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quodekash · 1 year

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“Fractures” Keyart

I noticed a bunch of things about the fractures keyart on the dragon prince website before season 4 came out, and then after it came out the things made sense. And I’m only now posting it

so in case you haven’t seen it yet, this is the artwork:

Notice anything odd about it?

1- Rayla has a crack down the middle of her face. No one else has a crack so disruptive. She’s changed throughout her journeys to find Viren, different to the past seasons. She’s grown, changed, experienced things that we don’t know. She’s broken, split in two halves - her past self (energetic, alive, not optimistic but at least ready to help others if she can), and her new self (“we can’t save everyone, soren”, the girl who failed for two years, the girl who lost everyone and everything)

2- Everyone’s eyes are open but Viren’s are closed - Viren has also changed. His character has developed in ways none of us thought were possible. His eyes are closed- he can’t see where his path is going. He’s also dead so that could be why. It could also be that he’s blind to what’s right and wrong now - he spent two years dead, without dark magic amplifying his bad parts, without aaravos whispering in his ear and amplifying the amplified bad parts. Now he’s confused, in the dark, blinded.

3- Aaravos is the only one without any damage to his little section thingy - everyone else has cracks, big or small, sometimes interrupting their face and sometimes not. If they don’t have cracks, they have shards pointing at their face threateningly. But Aaravos’ is completely intact and whole. He’s the mastermind, the one behind everything that’s happened. The entire show so far has all gone according to his huge, sinister plan. Idk every step is of his plan, but it feels like every single thing that has happened is part of his plan. Even the good things. Like Rayla getting the coins back means they’ll be spending heaps of time trying to get them out of the coins, meaning they won’t be spending enough time trying to stop Aaravos. And because they were trapped with dark magic, they might need to use dark magic to free them, meaning they’re even more of a target to Aaravos. Or even Amaya and Janai getting married. Aaravos wants to be free and (I think) to rule all of Xadia. But a lot of feuds start to tear apart the sunfire elves and the humans, even tears apart some sunfire elves from each other and humans from each other. (Like Janai and Karim. And humans taking sides of elves in the feuds and fights, causing rifts between families and friends, and vice versa). If they’re all torn apart, that leaves Aaravos free to (presumably) rise up and make them unite somehow in some evil way and stop the fights by making them all follow him. Idk if that makes sense, it made sense in my head but then I forgot how words work. Just trust me here, everything is according to his plan. And bad things too, like the obvious: Claudia getting the map so she can free him. Other stuff too probably. (I’m really tired I can’t think. If you can think of any other examples tho, lemme know! I’m interested to hear everyone’s theories and stuff cos my own are pretty messy)

4- Like Rayla, Claudia has a crack in her face, but rather than in the middle, it’s only breaking off the part of her hair that’s still its natural colour. Or, in other words, it’s breaking off the parts of her that are yet to be touched by dark magic.

5- Terry is on the opposite side of the mirror (or whatever it is) to Claudia and Viren, despite being “on their team”. He travels with them. He’s with them all the time. He helps them and supports them. He’s dating Claudia. But honestly it feels like he’s on the wrong side. Presently the only exposure he’s had to Viren is what Claudia has told him (and Claudia reveres Viren, so he’d only hear good things), and Viren in a weird place both mentally and physically, so he’s never been exposed to the real bad evilness that everyone else saw in season 3. As for Claudia, they’re dating (Claudia might be using him or something, their relationship feels really weird but not in a fun way, but that’s a post for another day), so it’s hard for Terry to see her bad sides. But near the end, he starts to see some cruelty from her, so I’m hoping that over time he’ll finally realise. He’s like Soren - a good heart and a good person, but on the wrong side that he thought was the right side.

6- This one’s pretty small, but everyone is looking left or right, up or down, but aaravos is looking directly through the mirror, at the audience, at his freedom.

just some things to think about

If there’s anything else about this you noticed that I missed, or anything to add to something I said, don’t hesitate to let me know! This is my favourite keyart of all of them and there’s so much I picked apart from just six things I noticed, so there’s no way I got it all

That’s all I have for you today. I’ve currently got seven more tdp rambles in the works, and they’ll be up at some point (expect the next one in the next couple of days probably). They should all be under the tag at the bottom of each of these posts, ‘tdp rambles with bj’, so if at some point you wanna read through all the ones currently there, uh, you can.

I love you all, stay calm and ship sorvus. or whatever ship floats your boat.

Have a gay day! -BJ

#oh hey that’s funny #“Whatever ship floats your boat”#that wasn’t intentional but I love it #tdp #the dragon prince #tdp season 1 #tdp season 2 #tdp season 3 #tdp season 4 #tdp season 4 spoilers #tdp keyart #tdp fractures keyart #tdp fractures #my interpretation #tdp rambles with bj

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fracttvred · 1 year

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driving down mulholland, closing both my eyes 'cause they say you get more famous when you die.

two sides of the same coin, jin miyeon and naksu don't understand exactly how they are connected - while one was cursed with a festering wound that never heals and haunts her in every body she invades, the other was born from a slight but dangerous rift in time where fractures of the assassin's soul took on a new body as if they had gone back in time ; miyeon and the boy she once loved so dearly, living an almost perfect life in the suburbs while naksu recovers from the blow she took that night.

they are not the same person at their core, just mirrors of what could have been and if one of them does not give up reality itself to face oblivion, both will perish.

headcanons.

the two are not the same person, and neither are in their original body; both having performed soul-shifting rituals.

jin miyeon is simply what naksu could have been had she not forsaken her family to get married.

jin miyeon is married and has no idea she's a time and reality anomaly , nor that the reason for her being sick is this other part of her soul that lives within naksu.

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tadpole-san · 3 years

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poison ; j.t.

pairing: titans!jason todd x reader, pre-established relationship, best friends

warnings: mentions/allusions to (attempted) suicide, jason just needing someone in his corner, spoilers for titans s2e12

a/n: 1000/10 this is meant for @cipheress-to-k-pop, kudos to her for inspiring this and simping over jason peter todd with me - so here’s an exploration of what happened between jason leaving rose and showing up to donna’s funeral

Gotham is, by no means, a small city. And it's easy to come back to, after everything.

After the Titans disband - again, and you’re honestly left with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

After your best friend gets kidnapped, tortured, and thrown off a roof.

After you find him driven to another roof, ready to step off with nothing to catch him, because he’s ready to go somewhere you know you can’t follow.

And after Jason Todd leaves on a motorcycle with Rose Wilson, because he is going somewhere you think you can’t follow. Except can’t isn’t the right word - you shouldn’t follow him, you think. Because Dick was the one to talk him off the roof, like a brother is supposed to, and all you can remember is the wind roaring in your ears and blocking everything out except that Jason wants to jump, Jason wants to die, I don’t know how to help him. The words die in the back of your throat, and if Dick hadn’t been there-

You don’t want to think about if Dick didn’t make it up there when he did. So you’re avoiding Jason - which is all too easy to do when he’s supposed to be on the other side of the country. Until he calls you and you realize he’s here. In Gotham. The two of you are still connected by the same city.

He doesn’t say where the two of you need to meet, but you know exactly where to find him in the vastness of Gotham’s skyscrapers and abandoned warehouses.

By the time you make it to the top of - surprise, a skyscraper - your legs and lungs are burning. It makes it all the more apparent that you haven’t gotten the same level of Batman-training, and that a busted elevator forcing you to take the stairs is already a sign of bad luck. When you’re able to push the door leading to the rooftop open, you spot the gargoyle first, and it somehow manages to make you smile. All the years you’ve known Jason, the guy who’s become your best friend, and you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve been able to find him hunched up next to the stone monster. Even now, the shades of yellow on his hoodie stand out like muted sunlight.

“Hey.” The sound of your voice and the opening door gets him to turn around. His legs are dangling over the edge of the roof. You know he’s just sitting there - just sitting, nothing else - but it’s suddenly harder for you to take another breath, and when you move towards him, it’s in a sprint. There’s a spot left for you between him and the gargoyle, one that you take without hesitation as your hand grabs at his jacket. He’s taken aback, you can tell - his eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to say something, only to close it a second later. This close, and you can see how his eyes are rimmed with red. Like he’d been crying.

There’s a stinging sensation at your eyes that makes you think you must look the same. Your fingers tighten around worn fabric, and it grounds you. Jason wasn’t wearing the hoodie that day. This isn’t the same as that.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask, pulling your knees up towards your chest instead of dangling them over the edge. You’re too close to the edge already. “Where’s Rose?”

When Jason finally speaks, his voice is rough in the way that it gets when he’s had a few beers. You know this voice well, the same way he knows his way arounds brews, and this takes you back to the first time you'd met him when you were kids, at the bars that your dad and his uncle would get together at.

“I don’t know,” he says. Then he laughs. “I don’t care, you know? Fuck Rose-”

“Could you scoot back?” The question almost rips itself out of your throat, despite your efforts to keep it in until he’s finished telling you what happened. But all you can see are his shoes dangling over the edge, stories above the street, and when you look at the street, you’re imagining his body leaving its impact on it. You can feel Jason’s eyes on you, and you wait for him to tell you to stop being a pussy.

Instead, he mirrors your position and pulls his feet up, tucking them in as he pulls himself away from the edge.

You can breathe again.

“Sorry,” you mutter, finally making eye contact with him again. “I just - I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

I’m sorry I’m such a coward.

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

I’m sorry I’m such a bad friend.

“Why the hell are you sorry?” Jason asks, brows furrowing. Now he’s really looking at you, and it’s so heartfelt that you need to drag a hand down your face so you can hide. At the same time, it makes you so angry, because all you can remember is a room full of broken and awful heroes, painting him a villain who would drag out their darkest secrets, their deepest pains, to taunt and jab them with.

How could people do that to a kid? How could they do that to Jason, who - sure, he was rough around the edges, and cocky, and he went out of his way to be a little unlikable sometimes, but he was good. He was one of the best goddamn people you knew, even if you were saying that with bias.

You’re pulled out of the daze you’re in when he calls your name, and you try to speak around the words that are lodged in your throat, clogging it up. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, and the Vice around your throat tightens. “I wasn’t there when it mattered. With you. At the Tower. When they - and you-“ At this point, you have to suck in a deep, shuddering breath. One that has you keeling forward, head falling between your knees.

“Woah. Woah, woah, hold on-“ Jason wrestles his arm out of the sleeve you’re holding onto, and then you feel him pulling you back from the edge. It’s his turn, and he does it with ease, like you’re nothing but air. There’s that training again. “Jesus fuck, you - come on.” Just like that, the two of you are collapsing and folding in on each other.

Jason has gone so incredibly still, like he doesn’t know what he should be doing, and it makes you want to cry - except you don’t. You don’t know if you can feel anything else besides being scared or pissed off - at the Titans, at him - that couldn’t possibly be fair - at yourself. He’s so still it’s like he’s a corpse. “You get hurt somewhere?” he asks, and you shake your head, even as he’s awkwardly patting you over. “Someone pull some shit on you when you ditched the Tower?” You shake your head again, and you register that you're holding onto his hand. You squeeze, tight. It’s warm. He’s warm. There’s blood flowing through his veins.

He’s okay. He’s alive.

Jason’s hand is squeezing yours just as tight, and it grounds you - he’s keeping you grounded - long enough that you can start to breathe again. Enough that you can keep talking.

“I fell asleep.” The words are eerily similar to Gar’s own sentiments when the two of you wandered into the kitchen to find an already-fractured team. “I didn’t - I didn’t sleep for two days, you know that? You don’t really get any of that when there’s a psychopath torturing your friend and it’s your fault.”

“It ain’t your fucking fault,” Jason’s quick to say, words frosted with the kind of accent that’s married to a childhood down in Crime Alley. You haven’t grown out of yours, but his has gone sparse since Bruce Wayne picked him out. “Don’t fucking say-”

“Gar and I were supposed to have your back down there.” You press your lips in a thin line, eyes meeting his. “I’m supposed to have your back.”

“I was being a stupid little shit. Hank was right.” Fucking Hank. You think you could attack him, probably. Pick a stupid fight.

“We always think it’s our fault.” Now your words are deliberate. “And we always think we’re the fucking poison. ‘Cept we’re not.” Jason groans, and you can feel him start to pull away. You don’t let your grip loosen, so he uses his other hand to push his hair back roughly and pull the hood over his head, yanking the fabric down so you can’t make out his expression.

“I wasn’t gonna jump.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“I mean just now. I saw your face. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I thought you were gonna fall.” His lips twist into a grimace, and you let go of his hand to shove your own into your pockets. Your fingertips are cold.

“I would’ve caught myself.” Finally, the traces of Robin Jason - cocky, uncaring, cool - are coming back. “Could teach you how, if you want.”

“Do you want to catch yourself?” you ask, not quite ready to fall back into lopsided and carefree with him. “‘Cuz if you don’t, I gotta be the one doing the catching, Jason. Even when you’ve got some kind of - I don’t fucking know, a Superboy doing it.”

“Why?” The little shit has the audacity to smirk. “You jealous?” Incredulous, you stare at him. And then you take your bag and you swing it at his shoulder, only for him to smack it away.

“I’m being serious.” It amazes you how Jason does that - switches at the flip of a coin so as to replace the real shit he’s going through with throwaway comments like that. Sometimes, he’s a real asshole. Even as he’s staring at you with an entirely different expression now, one that makes you wonder just how much he knows about how he makes you feel.

“You need me to catch you?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, turning your head as he shifts closer to you, enough that your knees bump against one another. You push against him, and it turns into an exchange that lasts until your knee is sore. By the end of it, you can feel Jason laughing in your ear. His eyes aren’t red anymore. You take the sleeve he’d shrugged out of and get your arm through it, leaving the two of you awkwardly cramped against one another, and he laughs even more.

“Why can’t we do this shit at the tower?”

“Because you get - you’re all moody, you ass. It’s weird.” You can feel the weight of him on your shoulder and it makes you sigh. “You - look, we gotta talk. For real, you know that?”

“We did,” he mutters, a bit more sullen now. But there’s another elbow to your side, so you think that maybe it’s a bit better. For all that Gotham is home to the world’s evils, you can still love it if it can bring this out in Jason. “You know I say shit to you that I’m not saying to anyone else.” That elicits a half-hearted grin out of you, and you knock your fist against his. His eyes rake over bruised knuckles.

“You asked me if I was okay,” he says, thumb brushing over them. “Are you-”

“Someday,” you interrupt, because it’s a fruitless question. There’s no being okay, and you realize how your own question from earlier is naive. “I’ll get past the fact that we’re gonna keep almost dying. Like the shitshow with Deathstroke. And the fact that the assholes that are supposed to be heroes are full of shit.” Jason’s expression is all-too knowing, and you wonder if he’s figured out that the reason you went to San Francisco had nothing to do with wanting to be a hero and everything to do with not being able to handle Gotham alone. Maybe it’s better to just have yourself - to not have to lean on anyone else to keep on living, but then you look at the boy in front of you. And you know that if Jason only had himself, you wouldn’t be sitting with him right now.

He’s probably figured you out already. He’s Robin. For all that you poke at him for being boneheaded, you know that Batman’s taught him all the ways to see through a person. Even without x-ray vision.

Then he gives you a lopsided smirk, and you know he’s chosen not to say anything. Instead, he hauls himself to his feet - and you with him - with graceful ease, letting you link your arm with his in a way that has your hands brushing together.

“You still haven’t told me what happened with Rose,” you say. At that, he makes a face. One that draws another laugh out of you, because it has his features scrunched up in a scowl that departs from the betrayal you’d found him drowning in when you’d first gotten here.

“You wouldn’t fucking believe - come on.” He uses his foot to toss his bag in the air, catching it with one hand and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m not doing this unless we’re getting a burger or some shit.”

“What, she break your heart, big boy?” You manage to catch the elbow that’s headed for you, even as Jason kicks you in the back of the knee for that comment. It’s quips and banters that are coming back, a routine the two of you fall into even after weeks apart. Jason’s shouldered the door to the stairwell open - losers first - and you find yourself casting one final look to the lone gargoyle before you step inside.

Gotham is, by no means, a small city. She’s unforgiving and cruel, and her metal arches and stone beams are interwoven with a history of poison. Some days, you wonder if it’s too late - if you’ve already got it in your veins, running through your blood and killing you from the inside. Leaving a city like her was easy.

And it’s easy to come back to, despite everything. Because if Jason isn’t poison, then maybe you’re not, either.

DC Taglist:

@cipheress-to-k-pop

#🌙#��.dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #jason todd #titans imagines #titans #dc imagines #dcu #jason todd fic #angst #one shot #reader imagines #gender neutral reader

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joontier · 3 years

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Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”

“What happened?”

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.

“Jungkook-oppa?”

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?

“It’s the subdural space.”

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”

“Are you sure?” she retorts.

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit.

#jungkook x reader #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #doctors au #bts series #jeon jungkook

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gloryofluv · 3 years

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Traditionally Obscure Chapter 5

Svart! Man, I had plenty of fun with this chappy for sure!

Previous Chapter

There wasn’t much time to adjust to the sudden change once she woke up when landing. Rosa had fallen asleep against Vyn’s shoulder and was out for nearly most of the plane ride. There goes comforting him at all. Once they had their bags, Rosa was overwhelmed at the sheer chaos of a foreign language everywhere.

It wasn’t that she didn’t travel as a child. However, this felt different. A different world entirely. Vyn had coiled his arm around her’s and led her through the weaving airport. When someone shoved her while passing, nearly ripping her away from Vyn, he glared back at the man and pulled Rosa closer.

Outside, the air felt a bit frigid and moist. It was definitely different than Stellis. Rosa was gazing at the massive outpour of stunning jittering of society and its differences. They stopped at the entrance, and a man with a plaque approached, speaking to Vyn in his native tongue.

Vyn responded and gestured to Rosa. “This is our escort to the estate. My uncle’s condition is failing. We will change at the estate,” he explained to her.

Rosa swallowed and rocked her head. “Alright.”

Vyn rocked his head and spoke again to the man in the uniform. He took the bags from Vyn and bowed before leading them out of the airport. Rosa wasn’t expecting the flashing of cameras as they walked toward the extended car. It definitely was royalty by the dramatic flags that hung in the back. Well, she was going to look like crap in those pictures.

Vyn ignored them with a soft smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. It was almost as if he was shielding her from the people speaking in their native tongue. Likely they were trying to get information from Vyn. He assisted Rosa in the car and gave them a subtle wave before joining her and shutting the door.

Rosa smiled and nodded. “That’s eventful,” she tried.

Vyn chuckled and shook his head. “You don’t need to make me feel better about subjecting you to this.”

“I’m not trying. I’m being honest. I’m an attorney, Vyn. I can handle some press,” she reminded him.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “That’s true,” he paused when his phone rang. Vyn retrieved it from his pocket and answered it. “Yes, we just landed and are on our way.”

He waited while the other person was talking and stared at her. “She slept on the plane. We’ll see you tonight for dinner, Marius,” Vyn hummed.

“Isn’t he already flying?” Rosa questioned.

“He’s flying in his private jet. He has service,” Vyn answered. “Yes, I will inform you when we’re done with the political business.”

Their conversation finished, and he placed the phone back into his pocket. She tilted her head and observed Vyn’s demeanor. It was strained, but he still maintained his air of calm. Rosa reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tenderly.

“So, if you need me to make myself scarce,�� she started.

“No,” Vyn shook his head.

There was an underlined statement. Rosa stared at his expression and collected the resistance for her to part from. It was the first time she experienced this time of fractured emotion on the refined professor. He was such a master of his own emotions that this was an uncontrollable event.

“Then I’ll be at your side the whole time,” she agreed.

He glanced out the window, and she followed his eyes. The world around them was vibrant and colorful in comparison to Stellis. Her city was built with shiny metallic jungle features. Tall skyscrapers and sheen newness. This felt something of a fairytale. Older colored buildings with bold outlining. Massive statues of gods or deities of old.

“That’s Balder, of light and purity,” Vyn declared and pointed to the statue they were passing with a staff in hand.

Rosa leaned closer to him to get a better view of it. “There’s plenty of rich culture out here.”

He gestured to a fountain. “Njord is celebrated through fountains and running water through Svart.”

She smiled at him before examining the children tossing coins in the water. “How different from Stellis.”

“Yes,” Vyn agreed.

“I stick out like a sore thumb out here,” Rosa noted as she examined some of the lighter-haired people they were passing.

Vyn tilted his head and met her gaze. “That isn’t always a disproportionate issue.”

The man from the front rolled down the window between them and spoke to Vyn. He responded with a nod and adjusted his glasses. There was a little back and forth before Vyn breathed and agreed.

“He just informed me that my aunt has requested we have tea with her after we see my uncle,” Vyn declared and grimaced in the slightest. “I wasn’t expecting her to want to engage in conversation today. I’m apologetic. I doubt the last thing you’d like to do is entertain after flying.”

Rosa straightened her form and smirked. “Dr. Richter, you’re doubting my skills again.”

“Never, Rosa,” he smiled.

“If your aunt wants to have tea and you want my escort, then I will join you,” she nodded.

The man spoke again, and Vyn scowled and responded with a gruffer texture to his voice. The driver’s tone sounded almost apologetic, but he relayed information in a fast pattern of speech.

“He says Ragnar and my uncle are at the estate today,” Vyn explained.

“So your uncle, Ragnar’s father, is younger than your father, correct?” Rosa inquired.

He rocked his head. “Yes.”

Rosa breathed and dug through her purse, checking her face in her small mirror. It was one thing to go into a royal estate. It was a whole other thing to run into someone who was volatile before. Vyn’s hand made her jerk as it touched her cheek.

“You can freshen up at the estate. Don’t fret,” he murmured as his fingertips brushed back a few stray hairs.

Rosa set down her mirror and stared over at him. Vyn’s expression held sincere care and a hint of relief. All the words of gratitude wrapped in action instead of words. Somehow, instead of shying from it, she felt more than a heated tug at her gut. Rosa felt… bolstered.

She pressed her hand over his and smiled. “Alright.”

Their little tangled thoughts subsided with their arrival at a large gate. Vyn pulled from her and straightened his posture. Rosa replicated him and knitted her fingers as she glanced out the window. Holy crow. Her lips fell apart as she viewed the expanse of the entrance.

There was an intricate garden of trees and flowers that brought a whimsical feeling to Svart’s charm. The car traveled on the driveway toward the entrance to a massive manor with a bright white and gold glow over the vibrate flowers surrounding it.

Vyn said something to the driver and dug in his pocket. He held out his hand toward the opening when the car was parked. The man took the golden trinket with a nod before getting out. Vyn climbed from the vehicle and offered his hand to Rosa. She slid over and out of the car with his assistance. It was only then that she realized her legs felt like jelly.

The potency of sea air mixed with the light floral escape that was created around the property. It danced together with elegance and uniformity. Rosa straightened her cardigan and swallowed. She was completely out of her element, that was certain. However, she wasn’t here for herself.

Vyn offered his arm, and she rocked her head while falling in step with him toward the manor’s entrance. What a shocking sensation. Rosa almost couldn’t believe all of the information she’s collected in the last twenty-four hours. Vyn was royalty adjacent. That was insane.

He didn’t speak as they entered when a worker opened the door. He led her inside, and she stifled her gasp. The description of royal castles could use an update by the country of Svart. As traditional as everything appeared on the outside, that wasn’t the case inside this manor.

Beautiful traditional marble floors that paid homage to the world of old danced with the world of new by the brilliant modern art on the walls. Busts of royalty stood on tables, but alongside beautiful baubles that shouted freshness to tradition.

“Vilhelm,” a soft voice announced.

You both turned toward the staircase to see a woman descending. She was older, but age definitely didn’t seem to catch up to her. Her bright blue eyes were surrounded by soft blond hair, and her deep violet dress surrounded with golden accessories screamed royalty.

Vyn released Rosa’s arm and bowed before extending his hand. “Your majesty,” he declared before kissing her hand.

She beamed and glanced at Rosa before speaking in her native tongue. Vyn gestured to Rosa, saying her name before concluding his explanation. The woman shifted and laughed. “Vilhelm said you came to support us. That’s amazingly kind of you, Rosa. My name is Ester. I’m the Queen of Svart.”

Rosa attempted a curtsey she’d seen in films but soon simpered and scrunched her shoulders. “It’s truly an honor, your majesty,” she said.

Ester laughed and said something to Vyn with a wag of her finger. Vyn’s cheeks were dusted with slight color before responding. The queen turned back to the woman and smiled. “I have something to help you freshen up. Edmar is in decent spirits despite the looming storm. He’s been wanting to meet you for some time, Rosa.”

Vyn cleared his throat and said something else in his native tongue. Ester giggled and reached over, touching his cheek fondly before waving them along. “Vilhelm, you remember where your quarters were? I would like to speak to your companion. She is a lady, and I would like to assist with her comfort.”

Vyn turned to Rosa and smiled. “My aunt wants to introduce you to my two cousins. They are very warm and kind, which I know you’ll have little issue with. Are you comfortable with such an affair?”

Rosa’s cheeks warmed, and she rocked her head. “Of course, Dr. Richter. I’m sure you need a little bit of time to breathe after our long flight.”

“We’ll converge to see my uncle shortly,” he clarified.

Ester scowled and said something in her native tongue. Vyn shook his head and tutted with a reply. “My aunt is expressing your formality as unnecessary,” he smiled.

Rosa laughed and shook her head. “Your majesty, he has earned that title in Stellis, so of course I’m going to use it.”

Ester giggled and rocked her head. “Vilhelm, we shall see you later. I want to help your companion dress for meeting Edmar.”

Rosa stepped toward the queen, and Vyn waved with a nod. The dismissal was tense only in a sense that they’ve only been here a few hours, and she was already being skirted off to meet more of his family members without him? Well, she was prepared for the unexpected.

Ester gazed at Rosa as they climbed the staircase. “You’re an,” she paused and scowled.

“Attorney,” Rosa agreed.

“That’s the word. Languages have different meanings,” Ester laughed.

Rosa beamed and rocked her head. “Vyn was teaching me some of your language on the plane, but it’s difficult to be able to gather enough lessons in hours to hold conversations.”

“He writes that you both work together routinely,” Ester voiced.

Does he write to his aunt and uncle? That was the first she had ever heard of it. There’s definitely a sweet affection between them. It was clear with how she addressed him. However, there was so much of the story missing.

Rosa rocked her head as they paced through a large corridor. “Yes, we do outside of the work with my firm.”

Ester made a sound and said something in her native language. “It means ‘fate plays cards for souls,’” she explained.

“Your kingdom is magical,” Rosa declared.

She smiled and patted Rosa’s shoulder. “We are ways from the gem of Stellis, but we hold charm against the sea.”

“Forgive me for being curious,” Rosa started as they paused at a large set of doors. “You seem rather close to Vyn.”

Ester rocked her head and exhaled. “Vilhelm and Edmar are. We were not fortunate to have a son, and they share similar ideals. It’s very kind of you to come with him. It takes a person of great strength to hold up brilliance when it threatens to dim.”

“I had to nearly break his fingers to allow it,” Rosa laughed and shook her head. “But he would do the same for me. I couldn’t allow him to do this alone.”

“And that, Rosa, is why you and my daughters are meeting today,” Ester smiled and rapped on the door.

There were plenty of things to unbox by their conversation. However, Rosa had little chance. Ester brought her into a room with two young women that mimicked her appearance. The heavy conversation changed to lighter as she was brought inside, offered tea and dresses soon brought in by female workers. This wasn’t just an upper-class type of behavior. This was truly the royal treatment.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #tot fanfic #tot #tears of themis vyn #vyn richter #tears of themis mc #tot fluff #tot angst #tot vyn #tot mc #tot romance

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bellamioneotp · 4 years

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Bellamione Fic Master List

Making a list of Bellamione fics to guide the poor innocent souls into temptation organize stories based on AU type.

DARK AU’s

Bellatrix isn’t a bright ball of sunshine, but rather than have a story where she becomes a better person, Hermione becomes like her, or even joins her side. This AU type isn’t limited to only that, but also to general dark themes in the story such as violence, war and ‘wtf this is so wrong but yet I can’t stop reading’.

Reign Down Like wow. A whole world built around what if Voldemort survived and used Hermione in his evil schemes and had Bellatrix engaged to her. Very detailed and the author doesn’t hold back on aspects of the new world that can be somewhat unsettling. 25/10 this will leave you wondering just how sexy dark magic can truly feel.

The Dark Corners of the Earth This one is dark in an entirely different sense. Bellatrix and Snape are pitted in an ancient war against one another and Hermione is caught in the middle. The romance moves a bit too fast paced for me but the lore and detail in this will have you really thinking this story over the next few days, trying to figure out just wtf is going on. 45/10 will have you hoping your nightlight can keep Cthulhu away.

Haunted This story won’t leave you haunted, but it is pretty good even with it’s short chapters and all. It tells the story of Hermione sort of losing her marbles but I won’t get into too much detail. Just read it for yourself; it’s a quick easy read. 10/10 is poetic as fuck.

I Dream of Sin Takes place in a sort of canon world in which Hermione is an American teen being bullied. You can imagine how well that goes for the bullies especially when she learns she has magic and is taught by Bellatrix herself on how to use it. It gets progressively darker each chapter. 16/10 don’t want to mess with magical nerds ever.

For whom the Bell Tolls is an interesting look into how Hermione’s actually a death eater and Bellatrix is not. While Hermione is not bat shit insane, she is a murderer and Bellatrix is the sane one. Nice to see things switched up. This story is not necessarily as dark as the others but it gets brownie points for making the usually good Hermione evil right off the bat. 9/10 come to the dark side, we have cookies.

Staring at Nothing is just...wow. A very powerful one shot about Hermione’s descent into darkness as told by Harry’s perspective. 10/10 for who needs friends anyways, when you’ve got black leather.

Visions of You in which Hermione is a depressed youth after the war and has to deal with hallucinations of Bellatrix. Hermione isn’t dark here so much as she is gray type, and the story has a permeating tinge of sadness to it, given the circumstances. 8/10 for maybe Bellatrix isn’t a hallucination?

Deep Below what’s more awful than being accused of Harry’s death? Being falsely accused of it, and having to deal with trying to prove your innocent. This is a situation Hermione ends up in. But will she get out of it? 8/10 for this gets deep.

How to Love Bellatrix captures Hermione and sort of indoctrinates her into the world of darkness. Hermione is mad at first, but then she realizes how sexy Bellatrix is and is like, ‘alright fam, sign me up’ and boom Bellamione. 8/10 you love this story but not it’s update schedule.

TIME TRAVELER AU’s

Basically, what it says on the tin. Someway or another, Hermione goes back into time to stop Bellatrix from ever becoming evil. Drama and romance ensue.

Future Shocks A good time turner fic with a more modern take on war. It’s pretty long and it is the slowburn of all slowburns. But it’s a very interesting story and the ending will have you definitely shook. 8/10 will shock you awake from that boring lecture you’re reading fanfic in.

Time Heals all Wounds Hermione gets sent back in time to ‘redeem’ Bellatrix but not in the gift card way, more like saving the future type way. They end up, you guessed it, falling in love and changing the future somewhat. 6/10 is a young teen romance that will have you reliving your adventures as a young sapphic witch.

Mirror, Mirror Not exactly a time turner fic, more like a parallel world, I suppose. Hard to explain but has good amounts of mystery and trying to understand what is happening. Focuses more on Bellatrix’s POV which is a nice change of pace. 8/10 will have you looking in the mirror and summoning Bellatrix like she was Bloody Mary.

Let the Light Come and Take me A time turner fic that ends up with Bellatrix time traveling but to the future and the chaos her arrival there causes for those who are acquainted with her devious ways. Looks at the growth of our two ladies relationship into something more. 5/10 if it’s not slowburn romance is it really Bellamione?

The One Within the Other this story is about, you guessed it, time travel! Hermione goes back on purpose to stop Bellatrix from achieving her evil potential and in the process love blossoms. 7/10 for never enough time to read Bellamione in peace!

Caught in the Time series this is a series of three full length stories about Bellamione stuck in different times and universes. So much happens in them it’s kind of hard to summarize so the best thing to do is read them. 8, 8.5, 7/10 I’ll let you figure out which score goes for which series.

Just say When started off as a time turner story but then it ended up becoming something more of an espionage tale. It’s a good read and interesting to see how Bellatrix aims to save Hermione from a dementor’s kiss (spoilers!) in order to save their future together. A good mix of romance and action. 8/10 The name’s Black. Bellatrix, Black.

The Broken Wand It all starts with a wand and then before you know it, boom, time travel happens. Featuring Loki and adventure all around, this fic has interesting plot points to keep you engaged despite the slower update times. 7/10, will break your wand too.

Hourglass basically, a young Bellatrix is brought into the future and consequences abound from that mishap. The plot is a bit wonky and there are some logic mistakes, but if you can get over it, it’s a decent time travel story. 5/10 for it must be canon that Bellatrix has a lovely hourglass figure.

Times they are a Changing where Bellatrix travels back in time to save her wife, Hermione. Nice to see a story where Hermione isn’t the one doing all the saving. Unfortunately there’s only six chapters to this story and it’s unlikely it’ll ever get finished but it’s a nice fresh concept. 6/10 for that’s how many chapters there are.

Destined in this one, Hermione experiences some wonky times after the battle at the department of mysteries. Hermione has to find a way back home, but perhaps she might find love along the way? 10/10 for this is destined to be an interesting read.

HEALER AU’s

Let’s be real, Bellatrix has got a lot of problems and these authors try to solve them, with sex. And you know, medical help. But sex definitely helps a lot.

Portrait of a Tragic Woman Not a typical healer type au, because Hermione is a therapist whose helping Bellatrix with her mental disorders. Focuses a lot on the relationship between the two and really makes you try to figure out what exactly is up with Bellatrix and what is her past, etc. The ending chapters will leave you shooketh and wondering what even is real anymore. 50/10 because it feels like an acid trip, man.

The Healer is only one chapter but still worth a read. Hopefully the author will have some time to get back to it because it has a huge potential. 6/10 because I need some healing.

1k is a one shot, featuring Hermione as a therapist and Bellatrix as her patient. Can’t say too much without spoiling it, but despite it’s short length, the author paints a vivid look into Bellatrix’s mind if she was just an insane muggle. 1k/10 because that’s one patient I would never like to meet.

Darkness Underneath I mean, Hermione runs a team of healers, so technically it’s kinda a healer au fic, right? This story looks more in depth at the Death Eaters and dark magic surrounding them. 9/10 is that a dark mark or are you just happy to see me?

TEACHER AU

We all know this is the holy grail au of this fandom and yet there’s only a couple of long stories for this. Someone, write some more!

Fractures A long fic, that has a sequel. Basically, Bellatrix is Hermione’s teacher during a very trying time for Hermione when a competition goes very wrong and dark truths are revealed. Lot’s of action, Bellamione interactions, and overall interesting plot. 8/10 will leave your heart in fractures when you find out the sequel is unfinished.

In the Dead of Night Hermione asks Bellatrix if she can teach her some.....magic and things end up becoming very magical indeed. Bellatrix is the teacher in this story (because who wouldn’t want her as a teacher). It’s a WIP with only a couple of chapters out. 7/10 time to learn some real lessons, Granger ;)

Just a Brand features not only Bellatrix as a professor, but a magical soul mate bond between Bellatrix and Hermione that leads to much deliciousness. There’s a lot of chapters to this story but they’re pretty short. An updated and revised version can be found on a03 for those who like longer chapters. 7/10 Bellamione is branded on my soul.

It Just Felt Right is another fic with Bellatrix as the professor. Hermione starts off hating her and then it evolves into liking Bellatrix. The fic leaves off before any real progress can be made so if anyone is up for reading an unfinished fic from 2012 then go for it. 6/10 for this story feels right but not write because it’s abandoned :(

CRIME AU

Because there is never enough crime involved even with Bellatrix, these authors amp up the trouble and make it double. And gay. So very gay.

Two Sides of the Same Coin where Bellatrix is basically an auror. It’s only five chapters and it hasn’t been updated in a long time but it’s an interesting concept worth checking out. 9/10 wish there were more sides to the coin.

Murder Most Horrid A crime story, where Bellatrix is a magical cop and Hermione is a murder suspect. Bellatrix interrogates Hermione by banging her and then the two of them proceed to basically get married the day after. A bit ooc for Bellatrix but very in character if you consider this world not from the canon. -89/10 for how badly your vision will deteriorate if you try to read this all in one night.

The Mysterious Department Technically Bellatrix and Hermione are both magical detectives and they go and solve crimes and shit while also possibly trying to prevent the world from ending. You know, just casual stuff. 10/10 for the perfect crime, would commit again.

Darkness is Falling A story that has Hermione as an auror who replaces Bellatrix’s old partner. They butt heads, they solve cases, and naturally, begin to fall in love. 7/10 for this case is closed.

Some Things Aren’t Seen Hermione investigates Bellatrix’s crimes and past and ends up over her head. There are two follow ups to this finished work, all in the same vein. It’s all a good bit of fun watching Hermione try to take on the criminal Lestrange. 7/10, no, this has no relation to the musical Wicked.

SOUL MATE BOND

In one way or another Bellatrix and Hermione have a special bond in between them that destines them to be together. Angst, love, friendship, all abound in this au type. Features a combination of other factors thrown in, but the stories put in here are largely advertised in the blurb as more focused on the bond.

Lotus Flower Hermione finds out after Bellatrix’s death that they are bound together and that because Bellatrix is dead, Hermione is dying as a result too. This begs the question, will Hermione go back in time and save Bellatrix, or will she willingly submit to the bond’s curse? 8/10 I think we all know what Hermione chooses.

Our Mercurial Selves ever wonder what it would be like to have a murderer share your mind? In this one, Hermione and Bellatrix can communicate telepathically with each other, creating a bond that draws them together. Features evil schemes by Voldemort, a flying horse, and Narcissa beating the ever loving shit out of Bellatrix for even daring to breathe in Hermione’s direction. 9/10 will leave you with warm fuzzies for the Malfoy family before the ending crushes you.

The House Ring Bellatrix sends Hermione a magical ring that engages them and basically makes them wives. Prophecies abound about how Bellamione is meant to be the one and only true pairing. 7/10 for that ring better come with diamonds.

Demons AU

As if Voldemort isn’t scary enough, there are demons and scary things in this au type that will leave you and Voldemort both calling for mommy.

Unsteady Precipice technically also a time traveling fic, except Hermione ends up in an alternative universe. where she tries to change things from happening in the canon world like they did. But will it work? Who knows! Only a few chapters are out so it’s hard to tell where this story will go, but one things for sure, it’ll be good. 9/10 if you don’t pray after reading this the demons will get you.

A Demon in the Mist is also about, gasp, demons! Dangerous things are afoot in this story and Hermione is caught in the middle of it all. It takes part in the same universe as the caught in time series by the same author, but with slight alterations. Unsure if the story will be finished as the author has contemplated leaving fanfic writing. 7/10 can you find the demon in the mist?

MAGICAL CREATURES AU

Technically a category, right? Let’s pretend it is, because there are some stories out there that pit our two ladies as other than human and it’s fun to read about it.

As we Chase the Sun Very Black family centric and features Bellatrix as a big fluffy wolf. What’s not to love? Cuddles, and hair balls, and good times all around. 9/10 would tame that wolf.

Sing to me Your Insanity in which Hermione and Bellatrix are both sirens and will basically die if they don’t do the ol’ frickity frack. This is a long story and the slowburn feels like hellburn but it’s worth the read. 56/10 but you will need earplugs so those sirens don’t seduce you too.

Metamorphosis in which Bellatrix is also a wolf and doesn’t like being stuck with Hermione but gets used to it and basically they’re house wives of London and don’t know it. 8/10 for your mind with undergo metamorphosis from slightly obsessed with Bellamione to even more obsessed.

This Poisoned Blood of Ours vampires, vampires everywhere! Two parts to this series and features a confused Bellatrix and a changing Hermione. 7/10 do you think vampires like steak rare?

Cursed Doll Pretty self explanatory title. Someone ends up as a doll and shenanigans ensue. Won’t say more because it’s only two chapters, but it’s well written and worth a read. 10/10 Chucky? Is that your sister?

Liquid Measure these chapters are thicc boy. Only two chapters but such a good set up and everything. I hope the author is able to update at some point. 10/10 makes me thirsty for more!

My Demons in the Dark Hermione is a ghost. That’s it, that’s the plot. Boo/10 for this not so spooky spirit.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter Books #Bellamione #Hermione Granger #Bellatrix Lestrange #emma Watson #Helena Bonham Carter #Bellamione fic recs #Fic recs #all gay stories #vampires #wolves #witches #time turner fics

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charlotte-balfours-garden · 3 years

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even more oc lore! (part 1, part 2)

~~~

He goes north, always north, until the spruce trees are dusted with snow and the air burns in his lungs.

The snow swallows all sound, no railroads, no wagons, just Pepper’s breathing and the jingle of her tack. The sky is smaller up here, cut and framed by the sharp edges of the mountains, and as they go on and on, it disappears altogether, hidden by a thick layer of clouds that makes it almost impossible to determine where rock ends and sky begins. Not a single soul out here, except for another lone rider who’s going south and shouts a hoarse “Good luck out there!”.

Eli tips his hat.

Hours pass, and when he finally pulls the reins and brings Pepper to a halt, the silence is deafening. He dares a look at his compass and the map, but it’s pointless. He doesn’t have a destination anyway, and he certainly won’t go back now, so north it is.

Although the clouds may mask it, he knows night is fast approaching. They’ve been on the road for the better part of the day, the horse is exhausted and Eli’s flank throbs relentlessly. They ought to find shelter soon.

And food. To give Pepper a break, he ties her to a tree and sets off on foot with Alba. They return with two rabbits and the certainty that the next few meals are safe, at least. It takes a lot of bribery in the form of oatcakes and soft whispers to get Pepper to move again, and when she finally does, the progress is painfully slow. But what did he expect, coming into the mountains in the middle of April? The snow’s piled up too high for Alba to run now, so he lifts her up to where she nestles safely between him and Pepper’s neck, all of them grateful for the additional warmth.

They trot on, the sun is clearly set now, and with his scarf covering the lower half of his face and his hat pulled down low, Eli nearly misses the wooden cabin in the shadow of a group of particularly tall-standing spruce firs.

Granted, even at midday it would have been easy to miss, with the roof sloping low and the whole ramshackle structure half-hidden behind a snowdrift. It’s a shack really, but it’s certainly better than just setting up a tent out here, and besides Eli knows himself good enough to know that it’s only for a night, that tomorrow he’ll be on his way south again, into harm’s way.

He dismounts, followed by Alba, and leads Pepper to the half-open shelter that’s attached to the cabin. A little fence keeps most of the snow out, and the cabin’s wall with the chimney forms one of its sides, so as long as he manages to get a fire going, she’ll be nice and warm. He gives her the remaining oatcakes, takes off the saddle and shoulders the saddle bags, his bedroll and the rifle. A last pat on her back, a quick plea that this isn’t wolf country (though it most likely is), and then he and Alba enter the cabin through the front door, ignoring the weathered Keep Out-sign.

It’s exactly what he’d expected: a bed, a table, two chairs. A bricked fireplace and an additional stove in the kitchen corner, both with a small amount of logs piled up next to them. In the corner a broken wash basin with a broken mirror and a once-green wardrobe. A decent hunter’s cabin. While Alba still sniffs around the room, he wastes no time to gut the rabbits and hang one of them outside to be preserved by the cold.

It’s gone completely dark now and he’s relieved to find the two lanterns in the room are still in working condition. He gets a fire going and spreads his bedroll on the floor in front of it, claimed by Alba without hesitation.

He feels numb.

It’s good to keep busy, to have a distraction, so he melts some snow in a pot he found in the kitchen and prepares the other rabbit in a way that’s guaranteed to make his mother spin in her grave. The melted snow tastes like moss and gravel, and so does the meal, but Alba gladly accepts and it’s good enough for him.

Water begins to drip from the ceiling as the temperature slowly rises. The sound is unnerving, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Outside, it has started to snow again, only a little bit at first, but the size and number of flakes quickly increases. Eli watches from a window for a while, enamoured with the way the snowflakes reflect the light coming from the lantern next to him, and the contrast to the endless darkness they’re slowly fading into. Somewhere in the Grizzlies a thunderstorm rages and illuminates the nearest mountain range with sudden bluish light at seemingly random intervals. It doesn’t take long for him to hear the mighty thunder as well. The storm is fast approaching and he thinks of Pepper in her windswept shelter outside, she’ll be fine, he hasn’t heard a sound from her yet, and she’s usually not shy to make her discontent known.

The next thunder tears through the air and resonates somewhere deep in his belly. He has gotten so used to the throbbing that it had been easy to ignore it for the past two hours or so, but it’s clear that a whole day of riding will likely have done more harm than good. Might as well get it over with. He takes off the sheep’s wool jacket, ignoring a silver coin that falls out of the pocket and onto the table. Lem’s shirt is already soaked through. He gets a more or less clean bandage from the saddle bag, together with a bottle of whiskey. As he slowly unwraps the stained bandage around his abdomen, the pain is both very far away and incredibly close. All attempts to breathe in a regular pattern fail miserably, so he opts for a swig of whiskey instead. It helps a bit, and it also helps to soften the areas where the gauze has gone crusty with dried blood and clings to his skin. The alcohol’s sting is sharp and relentless, makes his eyes water and extends down into his legs and up into his ribcage. Good lord.

He blinks a few times until he can see clear again, then finally dares to look down. The actual wound is ridiculously small. A tiny black hole surrounded by half-washed away brown scabs. More whiskey.

While he waits for the whole mess to dry, his gaze falls on the coin on the table. He takes it, turns it between his fingers, feels the relief of the seated liberty on one side and the bald eagle on the other. It’s a silver dollar, stamped 1870, the year he was born. A keepsake he’d thought long lost. He remembers his mother’s voice, remembers her hand rough and soft in his, Go buy yourself a new shirt, or save it for harder times. Harder times came and went, and here it is, a silver shimmer in a bloody hand. He takes another sip and lets the coin slide into his pocket. It’s been a weird few days.

He carefully bandages his stomach again and puts on the dirty shirt and his jacket, then the scarf. Lightning and thunder have moved on, but the snow is still falling, almost horizontally now due to the storm. The clatter of the window shutters and the constant drip drip drip thud in his ears and he suspects it will be a restless night. He tosses the old bandage into the fire. Looks into the shards of the mirror and flinches when a ghost stares back at him. All sunken eyes and transparent skin, collarbones protruding sharply.

What now, what now.

Not for the first time he wishes he could read better. Get lost in a strange world without having to decipher every single letter, every word. It seems a handy skill for when you’re stuck in a hunter’s cabin somewhere in the Grizzlies. He remembers his father falling asleep in front of the fireplace, always an open book in his remaining hand. Remembers his sisters teasing him for spelling his own damn name wrong, again and again. Elija. Eljiah. He hadn’t cared back then. Not until Ned had started reading to him during the long nights in the prospectors’ encampment, and he didn’t have anything to offer in return. He’d felt ashamed then, and the feeling lingers on.

He takes ink and paper from the saddle bag, carefully writes a handful of slanted, upper case letters, DEAR N, then sits back again. Didn’t he come here to avoid exactly this?

Pen and paper are left on the table as he turns to look out the window again. Alba joins him, her head a familiar weight in his knee, enjoying his unconscious ear rubs. There’s howling outside, wind or wolves, and another sound he can’t quite place. A scene like this seems to put everything into perspective -- his little life, the great snow, it’s hard to fathom.

Might as well go to bed.

It doesn’t take long to extinguish the few lights. He adds two or three logs to the fire to keep it going for another hour, then lays down on his back on the threadbare bedroll. Alba snuggles up to his good side, sighing heavily.

Eli grins. “Tell me about it!”

The fire throws strange shadows across the crooked room, and for a long time he stares at the ceiling as if it was an abyss.

He blinks. Until today, despite all, he had never felt quite lost. Something ruptured today, and it feels irrevocable.

He curls up on his side and savors the warmth on his back.

He remembers his fractured reflection.

What makes a ghost a ghost?

It’s bound, he’s not.

Thunder has returned, it’s going to be a long night.

He wakes several times, thinking he heard something scratch at the door or sneak around the house, maybe it was a bad idea to leave the rabbit to bleed out outside. But Alba is always calm beneath his arm, snoring gently, and it never takes him long to fall asleep again.

He dreams of wild geese, going north, going south, chased by the sun, chased by the moon.

#still don't know where this is going #but it is what it is #rdo #rdo oc #red dead online #eli flanagan #mine

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warpedlegacy · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

Actually making some progress on Book Two of my planned trilogy. Here’s a bit between my OC Theresa and Leliana and Cole: The cawing and clawing of a dozen or so ravens were already beating into a frenzy. I worried that our presence was disturbing them, but then I saw Leliana holding a bucket with one bloody hand reaching in. She was tossing pieces of raw meat into the cages, and the ravens were eagerly snatching them up in beaks as sharp as any blade. “Inquisitor,” she uttered in deference, though her head never turned my way, her attention on her flock. “You are here to view our unexpected stowaway, yes?” She nodded toward where Cole was standing in one corner, his back to the rest of us and hunched over a low table. As Taeris and I approached, I could see shifting of fabric from a mound. No, not fabric. Feathers. The mound shifted again and I saw a round, alert eye almost as large as a coin and the color of a daisy’s head. A black void stared out from its center, fixing upon me with such a keen intelligence it made me shudder, but soon its attention twitched onto other subjects. In fact, it was rarely focused on any one thing for long. As we came to stand over the table, the full form came into view. It was magnificent - cream-coloured feathers dappled with rich brown like shadows through a forest canopy. Darker on top, paler on the breast and legs. A short, curved beak rounded out its face from which those keen eyes stared. It stood fully erect at about three handspans, and when it flapped its wings in frantic motion I could see where the left wing was slightly misshapen. “The wing is fractured near the shoulder,” Taeris explained. “Likely it struck something mid-flight.” “She’s afraid,” Cole said. “You know it’s a ‘she’?” I asked, surprised. “Did you hear that in her thoughts?” “No, Leliana told me.” Oh. Well then. Leliana was approaching with the bloody bucket, and I winced at the raw pungence emanating from it. But rather than feed the bird herself, she handed it to me. “Would you care to do the honors?” she asked. “We are waiting on one of the healers who has experience with animals. In the meantime, food will help calm it.” Taeris once would have gladly healed her. I took the bucket and reached in, swallowing hard against too many unpleasant sensations and feelings. My fingers slid through wet, slimy gobs of flesh, and I barely managed to resist grimacing. “Just set it down slowly in front of her and step back,” Leliana said. “Careful movements, so as not to frighten her.” I did as she instructed, and we all watched, intent and tense, as the bird considered the offering with suspicion. Eventually, hunger won out over caution, and in one fluid motion she scooped up the meat and tossed it down in several lightning-quick jerks of the throat, only to look up expectantly for more. I smiled. “Alright then, here you go.” I fed her more from the bucket, always careful to grant her space. She studied each new offering as though it might jump up and run away, before darting forward with astonishing precision and accuracy to gobble it up hungrily. “Are you any closer to a decision about Alexius?” Leliana asked. Her amused smirk as she watched the display belied the fierce glint in her eyes that would put any raptor to shame. “No,” I said, offering another chunk of meat. I tried not to remember those eyes glaring over Felix’s shoulder as her blade split open his throat. That same image was mirrored by the Envy demon, only with Cullen in Felix’s place. That had been before Redcliffe, but Solas always said time worked differently in the Fade. Could Envy have foreseen that, somehow, and used it against me? “Sliding, squishing, sickening. She wanted it back but it was too broken. No fixing it now - he’s gone. It’s gone, and so is she.” “Cole,” I uttered more harshly than intended, desperate to stop his stream of consciousness before it revealed too much. “Please don’t.” He dipped his head and shifted his feet. “But it’s not too late now. You can still fix it!” “Fix what?” Leliana’s focus sharpened, and we both looked away. “More memories of your dark future?” I was struck by too many conflicting emotions to speak, but Cole had no such obstacle. “It wasn’t the world you wanted back,” he said to her, barely above a whisper. “It was your faith.” She drew in a hissing breath, her eyes widening slightly - her only outward indication of what she must have been thinking. I had included a rather vague and sanitized summation of her actions from that dark future when I’d delivered my report to the advisors. That was more than enough for someone like Leliana to pull from if she were so inclined. But then Cole’s head tilted to the side, as though he were listening to some new song. Before I thought to ask what he heard, there was a sound like a small gasp, then a puff of smoke that smelled like the Fade, then he was gone.

#wip wednesday #dai #theresa trevelyan #fanfic #oc trevelyan #leliana #cole #book two the reign #reprisals

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a-heist-of-words · 4 years

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Two sides of one coin:

As I was browsing the tag, I saw many posts discussing how former and current powers manifest, and the “meaning” behind how the Diamonds tried to help our boy Steven, and I had an interesting thought, as someone who has experienced and still deals with anxiety, depression and PTSD.

Yellow Diamond makes changes to physical appearance, but the gems she repairs are still cracked, a little bit. This can have a negative interpretation (hurting yourself by exercising at the gym too much, eating too much or too little, doing something drastic and unchangeable to your appearance such as a tattoo or a piercing) or a more positive one (going to the doctor for a checkup, exercising to increase endorphins, getting in shape, getting your hair dyed or cut).

Blue Diamond has a substance that can make you feel very good, if only for a little bit. This can have a negative interpretation (smoking, drugs and alcohol) or a more positive one (proper medication).

White Diamond represents confrontation with the self, if channeled through someone else who acts as a proxy/mirror. This can have a negative interpretation (hurting yourself or hurting others, including those who previously hurt you) or a more positive one (therapy and healthy confrontation with those who hurt you so you can get closure and, hopefully, an apology).

Steven himself, as the son of Pink Diamond, represents both healing and destruction. Right now, he is being destructive, not only to himself but to others as well. His healing seems mostly to be physical, capable of holding his human body together under extreme circumstances (as evidenced by all the healed fractures in his skull) and even bringing others (like Lars and Jasper) back to life.

The only difference between the Negative and the Positive interpretations of the Diamonds’ powers is STRUCTURE. When you’re healing, you can’t do it willy-nilly, because you risk hurting yourself more. You need a structured diet and exercise plan and scheduled visits to the doctor, you need the right medication in the right doses, you need regular appointments with a therapist you trust who can help ease you into healing. Yes, healing is messy and it’s not a linear path, but it cannot be an amorphous blob either.

Steven craves this structure, we see it when he berates his father for never giving him any sort of conventional rules or education and just letting him do whatever (which, fair, I myself have fairly controlling parents but I have seen first-hand the consequences of never giving children any rules). He craves it, but he doesn’t know how to get it himself; his structures are falling apart and falling away, and that’s natural, but he never learned how to structure himself, so he depends on his friend group and family group to always be the same. Of course, this can’t happen because life changes, and so Steven is adrift.

And Steven tries to find a way to deal with his problems but he’s looking for a quick, “miracle” fix (which, again, fair; when you feel so bad, you just want it to be over). That’s why the Diamonds couldn’t help him: he bounced from one to the other -and they suggested he bounce from one to the other- way too quickly and without any structure to help him in the long run.

Besides, I don’t think that this is a one-diamond problem: just as he had to use every diamond’s essence (including his own, and this is important for later) to fix Jasper, who was broken beyond any hope, Steven is going to need his body, his heart and his mind to heal and find his will to live and grow and change, not to destroy like he’s doing right now.

I just hope my boy can be okay in the long run.

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe meta #su spoilers #suf spoilers #white diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond

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kaiju-z · 3 years

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Seon Adventures, Episode 35: The Tomb Of The Fallen King

We carry on from whenst we left, the entrance of the tomb, where our heroes would, hopefully only temporarily part ways with Aryn, the Half-Dwarf. With the promise of and gifting of coin and that they wouldn’t abscond with too much of the contents of the resting place of the king, the party would head inside, with Luctan at the front, followed by Mournimar, Belli, Jun and Malak. Morgan stepping along beside them in his Dire Wolfy way.

All around the wall, these blue lights come on.Blue, like on the base of a really hot fire. There’s a sign on the front, saying “Those who continue risk disturbing those who sacrificed themselves to grant “us” our lives.”

The words themselves immediatelly give off a bad vibe, given the multiple meanings they could hold...

The party would take their path to the northern door. Through it, they can see that the walls are lined with depictions of battles and clashes and the walls west and east, each has a dragon. The right one is shaded a darker color than the opposite. They bring down destruction. Another door ahead, a horned man with a dark blade. The walls have dates on them. Around 5-6 years ago.

The dates show things like, a year before the war ended on one. No one knows why the creatures were sent. The other is a couple of weeks after the war ended. Didn’t happen long after.

This... is a fairly young tomb. Even if no one really comes here.

Stepping further upward, there appear to be three pathways, in an open hallway.

In blank sandstone, the doors don’t seem to have locks on them. Followed closely by Belli, Mournimar diverts and checks what’s on the right.

To the right, there’s a room with a fountain. Long dried out and kind of, gold lining the circles around the fountain. The majority of the place is painted purple and they stare at the backwall. Another artwork, more of a mural than a carving. To the left of it there’s a dragonborn outlined in golden paint. Beneath the art is the description. And in the back, to the center of the wall is a coffin.

With a call, Mournimar brings the rest of the group inside. Much to the party’s surprise, the door closes behind them, but with a quick checo if it’s locked or not, it opens easily...

With a sigh of relief, the writing can be read now. “Here rests Toxal the Never-Conquered. Even in death she never showed fear.” Notably, on the right side of the coffin there’s a mural of her leading an army of kobolds.

At the bottom, a similar layout. But in this room, again a coffin in the middle. It appears to be of a lizardfolk warrior, dual wielding a pair of weapons. Engraven below, in Draconic are the words “Here rests Zaidi the Unending. She rests here to protect her King.”

Making a split decision, Luctan and the duo go to check the lizardfolk’s room, while Jun and Malak go to check the other room. But the moment they enter, stepping on a particular plate on the ground causes iron bars to drop on the entrance behind them.

Much to their shock, a type of green, ill smelling gas emits from the coffin and slowly begins to fill the room they are now trapped in. And it is then that they notice a skeleton in a corner of the room, drooped and unliving.

Malak would step back quickly from the room ahead of them and join the group at the bars, from where he’d check for a possible way to get them out. With an observant eye, the cleric would discern that there is a handhold at the bottom. With a combined physical effort, the party manage to lift up their would be death prison’s entrance and escape to the other side.

And interestingly, this is when the poisonous fumes would stop.

With that concern out of the way and a determination to be more perceptive on the path ahead, the team watches as Malak approaches the skeleton, after Mournimar performs a careful check on the room so they could avoid the pressure plates. Standing and then crouching before the boney body of the skeleton, Malak casts Animate Dead and raises it upwards with necromantic powers.

Enter: Skelli

With the body animated, Malak now has a test subject with which the party can more easily traverse through the rooms and corridors of the tomb. And he is put to work immediatelly in the room north of the fountain and statue, stepping on plate after plate.

And the Skelli-roomba’s prognosis is: the room’s clear.

As a reward he is armed with an axe, by Malak. And he orders his servant to unlock the door ahead. Which doesn’t work well, as Skelli’s finger breaks off. Luckily for them, Mournimar steps in, frees and re-attaches the finger for the skeleton, before unlocking the door with his thieves’ tools.

The door opens with a light skree. And the room in front of him is fucking huge. The size of at least two rooms stacked next to each other. With 12 coffins on the east and west parts of the room, about kobold size. And a huge sarcofagus in the middle. A very concerning threat, one might say.

In a group effort, helping one another, the party sneak with the help of Mournimar’s Pass Without A Trace, from the east part of the tomb’s 1st floor to the west part, with no trouble. The skeleton being of the stealthiest nature.

In this room, in the back, the gravings show 3 sets of weapons. A Longsword, Two shortswords overlapping each other and an elegant dagger. Fancy engravings, where the artist gave up partway through. And the backroom is a case with a glass top.

Belli follows Malak as they check the room to the south. Similar situation. There is a depiction of a dwarf with a very long beard and no hair at all. “Here rests Navaren the Fearless. Even in death, their protection lives on in us.”

On the other end of the room... A similar kind of pattern. Again an empty room, in the corner, a skeleton with very long arms and a battle axe on top of it. The skeleton is very long dead.

Malak checks the skeleton... With a medicine check, we can tell it was a hobgoblin. The skull is caved in and the ribs are cracked. Leg bones fractured. This was a very rough night that they had. By the looks of the daggers by the waist, the battle axe is less of what the Hobgoblin had brought and more what was brought onto their skull.

Concerned about magical demise, Malak casts Detect Magic... And nothing in particular catches his eye here. But it sure does look pretty. That done, he casts Speak With Dead and proceeds to converse with the body.

1. “What killed you?” he asks. – “The fuckin’- dead bitch in the sarcophagus.” the answer comes.

2. “Why did you come here?” he questions. “Money.” is said in turn.

3. “Did you steal anything?” he wonders. “I tried, but I didn’t get a chance!” the skeleton admits.

4. “Did you see any other creatures in here?” the queary is almost done.. “Only the dead ones.” ...

5. “Were there any in the large atrium in the room next door?” “The dead bitch in the sarcophagus was and her 12 friends.”

And the conversation ends there. Malak steps away and updates the party on what he had learned. Through a quick discussion, the decision is made to walk forward and quietly, unless the corpses themselves come back up.

At one point, as they threat carefully, the team can hear a loud clunk from Malak’s armor, but Luck instinctively grabs said armor piece and holds it in place, knowing how Plate Armo can be in such situations and thus, they make it through to the 2nd floor.

In a surprisingly empty room.

The murals on these walls depict empty sets of armor and kobolds standing among the rubble of what used to be the army. In the south corner of the room, there are several kobolds holding helmets and staring off into the sunset.

A quick sweepthrough of the room establishes that there are no loose plates or the like. And with some relief, Mournimar now leads the group forward, through a hallway, keeping his eyes peeled on possible dangers ahead...

It’s very clean, as though someone recently swept it and Mournimar notes this. Being the quietest, Mournimar stealths a bit forward for the group. Scouting work to be done! There is a door to his right… And ahead in the hallway, there’s an open entrance.

Thick, wide room. It’s seemingly empty. The door to the south looks very heavy. There’s a very strong, probably steel looking lock that looks more intricate than anything. There’s a rug in the room, large and square

He checks the weird rug.

It’s just a rug.

Resigning to this revelation, he moves back and up north, to the room he’d see ahead, once he made the first turn... And stepping through...

It seems completely empty and he can’t see anything...

He stealths inside. Turns his head to the right as there is a mirror.

At a closer look, the mirror is a bit off. The reflection is more hunched over, longer claws and Mournimar backs away instantly. He can tell it’s magical as fuck.

Mournimar talks to his reflection. “What do you want? What are you doing?”

Aren’t you just going insane?!”Considering talking to the mirror, yeah. The feral reflection claims that i t’s having a great time, on the other hand.

The reflection condescends on Mournimar. Mournimar goes back to the group and calls for the others.

As they enter the room, the door slams behind them, naturally. And this time with a click to it. As opposed to a simple shutting. Morgan on the other side of the door.

Now trapped inside, they look at their reflections.

Skelli appears to be a dwarven man with blueish skin, however his proportions are off, a bit stretched. He wears red wizardly robes and has a bushy beard and hair.

Belli waves at her own duplicate, who is in mostly pink clothing. Much to her chagrin. And the two have an all out sass off about their personality.

Jun has a side shave going on. And a lump on her abdomen.

Luctan is full mountianman and there’s a constant twitch in his eye. Paranoid to the max.

Malak is the scariest of all. Because instead of his usual self, he just has the moustache. Like, pencil line moustache (EVEN THOUGH I MADE IT THICKER!).

They put it to us planely. They are trapped in this room, until we answer 3 riddles in order and to the satisfaction of their duplicates. Seeing as they can’t find another way out, the party accept. And the first question gets pitched by Nega-Malak.

“There was a green house. Inside the green house there was a white house. Inside the white house there was a red house. Inside the red house there were little black babies.”

The debate rages o nbetween the five, with Skelli blankly standing at the side, as they try to figure out what the answer could be. The specific words, in that order... What could they- And then Luctan comes to a realization. A memory of his past hits him of his days, when he was still being pampered, back in Hell.

Confidently, the red tiefling steps up and proclaims “Watermelon”. At first it seems like he failed, but the Nega-Malak admits defeat, frustrated that this one got answered so well.

The Evil Jun steps up next and gives her riddle: “When I live, I cry. If you don't kill me, I'll die.”

Again, debateing the answer for a bit, with the creatures in the mirror taunting them, asking them if their suggestions to each other are their final answer. Until Belli answers with trust in Luctan’s suggestion on what it could be: “A Candle!”

And again, correct answer! The doubles were now getting a bit tense, because the party wasn’t being “any fun” with their correct answers. But there was still at least one more chance to fuck up and restart this whole thing.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.” The paranoid Luck double steps up and rasps his own riddle, sounding like he had smoked for 15 years.: Never was, and yet will always be. I am never seen, and yet always come. I carry nothing, yet hold much for some. Tell me, what am I?"

This one appears tricky for them to answer. Even confiding in each other about the answer appears to be unhelpful, as many options could apply. That and Jun was still a bit freaked out about the suggestion from the chaos siblings that the answer to the previosu question was “a baby”.

Malak decides to cut the bullshit and answer as best as he can figure. “The Future”. And that was the wrong answer. Close, but it was really, just “Tomorrow”.

And so, the game would restart. There is banter between the two sides. With Malak suggesting that he ask them a riddle, in turn for the door. But they refuse, as they are the ones in control here. Them’s the rules. But for Malak, this isn’t about rules or control. He just wants to prove these assholes wrong.

The next question to be asked is spoken: “Many have heard me, but no one has seen me, and I will not speak back until spoken to.”

And Mournimar steps up to give his answer: “Echo”. The correct answer. 1/3

“I'm light as a feather, yet the strongest man can't hold me for more than 5 minutes. What am I?“ comes the next riddle. And the answer is uttered among the party: “Breath.” 2/3

The doubles then bring up another riddle. Confident in the puzzle of it: How far can you walk into a forest?” They almost finish their question, before Belli raises her voice in determination, confidence and knowledge:

“Halfway and then we’re walking out.” The doubles are annoyed that they were bested by the people they were copying in such a distorted mannor and the door opens for the heroes with a light screech, a tail wagging dire wolf on the other end.

Malak proceeds to ask them a riddle of his own: If they fail, they must provide them with information on what’s in the tomb. Everything. “What has wings like a dragon, it will never fly. It can swim in the ocean, but will always stay dry." And they fail to provide the suitable answer.

The tomb is 5 years old-ish?! They started building it 7 years ago. There’s a secret entrance to the private restroom. We need to go to the northwest to the king’s floor.

They ask Malak for the answer to that riddle. And he provides them with the words “Dragon’s Shadow”. The answer evoking a response from Mournimar’s double, who screeches “ I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em!” but leaves, anyways.

As the sibs go through the door, Luctan observes Malak as he pulls out the Fated Potential Great Axe, with Jun watching inside the room. He ponders on the nature of those beings, following Jun’s suggestion they rid the place of the mirror, so as not to risk others befalling to this riddle game as well.

He recalls some knowledge. Those things? They’re not devils, but sometimes, and it’s usually one of Jorzoth’s perverted methods of torture, Devils trap spirits, who hated each other in life and leave them with a minor glimpse of the outside world. This mirror is one of those glimpses.

Malak shatters the mirror and swears he hears a deep breath from the mirror. And then nothing.

Jun makes a Wisdom Save. 7. Hm. Malak would then walk out of the room, with Luctan making way for Jun to pass before him. And they’d leave this part of the tomb.

Returning to the carpet room.

Mournimar shows Belli the big metal door. It’s Big. Made of metal and a door. A big metal door! And the underside of the carpet is clear.

The party head Northwest.

There’s a sign, saying the same old same old. That no one should enter, etc. Skelli is sent to inspect the room on the left. And once he enters, the door closes behind the skeleton. From there, 8 seconds pass. And Malak feels his spell on the boney half-dwarf drop. (RIP Skelli).

Planning occurs. And Belli summons Orion, much to his protest, to use him for the task she has in mind. She brings out a gunpowder bomb. And has Orion take the form of a seagull. She ties the bomb to his ankle and the poor familiar “bravely” enters the scene, wherein Belli can see two metalic figures, in rusted armor, swing for the birb.

Needless to say, Orion has no enjoyment in this. Also needless to say, he gets smacked. And the bom goes off in a loud explosion, which shakes the room itself.

With Belli’s update on what happened, the party get the time to prep. Thanks to Belli’s gift, Luctan throws in a smoke bomb. And using The Pass Without A Trace, by Mournimar, the six slink through the smoke, avoiding direct contact with the rusted guardians.

They then get to the 3rd floor.

Passing by a deadend, they go downward, to the west.

Scouting ahead, followed by his partner in crime, Mournimar enters a room with five pillars. Four ahead and one to the left. On P4, there’s a wire leading to the ceiling and a slight panel that would shift if the wiere was moved. Mournimar cuts the wire and it snaps up into the ceiling. Half a second later, the panel opens and Mournimar and Belli need to make Dex Saves.

1 and 18 respectively.

The two get sprayed with glass from above and mournimar gets the worst of it, as it embeds into his face, arms, legs, tail... It’s not a pretty sight. But through a combination of Cure wounds from himself and Malak, they recuperate as good as they can, given the circumstances.

“Please be careful!” Luctan says late in the situation. From around the corner. Covered in safety-wafety armor.

“I’ll try!” says Mournimar. In his leather armor. Offering barely enough protection. And inspects the remaining four pillars. 1, 2, 3, 5. With 1 being beside him, closest to the door to his left. Each, compared to the one he had just yoinked, were smooth.

Mournimar elects to use the one next to him and opens up a tunnel. A secret tunnel, which Mournimar leads the group through to a library.

The lights on this floor are a golden white color. An entrance ahead and a door to the side. He tries to open the door to the side and it opens. Empty as fuck!

While Mournimar and Belli explore ahead, Jun, Malak and Luck take a gander through the many tomes inside this place. Each finding a particular book that catches their fancy:

Luck finds a book called “To cheat a devil”. It’s a typography of a man, who cheated minor devils. It feels like this man should be much more well known.

Jun’s eyes go to one, named “Short and Stout”, a dwarven cookbook.

Belli, who had nabbed a book, before following Mournimar, had found " Personal Hygine” for Belli, about hygine on the road.

While Malak had gotten his hands on a heartwarming book about a baby dragon burning down a village. Fuck them peasants.

Up north, the walls are lined up with kegs. It looks like a drinking room.

And the other way is a corridor, through which Mournimar and Belli stealth. Down to the bottom, where they look through an opening and see...

A weird, huge monstrocity with rocks and metallic shields on each arm. And it doesn’t see them,because the orange light is turned to the library, where the rest of the party peruse. Sneaking back around, Mournimar warns the three, all hush-hush and they head upward.

The door ahead is locked, but Mournimar tries his luck at it, still. And he picks through the lock.

With a 19, the door swings open and on the back wall, it’s a portrait, in detail, of the king’s final battle. It seems older than any other piece. Original style on the edges. It’s like the original artist didn’t have the time to finish it, or something.

There are doors on the northeast and south-west. In the south-west, a corridor. And seeing as they are meant to head south-west, they head there, anyways.

Ahead, there’s a red rug and expensive looking furniture.

The walls in this room are covered in the famed mantra, all over in a lot of languages. All over. It’s just “His duty is done, may he rest proud and eternal.” All orderly and stuff.

Above the door is the word “King” in Infernal.

Walking ahead, there’s a small corridor. And a door, which, the stone work is smooth, completely. It would have taken a while to carve this. It’s quite probably the throne room.

A red carpet with golden silk detail leads ahead. The stone work is beyond intricate. Runes and patterns that would have taken years to make this room. In the back is a throne, and a coffin behind it. Gems litter it to the side as it’d littered the well. The lights turn red.

As they step in, one after the other, a ghostly image comes forth.

A pale purple spirit stands before them. Mournimar and Belli kneel. A tiefling man in much more humble clothing greets the lot of them, with his arms up.

And asks of our presense here.

Mournimar truthfully explains why they’re here and what our new intentions are.

They have questions, he has answers.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

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hunkpurveyor · 3 years

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Perfect Blue (1997) dir. Satoshi Kon

A terrifying portrait of fan culture and celebrity's liminal boundaries, the blur and crash of the real and unreal. Image metabolised through the fan, the corporation, the media, the self, the overwhelming fracturing of identity for a young woman dominated, chewed up by a culture of celebrity which has only escalated almost 25 years on.

(spoilers beneath the cut plus content warning for sexual assault)

There is so much that is masterful here, I immediately loved the layering of fictional narratives, Mima's role in the crime procedural blending seamlessly into her own drama of identity and murder. We become utterly tethered to the heroine, in crisis after crisis waking up in her bed, wondering - was that real? -just as she does. A psychiatrist (or the actor playing her) murmurs, "Illusions cannot come to life."

The nature of illusion is the question here: Mima's self-image is reflected and refracted through so many different mirrors (literally and metaphorically) she becomes lost entirely within the psychic vortex of the film. The obsessive fan, the manager & former-idol, the lascivious photographer and Mima's own bifurcated images of herself all violently collide, shattering into a fractal car crash of identity. "Who are you?" she repeats over and over again, practicing her only line for her acting debut, "Who are you?" staring at the resplendent image of the idol in the mirror, "Who are you?" seeing the crazed face of her manager warp into her own blood-smeared features, "Who are you?" the real illusion, the unreal life.

So what is it that enables her, at the conclusion to say "No, I'm real." (looking, of course once again into a mirror)? Ironically it could perhaps be due to the violent removal of all those controlling her. She drives herself now. But why and how is she in command of her own image? Some read the final line as ironic and I can understand why: would that even be possible for her in a capitalist celebrity culture? Perfect Blue's dismantling of pop culture's image obsession clearly displays Mima's movement between pop idol and actress as merely two sides of the same coin of objectification. For the fans and for Rumi it is shattering for Mima to lose her innocence, her virginal body violated and tarnished, sold as a sex object in a salacious thriller - yet this virginity was an equally marketable object for her as an idol. She is utterly commodified either way.

How we think about the two twinned scenes of sexual assault in the film is deeply important to understanding Mima's agency. The simulated theatrical rape is clearly a rite of degradation Mima puts herself through to succeed as an actress, it is not undertaken willingly. And Satoshi Kon highlights the salacious eye of the tv drama, the complicity of its audience. "I'm so sorry," whispers the actor playing the rapist, then continues the rape as the next take commences. We see the rape through lens of the television show, at once removed by the layer of fictionality yet viscerally there, not seeing the context of camera and crew. In the second assault the deranged fan Me-Mania tries to render the simulated scene real - he attacks her on the same stage and set, trying to bridge the divide between illusion and reality. In Me-Mania is one of the film's potent critiques of the male gaze - his idol must remain virginal and distant, a perfect platonic form, to be real, worthy of respect. Rape is a corrective to the sexualised, corrupted Mima - he can unify the false, embodied Mima wholly unto her tarnished character, separating her from the disembodied idol he adores. Women's corporeal bodies are unreal to him, they may be used, should be used to correct illusion.

But in this second scene Mima refuses to stick to the script. Here she does not succumb to becoming an image, in her real body she can escape, she can fight back, she can triumph, even if she does not fully yet escape illusion. Both scenes are extraordinarily graphic and distressing, yet I think necessary - the sexual element of obsession and commodification of women's bodies is so crucial to understanding the shattering of identity. The first scene destabilises Mima sending her fully into the swing of illusion while the second allows her to ground herself to begin to escape it.

Mima's triumph, if she has one, exists in destroying her false selves, rendering herself into a whole and coherent image. Whether or not this image is real is another question. She is still liminal to the nurses outside Rumi's ward - a lookalike, an illusion in their gaze. But what are celebrities if not illusions come to life? Celebrity is a liminal reality: the blurring of the barrier between real and unreal worlds is the actress instantiated in an audience's physical world: her real body, her real home. To be famous is to be half-real at most, a body made of photos, a self made of colours, a perfect blue.

#this movie made me extremely big-brained and forced me to write 1000 words #just how it works #@ all kpop stans please watch this #fan culture has only gotten worse! we live in hell!#idk which way i swing on the final line there's some real conspiracy theory-ass stuff about a diff voice actor doing it thats too much for #anyway i felt like this was a good review! yr welcome!#crit #review #film

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sparxwrites · 5 years

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(from a prompt by @rhydalic for “yasha thinking she’s in control, until she isn’t”. it took a bit of a weird turn somewhere along the way, but hey ho. many thanks to @ladyofrosefire for the much-needed beta.)

cw for mutilation of a corpse and mild gore

[ao3]

Yasha’s in control, in battle, no matter how deep into the cold, calculating depths of her anger she descends. Her rage is a tool, a weapon for her to wield – nothing less, nothing more. It coils cold and dead inside of her, a whiteness, a kind of peace that steals over her in the heat of battle. It makes her fearless, calculating, unstoppable. It grounds her.

She’s in control of it, though. She’s in control– until she’s not.

It’s something to do with his bone structure, she’ll think later. The heavy brow, square jaw and soft chin, the slightly upturned tip of his nose… the man has some Xorhassian blood in him, somewhere, most likely. He’s not Xorhassian – just some run-of-the-mill bandit skulking around the road that leads from the Empire to Nicodranas – but he looks like he is.

He looks like a man she once knew.

(He looks like the man who held the axe, and grinned as he brought it down–)

For now, though, she’s not thinking at all. Her mind is full of red fury, stained across the pale peace of her rage. It’s a blinding, frothing sort of emotion, bubbling up from a deep, ugly place inside of her she hadn’t known existed, swelling into a torrent in her chest. It demands action, demands violence, demands revenge– and who is she, she thinks, as she raises her sword high above her head, to deny herself that?

(“Fucking hell– Yasha!” yells Fjord, as he watches her cleave into the skull of an already-dead bandit, splitting it apart like an overripe pear beneath the weight of her greatsword. She doesn’t hear him over the violent, furious ringing in her ears. The blow does not satisfy, and she brings it down again, this time shattering the left side of the ribs into a pulpy, bloody mess. “Yasha! Stop! He’s dead!”)

The next blow strikes down through the centre of the half-crushed chest, cutting through the sternum like butter and sinking a half-inch into the loamy dirt below. She yanks it free with a snarl, panting. This haze is not like the others, the white distance tinged with a thrumming red. This rage pulses in her ears, in time to the beat of her heart, and it demands blood.

She brings the blade down again.

(“Is she okay?” asks Caduceus, mildly as ever, watching a snaking loop of intestine slip free from the corpse’s opened-up abdomen. “This seems a little– excessive.”

The blade comes down once more, tearing into the pelvis this time. The bone there is too dense and twisty to shatter easily, but the blade nicks it, partially bounces off it only to be brought down again.

(Beau flinches at the scrape of steel on bone, sharp and jagged in her ears. “Yeah, no shit, Deuces, she’s not– Can you like– do something? Is she cursed?”

“She’s lost her mind!” hisses Nott, grabbing at Caleb’s wrist and trying to tug him backwards, away from the barbarian currently methodically mutilating a cadaver in front of them. He shakes her off, gently, but he too is staring wary and wide-eyed. “She’s going to turn on us next, we should run–”)

The sword comes down, again, carving a flapped chunk of flesh off at the hip. Again, sinking deep into thigh and fracturing bone. Again, near-severing the arm at the shoulder, the tendons and ligaments and muscle parting like butter before heat, the thickness of the bone no match for her rage–

“Enough,” says Caduceus. The word is uncharacteristically sharp, a ringing sort of power to it that carries even over the rushing white noise of her rage. It gives Yasha split-second pause before she brings the sword down again – enough time for him to step forward and grab her arm. “That’s enough. You’ve had your time. Let the body rest, now.”

She could, if she wanted to, wrench out of his grip. Could bring the sword down again, again, again- The red practically howls for it, to continue the mutilation. He couldn’t stop her. She’s stronger, and he couldn’t stop her, weak and helpless and pitiful as he is. And if he tried, she could turn the sword on him–

The blade hits the ground with a ringing sound, dropped from Yasha’s nerveless fingers in an almost reflex reaction of revulsion. The red still screams, but it’s muted, pressed behind an abrupt wall of shame.

She wouldn’t hurt Caduceus. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t hurt any of her friends.

(But she wanted to.)

“…Thank you.” Caduceus pats her shoulder, bends to pick up the sword – hands it back to her blade-first, with a smile, still gently clueless for all his insight. “Why don’t you go ask Jester to check you over, hmm?” His voice is loud enough that Jester can no doubt hear, his tone a little pointed. The words feel more like an order than a suggestion, for all the softness of them. “You got a little banged up in that fight, I think. I’ll deal with this one here.”

Yasha takes the sword, feels the blade cut into her palm and fingers before he can shift to holding the hilt. “It’s… just bruises,” she murmurs, but steps back nonetheless. Away from the corpse, and towards her living friends watching in silence.

“What,” says Fjord, as she approaches, faintly pale-faced and determinedly not looking at the mushy pile of human remains behind her, “the everloving fuck was that about, Yasha?”

Yasha’s not sure if she has a good enough answer for him. Not really.

“He looked–” she starts, a little helplessly. She’s suddenly aware of the blood spattered across her face, a fine mist that most definitely isn’t hers. It’s on her lips, too – she tastes it when her tongue darts out to wet them, and though blood has never bothered her before, the salt-iron tang of it now upsets her stomach. “He looked like one of the people who killed…” She’s not sure she can say it.

Nott is still alternating between trying to put herself between Yasha and Caleb, and trying to unsubtly tug Caleb a step or two backwards, with little success. Caleb, though – Caleb is watching her, something like recognition in his eyes. She thinks, abruptly, of his fits, the way he goes still and silent. She wonders whether he can see the mirror of it, in her, the explosion of senseless movement and violence.

(She wonders what ghosts he’s hiding, behind his ribs, that drive him to his quiet madness as hers drive her to fury.)

“Oh,” says Jester, softly, gently, and Yahsa’s chest constricts with the quiet understanding in her usually strident voice. “Like the people who killed Zuala? Oh, Yasha.”

“Who’s–” starts Beau, cutting off with a grunt when Fjord elbows her in the ribs.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, a moment’s silence, hanging between the six of them like a spinning coin. Caduceus is busy with the corpse, scooping the soft, squirming parts back inside the abdominal cavity and closing what’s left of the eyes. He says prayer, makes a gesture; the body collapses into rot. Mushrooms sprout from pulped flesh, forcing their way up through the ribs and rooting in the bones, and moss steals over the extremities, anchoring it to the dirt. Inch by inch, it returns to the earth.

Yasha, though, has no eyes for that quiet miracle – has eyes only for the deep blue hair and delicately decorated horns, suddenly pressed right below her chin. One of the horns is digging into her clavicle, but she barely notices the pain. She’s busy being shocked silent by the pressure of it all, the warmth, the faint smell of sugar and rosewater that suddenly fills her senses beneath the intimate smell of dirt and sweat and Jester.

It’s been too long since she was last hugged.

The last wisps of red recede from the edges of her vision, the white a second after, rolling away like fog in a sea storm. Her shoulders round, back bowing, and she leans into the embrace almost without thought. She wasn’t sure if she still knew how to do this, to accept affection like this, but… the body remembers, it seems, even when the mind forgets. There’s an ache still, sunk deep inside her ribs – but it’s muffled, now, by the press of arms around her.

“You should talk to us, you know,” says Jester, softly, for her ears only. The words are muffled against the fabric of her jerkin, but Yasha still feels them resonant within her chest. “Next time you feel all angry like that. Not just all, ooo, woo, fighting, yay! angry, but… properly angry, you know? Sad angry.”

She squeezes Yasha a little tighter, nuzzles against her shoulder. The horn presses a red scrape across Yasha’s collar bone, and still Yasha does not feel it above the enormity of Jester’s embrace. “We’re your friends,” says Jester. “Talk to us.”

Yasha’s throat closes tight. This time, it’s not because of the blood she can taste on her lips. Rather, it’s the sweat-sweetness that fills her lungs, the wisps of stray hair that brush her mouth, that steals her breath away.

“I…” Hesitantly, she rests her chin on top of Jester’s head, lets it fill her vision with blue hair and her nose with pastry-sugar and flowers. “...Yeah. Okay, Jester. I’ll try.”

#critical role #yasha nydoorin #jester lavorre #critfic #fic #fic request #yasha/jester pre-slash if u squint but not enough to tag it as such #where tf that came from idk because i don't even really ship that #but it's there!!!!

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