says, handing the phone back.

“What?” Crowley asks, his expression of newly kindled hope falling off his face. “What don’t you know?”

“Yes, you’re telling the truth, but …”

“But …”

“I don’t know anything about you. Not really.”

“Fair enough,” Crowley says, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “But can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

“What did you know about Gabriel before you showed up here to meet him?”

“Well, I …” Aziraphale sits there with his mouth open, expecting words to come out that don’t exist, because he didn’t know anything about Gabriel. Not even what he looked like. Tracy told him that she showed Gabriel a picture of him, and that Gabriel would know him when he saw him. But other than that, all he had was Tracy’s assurance that they would work well together. In reality, Gabriel could have stopped by at some point, caught Aziraphale waiting for him, didn’t like what he saw, then turned around and left, and Aziraphale would have never known.

But Crowley on the other hand - Aziraphale has been talking to Crowley all through dinner. Provided he’s telling the truth, Aziraphale knows more about him than he does his best friend, and they used to room together.

“Okay,” he concedes. “You’ve got me. Alright, Crowley. Sure. I would love to go on a real first date with you.”

Crowley reaches his hand across the table and Aziraphale takes it, suddenly recalling the look in Reuben’s eye before he signaled for the check.

Crowley has a similar look.

He raises his hand for the check.

But after not seeing her for most of their meal, their waitress walks over and puts two glass flutes down. Then she pours each man a glass of champagne from a bottle Aziraphale is certain costs more than their meal.

“Uh, waitress?” Crowley calls to the woman before she can walk away.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s this?” he asks, perplexed by the sudden appearance of alcohol.

“It’s champagne,” she says, as if that isn’t apparent. “The house special.”

“But we didn’t order champagne” Aziraphale points out.

“I know,” she says with a wink. “It’s on the house. Enjoy it. Take all the time you need …”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable valentines #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

106 notes · View notes

podracing-on-lothal · 6 years

Text

Meta notes for TSC and sequels/drabbles

Some fic meta. @oenothera5, @arihndas-pryce, @denisaiko-reblogs, and whoever else has been following my fics..........

Some quick physical descriptions of the Vanto/Fion kids...

They both inherited their mother’s blue skin and black hair. However, they did not inherit her facial ridges.

Both of them have human eyes (white sclera) with red irises. Their irises appear to glow in low light, and they can both see into the infrared spectrum like their Chiss mother can.

The kids are Force-sensitive like their mother. Alisa’s Force abilities are more similar to the Chiss “Third Sight” (clairvoyance), while her older brother Nathan exhibits abilities more similar to traditional Jedi/Sith.

Personality-wise, Nathan takes after his mother--sensitive and soft-spoken, but not afraid to defend others (especially his sister). Alisa is also a quiet one, but she’s more of a sneaky prankster. She spent a lot of her childhood hanging out with her Noghri “step-siblings” when she wasn’t going through Jedi training with Nathan ((Still trying to decide whether Luke or Ezra should be their teacher...I’m thinking Luke at first, but later Ezra and/or Ahsoka after the kids escape from Kylo Ren’s rampage.))

Nathan and Alisa were born three years apart from each other. Nathan was sent to Luke Skywalker for training, but Alisa was not so lucky. She got noticed by the Chiss Defense Force for her Third Sight, but fortunately she was assigned to the same ship as her father (it took some convincing from Nilana and her cousin Mitth’eos’safis to arrange for them to be assigned together).

~~~

Nilana inherited her Force-sensitivity from her father, Fion’estel’nuruodo. Nesteln was a rare case, because Force-sensitivity typically manifests in little girls. House Fion is unique because Force-sensitivity is passed consistently from parent to child, with no generational skip, and regardless of gender.

Of each generation, multiple children can be Force-sensitive, but only one child retains his or her abilities until death, while the others’ fade as they age. Those who retain their powers learn to suppress them so they can rejoin their parents after a certain number of years in service. It is a well-guarded secret among House Fion, and one that they don’t share with just anybody. Those who marry into the family (or are fostered/merit-adopted) must swear to secrecy as well (young children who are fostered or adopted aren’t exposed to it until they are old enough to understand its importance; it’s kind of a rite of passage for them once they come of age).

Don’t worry, Alisa keeps her abilities. She’s half-human, so that probably helps.

Typically, it manifests through alternating genders with each generation (mother to son to granddaughter, etc.); otherwise, the firstborn ends up possessing it.

Nesteln was an only child. Nilana’s “return” to her family will be a really big deal, because the Force did not manifest in any of her relatives.

~~~

House Fion is a minor noble family. It is a vassal to House Nuruodo. Nesteln would have been Syndic if he had not sought out the Jedi.

Nesteln married Thirys for love, which is a rare practice among the nobility. Her brother Thrass used his political influence to convince Nesteln’s family that it would add House Fion to House Mitth’s allies, and by extension, further cement the larger political alliance between the Second and Eighth Ruling Families.

~~~~~~

A few notes on names:

Fion’estel’nuruodo’s core name was inspired by one of Aragorn’s elven names, “Estel”, which means “hope” in Sindarin.

Fion is taken from the Irish name “Fionn”, meaning “fair”. Most famously borne by the mythic Irish hero Fionn mac Cumhaill.

Nirys was inspired by the Welsh name Nerys, which means “lady” (and also the name of one of my favorite Star Trek characters, Major Kira Nerys. Yes I went there.) However, her name is pronounced “NEER-iss” rather than “nuh-REES”. Thirys is just a re-tooling of her name with the name “Mitth” at the beginning. When she married Nesteln, she took up his family name and replaced the ‘th’ with the ‘n’.

Nilana was inspired by the Sanskrit name “Nilima”, which means “sapphire/dark blue”. Her name was originally going to be the Irish “Nuala”, but I thought Nilana sounded more exotic and rolled off the tongue better. Fion’nuala’nuruodo is actually going to be her grandmother’s name in the TSC sequel; it is inspired by the Irish name “Fionnuala”.

~~~

About Theos:

Mitth’eos’safis is Thrass’s son and eldest child. He is about 30 when Nilana meets him.

Theos looked up to Thrawn when he was little. He was drawn to his uncle’s eccentricities, and loved listening to the stories he had to tell of his exploits in the Chiss Defense Force. Ever since, he strove to be a great warrior like Thrawn (and still does, in a fanboy-ish sort of way). This...kind of bothered his parents, especially his mother.

He immediately took Nilana under his wing to teach her more about her heritage and culture. He’s more easygoing in his teaching than Thrawn is (a lot less judgmental, for one), and at the same time, he’s eager to learn about what life is like beyond the Ascendancy. He’s slightly jealous of Nilana for having experienced it. He pesters her with questions about the different aliens she lived with, and the different cultures she experienced along the way. He appreciates her music, but he also makes her aware that a musician doesn’t really contribute to Chiss society (unless you’re a teacher), nor does it make much money.

~~~

About Siri:

Siri (Hess’iri’nuruodo) is one of the Force-sensitive girls rescued by Thrawn in Alliances. She becomes very attached to Eli and Nilana, to the point where she considers herself to be Nilana’s padawan in a way.

An envoy from House Hess eventually comes forward to claim her, but then reneges on it because it turns out she is not one of their children, but a child of House Mitth. The aristocra of House Hess discovered she had the Third Sight, and had her assigned as a navigator in the CDF. The rest is history. She retained the Hess name because she was fostered with them as a baby. Much of her story revolves around finding out who her parents are, and why they gave her away. Eli and Nilana eventually adopt her as their own.

(Yes, I know there’s a Jedi in the Legends EU named Siri Tachi...I didn’t realize until after I had locked in her name that I had forgotten about her!)

#fic meta #meta #chiss jedi #nilana #mitth'eos'safis #fion'atha'nuruodo #fion'alisa'nuruodo #hess'iri'nuruodo #chiss #the strayaway child #the witch of naporar #working title

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 6 years

Text

Let’s Play....!

Summary: Roman is tiny, and he wants Virgil to be his playmate. Virgil thinks he knows what’s to come, but Tiny!Roman has a different idea.

Word Count: 1,974

Characters/Pairings: Virgil and Tiny!Roman (platonic Prinxiety); little bit of Patton and very brief Logan

Genre: Fluff and hurt/comfort (kids are a wild ride, lemme tell you what)

Warnings: Yelling, crying, obnoxious breaking of the 4th wall, small mention of hitting (playful, really) (Let me know if I missed any!)

Tags: (IDK who like Tiny!Sides stuff, so if you don’t, just ignore this lol) @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @ssides @pantasticpanini @anxious-but-whatever

Author’s Note: Shoutout to @tinysidestrashcaptain for writing and reblogging amazing Tiny!Sides stuff that inspired me to write this. Also shoutout to @onthevirge for encouraging me to write this after I rambled about loving Roman way too much. Also, I don’t really like to write in “toddler speak” (just a personal preference), so when you read Roman’s lines, just read them in a high-pitched little kid voice. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy!

“Viiiiirrrrrgiiiiiilllll,” a high-pitched voice called throughout the MindScape, causing the Anxious Side’s heart rate to pick up. Well, he should’ve figured it’d only be a matter of time. It seemed that Roman had woken up from his nap, and he was ready to play.

Obviously, Roman wasn’t exactly his normal self at this point. The Prince had come back from one of his DreamScape escapades-well, run back screaming and crying-as a 3-year-old because apparently the Dragon Witch couldn’t actually kill the one who created her. Logically speaking, she’d die, too. So, she’d gifted them a younger Roman, and so far Virgil wasn’t a fan. Normal Princey was loud and boisterous enough; a toddler Roman was no different, from what he could tell, just not able to project as loudly but at a higher tone that grated at his nerves.

Normally, Logan or Patton was in charge of Tiny Roman, but Thomas needed them today. Well, he’d really needed all of them, but seeing as Roman was a little out of commission, someone had to stay in the MindScape with the kid. Morality and Logic were the most reasonably qualified for the task at hand, so, after a little bribery and compromise, the others convinced Virgil to be Roman’s caretaker for the day.

“Viiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrgiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllll!!!!”

Running his hands through his hair, Virgil dragged himself out of bed and vanished from his room, appearing in Roman’s realm. However, upon initial and further inspection, he realized the Creative Side’s room was empty. Feeling his heart rate pick up and his stomach drop, he quickly left the room and materialized into the MindScape’s Common Room.

In their version of Thomas’s sitting room, Virgil sighed in relief when found 3-year-old Roman sitting on the floor, surrounded by art supplies. Normal-sized Roman could conjure up just about anything he wanted to make his daydreams come true, but regressed Roman wasn’t as knowledgeable in that department. So, the other three Sides had banded together to get the tyke some art supplies to satisfy his creative urges.

Virgil took stock of the room, and what a surprise, Roman wanted to play kingdom-centric make-believe. A bag of plastic jewels was ripped open, it’s contents splayed all over the carpet; shiny silver and gold construction paper was haphazardly stacked on the carpet right next to the little one. A few bed sheets (likely snagged from Logan’s meticulously organized linen closet) were half folded on the floor next to the coffee table, and Roman’s sword (the one he used when he was normal-sized) was carefully laid on top of the table next to a finished golden paper crown, impressively decorated with the plastic precious stones.

The tot-sized Roman, adorned in the little cape Patton had made him, was hunched over on the carpet, concentrating hard on something that Virgil couldn’t see. Not realizing the other Side was behind him, Roman took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his little lungs: “VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRR-”

“WHAT, Roman?” Virgil snapped. “I heard you, and what are you doing up from your nap? You’re supposed to wait until I come get you!”

The Tiny Prince jumped and turned in an instant; his lower lip trembled and his eyes were dangerously wet as he chewed on his lower lip and refused to make eye contact with the older Side. Sighing, the Anxious Side lowered to his knees and looked the other in the eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry I was mean to you, Ro. I’m just....sleepy.” And definitely haven’t been verging on an anxiety attack for the last hour, and that was before I thought I’d lost you, little escape artist. He thought grudgingly to himself.

“It’s okaaay...” Roman rubbed his eyes; he put his hands behind his back and swayed back and forth, obviously working up the courage to ask Virgil for something he knew the older Side wouldn’t like. “Hey, Viiiirge...”

“Yeah, Roman?” Virgil leaned against the front of the couch, bracing himself for whatever ridiculousness the little one would request.

“Will you play with meee?”

“Well, since I left my room, I might as well.” He forced up a smile for good measure when Roman didn’t look impressed, just a bit charmed by the Prince’s antics (though he’d never admit it, of course). “Yeah, sure, what’d you have in mind?”

“Princes!” Roman eagerly turned back to whatever he was working on, missing the flash of annoyance on the other’s face.

Virgil sighed. “What will I be? A fiery, scary dragon?” Virgil mimicked blowing out fire.

“No!”

“A big, mean, hairy troll?” Virgil put his arms up, miming a menacing beast.

“NO! I just told you!” A now red-cheeked Roman pouted, turning back to Virgil with his secret project behind his back. “A prince! I’m Prince Roman, and you’re Prince Virgil!”

Virgil had nothing to say to that right away. It was the last request he would have expected of Roman, quite frankly, and he wasn’t sure if he trusted it.

“R-Really?” Virgil eyed the other carefully. “Will I be an evil prince? Will we get into a big fight, and-”

“No!” Roman yelled, his eyes spilling over with tears this time. “You’re Prince Virgil! You’re big and strong and scary to the bad guys and you’ll take care of me and the castle and all the people like Thomas!!!” Roman collapsed onto the floor, melting into soft, hiccuping sobs; Virgil felt his heart clench as the little prince curled into a ball on the carpet.

Crap crap crap crap crap you gotta fix this NOW, you idiot!

“Aw, Roman, I’m sorry.” Virgil mumbled, tentatively scooting himself closer to the Tiny Side. Roman side-eyed Virgil, equally distrustful of the other now. “Come on, Ro, please forgive me?” The Anxious Side made his voice as sickly sweet as possible, trying to ignore the fact that his tantrum obviously meant Roman had skipped most, if not all, of his midday nap. Getting onto him now would only make things worse, so Virgil opened his arms, remembering that Patton often bribed Tiny Roman with cuddles to get him to behave.

Still whimpering, Roman uncurled himself and pushed up into a sitting position, staring at Virgil for a full five seconds before crawling into his lap; the emotional Side stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid against the other’s chest.

“I guess that means you forgive me, huh?” Virgil murmured, chuckling a bit when Roman nodded his head; he rubbed his little charge’s back until his whimpers died down completely. “You okay now, buddy?”

“Y-yeah.” Little Roman whispered.

“You still wanna play princes?” Virgil asked hesitantly. “I promise I’ll play by your rules this time, no questions asked. I’ll take care of you and the castle and all of our people...” He trailed off into a whisper, speaking more to himself than Roman. “Just like I do for Thomas.”

“Yeah.” Roman nodded, but made no move to get out of Virgil’s lap.

“Are you sure?” Virgil looked down, noting the droop of Roman’s eyes and head. Crap. If he slept now, he’d be up all night. “Roman, if you don’t get up, I’m gonna-” Virgil cut himself off and attacked Roman’s sides with his fingers, tickling the toddler until he shrieked with laughter.

Through his own laughter, Virgil prompted, “So, I guess we gotta make me a crown, huh? Looks like you already got yours done; it looks really good.”

At this, Roman untangled himself and crawled over to where he’d been working just a few minutes earlier. Walking back on his knees, Roman came up in front of Virgil and grinned just before pulling a silver paper crown with black and purple jewels from behind his back. “This one’s your crown. I made you it. I put these ones on it,” he pointed at the gems.

“Yeah.” Virgil smiled, a genuine smile this time. “It looks really good, Ro; I like it!”

“Let me put it!” Roman requested, the normal bounce returning to his voice; he gestured for Virgil to bend forward. The other complied, and the Tiny Prince giggled as he carefully placed his creation on his playmate’s head. “There! It’s peeeerfect!” The little one gave Virgil a big thumbs up, scampering over to the sheets piled on the floor, and Virgil noticed one of his black bedsheets folded beneath one of Logan’s dark blue ones.

“Here’s your cape!” Roman threw the sheet toward Virgil, giggling manically when the covering unfolded in the air and got caught on Virgil’s head. the Anxious Side couldn’t help but laugh at the little one’s glee. He pulled the blanket off his head and swung it around his back, tying a solid knot around his throat as Roman placed his own crown on his head. The small Side bent under the coffee table and brought out a little cardboard dagger, and he pointed to his own sword on the coffee table.

“That’s yours, Virge.” There was a twinge of sadness in the other’s words. “I’m too small to use it right now.”

“It’s okay, Ro.” Virgil reassured him as he rose and crossed to receive the Prince’s most precious item. “I’ll take good care of it; I promise.”

"Ok.” Roman still looked a bit sad, so Virgil hoisted him up into his arms, carefully holding Roman and the sword.

“We can hold it together, and we’ll defeat whatever monsters try to take over our kingdom together!”

“Yay!!” Roman squealed, hugging Virgil’s neck. “You’re the best prince, EVER, Virgil!”

“So are you, Roman. Now, let’s go!” Virgil cried, transporting them into Roman’s room so the Tiny Side could show him to his DreamScape.

After hours of fighting baby dragons and half-sized trolls, Virgil carried a yawning Roman back to the Commons and laid him on the couch. As he set to work cleaning up their crafting mess from before, Roman cried out, “No, I wanna help!” and inched his way off the sofa.The Little Prince and the Anxious Side worked well together, Roman picking up the little pieces and Virgil handling the big stuff.

Just as they finished cleaning up, Patton and Logan strolled into the Commons, and Roman’s face lit up brighter than Virgil had seen all day.

“Daddy Pat Pat! Mama Lolo!” Roman screeched gleefully, running to the paternal and logical Sides. Logan shot Virgil a dirty look at the nickname as Patton hauled the squirming toddler into his arms and planted a loving kiss on the little one’s cheek; Virgil wiggled his eyebrows in return.

“What’d you get up to today, kiddo? Did you play with Virgil?” Patton cooed, setting the toddler so he faced him in his arms.

“Yeah! We played Princes! And Virgil was the big good prince and I was the little good prince and we stopped the dragons and trolls from getting in our castle! Virgil’s the best big brother eeeever!” Roman declared with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes.

“Sounds like a great time, Little Guy.” Patton grinned at the Anxious Side, mouthing “Thank You” as Roman laid his head against Patton’s shoulder. Rubbing his charge’s back, the father figure whispered, “And now it’s bed time.” He turned to start Roman’s nighttime routine, pulling up when the little one tugged on his sleeve.

“Can Virgil read me my story?” He mumbled into Patton’s neck, his eyes already half closed.

“I can do that, bud.” Virgil replied, coming up beside Patton and patting Roman’s back. Tiny Roman sighed contentedly, and the bigger Sides transported them into Roman’s room.

It wouldn’t take long at all for the tuckered out little Side to nod off, but Virgil and Patton would stay in the Creative Side’s room long after he’d fallen asleep, whispering back and forth about the adventures of the day.

And Virgil had to swat Patton on multiple occasions to keep him from squealing and waking up Roman.

More Tiny!Sides: 3 Tiny!Sides and a Virgil

All of my Sanders Sides fanfics

#Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides Fic #Sanders Sides Fanfic #Thomas Sanders #Tiny!Sides #mine #tsfanfics

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