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yourplasticlittlespastic · 2 days

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E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: The dirty is here, mature words, basically written prn and raw stuff +18

Notes: You all make my day with your comments and likes. I am so thankful!

WC: 4.4K

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 whoever wants to join pls let me know!

Is there something like violent love?

You were not asking yourself that when you tackled Benedict and made him lay flat on his back. You did not ask yourself that when your lips attacked his with ferocity and he did not care. You were not even asking it to yourself when your hands took charge of his clothes.

Benedict helped as he unbuttoned all the damned layers hiding his chest. The tailcoat was thrown away, the scarf was discarded with efficacy, and his waistcoat was forgotten by the floor.

“Was the poem that good?” He asked between kisses

You broke the attack and asked, “Do you need to ask what you already know?”

“You’re right” he grunted and took your bare waist, turned your fragile body around and made you land on your back “let me” he put a finger on your mouth “You’ll have plenty of chances to take the lead”

He promised you with a smile and started the journey of the wedding night. He knew this was going to happen and he felt proud he waited for the day. All those tempting times you eyed him with innocence when you spread your legs and moaned his name… but no, he was strong. Was. Now is a different story, he has you beneath him and holding his name. He can taste all of heaven and stay there for as long as he wants only to taste it again.

“Ben” you called him, your arm grazing his “Is everything alright?”

“Never better” he leaned to kiss your lips and he trailed his mouth all over your chin to your neck where he used his tongue to lick you until he was satisfied.

Your legs parted and welcomed his waist, your fingers tangled into his hair and your soft moans were music to his ears.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Y/N. I promise” he murmured licking his way down to your chest where he took your nipple and sucked it.

You could not believe it, the sensation of his warm mouth and the wet tongue, your nipple was being stimulated in ways you did not expect at least today. You never thought sex was such a dance where every step -calculated or not- brings waves of pleasure.

“Go down” you moaned, instinctively your hand pushed his shoulder and Benedict understood

His hands found the ribbons that hold your pantalettes and he pushed them down, his hands however took turns to remove your garters and slide the stockings out of you. The unwrapping was done.

“Look at you” he licked his lips “look at how beautiful you are and look how hard I am for you. Is this what you want from me? This cock inside you, making you come and feel loved and cherished? Do you want me, Y/N?”

You blinked at the questions. Of course, you shouted in your mind yet you silently nodded.

“Yes?” He asked again

“Yes, I want that” you admitted and your legs widened again.

Benedict crawled between them, but lowered his face rather than lowering his trousers. His face met your folds and his tongue did its job. He licked your core with the passion and the hunger he showed when he kissed your lips.

“Oh Ben”

“Hmmm” His tongue played with your nub as he couldn’t hold it anymore. He pulled you closer and closer by the waist and made you curve your body with his skilful tongue.

You did not know where to put your hands, your hips, your legs or anything else. Your whole body was tensed as a violin string and ready to burst at any moment.

And he kept going, excruciatingly slow as he licked a straight line over and over again. He needed to make you come undone in his face, he is addicted to that moment he needs it now. But as much as he desires it this is only to prepare you, he told himself.

You owe him one. He mentally stated.

“What-“You looked at him as he pulled apart, he had never left you in such a state “no y-“

“I’ll get my turn later” he untied his trousers and they were down at the same time as his undergarments.

Your eyes travelled to the beautiful chiselled chest and the trail leading to his member. Always hard. You smiled. His hand stroked it twice and then he touched your core. With ease he took your juices and spread them around his length, stroking a few more times.

Benedict crawled to be fully above you and kissed your cheek “This will hurt”

You nodded “Al-alright”

“Tell me if I should stop”

“You better not” you whispered

He looked at you one more time and he tried to part your legs wider. He held himself with one arm as his right hand led his cock by your core, and when he grazed the tip he noticed the flinch you gave.

“Bu-“

“I will go in” he reassured you “It will. Try to relax, love”

His mouth met yours, and his tongue invaded you. He started to push himself in, and as it was difficult the first time you whimpered against his lips. Benedict had to let you go and see the pained expression on your face. If he could feel the tightness around him he can imagine how you feel stretching for him.

“It’s alright” he said kissing your temple and trying to go deeper and you grasped the linen in support.

It did not matter how much you tried to relax. It felt uncomfortable, it burned, and a tear ran down your cheek. Benedict stopped for a moment to take your face and wipe the tear with his thumb.

“I-I’m fine” You opened your eyes and curved your lips “Is it all?”

“Half”

You closed your eyes again and Benedict started to chuckle at the scene but he however pushed deeper and deeper as you felt it, the burn was trailing behind. Your mind was too concentrated on the feeling to even understand what was going on.

It did not hurt anymore, just an unfamiliar feeling, yet you could not explain.

When Benedict was fully inside you he groaned and let you both breathe “Y/N”

“Eh? Yes?”

“That's all"

You opened your eyes to see the soft veil of sweat on his forehead and you tried to see between you and you saw all the skin touching and felt him inside.

"Do you want me to move?"

"Uhmmm" you said "Yes"

"It will hurt"

"Please" you begged

His mouth met yours once more and he started to pull out and push in. A couple of thrusts and you felt the pain, nothing like the pain of your courses, this one was mild with the sudden intrusion of his shaft. Benedict on the other hand has never been with a virgin and the confidence he once had about the whole situation flew right from the window. He can't, won't and mustn't come undone before he can make you feel like you're touching the sky.

He kissed your mouth once and took his right hand, he licked his fingers and so slowly drew them next to your navel and all the way to your core where he started to play with your nub while his thrusts were steady. You did not know where to look. To the man between your legs and the place where he entered you, or to his face where the concentration is palpable.

"I thought" you gulped as he trusted "You said no thinking while doing this"

He snorted a laugh "I did say that, right?" He moved faster and harder, his fingers played with your nub and his lips found their way to your breast, sucking your nipple. You did not know where the sensation began and where it ended.

"Ben" you moaned his name "I-I-feel it"

He abandoned the cocoon around your figure and stood straight on the bed where he could see the way you two connected and he took your legs and experimented with opening them more and seeing if he could get deeper.

You were not able to think, you were not able to breathe properly, it was impossible, and all you could do was moan louder and louder.

"All the ways I can show you" he grunted with his stride and took your legs again and placed them straight on each side of his head "Is this alright?"

The position made your navel feel different, there was a sudden urge to pee but as impertinent as the sensation was, you knew it was something else "Uhu, oooh"

"yes?" he grasped your thighs as he kept pushing in and out.

"It's. I-"

"Y/N"

"oooh" you cried out

"So pretty" he grunted and let go of one thigh and took your hand that was holding the linen and guided it to his lips "Touch yourself" he instructed

The air smelled different as your eyes merged with his and your hand rubbed circles in your folds. This passion you felt was above your expectations and understood that clearly this was meant to be saved until last.

"Come for me" he grunted and he started to thrust faster and deeper.

You squinted your eyes, scrunched your nose and tried to hold onto something, when Benedict noticed it he allowed your legs to fall to the sides and embraced you from above, he buried his face in your crook and trusted faster your thoughts became scrambled.

"B-Ben-ohhhh-Be" you sang altogether

Although he needed your pleasure to be prolonged his experience mind played a trick on him. He could do something else with you he hasn't been able to do. He can spill himself in you until he becomes dry. What devil possessed him now?

He went in speed inside you and out, the tip of his cock threatening to fully go out but he bottomed again and when he heard your loud cries mixed with a growl he has never heard out of you, is when he came. His whole body shuddered, his cock twitched with your contracting walls and the puzzle was done. You matched so perfectly with him as you took all of his cum.

Benedict collapsed on top of you, the weight of him was not a burden as your arms encircled him, and you caressed his back while your heart beat furiously.

"That was" he murmured and looked at you

"Amazing" you breathed

He chuckled next to your neck and kissed you. "Now we've consummated it" he whispered and took your face with his hands "You are mine, and I am yours, my darling"

"How long for doing it again"

Benedict rubbed his face as he laughed, he rolled away from you and landed on his back "We have all night, love"

You turned and rested your head on his chest, you traced the lines of his muscles, his sweaty skin, and you hummed "Alright"

"You know what?"

"Hmm?"

"I am happy we waited until the wedding day"

"I would not have minded being introduced to this before"

He cupped your face "Look at you, all naughty"

You grinned and energetically sat upright "Let us bathe together-oh"

"What?"

You touched your inner thigh and stared "There is a sprinkle of blood here"

"Let me see"

You let him sit next to you and examine the red spread on your skin "Nothing bad, normal at all coasts" he reassured you and kissed your shoulder

"Then we shall bathe"

Benedict drowsily plummeted back to the bed "Women. Always with energy after this"

"Which tells you which is the stronger sex"

*-*-*-*

Normally you would complain about lack of sleep but as Benedict kept pulling you close to his mouth, it was impossible to conceive sleeping as an option you really needed. If until now it was not clear, Benedict is enthusiastic of taking your core in his mouth and drink all of you until you can't see colours anymore.

"Ben!" you yelped, your hand grabbing the wooden cabinet and your other pulling his hair "Ben, I-"

"I goddamn love you," he said between licks and pushed his tongue inside you.

You arched your back, your nipples pointed up, your toes curled and your legs shivered. The release you had was different from all the ones he gave you. Benedict's mouth is a master in making you forget how to speak, breathe, walk, and do anything other than sing his name over and over again.

He sighed in genuine happiness as he felt your insides tensing and clenching around his tongue "Oh girl" he licked once and helped your leg around his shoulder to lay on the floor "You taste divine"

Standing up. A new position you loved.

You inhaled as you stood naked by the wall and the cabinet and widely smiled "Thank you"

"I am your slave," he said still on his knees "although, I do need you to pull me up"

"Come here" You extended your hand and Benedict held it and used it as leverage.

He did not let go of your hand, he just brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles "Shall we go to sleep?"

"I must go and clean myse-"

"I already did" he mischievously licked his lips

"Just a bit more with water... for the second time"

"Get used to it" he stated behind you "We will bathe at least three times...." he yawned "A day... more than any other...." he stopped and continued "Royal in the Country... more than the Queen..."

You returned as you threw the used cloth to a basket and saw Benedict eagle-spread on the bed, open-mouthed and snoring "You snore beautifully, husband"

*-*-*-*

When the morning came, the air that was once filled with your moans and his was now filled with rustling leaves and singing birds. You rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms, your legs, and back and when you opened them completely and the light illuminated the room you turned to see Benedict's naked body as some sheets wrapped his legs and nothing more.

His face, even though he has beautiful features now only shows tranquillity and adorableness as his mouth is slightly parted and he looks younger and purer.

"Husband" You whispered and moved closer to kiss his cheek "Good morning..." you sang and there was no response "Bonjourne...?" you snorted at his deep slumber and decided to leave him be

After opening your small trunk and getting a simple attire far away from the fabric of your wedding gown, you left the room and went down the stairs you found Mrs Crabtree already holding fruits around her arms.

"Oh, finally we have someone who is an early bird around here!" She exclaimed making you laugh

Benedict however welcomed his first day as a husband alone that for a deadly second -or more- he felt complete sadness as if he dreamed with the past months and you were only what his mind wanted, except real. The dreadful moment passed when his blurry eyes spotted a slight blur of blood by the linen and he knew he did not mingle with virgins at all... you are real.

Like an accordion, he went straight and to his feet. He took the breeches and the shirt of yesterday's event and trotted outside the room looking for his missing piece and when he heard your laughter inside the dining room he quickened his pace and entered.

"H-"

"Good morning!" you went ahead before him, your hand wiped the corner of your mouth with a napkin and you stood up "Good morning" you repeated and smiled at him

"My, my" he murmured, his eyes travelling through your attire, your hair, your face and his mouth agape "You look so beautiful"

Mrs Crabtree chuckled and put the fruit basket on the table "You have finally found someone that can take you out of the bed" She stood up and softly palmed your shoulder "I'll prepare the things"

"Thank you, Mrs. Crabtree"

Benedict then leaned forward and bumped your head with his "Good morning"

"How did you sleep?"

"Deep"

"I knew that" you giggled I tried to wake you up but failed miserably"

He caressed your arm "You ate something?"

"Oh yes, Mrs Crabtree is no frugal woman when it comes to food"

"That is why my mother always said I return healthy every time I come here"

"She prepared so much, come"

Your insistence was not much needed. His stomach hurt at the first bite and his eyes watered due to the flavour. Benedict did not know whether to eat and drink fast or slow. You ate slowly, enjoying every single bite, and every time you caught him looking at you, you could only blush and continue eating.

"I thought we could leave tomorrow for our Honeymoon... Bournemouth is a day ride if we are lucky" he swallowed his tea and then he stared at you. Your face lit up with wrinkles around your eyes and he wanted to choke on his drink "Oh dear"

"Bournemouth? Are you taking me to the beach?!" you exclaimed like a mad person and he nodded "Oh! My! That's great!"

"I am so sorry, I am so" he palmed his forehead "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

"I don't m-"

"I was..." he tried to justify it "And you... I... it's your fault!" he said between a laugh

"My fault?"

"Yes, I was staring too much at you"

"How is that my fault? I can't help if I'm too blinding"

He snorted at your comment, not because it was a lie but because of your blinking eyes trying to appear innocent "Well if the surprise is ruined-"

"It's not"

"If it is already revealed" he corrected "then I must make it up to you. Believe it or not, I am remorseful"

"Make it up? I can think of several things"

"Don't test me, wife"

"I'm not. I am just saying I do not mind what you choose, I would be happy even with a stroll through the garden"

*-*-*-*

The sound of the rustling leaves could not by any chance mute the sound of your gasps, the way Benedict's hands grasped your thigh nor the moment his mouth made a lascivious contact with your neck. Pinned against the wall you tried to fight for any sort of power but next to Benedict's height and strength, it seemed that there was no option.

"Oh, Ben"

"I am trying... so hard" he panted against your ear, his teeth nibbled your earlobe and you closed your eyes, your breathing ragged. "Please tell me why I can't keep myself away from you?"

You couldn't answer, his mouth took yours in a lecherous way that the only thing you could do was moan as an answer.

"Do you like this garden?" he asked all of a sudden

The stroll he promised remained a stroll for less than ten minutes "So peaceful"

"I know" he murmured slightly bitting your neck "Do you like the arch?" he questioned, his hands finding your lower back and intentionally pulling your closer to him so that you arched your way to his chest "Gives us privacy"

Your dancing eyes saw the bricked arch you were below and your cheeks burned at the thought of what was currently going on. The weather was hot, the sun was high and the sweaty bodies against one another only made the temperature rise more.

"I like it"

"This is why I wanted to show it to you" he pulled the hem of your dress skirt and pulled it higher exposing your legs and your clothed core "So we can enjoy ourselves fully" he pulled you closer and the friction between his breeches and your core made you groan "do you want that?"

"Yes I-I-want-ohhh"

His fingers rubbed you underneath your pantalettes, his other hand was holding the skirt of the dress while his mouth took yours fiercely in almost a bite. You dragged your hands to his wide shoulders and squeezed at the rhythm he kept rubbing you.

"Let me show you more of this garden"

You saw your world spin, not by an orgasm but by him as he turned you around and you face -mostly- the bricked pillar of the arch.

Benedict came close to your ear and murmured "There, by the front..." his hands travelled to your breasts, no tight corset to untie -or cut- so his hands found them easy to grasp "there is a reading nook I know you would love" he licked his lips and pulled down your pantalettes.

Your hand went directly to your mouth and muffled your groan. Your eyes looked down but couldn't see because of the pulled skirt by your waist yet you felt how he spread your legs wider and you turned around trying to see him "wh-what else?"

Benedict smirked at your reaction, his fingers playing with your folds, gathering the wetness he was the one to blame, and circling your clit. You were not able to hold a groan.

"Oh, Y/N"

"Yes-s?"

"Look at this view"

You opened your eyes and clearly, you were seeing different things.

"There is a shed," he said and ran his fingers again around your core before spreading his palm around your cheek and kneading it once "Quite big" twice "Perfect for us" three times and he pulled away

You heard the sound of a belt being unfastened, a zip and the sound of him pulling the fabric of his breeches. You held tightly the pillar and arched your back trying to see anything behind. His godly face came and kissed your cheek.

"Is this alright?" he asked

"What?" then you nodded "Yes, yes, just..." you pushed your lower half to him in the neediest way you could think of "Just do something"

"Oh, I will"

He guided the tip of his pulsating cock around your folds, gathering your juices and getting into place. He knew the second time will be a replay of the first so he tried to slide it slowly and he heard how your hands snugged the bricked pillar in front of you.

"Don't tense, Y/N"

You nodded feeling the new position, your face scrunched at the tightness and the bulge you thought you were getting because of the way his member was entering you. You hissed under your breath at the stretching but pain? No pain. The sweat around your neck quickly faded down and the only uninvited feeling was the stretch.

"Half?" you asked

"Not yet" he smirked at your innocent question and saw how he was sliding inside of you and how well you hugged him "I was made for you" he proclaimed

"Ben" you moaned

"I want you to know that," he said with his husky voice as he was pushing inch after inch into you "You are the only one" he sighed

"Oh"

"Are you ready?"

"I-"

Benedict pushed the last inch and rested his head on the middle of your shoulder blades. He took a breath and kissed the exposed skin of your back, he pulled away and pushed again, a slow rhythm of his cock going in and out and you were moaning louder. He has found a position which you were highly receptive to and he couldn't love it more. He took the skirt of your dress and pulled it higher, the curve of your back was beautifully done as he saw the ripples of your skin whenever he went deeper.

"It feels..." you said, your cheeks flushed, your head hot "So good, Ben"

"Good is not better" he whispered "And better is not perfect"

He took your waist and gripped it tightly, his cock went out leaving his tip inside and then he went in.

You couldn't hold the feeling of being loved like this. At this moment you felt that you just needed to be arched and leg-spread for the rest of your life and you will be thankful for it as Benedict went and stretched you over and over and over again.

"Oh, Ben, is so-oooh" you moaned

You could hear the wet sounds your core was making every time he went in and out, his pants and groans, and the sound of the slapping flesh. It was so much that your body began to burn, your legs quivered, and your walls clenched him harder than before. You thought you knew what a standing orgasm was but this, this was the thing that made you thirsty for the rest of your life.

Your world got shaken with the shivering and quivering shock inside of you. Your eyes rolled, and your mouth emitted such a harsh blunt and loud moan that you couldn't remember your name for the very first seconds of it.

Benedict was surprised when he felt how the grip inside of you was so tight that it became hard to move, it was so strong that it felt like a vice squeezing his cock.

"God, Y/-"

"Don't ss-top"

He admired the moment and followed your orders. He pushed in knowing this would make him come for you fast. He grunted at the effort and moaned as you milked him dry, the warmth and the pulsing feeling was the last drop that made him come deep inside of you.

Benedict's legs quivered as he tried to hold your body and his in the position you two were. He felt the small contractions you gave him and he pulled apart seeing a quick glimpse of some drops falling from you before quickly pulling your pantalettes to cover your bum.

You whizzed at the pace of your breathing and managed to stand up straight. Your muscles relaxed when you gathered your energy and when Benedict held you by your waist, you chuckled.

"There is..." you breathed out "No shed that way" you pointed "Is that way"

Benedict snorted and kissed your lips "Forgive me, I was again, distracted"

After an arm slap from your part, you two stepped into the actual garden and walked back to the house for some sort of hydration.

"Oh, Mrs Bridgerton" Mrs Crabtree appeared with a set of gardening tools "I found these, I believe these are the ones you requested" Then she saw Benedict "Mr Bridgerton, the itinerary for the honeymoon is in the office"

"Thank you, Mrs C-"

"You two are so red, the sun is not good for long exposure"

"Oh, I was showing Y/N the garden" he explained

Mrs Crabtree slightly frowned "I showed her the garden yesterday"

You touched Benedict's arm "Oh, he showed me the shed and the arch downstairs... it was a good garden stroll"

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howmanyholesinswisscheese · 6 days

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Sherlock & Co Headcanons

This list got SO LONG, SO QUICKLY, but here y'all are. Nobody asked, but I sure as hell will deliver.

Sherlock comes into John's room at night sometimes when he can't sleep. John lets him snuggle up in bed and wraps his arms around him like a koala, and - as long as John's breathing is acceptable - Sherlock falls swiftly asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. After a few times, Sherlock observes a notable decrease in John's nightmares and starts joining him in bed more often, even when he's not tired.

Mariana is one of those rare people who Microsoft Excel gets along with. She has magic powers for sure.

YOU GET A QPR, YOU GET A QPR, EVERYBODY GETS A QPR

On the topic of google docs in the latest episode, Sherlock's gmail is a random string of numbers like a default wifi password because "[email protected]" was taken and that was obviously the next possible option. Mariana's job is infinitely harder because of this.

They have movie nights.

John tried once to get the others into football. Neither of them saw the appeal of it but they watched a game with him anyway out of some strange obligation and a hefty amount of coercion. Also there was popcorn. The joy John radiated when Swindon Town scored a goal was absolutely worth it all.

Carol Watson ships it.

CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN

John hates using his cane, like genuinely loathes it. He's convinced he'll get looks for it or seem like he's faking. And what would Mariana and Sherlock think about him as a colleague?? One morning, though, after a particularly physically taxing case, he woke to an awful flare up. When he reluctantly swiped the cane from the corner where it had been gathering dust so far and made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, Mariana and Sherlock didn't even bat an eye - Mariana did ask if he'd like to sit down while she made him toast, which he gratefully accepted. Archie did try to gnaw on it, though. He uses the cane a bit more often, now.

John and Mariana learned BSL for Sherlock's bad days. They have intricate and heated discussions from across the room entirely in sign language when others are around and nobody can understand them. It's hilarious to watch - well, hilarious from their perspective, at least.

They fall asleep on the couch an inordinate number of times.

One time, Sherlock made John and Mariana breakfast. The two of them spent a very long time trying to figure out whether he was high, delusional, or both.

Clients are generally confused by the whole trio's relationship dynamic. Slay. That's exactly what they're going for.

Honestly I'm 100% vibing with the poly hcs going around. Consider: poly qpr???

Short king John. You agree. Reblog.

Mariana consistently steps out of the flat looking drop down gorgeous because she's awesome like that, whereas Sherlock looks like he's just been dragged out of bed (he probably has been) and John exclaims in pleasant amusement whenever he finds bits of his breakfast in his stubble. They make the perfect trio.

Sherlock is tall enough to rest his chin on top of John's head. He does it like some sort of clingy cat whenever he's tired and John's back is turned. It's adorable. He's recently been experimenting with slinking his arms around John's waist as he does so, yielding gentle chuckles that he feels rather than hears. The results have been a smashing success.

Mariana was school captain.

John drinks juice straight from the carton like a heathen (which is fine because Sherlock hates the stuff - the pulp gets stuck in his teeth - and Mariana has her own food downstairs).

Sherlock really does play the violin at horrific hours. The neighbors hate him, but it actually puts John to sleep when he's not playing the violent, jerky melodies of a tricky case.

Sherlock and Victor Trevor. I'm surprised this isn't already canon. They happened. Whatever "happened" means is irrelevant - they happened.

Sherlock really likes rainbow sour straps.

MORE TO COME PROBABLY

#i love them all too much to contain this #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #headcanons #jonk watson #sherlock holmes #john watson #podlock #mariana ametxazurra #johnlock #arter speaks

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sebsbarnes · 19 days

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a melody || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: so you stood hand in hand with tangerine, admiring your lover one final time. accepting that your love on earth will now be a memory for those who knew you.

warnings: angst!

word count: 350

masterlist

a/n; v short blurb that came to me, i will work on requests soon

the wheels of the bullet train scraped against the metal tracks and with each rotation of its wheel, a discordant melody echoed into the night. the bullet train's song approached kyoto rapidly, the wailing of the metal sounded like a lone violin begging for the attention and admiration of an audience. thankfully, that night it had one.

you and tangerine stood in the aisle of the car silently knowing what was to come. the song was beginning to reach its crescendo as the walls around you shook violently. his hand was gently placed in yours, his thumb caressing your hand ever so slightly. tangerine turned toward you and he didn't need to utter a single sound for you to understand what he wanted to say. you both knew your time would end when the wheels sang its last note. so you both stood there, studying the features of one another, one last loving gaze into the other's eyes. tangerine's hand rested upon your cheek, catching the stray tears trickling down your skin. his smile was small but present. a mixture of acceptance, love, and sorrow etched into his smile lines. you mirrored him, not fully sure what to do, but knowing he needed comfort as well.

it was strangely peaceful in the midst of the song and the rattling of the train. a hauntingly beautiful lullaby to send you off into one final slumber. your bodies swayed with the train as if you were slowly dancing. overall you were happy to be in this moment with tangerine. being alone in this horrible symphony would be too much to bear. it would've felt like every string, brass, and percussion instrument flocking around your body inching in closer to you, ridiculing you in your last moments.

so you stood hand in hand with tangerine, admiring your lover one final time. accepting that your love on earth will now be a memory for those who knew you. tangerine's last words were drowned out by the train unleashing its final harrowing note, 'i love you', whispered into the air for no one to hear.

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savagewildnerness · 3 days

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"Ah, you are a dreamer!" he said, but he was delighted. He was beyond handsome when he smiled.

"And I'll know people like you," I went on. "People who have thoughts in their heads and quick tongues with which to voice them, and we'll sit in cafes and we'll drink together and we'll clash with each other violently in words, and we'll talk for the rest of our lives in divine excitement."

He reached out and put his arm around my neck and kissed me. We almost upset the table we were so blissfully drunk.

"My lord, the wolfkiller," he whispered. When the third bottle of wine came, I began to talk of my life, as I'd never done before-of what it was like each day to ride out into the mountains, to go so far I couldn't see the towers of my father's house anymore, to ride above the tilled land to the place where the forest seemed almost haunted. The words began to pour out of me as they had out of him, and soon we were talking about a thousand things we had felt in our hearts, varieties of secret loneliness, and the words seemed to be essential words the way they did on those rare occasions with my mother.

And as we came to describe our longings and dissatisfactions, we were saying things to each other with great exuberance, like "Yes, yes," and "Exactly," and "I know completely what you mean," and "And yes, of course, you felt that you could not bear it," etc. Another bottle, and a new fire. And I begged Nicolas to play his violin for me. He rushed home immediately to get it. It was now late afternoon. The sun was slanting through the window and the fire was very hot. We were very drunk. We had never ordered supper. And I think I was happier than I had ever been in my life.

I lay on the lumpy straw mattress of the little bed with my hands under my head watching him as he took out the instrument. He put the violin to his shoulder and began to pluck at it and twist the pegs. Then he raised the bow and drew it down hard over the strings to bring out the first note. I sat up and pushed myself back against the paneled wall and stared at him because I couldn't believe the sound I was hearing. He ripped into the song. He tore the notes out of the violin and each note was translucent and throbbing. His eyes were closed, his mouth a little distorted, his lower lip sliding to the side, and what struck my heart almost as much as the song itself was the way that he seemed with his whole body to lean into the music, to press his soul like an ear to the instrument. I had never known music like it, the rawness of it, the intensity, the rapid glittering torrents of notes that came out of the strings as he sawed away. It was Mozart that he was playing, and it had all the gaiety, the velocity, and the sheer loveliness of everything Mozart wrote. When he'd finished, I was staring at him and I realized I was gripping the sides of my head.

"Monsieur, what's the matter!" he said, almost helplessly, and I stood up and threw my arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks and kissed the violin.

"Stop calling me Monsieur," I said. "Call me by my name." I lay back down on the bed and buried my face on my arm and started to cry, and once I'd started I couldn't stop it. He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said:

"Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?"

The start & the end…

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #amc interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #iwtv lestat #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #nicolas de lenfent #iwtv nicolas #nicki de lenfent #lestat x nicki #nickistat

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rius-cave · 1 month

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Thinking of Lucifer playing violin and Adam playing guitar, but don't know if I prefer them dueting together or old fashioned "Devil went down to Georgia"-fiddle-contest-for-your-soul style like how Alastor and Lucifer were trying to one-up each other on the violin and piano in "Hell's Greatest Dad". If it was a music battle, it would be ten times more epic and flashy than Luci's feud with Alastor. Epic and cosmic, angelic/demonic light raining from the sky, crispy solos splitting the earth and parting the clouds, thunderous and booming, blinding and powerful, celestial and super fucking rad.

But also the idea of Adam and Luci gently strumming at each other in tall, swaying grass sounds sweet too.

Oooooo! What about both?! Like they start clashing, going at each other's throats, singing at each other as an argument about the past, low-blows, pulling no punches, about "You think you're so much better than me?!", about "At least I was actually there for my kid, you worthless deadbeat!", or "She never loved you!" Until they're screaming at each other and crying, because "You took everything from me!", "I never meant to!", "I tried! I fucking tried my best up there, even when I knew I wasn't enough because my family needed me and I was drowning and fucking up but I tried!" Before you know it, they're exhausted and have maybe reached common ground, and now they're leaning into each other under a tree, quietly plucking strings and crooning about, instead of cutting each other with their broken pieces, seeing if they can bring their broken parts together.

I love both ideas to be honest!!! I'd really want any kind of duet tbh, a violent duel, a sweet duet, or an angsty ballad, every flavor is good lolol

That scenario sounds like it would be really emotionally charged though, aaauugghhhh going through 10000+ years worth of trauma in under 3 minutes lmao

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #ask

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

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can i rq general hcs for antonio? thank you 💜

I’ve been a little more hesitant to tackle the Hunters, (aside from Ithaqua) just because I’ve been unsure how much to lean into them being the “villains” of the manor. And honestly I’m still a little wishy-washy about their characterizations…but anyway, I’m gonna give it a go with Antonio here (because I’ve got requests for him ;) ) and you guys please feel free to tell me if it feels off.

-Antonio is, first and foremost, depressed. And all his coping mechanisms are self-destructive. When life got hard, he turned to alcohol, and then later to gambling. And then, you know, to making a deal with the devil or something. The combination of those broke his wallet, his love, and then his spirit. His fuse is shorter now as a result, but instead of blowing up he moreso just…deflates.

-Despite being a Hunter, a “bad guy,” he’s probably better now than he was before. The biggest issue now is really the whole possession thing. He’s not exactly what you’d call “in control” of his body a good chunk of the time. Exactly when he’s going to lose control is generally unpredictable, aside from feeling like an invisible string of hair has coiled around his wrists shortly before. It happens a lot in matches, where he’s otherwise hesitant to be all that brutal, as well as when his mood gets low enough like above. But when he is in control, history has made Antionio milder than he was before his initial spiral.

-He still really likes his alcohol, but he’s better about taking it in moderation now. The other Hunters help to keep him in check about this as well, if not because they care about him then because he makes for an annoying, hot-headed drunk. He tends to pick fights when he’s really wasted and why would they want to deal with that?

-Gambling is also still problem for him, but since money doesn’t matter in the manors it’s both less concerning and less thrilling. He and some of the other Hunters place bets on matches, staking things like higher-end foods and favors to one another. He’s often requested to play specific pieces of music for people when he loses—particularly ones he dislikes.

-Because of the greedy imprisonment he suffered, Antonio dislikes spending long periods indoors, and especially in his room. He spends as much time outside as possible, enjoying the garden flowers and a cool breeze. On full moons, when there’s nothing planned, he usually goes wandering about to try and find any survivors doing the same. He enjoys the fresh company, for the most part, and even considers some of them friends.

-Antonio is among the most displeased of the Hunters, regarding the set-up for matches. Despite his history as a violent drunk, he takes no pleasure in hurting people, and he’s bitter about possibly having to be “evil” for the rest of eternity. The fact that some of the survivors don’t hold the matches against him is a balm to his aching soul.

-While the violin is his instrument and weapon of choice, Antonio enjoys all of the arts. Any kind of music, visual, or performance. He understands the importance of self-expression, and loves to see people give themselves to it in earnest. What he dislikes are frauds. People who use art just to make a buck.

-The best love languages for Antonio are Quality Time and Acts of Service. He finds it incredibly sweet when others anticipate some of his needs and complete tasks for him in case his arms are taken and he’s unable to do them himself later. He also just enjoys spending time around his loved ones, it reminds him that he’s not some irredeemable monster. He prefers to show his love through Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch, often giving people sweet pet names and touching their arms.

-His hair is stronger than the game suggests. He can easily carry large items, other people, and even lift himself with it. He can hoist himself up to a second-story floor with relative ease, though being lifted by your scalp isn't exactly the most comfortable sensation, so he tries to avoid it.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv violinist #antonio paganini x reader #turbulentscrawl

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the-moth-from-elsewhere · 2 months

Text

The Epic Amazing Absolutely Insane TAOCC Song Post

Aka: Elsie assigns random songs to random characters for random reasons, vaguely organized by mod. These are almost entirely vibes and randomness so get ready to be utterly confused. Don’t expect any of these to fit too well, I went more based on the sound and random stuff than the actual accuracy. Also i’m kinda brain-broken from overthinking all this music lol. No, I didn’t add links, just because this took so many hours. Maybe tomorrow, I just wanna get this done.

Feiar’s characters.

Nymn

“Dento takes the Stairs” by Gooseworx

I told you these would make no sense. Idk the amount of nymn just being vibes/silly/lighthearted makes me think of how this song is a break from the chaos of the Elain series.

Jessy

“Metamodernity” by Vansire

Okay, I have a really specific animatic in my head for this song in which we flash between the TAOCC characters as they are in the circus, and then a cool transition, and then it’s them pre-circus. My best example is Dusk and Jessy sitting on a bench. A train passes by, and now it’s human Jessy sitting alone on a bench. Because Dusk is AI. And that very specific part of the animatic in my head tends to stick with me, especially seeing as Jessy is very “just go with stuff” and so I can kinda hear him singing this in my head.

”Apocalypse Now” by PinnoccioP

The first appearance of many of my favorite music artist lol. The song is about enjoying existence even if everything is a violent wreck, and it just kinda fits to me lol.

“World’s Smallest Violin” - AJR

yeah just gonna drop this one here and run

“Sweet Tooth” - Scott Helman

Blame Fei.

Clara

”Drosselmeyer’s theme - Kurumi Wari Ningyo (Nutcracker No. 2 March) - The Princess Tutu Soundtrack

Okay, for starters, you should watch Princess Tutu. Like right now. It’s amazing, and the title does NOT do it Justice. Back on track, it…it’s the nutcracker! Come on, this one was basically handed to me.

Tutu vs Kraehe (Swan Lake Act 1 Op. 20 No. 2)

Fight theme.

Lance

”I Don’t Have a Name For It” - Steam Powered Giraffe

I…I’m sorry I don’t have an explanation for this it just works. Lancia sweep.

Raina

”Nightcall” - Kavinsky

…Once again, very flimsy. But like…switch the gender. I’m sorry but it’s giving “they’re talking about my death but I’m still here.” The miku version works better here in my opinion :3

The pirates

“He’s a pirate” - F-777

“The 7 Seas” - F-777

idk man techno piracy go vrrrrrrrr I unironically blasted these during like the entirety of the pirates plotline frick you this is my rant I do what I want /silly

Star’s Characters

Icia

”Long Live” - Taylor Swift

I swear I have reasons for this just hear me out okay- First off, I can see the voice fitting, second off, I imagine her singing this either for Lance or Starro or both after we finally finally finally throw Hexe off a cliff.

“Santa Salvacion” - Magia Record OST

epic fight theme for fighting the terrifying ice lady. I blasted this while writing the fight scene with The Dark Queen Icia.

Dunite

”Postmeridae” - Madoka Magica OST

Cutesy upbeat theme for making merengues to. No notes.

“Witches Dance” - Magia Record OST

Idk, feels like her fight theme

”Roki” - Mikito P

…Vibes. Entirely vibes. Dunite should start a band /hj.

Starro

“Please Never Fall In Love Again” - Ollie MN

I just…him. Singing this. About Conny. I swear to cheese.

Vaga and Nova

“Class Dance - Rensho Kyoku I” - Princess Tutu OST

…Vibes.

Odette

”Vocalise Op. 34 No. 14” - Madoka Magica OST

Vibes. Piano. Sad string accompaniment. Must I say more?

Achilles

“Doubt #2” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Starting to notice a pattern with the kingdom characters lol?

Joofie’s Characters

Cardlan

“Main Character” - Will Wood

Ego. So, so much Ego.

“Sayo-Nara” - DDLC OST

I have my reasons.

Minimi

“Not Yet (Epilogue)” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Accordion and a little bit of ominousness. Vibes.

Xeyshattersiltav1a’s Characters

Sun

“Cowboy Dan” - Modest Mouse

Yee-haw sun. Do not give that woman a truck. Wow, these descriptions are getting terrible lol.

”Popular” - Wicked Soundtrack

Wicked but it’s sun and Dusk lives in my head rent free okay

“Alright” - Mother Mother

please help me I keep making up sun animatics with this song in class

Mix

“Something, Everything is Wrong” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

This song is the reason I associate Mix with the accordion. Also, I imagine Dusk meeting him/his first real introduction in TAOCC’s background music as this song.

“Intertwined” - CMYK, CircusP.

Rip this man’s love life

“Love is War” - Ryo/Supercell feat. Hatsune Miku

Love is still Vehicular Manslaughter /ref

Dialtone

“Cats!” - waterflame

Does the song fit him? Not at all! It is way too techy and upbeat, and would probably better suit someone like Switch. But like….cats. He’d listen to a song called “cats!”. You can’t convince me otherwise.

“Want You Gone” - The Portal OST

Dialtone is GLaDOS coded to me.

“Killer Spider” - PinnoccioP

vibes and vibes alone.

Soup’s Characters

Silhouette

“Scared of you” - Brandon Hesslau

“Whoops, sorry for kinda almost killing you.”

”What Gave It Away” - Riproducer

evil.

”Burial Ground” - Low Roar

sad backstory.mp3.

Clown

“I’m Number One” - Muppets Most Wanted Soundtrack

Look man he’s silly and egotistical and it’s funny. He’s definitely singing this with carbine.

Autumn’s Characters

Pyxel

”Magical Doctor” - MARETU

once again, more vibes than lyrics and the gender’s wrong but, like, the vibes, man

Neb

“Lonely UFO” - PinnoccioP

…it doesn’t fit. The lyrics, as far as I can tell, do NOT fit. BUT LOOK AT THE OUTFIT, THE BLUE HAIR AND VOID SKIN AND MURDER TEETH AND TELL ME THAT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE NEB, OKAY?!

“Finding Sanctuary” - Stellaris OST

Silly space song for silly space person.

Lily’s Characters

The bookend siblings, and I mean all of them as a group, Katrina included for brevity’s sake

“Magical Girl and Chocolate” - PinnoccioP

Okay, I have actual reasoning for this one. Each of the siblings is someone’s “magical girl”, whether metaphorically or literally. They’re each fighting to protect and support someone. And they each strain and struggle to cope with a role too demanding for them. This song works for each of them in a different form and context.

Octavia and Steven/Sign

“Isn’t it “A”” - PinnoccioP

The arguments of all time

Honse- I mean Sophro

“Puzzle” - CMYK, CircusP

He’s just here to help. No notes.

Miscellaneous Others/Not big enough for their own section

Lantern

“Lantern” - Undertale OST

…self explanatory. The song’s vibes fit, too, I imagine this plays in his scenes.

“The Other One Left” - VaneLily

Half due to the “I just want a loving father” line. Gender’s wrong, again, but otherwise the lyrics fit.

Seer

“Seer’s Theme” - Cindy

I literally cannot outdo her own theme. It’s just too good. I listen to it randomly just because I like it so much /gen.

Sigil

“I’m Just Ken” - Barbie Movie Soundtrack

this is mostly a joke but come ON you think that guy doesn’t feel a little overshadowed by his GODDESS FIANCÉE?!

“Business Man” - Tom Cardy

Okay so this one takes some explaining because I imagine sigil walking into Dialtone’s place to spy and Insanity ruining everything and shooting everyone. It makes absolutely no sense but it’s funny in my head so here we are.

My Characters, yes this is gonna be last

Dusk

“Ultimate Senpai” - PinocchioP

A song about being overly pressured and stuff? Yeaaaaah.

“Sis Puella Magia!” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

….Pretty. That’s it.

Aoki

“Decretum” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

The reason I gave him a violin.

Alpenglow

“Yume Yume” - DECO*27

I have an ENTIRE ANIMATIC for chip and alpen with this song in my head

Lemonade

“Viva La Vida” - Coldplay

lore. Hehe.

Yume

“What are Children Made Of?” - PinnoccioP

This kid’s childhood has been ruined and boy is processing that hard.

”Everything about Animals” - PinocchioP

an absolute fever dream of a song that she would absolutely sing about animals. And how cool they are. And ohhhh look commentary on the state of humanity

Switchboard

“Kom Susser Tod” - Astrophysics

Idk it doesn’t fit all too well but the mix of utter hopelessness and eurobeat techno is just hercore

TAOCC as a whole

“Something Rotten!/Make an Omelette” - Something Rotten Soundtrack

WHEN I TELL YOU I HAVE AN ENTIRE. FREAKING. ANIMATIC-

”Your Silver Garden” - Madoka Magica OST

I do not know the lyrics literally at all but I could see an OP for TAOCC with this song

#Taocc #i am terrified that people will criticize my choices here lol #Yes they make no sense I know that

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shelfperson · 4 days

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dark dark nights and violent things // vaudevillian girls and violin strings // all of these are the prettiest things when i’m in love

they’re so cute 🥰 hope nothing bad happens to them 😊

#CLAUDELEINE NATION RISE THE FUCK UP #me manifesting their happy decades of marital bliss (lying to myself soooo hard)#i don’t usually do transition edits with lots of effects but it felt like the right vibe for this video #plus i had to slow those little clips down so much and all the extra hooha covers it up 😂#iwtv #iwtv s2 #iwtv season 2 #interview with the vampire #claudia iwtv #claudia de pointe du lac #madeleine iwtv #claudeleine #claudia x madeleine #the brobecks #edits #my edits

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keldae · 4 months

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Cute, shippy starters: 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? *Oh.*”

Devi loved cats, for the most part. Having grown up in the Lower City, stray cats had been all over the place; and most of them, after some obligatory introductory hissing, seemed to tolerate the little half-Elf thief well enough. Some had even learned that, if they were friendly enough, Devi might share her food scraps with them while she waited for her next mark. It hadn't been uncommon for Devi to have a cat curled up beside her while she had sat on a roof ledge, or prowling around her legs while she'd scoped out a new target. Her father would never have let her keep one for a pet, but she enjoyed giving scritches and pets where she could to the stray animals.

And then there was Tara.

Devi supposed her first mistake had been referring to Tara as “Gale's tressym” – she'd immediately gotten hissed at for that. She hadn't made the same mistake again, but Tara seemed to not ever forget a grudge. Even after Devi had come home with Gale to Waterdeep, Tara had regarded the thief with aloof suspicion. She was incredibly different from the normal cats Devi had grown used to, and even with regular usage of a potion to let her speak with animals, the two regularly butted heads.

She knew it caused Gale distress, that the woman he loved and the tressym he adored seemed to be permanently at odds. “Was she like this with Mystra too?” she had asked one day, watching Tara fly in pursuit of a hapless pigeon.

Gale had snorted. “Given how Mystra and I ended, and the sixth sense that animals have about such things, I like to think Tara would have tried to claw her eyes out if they'd ever met.” He'd smiled and given Devi a kiss on the temple. “I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually. She's just… cautious with new people.”

That had been well over a tenday ago, and Devi still wasn't sure how long ‘eventually’ was supposed to last.

She sat in her favourite chair in Gale's tower, idly plucking at the strings on her violin. Gale himself was out today – he'd been summoned to some sort of meeting with another wizard, and the tone of the invitation had made it clear that Devi wasn't invited. Honestly, Gale had been more offended at the entire matter than she'd been. She'd sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she wouldn't find any mischief in his absence. And so far, she'd been good to her word, reading one of his many books and coming up with a new melody to play on the violin.

She sighed, looking out the window for a moment, then winced as her stomach lurched threateningly. Apparently whatever stomach flu she had somehow picked up (that Gale had dodged. Lucky bastard of a wizard.) was still not fully out of her system. And that had been the other reason Gale had been reluctant to go to this meeting with his colleague – he was worried about her, after the last four days of her waking up sick and struggling to keep anything she ate down.

Maybe it was the coffee he had introduced her to. Devi wrinkled her nose in thought. That was something she had never been introduced to as a poor Baldurian thief – perhaps the rich, stimulant brew was the cause of her–

Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to set her violin on the table and grab an empty pail before her stomach violently rejected the two pieces of toasted bread and the banana she'd eaten less than an hour ago.

Wincing as her stomach eventually stopped revolting, she spat into the bucket, then shakily stood up, intent on finding water to rinse her mouth out before disposing of the vomited meal. “Fucking hells,” she mumbled, scowling down at her stomach. “Are you done yet?”

“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice behind Devi, one that made her jump. “Mr. Dekarios will not be pleased to learn that you're still ill.” With a flutter of her wings, Tara jumped up onto the table, regarding Devi with a stern look. “Had I thumbs, I would make you drink some tea.”

“Gale's been trying with the tea,” Devi said, finding a carafe of water in the kitchen and swishing a mouthful around to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She spat into the bucket, still feeling Tara's eyes on her. “I think it helps a little bit?”

Tara lowly growled, then jumped to the counter. “Here,” she said, standing up on her hind legs to paw at a rack of herbs. “Mr. Dekarios keeps ginger up in this rack, and that should help with human – or half-Elf – nausea.”

“... Thank you.” Devi approached the counter, reaching around the fluffy head and wings to grab the large ginger root. Finding where Gale kept his kitchen knives, she carefully cut off a thin slice of the ginger, then put it in her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the strong taste. “Please work,” she mumbled as she put the rest of the root away, then moved to clean off the knife. She knew how particular Gale was with his knives.

Tara sat on the counter, tail swishing as she watched the thief clean and return the knife to its block. “I know you haven't been sleeping either,” the tressym said, “what with constantly waking up sick the last few nights. Go lie down.”

Devi frowned at the idea of taking orders from the winged cat. “I'm honestly all right,” she started to say. “I don't feel–”

She blinked as a paw batted at her arm. “You clearly are not all right,” Tara scolded. “And I'll not have Mr. Dekarios fretting over if you're getting enough rest while you’re so obviously ill. He's made it quite clear that he cares a great deal about you.” The tressym shifted her weight, then jumped onto Devi’s shoulders, making her stagger with a little grunt at the weight of a heavy winged cat perching on her. “To bed with you, Deviali.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief muttered. “What about if I just sit and read or–”

Tara growled threateningly.

Devi sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m going.” She wouldn’t ever admit it to Tara, but she was tired, after four mornings of waking up sick before the time that she and Gale normally got up. And it was impossible to quietly vomit, as she’d figured out the hard way – Gale was always at her side within a minute of her lunging out of bed, holding her hair back and looking at her with open concern in his eyes. “What do you care about me?” the half-Elf asked the tressym as she started making her way to the bedroom, with a longing glance at her violin. “You don’t seem to like me as it is.”

Seemingly noticing which way Devi’s eyes went, Tara lightly smacked the side of her face with her paw to make her focus on going to bed. “My opinions are moot. Mr. Dekarios adores you, which means that it becomes my duty to look after you like I do him. I’ve looked after that wizard since he was a boy – I’m not about to fly off because he picked you.” She settled across the back of Devi’s neck, like an oversized, winged scarf. “And if I don’t look after you, then it becomes the dog’s job to tend to you, and he is not a suitable caretaker.”

“Scratch is perfectly fine,” Devi protested, obligated to defend what she had come to think of as ‘her’ dog since the day he’d shown up in camp. “And he doesn’t try to nursemaid me or anything–”

“My point exactly. You’re obviously ill, and dogs, while loyal, do not understand taking care of two-legged creatures with no self-preservation instincts.”

“... I have perfectly fine self-preservation instincts,” Devi grumbled as she entered the bedroom and sat down on her side of the bed.

“That’s not the impression I got from hearing Mr. Dekarios’ stories about you during your little adventure,” Tara disagreed. She hopped down from Devi’s shoulders, then settled on the thief’s lap, giving her a pointed look. “If I have to make you lie down…”

Devi thought about arguing with the cat, then saw Tara warningly flex her front paws, revealing sharp claws under her fur, and thought better of it. “I can’t believe I just lost an argument with you,” she complained, laying down and curling up on her side.

Tara’s tail twitched in an almost smug manner. “Please feel free to ask Mr. Dekarios why he doesn’t pick fights with me anymore.” She climbed up onto Devi’s hip and started kneading the half-Elf through her trousers. “Ugh, you’re far too thin still. Is Mr. Dekarios not feeding you sufficiently?”

“If Gale could feed me himself, he would,” Devi muttered. “It’s hard to eat when everything he makes, no matter how good, keeps coming back up.”

“If you wake up sick again tomorrow,” Tara mused, “I’m going to have to tell him to fetch a cleric or visit an apothecary. Then again, perhaps he’ll bring something home tonight for you to feel better.” She jumped down to the mattress and, to Devi’s surprise, curled up against the thief’s stomach. “You are not to move from this bed until Mr. Dekarios returns home this evening, and you do not want to know what the consequences will be if you disobey me. Are we understood?”

“I’m being bullied into taking a nap by a tressym,” Devi groused, and promptly got batted by one of Tara’s wings. “Ow!”

“Somebody has to ensure that you rest and recover, if you’re not going to look after yourself.” Tara’s vivid eyes met Devi’s without blinking. “Now, I will allow you to offer scratches to my ears, just this once. Do not get used to it.”

Devi eyed the tressym for a moment, then slowly reached to slowly pet the top of Tara’s head, rubbing behind her ears. She was quickly rewarded with the low rumble of a pleased purr, vibrating against her stomach. Despite the half-Elf’s reluctance to take a nap, the feeling of curling up in bed with a large cat – or tressym – snuggled up against her upset stomach did feel very soothing. She sighed, then let her eyes drift closed, and felt Tara’s purring grow a little louder, as though the tressym approved. “You’re still the worst,” she muttered.

“Likewise, Deviali,” Tara smugly said, her purring never stopping. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief grumbled, even if part of her knew that the tressym would always use her despised full name, until the day Devi married Gale and took his last name for her own. Then it would probably become “Mrs. Dekarios”.

That actually has a nice ring to it, she thought as she felt herself slowly drift away into sleep, lulled by the sounds of Tara's purring.

—

Gale frowned slightly as he entered his tower, expecting to be greeted on his return home. The only lifeform to welcome him was Scratch, curled up by the fireplace; the dog looked up and thumped his tail against the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “Where’s Devi, hmm?” the wizard asked, kneeling to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

Scratch wuffed, then set his head back down on his front paws. “Upstairs,” he said – Gale, once again, was grateful for the spell that let him speak with animals. “She’s been upstairs with Tara all day.”

That got a small wince from Gale – he almost wondered if there had been bloodshed in his home during his absence. “Good boy, Scratch,” he said, standing back up and making his way through the tower. It was suspiciously quiet in his residence: no Tara trotting or flying up to see him with a meow of greeting, no sounds of Devi playing her violin, no pretty half-Elf emerging from a doorway with a smile on her face to see her betrothed. He sighed, wondering if Devi and Tara had managed to kill each other while he’d been stuck all day with his wizarding colleagues. “Devi?” he lowly called out. “Tara?”

No sign of Tara anywhere – perhaps she was out hunting pigeons again. But Devi should have been here. Gale poked his head into the common room, then into his study – no sign of his favourite thief in either room, besides the violin resting on a table beside the window. Perhaps the bedroom, then? Gods knew that she hadn’t been resting well, with waking up sick every morning the past few days. He could only pray that the potions in his satchel, purchased from the apothecary only an hour ago, would cure whatever was wrong with her. He approached the bedroom door, only slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open. “Have you seen –” he started to say as he looked in – a second later, he went silent, his eyes softening. “Oh.”

On the bed, Tara looked up from where she was curled against a sleeping Devi, the tip of her tail swishing before her nose. “Not a word from you about this compromising position,” she quietly said, ears tilting back slightly. “It was the only way to make sure she rested. She was ill again this afternoon while you were gone.”

“Again?” Gale frowned worriedly as he sat on the edge of the bed; Tara stood up and stretched, then climbed up onto his shoulders, curling up around his neck and purring away. “Thank you for looking after her, Tara – I know you disapprove of her, but I love her.”

“I know you do. And it is good to see you happy with her, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara carefully adjusted her wings so she wouldn’t hit Gale in the back of the head with the large appendages. “She’s slept the last two hours after being ill again. You did stop at an apothecary for something to cure her, yes?”

“I did – and I’ve been assured that the potions I bought should fix anything.” The wizard carefully leaned down to Devi’s face, pressing gentle kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hello, my love,” he murmured as Devi started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”

Devi’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at Gale; her lips pulled up in a smile once she recognized him. “Hey, you,” she quietly said, reaching up to kiss him. “Welcome home.”

Gale smiled fondly as he returned Devi’s kiss, stroking his hand through her long hair. “And it feels the most like home when you’re here to grace it with your presence,” he softly chuckled. “Are you feeling better? Tara mentioned you were ill again.”

“Traitor,” Devi muttered, frowning up at the smug tressym, before slowly sitting up. “I… think I’m all right? At least for–” She froze, eyes widening as her hand settled on her stomach. “... Shit.”

Instinct had Gale stand up and get the hell out of Devi’s way, a second before she was on her feet and fleeing to the water closet. He frowned, worry becoming full-fledged anxiety as he started fishing around in his satchel for a potion. “Tara, can you stay with her for another minute while I get her some water?”

Tara was off his shoulders and flying after Devi almost before he’d finished speaking. “Do hurry, Mr. Dekarios,” she called back. “I am not an expert on half-Elves, but something is certainly wrong.”

#bg3 fic #bg3 #post-epilogue #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale dekarios #Deviali #tara the tressym #tara was fun to write #her and devi bickering pleases me #as much as Tara being a reluctant mother to Devi #also... oh Devi that isn't a stomach flu you've got going on #for the record #this has been sitting in my inbox since 11 November 2017 #oldest prompt that's been waiting for me #Kel answers prompts a million years later #Kel writes

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queenlucythevaliant · 5 months

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Heartstrings

Written for the @inklings-challenge Christmas Challenge 2023.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

The string was still there, knotted beneath Rose’s left ribs. She was driving 75 miles an hour down the freeway in her ten-year-old Carolla, the radio on at a buzz. Outside the window, miles and miles of monotonous New York forest passed by.

Her sister Joan was asleep in the passenger's seat, medical gauze still visible beneath her pale pink blouse. She dozed uneasily, turning her head occasionally from side to side, or else sniffling faintly. Rose hummed along to the radio and tried not to focus on the pulling sensation in her chest.

Everyone has a heartstring that leads them home, which for Rose meant Eastledge Church in the Massachusetts town of the same name. Heartstrings are thick and fibrous, made of many smaller cords all twisted together. Rose's string had been wrapped round her heart in many tight loops over the course of her childhood, constricting her cardiac muscle while simultaneously holding it safe and secure. She didn’t know if her heart could beat without it.

So: she drove. Exit in 143 miles, rest stop in ten.

Eastledge Church was rotten. It had black mold in the walls and liars in the pulpit. Rose knew she should cut the string that tied her there. She wanted to. Joan had managed to yank out her own heartstring, but it had bled and bled and she’d needed two trips to the ER before it was safe for her to travel. Even now, she was pale and weak from the bloodloss.

Still, Rose knew she should cut the string. She kept a pair of scissors in the glove box, in case she ever got up the courage to do it.

“Where are we?” murmured Joan. She stirred a little, carefully shifting her weight away from the left side of her body.

“You missed the Erie Canal– or, well, the picnic area anyway. There’s a rest stop with an Arby’s in like ten miles if you want dinner.”

They arrived at their hotel in Buffalo just after two in the morning. Rose had an ache in her hamstring from working the gas pedal, but it was nothing compared to a chest wound. Both she and Joan had forgotten to call ahead from the road, so they had to wait while the front desk concierge went to find the manager and ask if he could still check people in once they’d started the night audit. The manager appeared at the front desk a few minutes later and told Rose curtly that it would be a while yet.

“It’s standard practice at hotels.”

“I know,” said Rose. “I’m sorry. There’s a problem with my heartstring, see? And my sister’s got ripped out. We had other worries. I’m sorry.”

“Yes,” the manager answered dubiously. “Well, make yourself comfortable in the lobby and we’ll let you know when we can check you in.”

It was three by the time Rose finally stumbled into the room and collapsed onto the hard mattress. Joan came in behind her, barely coherent through the fog of her exhaustion. The light in the bathroom was flickering, but Rose didn’t care. Her heartstring hummed with promises of rest. Turn around, it seemed to say. You know you won’t be able to sleep the night until you’re back home.

“Screw you,” Rose said aloud.

“Hmm?”

“Not you. The church, Pastor Mark, and this stupid string in my chest.”

“Hmm,” agreed Joan.

Rose indulged herself for a long moment in imagining the violent demise of an elder who had taught her to play Go in the welcome room once, and who had made excuses for the rot in the walls many years later. Her heart thrummed like a violin string. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

The next day, they drove as far as Gary, Indiana. Rose could feel her string getting tangled whenever she got on another exit; she worried about it even changing lanes.

“Mind if I put on something a little more upbeat?” said Joan when Rose winced on a long merge. “I think we could both use it.”

“I don't think it'll help, really.”

“Alright, but maybe it'll get us singing along?”

Rose waved her hand in a way that meant “fine.” She bobbed her head to the peppy pop song her sister selected and tried to enjoy the drive. It was pretty country, a sunny day, and they kept passing signs for different scenic lakes along the way.

“Finger Lake, Elbow Lake… do ya think we're building an arm?” she quipped, feeling lighter.

But when Rose tried to start the car outside the diner where they’d stopped for lunch, her key wouldn’t turn in the ignition. Joan was paying for parking, but when she slid into the passenger's seat, careful not to jar her stitches, Rose threw her head down on the steering wheel and sobbed. She turned to her sister, questions about oil cans and engines on the tip of her tongue, but right then her heartstring yanked so hard on her heart that all she could manage to say was, “It hurts.”

“I know Rosie. I know it does,” Joan said back. “Mine does too.”

Fortunately, there was an Ace Hardware half a mile away. Rose left Joan with the car and walked there, then paid for the lubricant Google said she needed and headed back. There were still so many miles to drive that day, so much string left to unspool.

On the way to St. Cloud, they changed time zones. Rose felt it deep in her chest when they passed from Eastern to Central time: a jolt on her string, like lightning down a kitestring.

“Did you feel that?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” said Joan.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t.” Rose stared at the glovebox a long moment before she remembered to keep her eyes on the road. There was only an hour difference between Eastledge and here, but with all that time pulling steadily against her ribs, Rose could feel every minute of it.

Joan suggested calling their parents when they reached their hotel that night, before both sisters remembered that they would be asleep by now. Rose wondered if Pastor Mark was sleeping too. She hoped he had nightmares. She hoped he woke up with guilt pressing hard on his chest.

They drove past Chicago in a heavy drizzle and spent two hours sitting in traffic. Joan tried calling their parents again, since there was nothing else to do. “I don’t know how you and Dad stand it,” she murmured. “Staying in town with your strings half-frayed. Isn’t it killing you?”

“Sometimes,” said their mother. “But your father and I have spent our whole lives reorienting our hearts. We've had to do it many times, and it never gets easier, but we get better at it.”

“Do you blame Rose and me at all– for leaving?”

“Of course not. But we'll miss you at Christmas.”

That night, Rose and Joan snuggled up together on a hotel room queen bed and watched the second half of some Julia Roberts movie that was playing on cable. Joan cracked jokes about the female lead's neuroses and by the time the credits rolled she was lying half on top of Rose. Their hearts were beating in time, and suddenly Rose was grateful, so grateful not to be alone with this grief.

They'd been traveling for days now and Rose's heartstring grew more and more taught by the mile. Now, if she touched it, blinding agony would shoot through her chest. Even just the glancing brush of a fingertip over the fibers squeezed her heart until all she could think of was the place under the stairs where she’d hidden for hours once when she was eight, sleeping bags spread out across the sanctuary floor, or sneaking into the kitchen during summer VBS.

“Do you remember those lantern light picnics they used to do for a while? Right as summer was ending, you know, and the whole congregation came out for it, and it was just kind of magic?”

“Yeah. I also remember ditching it that one time and running out to the creek with Olivia and Liam.”

“What about that tea and testimony women’s event when they asked me to be on the panel?”

“Don’t remember that one. I didn’t think you ended up doing it?”

“I didn’t. Prior commitment. But it felt nice to be asked.”

“Mmm. I felt the same way when they asked me to do the layout for the new photo directory.”

“Teaching Sunday School. Nursery. Organizing the craft closet and going crazy with the label maker.”

“Mmm. Food drives, clothing drives, and silly little theatricals.”

“Remember when I got to sing ‘Do You Hear What I Hear?’ at the Christmas pageant? And the year you were Mary? And that one play after I aged out where you spray dyed your hair gray?”

“Some of it. I was pretty young for the first one. And I’m trying to forget as much about church plays as I can. Mr. Pierce directed them all, and I don’t want to think about him at all if I can help it. Not after what he said to Mom.”

Rose sighed.

“Yeah, that's true. It's a bad lot, top to bottom. Anyway. How’s your heart?”

“It’s doing better, I think. The wound’s not seeping anymore. Sometimes, it barely hurts at all.”

It was Christmas Eve when they arrived in Helena. A Wednesday. Rose pulled into their aunt’s driveway and parked, then they both went inside to greet the extended family. Joan called their parents to tell them she and Rose had arrived safe.

They had dinner with the family, but then the sisters went and sat together on the guest bed for an hour trying to figure out what came next. Rose pulled at the string beneath her left ribs until she could barely stand it, trying to decide if she could bear the Christmas Eve service her aunt and uncle attended. Joan just sat scrolling mindlessly on her phone, trying to forget for a while.

They both wanted to go to church on Christmas Eve. That was maybe the cruelest part. Rose’s heart longed for carols and Scripture readings with a tender ache altogether different from the ever-present, stripped-raw yanking of the string. Joan was healing, and didn’t want to dwell on losing Eastledge any more than she’d already done.

“I’m going, I think,” Joan said finally. It was nine p.m. and the service began at eleven.

“I’m not,” whispered Rose. “I just can’t. It hurts too much.”

She made an apology to her relatives while Joan went to get dressed, gesturing vaguely at the place beneath her left ribs. Once the house was empty, she resigned herself to the tinny sound of carols played over her phone speaker and a few whispered prayers. When she prayed, Rose heard Pastor Mark’s voice as often as her own. Sometimes he told the truth, but most of the time he lied.

Oh God. This time back home, they’d be singing “The First Noel.” They’d be lighting candles soon, and the upstairs sanctuary under whose stairs she used to hide would glitter when they turned off the lights.

When the churchgoing party got home, half an hour after midnight, Joan found her sister in the guest bath. She was sobbing and covered in blood.

“I cut it,” Rose whispered. “I cut my heartstring. I couldn’t bear not being at the service–not the one here and not the one at home– so I cut it out of me. I took the scissors and I just– I– I think I’m bleeding.” She looked up. “I am bleeding, right? This is all my blood.”

There was blood oozing out of the wound in her chest, but it was on her hands too. It was on her lips, her nose, and how had even that happened? “I’m bleeding,” Rose said again. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

Joan called an ambulance, but first she reached back and unzipped her dress. She pulled it over her head and stood there, in her bra and black tights and nylon slip in front of her bleeding sister. “Mine stopped,” she said, slowly peeling back the gauze that covered her heart. The wound was shut, though the scar was still red and angry. “It hurt a lot tonight, Rosie, but it’s not bleeding. Yours will stop too. I promise.”

They spent Christmas night in the ER. “It’s a busy night in this ward,” one of the nurses remarked. “Lots of people pick tonight to tear away their heartstrings. It’s the worst night of the year for people who can never go home.”

The Sunday after Christmas, Rose felt light-headed as she stepped into her aunt and uncle's church. She’d missed the carols, but some of the decorations were still up. The altar cloth was still white and gold, and so it would remain for a few days yet.

Everything was either an echo or a contrast to Eastledge. “I wish they wouldn’t sing this song,” said Rose in her sister’s ear, pressing a hand to the place beneath her ribs where her heartstring had been.

After the service, Rose went up to the front of the church and stood in front of the altar. She reached out and ran her fingers over the scalloped edge of the cloth, wanting to salvage some Christmas joy but instead only able to imagine the corresponding cloth a thousand miles away in Eastledge, Massachusetts.

No, no, none of that. Rose screwed her eyes shut and she forced her thoughts back into something like order. She thought about Christ Incarnate leaving his home in heaven. Which way had his heartstring pulled him, she wondered. Had it tied him back to the Father, or had his heartstring led him straight to the cross?

“Eastledge Church broke my heart,” she didn't quite whisper. “You broke my heart, God, and I don't know what comes next.”

There was no immediate answer, but the gold threads against her fingertips were rough and scratchy. They ran along the white cloth in embroidered images of starbursts, crowns, and crosses. Her fingernail caught on a loose end, which unraveled a little when she drew her hand away.

Before Rose quite understood what was happening, that loose end of golden thread had disentangled itself from the altar cloth and was hanging in the air before her eyes. As she watched, one glittering end wove its way towards her chest, underneath the bandage and through her skin. With a strange gentleness, the thread wound its way past her left ribs and tied itself, she was certain, in a knot around her heart. The string gave a little tug, but it didn't hurt her; Rose felt only a delicious warmth that began in her heart and seemed to radiate all through her body, from the hairs on her head to the tips of her toes.

For an instant, Rose assumed that the other end of the thread was still embedded in the altar cloth; that this was God's way of telling her that she belonged here, at this church. Yet as her eyes traced the length of golden thread, they found themselves gazing up, where a faint shimmering was just visible high up in the rafters.

“It doesn't end there,” she realized. With that, Rose turned and sprinted down the aisle and out of the church.

The gray December sky was dotted with snowflakes. When Rose raised her head, they fell in her lashes and she had to blink them away. Yet there, high above her, she could see her golden heartstring vanishing into the clouds.

“It leads to the Throne Room,” said a voice beside her. Rose turned and saw Joan standing beside her, with Rose's own coat draped over her arm. “I think it must.”

“Yours too? I mean, did your heartstring–”

“Yes. Christmas night, in the hospital with you. I looked up and it seemed to be unfurling down from the ceiling like Jacob's Ladder.”

“You never said.” Rose sniffed hard, not sure if it was the cold or the overwhelming emotion that caused it.

“I don't think it's the sort of experience you can talk about, much. Put on your coat, Rosie. I won't say let's go home, not now– but the car is warming up, and I bet I can get Auntie to make us some cocoa.”

#inklingschallenge #this is a weird one gang #hopefully I was able to convey my thoughts in an eloquent way but i guess we'll see #it was cathartic to write at any rate #and! i did work in the twelve days of Christmas in that the climax occurs the sunday after Christmas (does that day have a name? idk)#anyway #here's what i got hope you enjoy #taking one line from Jane Eyre super literally and transposing it into a completely different context #pontifications and creations #leah stories #unto us a child is born #inklings challenge

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charliesinfern0 · 9 months

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my ai x ichi playlist :3 i might add some more songs and add some ideas that i had for each song, but i need to go to bed like right now -_-

edit: ok song explanation time!! :3 under the cut!

drop pop candy: its just a super cute song that i think really fits their dynamic! ai sings the first verse with a more positive outlook, while ichi sings the second verse with a bit more negative outlook, but they look forward to whatever they do together! :3 also bc of the cat lyrics hehe

Who Said Anything (About Falling In Love)?: ichi is scared of being in love,, but he is just so in love with ai... he really doesn't believe that she actually likes him at first... but she does!! :( he wants to tell her how he feels, but he doesn't want to mess up their friendship, bc he cant even believe that theyre friends!!!

Celeste: THE LYRICS JUST FIT!!! im so tempted to just copy paste all of them here but i wont,,, just the chorus ^^ 'You're something out of a dream / Messing with my head / And I've been looking for you / Are you hiding? / 'Cause I like the way you're calling to me / Your spell upon me / You're something out of a dream / And I like it, though I fight it' AAAAAA IT JUST FITS SO WELL!! especially the last couple of lines.... he likes the way she makes him feel even though he thinks he shouldnt be feeling this way about her!!!! AAUUUGHH T_T

Love At First Sight: the beginning verses make me think of how nervous he would be around her once he realizes he loves her... then the whole chorus is just so him, especially the 'Darkened nights and violent things / Vaudevillian girls and violin strings / All of the these are the prettiest things when I'm in love' line

When We First Met: one of the many things that ichi loves about ai is her hair, he always thought it looked so soft and wanted to pet it, and he always notices when she changed it, and thats what this whole song is about!! how time goes on, and he grows more in love with her with each passing day ^^

Beings: this song just gives me nostalgia from when i first got into osomatsu-san, bc i first heard it in and osomatsu-san edits compilation hehe ^^ and i found the full song on accident while looking for songs for this playlist, so it was fate!! :D

Sunburn: this song just gives such first date vibes, its so cute, he just loves her so much!!!!! also the cat's meow line is ichi :3

So Alright, Cool, Whatever: the pining... the pining ichi went through before he finally confessed!!! he was just hoping so hard that she loved him the way her loved her.... :(

#osomatsu san #ososan #osomatsu san oc #ichimatsu #ichimatsu matsuno #oc x canon

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catty-smartypants · 8 months

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Hi, I want to make a post to introduce my Fear and Hunger Termina OC!

Firstly tho, this awesome art isn't mine, it's made by:

Please check them out. They are so cool!

Her name is Edith Benonette, and she possesses the Ancient Soul. She's 40 years old.

Gameplay:

[Starts with a permanent -15% accuracy and foggy view (the latter removed by wearing glasses), incurable by Sylvan ring]

Skills:

Composure - Passive skill, ignores tension caused by enemies and slows mind loss in overworld (twice the time needed)

Prayer - Active skill [Regain 20 mind, remove a stage of fear and phobia stat effects, on self, but inflict bleeding, requires an Alll-mer sigil, increases affinity with Alll-mer "A ritual nuns often perform at churches, inflicting harm to themselves to forget about impure and unbecoming thoughts."

Libriographic insight - [At the cost of mind is able to select any* desired book from bookshelves that haven't been checked before] *The books Pocketcat sells, the mind price of books is 20 times the heads price of Pocketcat.

Appraisal - An active skill, [costs 35 mind] which allows to appraise an item, giving a bit of lore behind it and adds [+50%] of the stat buffs and effects of any equipment (except Beheaded Wizard [special dialogue between Edith and Nas'hrah if done]).

Entrepreneurial spirit - Passive skill, can sell items back to the vendors that sell it too [-20% of the buying price]. Can haggle to buy items cheaper [by 20% off the price] from vendors, the success of that is determined by a coin flip.

Starting items:

Coin Purse [+10 M. Defense, 75% Otherworldly] - "A small, round pounch with a long, beaded string securing it on its wearer. It allows the wearer to store as much coin on them as they can find." [If worn no coin limit]

Lotus Hat [+1 M. Defense 80% Otherworldly] - "An antique luxurious wool hat, with a decorative, sewn, lotus flower. It is said the white lotus represents peace and spiritual perfection"

Shirtwaist dress [+2 M. Defense +1 P. Defense 75% Slashing 70% Otherworldly] - "An old but luxurious and expensive emerald wool dress"

Broken Eyeglasses

As THE chosen character:

Story:

[An animation of Edith smoking by an open window, followed by:]

The soothing sound of the railtracks... You are not used to such peaceful and tramquil atmosphere. You were born in a prestigious noble family from Rondon, both your mother and father coming from old dynasties.

As the oldest child of theirs you were afforded no time for childhood innocence,

you were not allowed to play or go outside without supervision neither to talk with anyone your parents didn't see fit.

Your father hired a dozen of tutors that taught you subjects ranging from playing the violin to economics.

You hated it,

each day felt like you were trapped in a maze, walking the corridors of your family's estate while looking outside, seeing the commoners' children enjoying life made you jealous.

You have begged your mother and father to allow you to go outside, even only to attend a prestigious school.

After years of convincing, at your 14th birthday, you were given a choice.

You either went to a nun covent or at a prestigious boarding school. You chose the...

Nun covent [You learned Prayer]

Boarding school [You learned Composure]

After finishing your studies you returned home.

You would've missed the place if you weren't expected to follow the old rules.

And if your parents didn't arrange a marriage for you,

your future husband was a brash, ignorant and old factory owner. Your family prospered from the shared income while you moved in with him.

By comparison the years spend in the estate were a holiday. You were to attend endless balls, ceremonies, speeches with your husband.

While at home, you endure his violent lash-outs. You couldn't do much to stop it,

not only you had a reputation to maintain but also, you had nobody to rely on. The only distraction from reality was:

Burying yourself in books [You learned Libriographic insight]

Collecting relics of the past [You learned Appraisal]

However, your relief didn't come without a price.

As you spend nights, collecting the few things that brought you comfort, you could see more and more a weird fog surrounding you.

A visit to the doctor revealed that your sight was deteriorating due to stress. You began wearing glasses.

As the war started, your nation was dragged into it and so the economy took a big hit,

your husband's business was failing, and he was never good at holding his anger down,

your life became hell, you couldn't even rely on your past activities anymore. You were thinking to end it all one night,

you went to the housekeeper's area and looked for any poison,

your search was stopped by the housekeeper,

your excuses didn't stand a chance as tears rolled explaining your situation.

She hugged you and showed were the poison was, before giving it to you, telling you a better way of using it.

You waited for the opportunity, and it came,

your husband has invited serval potential investors at your place, a big dinner was supposed to be happening.

You were forbidden to participate but that only gave you a better alibi.

You asked the housekeeper to show you his goblet, and poured the poison in the drink.

The next morning, your husband was found dead, chocked in his own vomit. Since the death cause was asphyxiation, you were off the hooks of suspicion.

And so, you were saved,

you had to pretend you mourned, but the tears you rolled at his funeral, were tears of joy, and pain, for all the years wasted on him.

But now you had to decide on the fate of, now your, business...

You decided to sell it [You gain 200 shillings]

You decided to keep it [You learn Entrepreneurial spirit]

No matter your decision you were decided to begin anew.

You knew your freedom in society was limited to your status, so like before you were stuck in a golden birdcage.

Economical competition is a cruel and unjust game, one you had to shove your sentimentality aside to keep playing in.

You have heard of the war's end, and of the recent rumors of a peace deal between the Bremen Army and the Eastern Union,

this opened a opportunity,

Bohemia was known to be rather undeveloped,

and with the war over, no local enterprises were strong enough to suffice a bigger economy.

If you bought assets from it, it would be a long-term investment. How did you prepare for the trip?

Medical goods [gain 2 light blue vials and 4 cloth fragments]

Food [gain 9 Mushroom stew and 6 meatpie]

Luxury items [gain 1 Pipe, 5 Tobacco and 3 wine vial]

[SKIPPED TILL HERE, if skipped traits received: Prayer, Libiographic Insight, Entrepreneurial spirit and Luxury items]

[An animation would happen where the glasses would drop down and Edith would pick them up]

The lenses shattered. With luck, you'll be able to buy new ones in town."

As NOT the chosen character:

Day 1

She is one of the few characters who do not appear at the gathering outside the train. Instead, the player finds her smoking by the window of the first carriage from the exit. When interacting with her before the gathering, she would have a short dialogue where she dismisses the player, telling them to go outside at the gathering. Once the player does get out to the gathering, no matter if she was interacted with or not, she would be standing right by the door, still smoking. She will not introduce herself but leave right after the dialogue. Talking with her as she leaves let's the player hear her mumble about Tanaka calling him a "competitor" and walking a shorter path than him.

Next time the player meets her is at the mayor's mansion. She would be in the library, there, she is found reading a book. The player can choose to either talk or attack her. Attacking her would lead to a battle, with The Avare scoffing at the player character. If she is not killed or both of her legs are intact after one turn, however, she would run away. You can catch her, but if she exits the manor, she disappears for now. If talked with, she would complain about the poor state the books are kept, commenting on the amount of bent corners and indentations on covers. She also asks the player for a random non-tutorial or functional book. If the player finds it or has it, they can offer it to her, in return she would join the party. If Henryk isn't saved or the Dark priest gets aggroed and she isn't recruited or killed, she would disappear from the mansion.

From Day 2

In the morning till the afternoon, she can be found at Dr. Kefer's store, at the side, reading, talking with her there she implies that she made some under the table deals with them. When asked to be recruited again, she passive aggressively rejects, stating that she can manage on her own from now on. If you had attacked her in the Mayor's Mansion, and she escaped, she would give the player a cold shoulder.

If the player character has aggroed the Dark Priest or The Gentleman appeared before she could be recruited, she would be found instead in the Church of Alll-mer, in the first room sitting in the left-front pew. Her dialogue here is different, she tells the player that she was forced to believe in Alll-mer, but he only pretended to, until this day, she tells the player that there cannot be a logical or optimistic explanation to anything happening in this town. If the player places an effigy on the stand with her alive and present in the room, next time the player enters the room, she will be found inspecting them, talking with her will reveal the origin of these effigies. If the player places all 3 of them, she says she impressed with their feat and propose to become part of the party. If the player refuses or has no available party slots, she says she will be waiting here if they change their mind. She will stay here until Day 2 Night, being available for (free) recruiting.

Here, the player can attack her. If attacked in the Mayor's Mansion or here, she would run in the right room of the Church, if the player doesn't catch to her, she would be gone, if the Chandelier hasn't been dropped or the gate to the basement is locked she will lock herself in the confessional pew, the player won't be able to open the confessional, if O'saa happens to be I'm the confessional too, interacting with his side of the pew will lead to O'saa berating the player for being such a careless hunter, his door too, not opening. If the gate to the basement is opened, she would be gone, but if only the chandelier was drooped she would be hiding in the confessional booth, until the player interacts with the hole caused by the chandelier, upon doing so a cutscene would be triggered of Edith stepping out the confessional and pushing the player down the hole.

MOONSCORCHED FORM

If not killed before Day 2 Night, Edith will become Moonscorched. Her moonscorched form is called:

The Caged Magpie

In this form, she transforms into a grotesque anthropomorphic magpie, alike the Valkyre.

Her entire body is encased, however, in a golden birdcage, where she can only stand with her head hunched forward. Her arms become long, bare wings, her palm still exists though deformed, it tightly holds onto the bars of the cage, as if trying to break them. Her head is shadowed in the cage, however two, piercing green lights can be seen from where the eyes should be, and a big golden beak that pokes out of the enclosure menacingly. Her legs seem the only part of the body partialy out the cage, with two holes letting half of her, now, bird legs out. The birdcage itself seems to be out of lead, with gold paint that peels off it, the cage has no door handle or any forms of exit, only a broken hook on top. At the bottom of the cage, a pile of artifacts, trinkets, and coins shimmer.

The Caged Magpie prefers to stalk parts of towns near shops and vendors. Once in the same location of her, a flavor text: "You hear a metal rustle" and sounds of Eurasian magpie calls while there. If you dont leave the screen, enter a shop or talk to a vendor she will slowly approach the player, it will hop, stalking them and will steal one item the player has equiped if they stand unmoving for more than 7 seconds, after that she will promptly fly away, if the player instead tries to approach it, Magpie will run away alike a scared chicken. If you enter a shop or talk to a vendor as soon as you exit the shop/conversation, the Magpie will fly towards you initiating a fight.

In the fight, the Magpie's body parts do one attack each:

Her legs do a one-character powerful hit called "Digging the dirt", however, this attack is only performed every 2nd turn.

Her arms do a weak one-character attack called "Slap on the wrist", however, there is a 5% chance the Magpie, instead of attacking does a "Acquire" action, which steals one of a character's equipment.

Her beak performs a coinflip attack called "Peck", which is a reference to Crow Mauler's iconic attack. The player will be warned 1 turned before it with a flavor text: "The Magpie seems to shift its head in the cage"

The player can attack the aforementioned body parts and break them. However, her body is protected by a birdcage, which has a lot of HP. Once all the other body parts have been broken, the Magpie will have only one attack "Shove", which deals little damage.

Upon defeating her in combat, you can loot her corpse to get all your lost equipment to her, be it outside or during the fight, alongside a Coin Purse and 99 shillings.

I might make more posts about her, like other character interactions and more about her Moonscorched form!

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #fear & hunger #funger #fear&hunger: termina #fear and hunger art #fear and hunger oc #termina oc #funger oc

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syntia13treeman · 4 months

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Case files 04.01

what I think happened in:

Case 04.01, the case of "The Red Violin of Schwarzwald" or "Feed the Violince"

Today's case comes in the form of a very old letter. The author of this letter, an illegitimate son of some English noble, a talented violinist, as a youth was summoned to audition for Royal Court Orchestra of the Palatinate (Germany).

That summer he left his home in Alnwick Abbey in company of his music teacher, Mr Bardwell, who appeared to be one of those miserable people who feel the need to lift themselves up by putting others down. Bardwell spent a chunk of their journey trying to convince the author that he didn't actually have talent, just a good teacher (himself). (Aside: considering that Author's whole career was carried by magic instrument, Bardwell might have been actually right about that, I'll give him that).

As autumn and their destination grew nearer, Bardwell grew more distant, occasionally muttering to himself or spacing out as if 'listening to distant music'. This culminated one night in a violent fit of uncontrolled movement and incoherent words, which ended with the Bardwell flinging himself from a moving carriage and bashing his head open on the rocks.

The coachman, convinced he just witnessed a murder, attacked the Author. The fight led to his death and spooked the horses, which run off into the night, taking the empty carriage with them. Left alone with two corpses, the Author set off on foot through the woods.

Eventually he came upon a campfire tended by what appeared to be a distinguished English gentleman - nice, generous fellow who offered to share a meal, and effortlessly coaxed out of the Author his entire life story. Then, among many mentions of 'luck' and 'fortune', offered him a gift - a beautiful violin, which he pulled out of an 'unusually shaped sack' filled with various knick-knacks. The Author was then sent on his way, and less than a day later he arrived at the Manheim School.

The rest is history. The violin was, of course, a cursed object, which played amazing, mesmerizing music, but demanded blood in return, and if denied, it took its toll anyway, by compelling the audience to mindless acts of violence (including oral eye removal - don't think I didn't notice that little detail).

And as is often the case, the Author was not completely satisfied with the magic that entered his life, because it 'only' brought him fame. It didn't give him the status he believe he deserved, as the 'upper crust' of society whom he played for never thought of him as 'one of us' and never noticed nor appreciated the blood sacrifice he made with each performance.

Honestly, the Author had no right to complain about that, as he himself started teaching music to those he considered below him specifically so that he could occasionally murder 'someone unimportant' to feed the violin and spare himself some pain.

And so he continued for the rest of his life (I presume), praying on the poor, playing for the rich. At some point one of his noble half-siblings sent their son to spend one summer with the Author, so yay family ties.

As he grew old, the Author decided to write a will, in which he left the hungry-hungry-violin to the aforementioned nephew, together with a letter explaining the nature of the thing (which was rather kind of him, really, most inherited cursed objects don't come with a warning, in my experience). And then, presumably, he died, and the violin changed hands, one way or another.

So that's the story of a nameless bastard [both meanings]. Let's forget all about him and focus on the important bits, in reverse order of interest:

4.) Who put the letter online and why? It's either some sinister figure doing it for sinister purposes, or just some poor history student innocently digitizing documents found in a tiny local museum somewhere for extra credit. There are no in-betweens.

3.) How did the murder-feeding work? Was it more 'kill a man and bleed him on the strings for 3 months' worth of recitals', or more 'chain them up in the attic and bleed them bit by bit before each performance till dead'? No theories from me, just something to ponder.

2.) What happened with Bardwell? He 100% heard the violin and was compelled by its music. Was it just because it was near, or was the Gentleman playing it, waiting in the woods? Was the intent there specifically to kill the man, or was he just driven to find the source of music, and it was just too bad for him that this included jumping from a moving vehicle? And finally, why did it affect him and not the other two men present? Possibilities:

Maybe he had, at some point in his life, come in contact with this or similar artefact and was marked by it.

Maybe he made a deal with some stranger, accruing a debt that he didn't quite pay off and it's now come due.

Maybe he sat in the audience once, as a child, listening to strange music played by red-stained fingers, which he was never able to forget.

Or maybe it was just something about him - like his love of music combined with ego and jealousy - that made him particularly susceptible to the lure.

My money is on option nr 3; I wonder if we'll ever know.

1.) last but no least: Who was the Gentleman?

I don't know, but I love this guy just on principle. He is so very 'magic salesman' 'devil in disguise' 'stranger danger' folklore staple!

I guarantee that no matter where you're from, he'd greet you in your own language, claim kinship and wear exactly the kind of clothes that made him seem trustworthy in your eyes. You'd sell your soul to this fucker before you could blink and wouldn't realize till it was way too late.

I'm getting very strong 'actual-supernatural-being, not human-turned-other' vibes from him, and I'm really stoked about it. (I have nothing to back it up, maybe it's just all the stories featuring various devils/spirits/similar that I read as a kid that make me biased).

If he isn't a recurring character, I'm gonna cry. I want to see what other abominations he can pull out of his funky little sack, and what tricks he'll use to ruin many other lives. Just let me have this, ok? Please?

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp case files #tmagp case 04.01 #tmagp 04 #violince #ep. written by Cole Weavers #ep. written by C.W+J.S.+A.J.N #very late because server failure at work ate the first draft of this post

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jedi-lothwolf · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 6: Mind Control/Forced to Hurt Someone Else

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Warning: Violents

Summary: Callum gets possessed by Aarovose on the worst day, his aunt's wedding.

Callum knew there was a reason he told Rayla to kill him if Aaravos took control of him again. He knew that if it were to happen, someone would get hurt. So it should be him.

He thought he would be safe at his aunt's wedding. It was a beautiful outdoor venue and the weather was perfect. Callum was so happy for Amaya and he was so excited to see her happy. The day was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life.

Ezren and Zym spread flowers down the aisle. Rayla sat next to Callum. "I'm sorry I'm late" she whispered.

"It's okay" he responded. He pulled a tiny hand held mirror out of his pocket so that she should finish her hair.

"You're the best." She tied two braids together and put them in a bun. She gave his a thumbs up when she was done.

Katolis's wedding march started to play. Soren had learned to play piano while Corvus played the Violin. They sounded good together.

Amaya appeared in the doorway and everyone stood. Gren walked with her. He was so excited when she asked him to walk her down the aisle. Her dress was white with blue accents. It was long but not overly flowy. She had a crimson orchard in her hair.

Ezren was sitting with Callum and Rayla now. Zym was by the king and so was Bait. Amaya got to the altar and smiled. She looked so excited.

As a Janai appeared a Xadian wedding march was played, orchestrated by a few of her friends. Her dress was in traditional sunfire elf tradition, consisting of mostly reds and oranges. It was floor length and had a black flower lace.

She arrived at the altar, smiling. Gren already looked like he was going to cry. The ceremony started. Rayla awkwardly handed the hand held mirror back to Callum as the vows finished.

He took the mirror, face up and looked down at it so he could put it in his pocket. He didn't trust himself not to drop it while trying to put it away.

A familiar face appeared in the mirror and Callum tried to shove it away. The Startouch elf just had to make his presence known.

"Does anyone object to this marriage?" The priest asked.

"I do." Callum could think straight anymore. He watched his body stand and watched the horror on his aunt Amaya's face as she watched him be the only person to object.

It wasn't Callum's voice that spoke, just his mouth. But how could she know that? Rayla stood quickly, as did Ezren. Soren jumped out of his seat. Corvus, confused, stood with him.

"Aaravos" Rayla grimaced.

Amaya looked at her wife then at Gren. 'What's going on?' She signed.

"I don't think that's Callum." Gren looked back at the scene in front of them.

Callum's body moved from where it stood and into the aisle. He smiled as he raised a hand up to fight. "Fulminis." Aaravos detected the attack at the altar.

As lightning shot from his fingers, Amaya grabbed Janai and got them both out of the way. Gren moved off to the side and went to make sure that both brides were alright.

Callum couldn't stop himself from being used as a tool for the awful man. He tried as hard as he could. It felt so surreal. He was conscious of everything that he was doing but couldn't stop it. He could do nothing but watch as his body and his magic tore apart the people he loved.

All he could do was try to fight and hope Rayla remembered what they talked about. The mage knew he would rather die right here, right now, then be a danger to the people he loved.

"Callum!" Ezren yelled, "come on, fight it! You can beat him!"

Aaravos pulled the puppet strings. He brought Callum's body closer to his brother and grabbed him by the neck. He pulled him up and threw him to the ground. The little boy staggered standing up.

'No' Callum thought. 'This can't be happening.'

Soren grabbed his sword from his side and drew it. He hated the thought that he may have to hurt Callum but he knew that if it came down to it, he'd rather it be that way.

Everyone was confused. "What's happening to him?" Gren translated for Amaya.

"He's possessed!" Rayla answered.

"By?!" Janai asked as she went to grab her and Amaya's swords. Two had been made; a sunforge blade for Amaya and a blade carefully crafted by the king's most trusted swordsmiths. Gren started to help people get away from the venue. It was the best thing he could do since he carried no weapon.

"Aaravos! He's a Startouch elf!" Janai's blood ran cold. She already knew what it was like to lose people to him, she didn't want Amaya to as well.

"Callum!" Callum could hear Soren call out for him but he couldn't answer. He tried but all it seemed he could do was try. Was it ever going to be enough? Trying?

Soren handed Corvus his sword quickly. He tried to run up to Callum but Rayla stopped him. "Whatever you're going to do, don't."

He pulled away from her anyway and went up to Aaravos. Curious, the Startouch elf let it slide. Soren grabbed the shoulders of the boy and looked into his eyes. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, if anyone can stop him it's you, Callum. I believe in yo-" Aaravos had heard enough.

He grabbed Soren's neck harshly. "It's sweet, what you're trying to do" he chuckled. "It's too bad really, you won't survive long enough to see if it works."

From behind Amaya grabbed Callum and tried to pull him off of the knight. At the same time Rayla pulled Soren away. Scratches were left on the man's neck.

No one wanted to hurt Callum. It felt wrong, not going to fight the threat but the threat was, well in Callum's body. At the moment all they wanted was to get him free of Aaravos's control. They knew he was hurting.

The elf struggled against Amaya. He kicked at her and scratched her. His heal cought part of her dress and the end ripped some. Swinging his leg around the general's he tripped her. It took them both down but from there he got away from her.

Angry at her for stopping him from killing the useless golden boy, he stomped on her knee. "Let's see if that slows you down." Janai came over to her. She raised her sword towards Aaravos, wishing that hurting him didn't mean hurting Callum.

She struck quickly. Aaravos moved back, only taking a slash to the arm. He chuckled, "Fulminis." The lightning course through her body and she fell to the ground. Amaya checked on Janai and as he went to kill the two Corvus stepped in.

Aaravos walked to Corvus. The tracker held Soren's sword tight, frightened by the thought of what he may have to do.

"I'll take that." The elf went to kick Corvus but he moved. He attempted to fight him, to grab the sword so he could do some real damage; but the man was able to keep it away from him.

So when Rayla came up behind him, he decided that her weapon was good enough. She didn't expect him to grab it out of her hands.

Callum always had a pretty smile. Today, it was creepy, almost crazy. He took the knife and faced Corvus again. He stabbed him in the side.

Corvus cried out in pain. As the knife was pulled from his body he fell to the ground. Soren, who had been informing Gren of what was going on, rushed to his side. "It's alright, it's okay" he whispered.

The tears falling from Callum's eyes became more frequent. He had to stop him. Corvus was important to him, he couldn't just let Aaravos kill him. He had to do something.

Soren's words hurt. He knew the two were close but it only hit him now just how close they were. The knight had pulled him into his lap. He ran his hands over his head and tried to keep him calm. His other hand put pressure on the wound.

Rayla grabbed Callum. She pulled him away from the two and got ready to fight. Aaravos didn't mind having to wait. He attacked Rayla, paying no attention to the danger that his vessel might be in. He pushed her away and slammed him foot into her stomach. She cried out and slipped on a flower.

Bait tried to reach Callum. He approached him and shown a bright yellow. Aaravos kicked him off to the side.

Ezren ran up to Bait. He was joined by Zym. He made sure he was okay. As Aaravos walked towards Rayla, he stepeed in. He looked fearless as he stood in front of his brother's body. "Callum! I know you're there!"

He held Rayla 's knife and stepped closer to Ezren. As his arm rose to take the boy's life, Callum collapsed. His brother caught him and placed him on the ground.

He had finally broken free of Aaravos's control. After what felt like an eternity he sat up and looked around. Corvus had been stabbed, Janai shocked, Amaya had a broken leg, Ezren looked like he was in pain, Bait was still laying on the ground, Soren's neck looked awful, and Rayla was just now getting up. What had he done?

The king opened his arms, inviting Callum to hug him. The mage leaned into his brother and started crying harder then before. He apologized over and over and Ezren kept trying to tell him it wasn't his fault

Gren returned with a doctor. He looked at the sight in front of him. "Oh boy" he whispered. At least no one was dead.

This would be a wedding to remember.

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