#*❈ ‣ isn’t that her shadow on the wall? — ( v. alternate )

[raionmimi]

Wait, how the fuck is Titania a component of Kingprotea if...SHE DOESN'T EXIST?!?!

Hold on, I just had a thought, and while typing this, I came up with an extremely crack theory that is too insane to actually occur (but it's fun to me so I'm tellin' y'all anyways). I remember I talked about it at the time of the event, but in the Oni Land event with Magical Girl Shuten, a lot of the servants that were wandering around there were not actually real. They were created through counterfeit means, and they were basically acting more like a wonky "fanon" version of themselves

One of those servants was Medb, and Da Vinky analyzed it saying she was a counterfeit made of the fakey fake Kamuy's Gold. So she was more akin to a shadow servant. The real Medb was there on a date with Alter Cú

So, it's a possibility that may or may not have been foreshadowing an alternate Medbface that acts really different than what how she actually was. Knocknarea might not be summonable, but maybe someone else is

Now, here's where we put on our tinfoil hats, and go into LB6 part 3 spoilers from what's been datamined and go off the walls real quick with something that is obv so so wrong but still would've been a cool as a twist while I'm hyped up on caffeine before bed

We also know now from Oberon's profile that Titania was "created" with Mab, Diana, and Titan. But all psuedofaces need a base vessel, and while it would be easy to forge a fake servant, when you can use a faerie to create a changeling-esque servant?

Now, who would be the most compatible to pull of such a feat and merge with Mab, a fae that Knock happens to be a descendent of and parallels her story just enough? Combine that with the fact that Knock is dead, but maybe the wine has a similar story as Romeo and Juliet's poison...? Also that fae are apparently able to see different worlds and can cross them at will as Spriggan, the rancid rantsona Conchobar-vibe changeling has apparently proved.

If anything, Titania isn't real, she's just an artificially made servant that should not exist. Since Oberon V was yeeted into the void, and the Lost Belt was destroyed, it's a wonder who actually created her. Did he do it beforehand? Did he have his insects do it? Does Oberon V create her in Chaldea? Who knows

[you-have-made-a-fatal-error]

the case for a kapu cave easter egg

(for the case for a shadow ranch easter egg go here for p 1 and here for p 2)

as is the case with SHA we have an achievement:

and an egg listed in the developer box (this time in the ‘Inventory’ tab):

and we also have outside confirmation from the amateur sleuth blog c.2014 that there were plans to include easter eggs when the game was in development. but where does that leave us now?

first, let’s recap what the amateur sleuth blog covered - I took the time to check this out myself too. what can i say, it’s been a long pandemic. (I write as though this wasn’t the type of shit I was up to when we were allowed to do things like ‘go outside’ and ‘see people’).

the amateur sleuth blog noted that the egg might be connected to the trinkets at the immersion center and/or the lockers at the hilihili

the ‘trinkets’: all the non-essential things you can buy with your big island bucks (hula doll, coconut monkey, ukulele) AND the alternate prizes from the wiki-tiki game (key chain and ‘unlucky’ volcanic rock). (note: there is a seperate sassy detective award ‘Trinket Tycoon’ in the games files too, which suggests that trinkets and easter eggs might be different things, but that’s not confirmed)

the lockers: the employee info on dr craven’s tablet  includes the following listings which seem suspicious/promising:

but i’ve opened their lockers - and all the other ones - with no success. (note: the combo for locker 16 is not listed correctly in game. the correct combo is 2-7-6-4).

if you check the box next to the egg listing in the dev box it does show up in your inventory, at which point you can do the ctrl + v thing from dog, idk if there are any interesting messages to be had

--

so where does that leave us?

I want to do back to the Easter_Egg listed in the dev box inventory list. it’s interesting that most of the list is in alphabetical order, and that the potential egg is one of a few exceptions. they are: 1. nancy’s case file (picked up frm nancy’s desk at the start of the game) 2. Egg of Mystery 3. the ‘nose ring’ that unlocks the teeth in kapu cave (taken from quigley’s backpack) 4. melted shave ice (happens if frank or joe has a shave ice in their inventory for too long) 5. the eyedropper from QK’s lab setup - this never enters the inventory (you get an empty-but-clickable inventory box if you add it using the dev box), but nancy uses it when identifying the moth larvae’s food source 6. QK’s tape recorder 7. the number cubes from the kapu cave puzzle (also do not show up in inventory) it’s interesting, but do i know what it means? nope, sure don’t. likewise, no clue if/how it’s significant that entries 1->4 on this list are alphabetized while 5->7 are not.

I’ve also wondered if the easter egg is tied to the mystery lever in the room behind the fertilization station at the hilihili

while the left and right levers trigger lights in the little plant cells along the back wall, the one in the center triggers nothing but a very unpleasant audiofile called “PigSqueel.his” - but I haven’t been able to trigger the egg with it either.

one more point before I finish up, there are definitely unused bits and pieces within CRE’s video and audio files. there are dialogue bits between nancy and the hardy boys that mention taking and sending photos of vegetation near the frass traps and the carved face in kapu cave- though these bits were recorded, nancy can’t even take pictures using her phone in this game. and then there’s this from the developer box ‘Events’ tab:

a crossbow?? what crossbow??? I’ve gone through the audio and video files and haven’t found a trace of one.

maybe the easter egg was just one more thing that didn’t make it into the final product? and yet it would be the only thing on the inventory list that isn’t.

for the record i have tried checking off every item on the ‘Events’ list and none of them caused an egg to pop into my inventory. 

for now, it seems the existence or non-existence of the kapu cave eater egg apparentely remains a mystery.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XIV

(A/N at the end)

Parts I-XIII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII Part XIV

James and Matthew were hovering outside the Devil’s Tavern, which presented an august Georgian facade to the mundane eyes and was the site of many a municipal meeting and festivity. Or rather, as Matthew acknowledged, James was the one hovering, conspicuous in his anxiety, while Matthew leaned against the inn’s front wall, smoking a cheroot and gazing upward in the annoying way he did when he was overcome with boredom.

The Devil’s Tavern was the only place left in London that none of their parents knew anything about. Not even Will Herondale knew about his son’s inauspicious lease in the tavern and would therefore be the safest, most logical place for them to conduct their research.

“What time did you tell them to be here?” asked Matthew, still musing at something in the sky. “I do wish you’d stop fidgeting.”

“I told them noon,” said James. “But Christopher is not the most reliable man we know.”

“He is the most reliable when something is in need of exploding or a new specimen needs to be collected,” said Matthew. “Perhaps next time tell him that you have an enchanted box that needs to be unlocked.”

“Does this feel wrong to you?” asked James. “We’re supposed to spend this hour patrolling and we’re hiding in The bloody Devil’s Tavern from our parents.”

“This is, in a sort, patrolling,” said Matthew. “We’re conducting research on how to locate your demon granddad and kill the bastard, but in order to do that, we need to find a way for you to access the shadow realm again or it’s all for not. So, we’re doing our job, just not in the way we’re expected to be doing our job.” Matthew slapped James’s hand away from his hair. “I said stop fidgeting.”

“If we’re caught…” James started but couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. While the four of the Merry Thieves agreed that the risk was worth the reward of defying Charles Fairchild’s newly established rules, the risk still hung over James’s head like an anvil waiting to drop. He’d reassured himself time and time again that ordinary chivalry demanded action and that his indignation had more to do with Charles’s complete need for control than the punishment being fair or responsible.

“Oh for Raziel’s sake, we won’t be,” said Matthew. “We’re trained in being discreet, remember?” Just then the door to the Tavern burst open and a head attired with goggles, poked out.

“I don’t see them,” said Christopher before he turned his head to where James and Matthew were standing. He removed his goggles up into his hair, wiped his face with an emerald scarf, and shoved the door open with his shoulder. “What are you two standing out here for? We’ve been waiting for you in the Devil for nearly twenty minutes. Thought the parentals got a hold of you.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” asked an exasperated James. “We’ve been waiting… never mind. Get inside, quickly, before someone notices us.”

“I must admit, I’m a bit tempted to see how red my brother’s face can get if he catches us deliberately disobeying him,” said Matthew as the sound of boots clambered up the wooden stairs.

“This coming from the one having a crisis over the thought of being strapped to his brother’s desk,” said James over his shoulder. Christopher laughed ahead of them.

“That was before I witnessed my mother make him cry after threatening to strip us of our marks,” said Matthew.

James paused. “She made him cry?”

“Weep,” said Matthew. “I believe the words ‘yes, Mummy’ were said at least twice.”

“You lie!” said Christopher ahead of them.

“I exaggerate, Kit,” said Matthew as they reached their door, “but I never lie.”

The door burst open like a tightly wound jack-in-the-box as the three boys burst into the room. James walked across the room and took a seat at a small table in the window nook while Matthew made himself comfortable on the long sofa. Christopher met James at the table and busied himself with turning over the pages of an old book.

“Where have you lot been?” asked Thomas from the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes.”

“They were outside,” said Christopher, examining the pages of the book.

James stood, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to expose his forearms, as he walked to the center of the room. “All right, we have only forty minutes left of our patrol to come up with a plan on how to access the shadow world without the use of my useless power.”

“How’s that coming along?” asked Thomas.

“Am I in the shadow realm?”

“No.”

“That’s how it’s coming along.” He pressed his back against the wall opposite Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. “It’s never felt like this before. Everything that usually works, isn’t. Chaos. Danger. Pain. Isolation. Even when I feared Lucie and Cordelia were trapped there, I still couldn’t push past this invisible wall.”

“Invisible wall?” asked Christopher.

“Yes,” said James. “That’s what it feels like, an invisible wall blocking me.”

“Perhaps you need more fiber in your diet,” grinned Matthew.

James squinted at him, unsure if he was joking, and decided to carry on without acknowledging  the statement. “We need to start researching a way into the shadow realm that doesn’t involve my ability.”

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor turned everyone’s attention towards Christopher as he shoved himself away from the table. “I’ve read about this,” he stated, excitedly. “Pockets. Uh… uh… portals they were called, but they’re like pockets in our realm to other realms. You experienced something like it at the cemetery which allowed Cordelia to access the realm after you and for Matthew and Lucie to draw you back.”

“Brilliant,” said Matthew. “Now that we have an access point, let’s come up with a plan to kill the bloody bastard.”

“Well,” said Christopher, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We don't necessarily have an access point.”

“You just said—“

“Allow him to finish, Matthew,” said Thomas, looking like a giant inside the low ceiling room. “Go on, Kit.”

“They move.”

“The pockets?” asked James.

“Yes,” said Christopher, his almost sapphire eyes, enlarged by his lenses, glanced around at the faces staring back at him. “They appear in a spot but only remain for 12 to 24 hours.”

“Brilliant,” grumbled Matthew and slipped lower on the couch.

“Is there any way to track these pockets?” asked Thomas, while watching James stand and pace the floor.

“I cannot recall,” said Christopher. “I read about them in the forbidden section of the library at the academy. I was researching alternative methods of travel and found an extensive research that featured combinations of dimensional manipulation.”

“In English, if you would please,” said Matthew, lolling his head to look at Christopher.

“I am speaking English,” said Christopher. “If you are requesting for me to simplify it for you, then be plain about it.”

Matthew rolled his eyes as Thomas asked, “Do you remember what book it was?”

“Of course.”

“Can it be found in a public library?”

“No.” The boys released a communal exhale.

“Well,” said Matthew as he picked a piece of lint on his jade trousers. “It appears we’re left with piss but no pot.”

“Not necessarily,” said Christopher, stepping forward into the center of the room. His eyes locked on his feet the way they often were when deep in thought. “There is someone who might be in possession of a copy or at least has the authority to access one.”

James and Christopher met eyes as they both came to the same solution at exactly the same moment. A smile curved on James’s lips and he chided himself for not thinking of it sooner before allowing disappointment to consume him.

“Are you going to leave us in suspense?” asked Matthew.

“Magnus,” said James. “We’re going to see Magnus.”

                                                             . . .

The girl who came through Cordelia’s bedroom door the next morning did not seem strong enough to carry the tray on which rested a cup of tea in a florid porcelain cup and a heavy jug of hot water for the washstand. She was hollow in the cheeks and narrow shouldered, her hair pulled back mercilessly into a single braid. Her dress and apron hung loosely, and her boots looked comically laced to such scrawny ankles.

She hummed to herself as she set the tray on the floor, transferred the jug to the washstand and brought the tea, her lips clamped in concentration to keep the cup from wobbling on its gilded saucer.

“Hello,” said Cordelia, her voice rough from lack of use. “Can you please tell me where I am?”

The girl looked up, her eyes expanded as the tea fell from her hands and shattered on the floor.

Cordelia gasped, as the girl let out a scream so loud, she nearly had to cover her ears. “SHE’S AWAKE! OH BY THE ANGEL, MISS CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE! COME SEE…”

Cordelia grimaced as she braced herself on her elbows and lifted herself up. Every muscle felt as if she’d went to bed sore and hadn’t used them again for several days. The light in the room seemed aged, as if it were late afternoon or early evening. She was used to the pale dawn hours, the birds’ thin choir accompanying her waking thoughts. Curiously, she did not feel guilty for sleeping so late into the morning. The room felt familiar to her. Not the emerald green wallpaper with gold etchings or the leather winged armchair, nor the desk with the stack of books resting closest to the window. A smell in the air reminded her of something. Wherever she was, she felt safe and glad to be there.

“CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE… HURRY! QUICK!” the girl’s voice carried down the other direction of the hall along with the shuffling sound of her absurd boots.

Cordelia shifted to swing her legs out from under the heavy covers when a sharp pain in her side stole her breath.

“Best to stay put,” said a familiar voice by the door. “Until one of the Brothers gets here.”

“Alastair,” cried Cordelia. “Finally, a familiar face. Where am I?”

“The London Institute,” said Alastair, as he stepped into the room in white pin striped pajamas. A wooden crutch tucked under his left armpit as he hobbled on a bandaged foot towards her. “Where we’ve been for the last week or so.”

“Alastair,” said Cordelia, looking at his leg. “What’s happened to your leg?”

“Broke it in three different places after being thrown through the air by that demon.” The bed dipped as he sat down beside her. “Don’t fret, sister, it’s nearly healed. The Brothers want me off it while the bones properly set. I should be good as new by next week. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She placed her hand on her rib cage and found an extra layer of padding beneath her nightgown. “Week? You’ve said we’ve been here for the last week?”

His dark eyebrows curved in concern as his eyes looked over her face. “Cordelia, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Cordelia thought about the last memory her mind could conjure. The picture looked muddy and weak in her mind. She’s a young girl running through a patch of daisies on a cliff’s edge, but that couldn’t be right. She’s a woman grown now. Another image of London through a carriage window as the moist air off the Thames hit her face. Ice cream dripping down her hand. Dancing under seductive lights with Cortana. James’s hands on her face as he kissed her on a desk. James kissing Grace. Saying goodbye to James.

“I left,” said Cordelia, closing her eyes to stop the memory. “We left, together. We were going to Alicante.”

“Yes,” said Alastair. “Do you remember what happened after? Do you remember the attack?”

“Attack?” asked Cordelia. “No, I don’t remember any attack. What happened?”

Alastair placed his on top of hers. “Maybe we should wait for Uncle to arrive.”

Cordelia gripped his hand in her own. “Alastair, what happened? What attack? Is everyone all right?”

He opened his mouth to answer when footsteps filled the hall and a chorus of people filtered in through the doorway. A sobbing Sona pushed ahead of everyone and enveloped Cordelia in a hug. Her mother felt weak, frail underneath Cordelia’s hands, she could feel the bones protruding from her shoulders and the bumps of her spine through the thick fabric of her dress. Her shoulder bone bumped Cordelia’s chin as she peered over it to see her Uncle Jem, dressed in his robes and quiet as a statue against the wall. In front of him stood Tessa Gray beside her husband Will. She watched the doorway, hoping and dreading, for James to walk through.

When he did not, she closed her eyes to stop the burn behind them and the pit that grew ever wider inside of her stomach.

“My darling, are you all right?” Sona asked, caressing Cordelia’s cheeks and hair. Cordelia noted the hollowness in her mother’s cheeks.

“I think so,” said Cordelia. “Alastair was just telling me about an attack?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No,” said Cordelia and looked to her Uncle. “I don’t remember anything past leaving the Institute with Alastair for Alicante.”

“It’s not uncommon for some memory loss to occur after the sort of head injuries she endured,” said a quiet voice inside of her mind, but everyone else seemed to hear it too as they all turned to Brother Zachariah. “With some rest and recollection of events, the memories may return to her.”

Sona sat on the bed beside Cordelia, their hands still joined. “You were attacked by a demon. It poisoned you with a barb in your rib cage. When Lucie and James found you, you were nearly dead from your injuries.”

Cordelia pressed her hand harder against her ribs until she felt the sharp pain of a recent injury under the pressure. “Why did it attack our carriage? Demons don’t normally just attack a random carriage.”

“We were hoping that you could tell us,” said Will across the room. “We’ve tried to locate it, but it left no other traces of itself except for the attack against you and your brother. No other sightings. No suspicious activity. Alastair can only recall up to the point of being thrown by the thing, but you were still conscious at that point. We thought maybe you killed it before succumbing to your injuries, but the lack of demon blood at the scene suggests otherwise.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and attempted to stumble through her memories again. She recalled arriving with Alastair to the Herondale manor. Alastair walking her to the door with an umbrella to shield her from the pouring rain. She was trembling at the thought of what she was about to do, of what she was about to lose. Alastair offered to go in with her, but she declined.

She couldn’t recall who answered the door or how she got up the stairs to the library where James often hid away from the world in the comfort of his father’s collection of books. She couldn’t recall knocking, but she remembered him answering the door and the orange glow of the firelight that matched the color of his eyes. She remembered the relief those eyes when it was she he opened the door to.

She could vaguely remember the words that were said, or when she left him, or finding herself back in the carriage with Alastair, but the look in his eyes when she said goodbye would remain with her forever.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m sorry. The last thing that I remember is leaving here after saying goodbye to James.”

“It’s all right,” whispered Sona as she stroked Cordelia’s hair. “You’ve only just woken up. Perhaps after you’ve had something to eat and talked with Lucie, or James, something will return to you.”

The feeling of something she needed to do sparked at the mention of her old friend. She needed to talk to Lucie.

“Lucie stepped out for the morning,” said Tessa, eyeing Cordelia sympathetically, “but she’s due to return any moment. She’ll be overjoyed to know that you’re awake.”

“And James?” Sona asked.

“On patrol,” answered Will, with a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He won’t be back until this evening.”

Cordelia looked away, at her brother’s bandaged leg, at the tear in the hem of her nightgown, at the rune etched into the top of her bare foot, as the memories of her last conversation with James crashed into her.

“I wanted so badly to marry you,” she said. “But a year with you, as your wife, is not possibly long enough.”

The thought of speaking to James after their last conversation left a stone in Cordelia’s stomach, but perhaps it was for the best if she were to be staying in London while they both mended. If any one in the room knew of what transpired between James and Cordelia that last night, they weren’t letting on. Rubbing at the wound on her ribs, she searched the faces around her and found only concern and sympathy looking on at her. A wood pigeon, always the cello in the orchestra of birdsong, gave out its low double coo from the open window, like a beat from a large drum, which began to vibrate in her chest, and she thought it would have been very pleasant just to have remained asleep. 

(Author’s Notes: Hello again everyone! I’m back. I hope you all are doing well. It’s been truly a strange couple of weeks dealing with the aftermath of the death of my beautiful niece (God, that will never get easier to say or write), but we are mending as a family and working towards moving forward through the grief. I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with my sister and my nephew, just trying to keep them busy, but the past few weeks have settled down a little bit allowing me a chance to write and get back into a few projects that I have in the works. Thank you all for the kind words, and well-wishes, and your patience. I’m really excited to be back writing and posting again. I hope you enjoyed this installment. If you did please reblog so others can enjoy it too, please give it a like, hit me with a lovely comment, and follow along with me. Next installment is coming Sunday 9/6.)

[thelittlestcheshire]

if it weren't for you meddling kids...

A collection of seven playlists about my character’s inner-muse dynamics with one another.

playlist i: you’ll always be the one i love the most

a general balo and ches playlist

team (lorde) [not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things. livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams. and you know, we're on each other's team] // drag me down (one direction) [all my life, you stood by me when no one else was ever behind me. all these lights, they can't blind me, with your love, nobody can drag me down] // brave honest beautiful ( fifth harmony ft. meghan trainor ) [don't go and waste your precious time, with all the nonsense on your mind. no, don't criticize yourself no more, you got a smile worth fighting for]  // told you so (little mix) [girl, just come 'round mine tonight i've got wine and make-up wipes.  i'll hold you (i'll hold you),. we can put the kettle on, talk 'bout how he's not the one. i told you but, i'm never gonna say i told you so] //  friends (jasmine thompson) [who knows, who cares what we're gonna be. if you're near, i'm there. it will always be home, wherever we go.] // we belong (pat benatar) [we belong to the light, we belong to the thunder. we belong to the sound of the words, we've both fallen under. whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better; we belong, we belong, we belong together.] // safe & sound (taylor swift ft. the civil wars) [i remember tears streaming down your face when i said i'll never let you go. when all those shadows almost killed your light. i remember you said, “don't leave me here alone.” but all that's dead and gone and passed tonight] // buzzcut season (lorde) [cola with the burnt-out taste, i'm the one you tell your fears to. there'll never be enough of us] // unsteady (x ambassadors) [if you love me, don't let go. hold, hold on, hold on to me ‘cause i'm a little unsteady, a little unsteady] // i’ll keep you safe (sleeping at last) [don't be, don't be afraid. god knows, these mistakes will be made, but i promise you i'll keep you safe] // tell her you love her - acoustic (echosmith) [when she says she needs you, tell her you need her too. you tell her clearly, speak what your heart wants you to. tell her she's lovely, always tell her the truth. when she says she loves you, tell her you love her too] // nightingale (demi lovato) [oh, nightingale, you sing to me i know you're there. 'cause, baby, you're my sanity. you bring me peace, sing me to sleep]  // deep end (ruelle) [what can i do when it's pulling me under, pulling me underneath?] // hold your breath (ruelle) [hold your breath, don't let go. i feel it coming]  // my love won’t let you down (little mix) [we can sit on the edge of your bed, tell me all of the fears in your head. and i'll sing you your favourite song ‘til the pain and all the tears are all gone] // rainbow connection (sleeping at last) [have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? i've heard them calling my name. is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors? the voice might be one and the same.]

playlist ii: #squadgoals (aka balo and ches are sharing the aux):

8+ hours of music the girls listen to when they hang out, please remember to shuffle!

playlist iii: and if you were drowned at sea i’d give you my lungs so you could breathe

a general balo and zander playlist

shaking heads (foxes) [and if i turn around, there'll be no light. i know the danger, but it's alright. pick up the light and keep it, darling. you know that i can tell] // bottom of the river (delta rae) [hold my hand, ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river] // hey brother (avicii) [hey, brother; do you still believe in one another? hey, sister; do you still believe in love? i wonder.] // i hope you dance (lee ann womack) [i hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean. whenever one door closes, i hope one more opens. promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance...] // my wish (rascal flatts) [i hope you never look back but you never forget all the ones who love you and the place you left. i hope you always forgive and you never regret, and you help somebody every chance you get.] // echo (foxes) [look into my eyes, do you see something to defend? spinning in the lights, will i grow old before i die?]  // brother (kodaline) [if i was dying on my knees, you would be the one to rescue me. and if you were drowned at sea i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe] // get your wish (porter robinson) [so tell me how it felt when you walked on water, did you get your wish? floating to the surface, quicker than you sank. idol, idol] // icu {madison’s lullaby} (demi lovato) [sometimes i can see myself in the little things you do but i'm not afraid that you'll lose your way. 'cause i believe in you. you're gonna be the one who's strong enough, who can overcome, anything in your way]

playlist iv: i’m afraid of what i’m risking if i follow you

a general ches and zander playlist

into the unknown (panic at the disco) [what do you want? 'cause you've been keeping me awake. are you here to distract me so i make a big mistake? or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me, who knows deep down i'm not where i'm meant to be?] // carry you (ruelle & fleurie) [you are not alone, i've been here the whole time singing you a song. i will carry you] // bud like you (ajr) [kickin' in the basement, kickin' in the basement, hatin' all the same things too. if i need a pick-me-up, would you come and pick me up? i could really use a bud like you] // wilson {expensive mistakes} (fall out boy) [and when i say i'm sorry i'm late, i wasn't showing up at all. i really mean i didn't plan on showing up at all. don't you, don't you, don't you know i hate all my friends, i miss the days when i pretended. i hate all my friends, i miss the days when i pretended with you] // unpack your heart (philip philips) [show me something the rest never see. give me all that you hope to receive, your deepest regret dies with me] // where do you run (the score) [where do you run when you need to breathe? where do you run when you don't believe? where do you run when you can't face your fears? 'cause every time i run, i run to you] // twin skeleton’s {hotel in nyc} (fall out boy) [and there's a jet black crow droning on and on and on; up above our heads droning on and on and on. keep making trouble 'til you find what you love. i need a new partner in crime and you, you shrug] // maybe idk (jon bellion) [i wonder why i feel short when i know my money’s tall. i wonder why i miss everyone and i still don’t call. i wonder why i can’t run that fast in my dreams] // you are enough (sleeping at last) [you're enough, you're enough, you're enough, you are enough. these little words, somehow they’re changing us. you're enough, you're enough, you are enough. so we let our shadows fall away like dust] // midnight sun (philip philips) [oh my friend, look how time has changed the cracks in our skin. oh my friend, let go of the fear that’s inside your head. so stay strong, live on, and chase the midnight sun]

playlist v: beyond every bend is a long blinding end; the worst kind of pain i’ve known

a ches and zander playlist set during the aftermath of the jack posters with an alternating pov (track 2 is zander, track 3 is ches, etc etc. tracks 1 and tracks 12 are mutual)

the choice (gustavo santaolalla & alan umstead) // burning in the skies (linkin park) [i'm swimming in the smoke of bridges i have burned, so don't apologize i'm losing what i don't deserve] // the good in me (jon bellion) [one temptation sparked this, now i can feel the darkness. it's my own fault, but you had this planned. all of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns, yeah, you make me forget who i am] // another brick in the wall, prt. 3 (pink floyd) [i don't need no arms around me and i don't need no drugs to calm me. i have seen the writing on the wall, don't think i need anything at all] // bad blood (taylor swift) [did you think we'd be fine? still got scars in my back from your knives. so don't think it's in the past, these kinds of wounds they last and they last] // no light, no light (florence + the machine) [and i'd do anything to make you stay. no light, no light, no light. tell me what you want me to say. you want a revelation, you wanna get it right. but it's a conversation, i just can't have tonight...] // that won’t save us (against the current) [how did we become so numb? we just let it come undone, and i just started giving up. but that won't save us] // hard to say i’m sorry (chicago) [it's hard for me to say i'm sorry. i just want you to stay. after all that we've been through i will make it up to you, i promise to] // believe (mumford & sons)  [i don't even know if i believe everything you're trying to say to me] // second chances (imagine dragons) [quicker than lightning, whiter than bone. if you can erase it, then i can atone. oh these days, oh these days get heavy. i get older and life fades, but you remain] // swallow my pride (ramones) [loose lips sink ships, they said but isn't it always that way? swallow my pride, oh yeah] // roads untravelled (linkin park) [weep not for roads untraveled, weep not for sights unseen. may your love never end, and if you need a friend there's a seat here alongside me]

playlist vi: it’s mourning in america

a playlist for the luxor trio - balo, ches, and zander

heathens (twenty one pilots) [we don't deal with outsiders very well, they say newcomers have a certain smell. you have trust issues, not to mention, they say they can smell your intentions] // morning in america (jon bellion) [we're secretly out of control, nobody says it. when the class president overdosed, we all pretended tt was rare, it was shocking and all the town was talking. yeah, we're secretly out of control and everyone knows. oh, it's morning in america] // the kids aren’t alright (fall out boy) [and in the end, i'd do it all again. i think you're my best friend. don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?] // more than words (little mix & kamille) [i find peace in every story you told, i think of you, i'll never be alone. oh, it's true, you know i do. oh, i need you more than words can say. oh, you save me in ways that i can't explain. always been there for me, now i'll do the same] // family (mother mother) [and when you’re standing on the ledge i’ll pull ya down, put you to bed. and if you’re bleeding from the heart i'll come around, and clean it up] // beautiful people (ed sheeran & khalid) [we don't fit in well 'cause we are just ourselves, i could use some help gettin' out of this conversation, yeah. you look stunning, dear, so don't ask that question here. this is my only fear: that we become beautiful people] // immortals (fall out boy) [they say we are what we are but we don't have to be. i'm bad behavior but i do it in the best way. i'll be the watcher of the eternal flame, i'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams. i am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, i try to picture me without you but i can't] // family (the chainsmokers & kygo) [when i am blind, in my mind i swear they be my rescue, my lifeline. i don't know what i'd do if i, if i'd survive my brothers and my sisters in my life, yeah] // walking the wire (imagine dragons) [oh, the storm is ragin' against us now. if you're afraid of falling, then don't look down. but we took the step, oh, we took the leap and we'll take what comes, take what comes] // take it out on you (ruelle) [i don’t wanna take it out, take it out on you, on you. it feels like i'm breaking down, watching my words cut you in two, in two. 'cause you are the only who saves me from myself when everything is caving. don’t wanna take it out, take it out on you, on you, but i do] // from now on (the greatest showman) [and from now on these eyes will not be blinded by the lights. from now on what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight. and let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart] // long live (taylor swift) [can you take a moment? promise me this: that you'll stand by me forever, but if god forbid fate should step in and force us into a goodbye. if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name] // i hope you’re happy (blue october) [there will be days when you're falling down, there will be days when you're inside out. there will be days when you fall apart, someone else will break your heart. they're never gonna hold you back, i'm always gonna have your back so try to remember that...]

playlist vii: those meddling kids

a playlist for balo, ches, collen, and zander - and their friendship

on my way (phil collins) ['cause there's nothing like seeing each other again, no matter what the distance between. and the stories that we tell will make you smile, oh it really lifts my heart], more than a band (lemonade mouth) [i never knew you could take me so far. i've always wanted the home that you are, the ones i need] // i lived (onerepublic) [hope that you spend your days but they all add up and when that sun goes down hope you raise your cup. i wish that i could witness all your joy and all your pain, but until my moment comes, i'll say...] // i’m gonna be {500 miles} (the pretenders) [if i get drunk, well, i know i'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you. and if i haver, yeah, i know i'm gonna be i'm gonna be the man who's haverin' to you. but i would walk five hundred miles, and i would walk five hundred more just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door] // tongue tied (grouplove) [take me to your best friend's house, ‘goin' 'round this roundabout, oh yeah. oh, take me to your best friend's house; i loved you then and i love you now, oh yeah] // i’ll be there for you (the rembrandts) [no one could ever know me, no one could ever see me. seems you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me. someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with. someone i'll always laugh with, even at my worst, i'm best with you, yeah] // drag me down (one direction) [if i didn't have you, there would be nothing left, the shell of a man that could never be his best. if i didn't have you, i'd never see the sun, you taught me how to be someone, yeah] // miss americana & the heartbreak prince (taylor swift) [it's you and me, that's my whole world. they whisper in the hallway, “she's a bad, bad girl.” the whole school is rolling fake dice, you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. it's you and me, there's nothing like this, miss americana and the heartbreak prince. we're so sad, we paint the town blue, voted most likely to run away with you] // sharp edges (linkin park) [sharp edges have consequences, i guess that i had to find out for myself. sharp edges have consequences, now every scar is a story i can tell. we all fall down, we live somehow. we learn what doesn't kill us makes us stronger] // family (mother mother) [a motley crew, a rodeo. a goddamn zoo, a circus show. but oh don't you know how it goes, we are all walking each other home] // the story of tonight (hamilton) [raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away - no matter what they tell you. raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow there’ll be more of us - telling the story of tonight.]

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 8.. )

Veg • notables: Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous:

Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K) 

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 8 -  Susulan

Lady Penelope being true to her word found a wonderful woman who was well liked and sought after and she was one of several that Doctor Coxley had recommended to their Grandmother.  

The tall Haitian by the name of Cecilia had credentials as long as Kayo’s arm and had worked in some of the best kitchens in the world. Several of which had Michelin star ratings due to her amazing contributions and somehow they’d managed to scoop her. 

She was a true marvel and the whole family took advantage of her skills. 

The boys were in heaven and so well fed that often they found themselves all camped out in the living room  or out by the pool in various states of full bellied contended lethargy. Happily stuffed and satiated after a mind blowing meals.  Before long it was like Cecilia had always been there and things in the house seemed to settle down back into some form of normalcy.  

The two weeks following her arrival just seemed to coast by and as previously arranged the date of Doctor Coxley follow-up had come and gone with barely a hitch.. 

His trip had been a simple affair, the boys having been out on a call at the time.  One of their security operatives had shuttled the doc to the island with little fanfare.  

Kayo, though frustrated at being basically bed bound the last few weeks, found herself decidedly nervous.   She was eager to know if the improvement of her condition would be enough to appease the doctor. She’d done research herself as she’d had plenty of time on her hands but she was by no means an expert.

Her pressure was down,  bleeding tampering off to the odd bout of spotting. Energy levels were increasing daily and her appetite was healthy.  She felt better now then she had in a while despite the lingering morning sickness and she was twitching to do something other than staring at the walls all day.    

Grandma had been happy with the results as the forced rest seemed to have helped but there was no telling if she was going to be able to return to some form of duty or not.

Upon the Doctor’s arrival Grandma had shown him to their infirmary where Kayo had been waiting as patiently as she could.     

After a quick but thorough exam her doctor had snapped off his gloves and tossed them in a bin before making a quick note on his data pad.   When he’d turned back,  he’d handed Kayo a towel and given her a hand up from the awkward position she’d had to sit in.

The island medical facilities were top notch for basic injuries but for things of this nature,  not so much.   

“Well, “  He’s begun pushing his glasses up his nose.  “Things are looking good.  The bleeding has for the most part stopped through you may still experience a bit of spotting.  Typical of placenta previa.   

“Baby’s heart rate sounds strong and your weight gain is all within acceptable levels for your age and fitness level.”  

He’d paused as he’d looked over his note.  “I’m pleased to see you’ve taken appropriate measures the last couple of weeks and I do see a marked improvement in your BP but,” he stopped for emphasis.  “It’s still higher than I would like to see it. 

I know you’ve been eager to get back to some sort of normal activity level but I would have to recommend that for the time being you refrain from anything too strenuous.  At this stage of your pregnancy we don’t want to mess around as you still have some twenty odd weeks to go.”

Kayo had been disappointed by the results but she would do whatever needed to be done.  

“Additionally,”  He added, setting the data pad down to make sure he had her full attention. “Going forward I would like to be able to monitor you personally.  Allowing you to come home was the best course of action given the situation at the time but I have my reservation about you not being within east travel distance of a hospital.  It’s quite a hike out here even with access to the type transportation you have at your disposal but given the nature of your pregnancy I strongly recommend you relocate to the mainland.” 

That certainly hadn’t been what she expected and her hand automatically settled on her middle.  “Is there a problem?”  

Doctor Coxley gave her knee a pat.  “Just call me being overly precautious. I would rather have the necessary staff and equipment and not need it than need it and not have it.”  

He’d smiled at her then,  turning to gather up the equipment he’d brought with him. “I’ll advise Doctor Tracy of what we’ve discussed so arrangements can be made sooner rather than later. And I would highly recommend you make the move in the very near future as traveling any later could have detrimental effects that we would like to avoid.”  

He’d left shortly after with directions to call him if she had any further questions.  

It was definitely not what she’d been expecting to hear and her anxiety kicked up a notch. 

The island was a secure haven but the outside world was a different story.  If the media got wind that she was on the mainland and pregnant there would be no way to stop that shit storm that would follow. Their family privacy would be out the window in an instant and the vultures would start circling like that carrion loving garbage eaters they were. 

She’d cursed as she dropped her face into her hands 

“So, “ Virgil said,  stepping from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips.  “He wants you to be closer to medical help if need be.”

His wife gave a nod and he leaned a heavy shoulder against the door frame, arms crossing tight over his chest.  

It wasn’t idle that was for sure, security wise it was a nightmare and as for call out the logistics were .. well to say it wasn’t the best was putting it lightly. 

“We’ll talk to Scott and Dad in the morning.  We’ll figure it out somehow.”

Fiddling with the end of her hair, Kayo looked off out the darkened window.  “It’s not going to work with both of us being there.  Two isn’t something you can just park anywhere without it being noticed.  Even on a GDF base eventually it’s going to get noticed.  And what about the pods?”

Brows dipping, Virgil pushed off the door frame.  “What are you saying?”  

She braided and unbraided the end of her hair,  eyes distant and when she flicked her gaze up to him he caught on to her train of thought.   Shaking his head he walked the short distance over to her and crouched at her feet.  

“That is not an option and you know it.”

“Virgil,  we don’t have much of a choice here.  You’re needed here and we can’t just up and move Two and all her gear to the mainland for the next four months.  It’s not logical or safe.  It would be easier to set up a secure location for me.  I can take a small security detail with me. Logistically its a sound option”

Virgil shook his head, taking her hands in his.  “No,  that is not a viable option, Tan. It’s too risky.  Not with us having no idea where your uncle is or what he’s up to.”

“It’s been months since there’s been any sightings or news on him.. Maybe it’s time we stop hiding..”

Shocked, Virgil blinked at her.  Five months earlier she’d thought that not having the baby was a better option than having it because of the Hood and now she was doing a complete about face.  

“Kay, stop.” He gave her hands a squeeze running his thumb over the back of her knuckles. ‘What’s really going on here?” 

She pulled away and got to her feet to walk across the room.  Taking his shirt off the back of a chair she tugged it over her shoulder,  her small frame dwarfed by it and Virgil got a flashback of a morning so many months ago.. One he didn’t care to be reminded of when there had been a real possibility of them not being in the position they were in now.  Like having to make this sort of decision. 

He would take this though over any other option as difficult as things were at the moment the alternative was not something he even wanted to fathom. 

Her shoulders shrugged and she turned back to face him.  “I’m just trying to not.. I don’t know...”  Her shoulders slumped.  “It’s just that things are so complicated and having to worry about ‘him’ all the time is exhausting.”  

Going to her,  he wrapped her in his arms.  “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just not do anything rash before we’ve exhausted all the alternatives.”

Her slender arms slipped around his waist and she burrowed into his chest. When they were along like this was the only time he ever got to see this side of her.  The vulnerable one that she tried hard to hide from the others. 

Her confidence was always such a striking thing about her.  Standing out and making her bigger than life but in the closed confines of their space the masks peeled away.  Her guard came down and he got to see the woman underneath the warrior.  

Pulling back,  he took her chin in his hand and tipped her head up so he could see her face. Brushing his thumb over her pulse point, he kissed her brow and then each check reverently before skimming his lips over hers.  

She sank into him easily,  having long ago given up her internal battle against the feelings she’d hidden so well from him.  

He caught himself though as her fingers pressed into his back. It was late and he could tell by the shadows under her eyes that Kayo needed sleep desperately.  The emotional toil of the day having cost her considerably.    

Her breath ghosted across his lips as she sighed,  knowing like he did that stopping before things got out of hand was for the best right now. 

“Come on, we can discuss this in the morning when we both aren’t dead on our feet.”

Her nod in agreement was singular and concise.  A flicker of her confidence with the simple gesture returning behind the verdant green of her eyes.

She stood back, took his hand and tugged him towards the bed.  

8-8-8

TBC

NEXT

[leam1983]

Cyberpunk 2077 Thoughts

Having perused Dark Horse Books’ The World of Cyberpunk 2077 over the past few days, I’ve gotten a better feel for the various basic hooks that structure V’s inception as a protagonist. The short of it is the Polish wizards are on the right path to nailing Pondsmith’s treatment the same way they nailed Sapkowski’s works.

Consider the following as half a brain dump, half a series of prospective spoilers, and also half projection, so either skip this, find some other entry to read, or come back to this come late November.

I know I mentioned three halves, but it’s late and I don’t give a shit.

I’m serious - DO NOT PRESS ON IF YOU’RE THE TYPE TO BLOW A GASKET IF YOU’RE INADVERTANTLY SPOILED. 

The latest Night City Wire as of August exposed three incipient “life paths”, or starting branches of V’s path. I’ll tackle my personal narrative approaches to them in the order of my choosing.

Nomads: CP2077 is set in a world where much of what we understand to define a family has been blown up, tossed around by climate change and nuclear fire and then stitched back together using grit, resourcefulness and the last dying embers of human decency. Nomads are less a group of people defined by blood relations and more a cadre of individuals that share something more significant than mere genes. It might be a common history, a set of shared hardships, a yen for similar automotive and engineering-related projects - whatever it is, that something pulls people together in ways Corpo rats and street kids will never experience.

This seems to define even the average Nomad’s degree of education. Surprisingly, Nomads are the most well-read group in Coronado Bay’s greater area, some caravans reportedly including entire RVs packed with books. Nomads generationally elect teachers and record-keepers and seem to care for those cultural remnants of the old world, before Pondsmith’s paranoid alternate sixties kicked off more than a century’s worth of technological progression and rampant dehumanization. To a Night City native, a Nomad’s speech patterns appear precious and uselessly florid, while they might appear almost normal to us - maybe slightly touched by the fact that Grandpa Joe or whatever really wanted you to have your Greek classics down before you were old enough to repair your first CH00H2 carburetor on your own.

That new, mega-clustered version of family matters immensely to the Nomads. You identify to yours the same way Orcs in Shadow of War might refer to their clan, or the same way a Scottish clan might design specific visual cues identifying its members. In normal circumstances, Nomads live, thrive and die in service to the clan - and the opening segment for V’s Nomad origins suggests that something happened to his clan. They’re gone, or so the narration says, without going into further detail. Is V responsible? We don’t currently know. As it stands, however, he is a lone Nomad in a clan of one, and soon finds himself pushed out of the Californian wastes and into Night City’s neon-drenched streets.

Seeing this, I considered the narration as an admission of guilt on V’s part. He feels responsible, and hopes that grinding his way to success will in some way atone for what he’s done. Consequently, my Nomad V would be as gruff as could be, but as moral and upstanding as the setting allows. He considers himself as having been invested with an example to set, and would intend to set his sights on more than just filthy lucre. Honest filthy lucre is what matters to him, if that concept even is possible: he might deal in unsavory types and illicit activities, but he always does so with a certain moral rectitude - as a tough and gruff, lean and stringy type you can occasionally catch in his battered Thornton pick-up truck with his feet up on the dashboard and a dog-eared copy of Plato’s Republic in hand. Jackie honestly wonders how he can put up with that Greek pendejo’s endless words and the lack of scrolling animations, while V keeps his Kiroshi optics’ News ticker locked onto grassroots Leftist RSS feeds that stoke a bit of an ignored Rockerboy ethos in him. Quoting Marx in Night City might feel like trying to teach lab rats in the finer points of string theory, but it at least feels genuine to him, compared to the predigested sociopolitical pap Militech, Arasaka and their ilk are more than happy to spew on the airwaves. 

There’s a lot to be pissed off about in Richard Night’s failed utopia, a lot of fat cats to gut and buildings to burn. Still, he leaves the glowering act and the churning rage to Johnny Silverhand’s imprinted ghost. Being more of a down-low, gun-toting choomba than a classic Street Samurai, Vincent “V” Carson thinks first and strikes second.

Vinnie isn’t much for electric guitars and anarchy in the UK, much less in the Free State of Southern California; but he does love the occasional Leonard Cohen ballad or the occasional shot of Johnny Cash’s melancholy. Having picked up something of a Northern Texas drawl while cruising, he might feel like Harry Dresden’s Good Ol’ Boy cousin, magic tricks here pushed aside in favor of a measure of dermal plating and a good ol’ fashioned twelve-gauge and revolver combo. Not being much of a techno-fetishist, he considers his optics and his skull jack as being begrudging concessions to an era that looks down on fully “ganic” types. Having grown up with TV serials and the occasional visor-based Braindance all depicting cyberpsychosis as something vile that utterly dehumanizes its sufferers, he’s naturally wary around anyone who seems a little too giddy with the prospect of taking a few scalpels to perfectly decent muscles and bones.

His Thornton is where most of his Eddies go, and yes, he’s named his truck Suzie. Suzie’s done right by him, and he’ll do right by her - unless someone else with a pretty smile and a working moral compass makes him swoon.

Street Kids: if you weren’t taught on the highways or in corporate arcologies, odds are you became a positive blip in an otherwise grim statistic, one of the myriad fucked-up kids raised by other fucked-up kids with more seniority than you. With no roads and paid-for nannies, you survived off of grifts, grit, violence, deceit, smarts and gumption - and that, in its own screwball way, creates its own blood ties. You’re wise by Heywood’s standards - streetwise, that is - and you speak the back-alleys’ lingua franca of threats, insinuation and casual intimidation like no other.

If only Jackie hadn’t fingered that Rayfield, huh? This beaut could’ve been paydirt! Well, at least for a week or so, judging by the fact that hundreds of car thefts are reported across Night City on a daily basis. At least, Dean - who also goes as “V” - got to make a new friend while out in the pokey, and managed to shake a few proverbial trees... They’ve got a short-lease in with Trauma Team’s frequency and could maybe hook themselves up with a sweet finder’s fee for anyone who’s on the verge of death at the hands of the city’s Scavengers...

Little does V know, that’s selling Trauma Team as well as their clients painfully short. Shows of gratitude don’t mean anything if you’re not packing the right social status. He barely remembers his birth parents as it is, and grew up the fifth grubby prospect of one of the Valentinos’ “school clubs” (hence the nickname) - where the points of study refer to the proper observances to be held in Jesus Malaverde’s presence, intensive Chicano and Spanish immersion, as well as the handling of common types of weaponry.

Vincent and Dean would be likely to shoot one another, if placed in the same room. One clings onto nearly-lost value systems, while the other commodifies what can be discarded like so much flesh - only inasmuch as his efforts to pacify his unofficial five or six abuelas force him to forego extensive modifications. His knives and wrist-mounted data port are his main tools of the trade, although Dean keeps his hacking creds along the bare minimum. Why bother, when melting an ATM’s ICE wall and whacking the cops with a baseball bat is all you need? There’s a type of gun for nearly anything else, if someone knows where to look...

Dean has no last name, and is consequently registered as “Dean Smith” in the city’s Census records. That doesn’t suggest, however, that he wouldn’t want to make one for himself. As he’s less focused on the city’s legends than on its kingmakers and pawn-movers, Dexter DeShawn strikes him as someone to emulate, watch and learn from - all with a decent degree of caution.

Being on top matters a little less to him than eventually pulling Heywood’s stings. With a little fear and a lot of persistence, Dean “V.” Smith knows that one day, he won’t go hungry on a weeknight. To that end, he’s certainly a hearty eater, here paired with extensive free-weight training regimens and the use of anabolic stimulants. Oh, sure, he’ll speak of family and blood like the best soldier festooned in Santa Muerte visual codices, but his friend Jackie’s got a mind like a slow and steady steel trap.

Either Dean blows his new fellow Street Samurai out of the pond, or he does. Unlike Jackie, however, Dean isn’t realistic about it. Friendships are a rare gift in Heywood, if not the rest of Night City, and Dean’s convinced that Jackie could conceivably look past his final betrayal.

Corpo: nowadays, we’re mostly familiar with the idea of one-percenters creating a bubble of affluence for themselves. Boarding schools, private villas, prebooked vacations across the globe’s priciest spots, access to the hottest trends on the minute of their inception - what this tends to forego is the level of social disconnect that’s required in order to stay relevant. We’re only just waking up to the consequences of letting an aging, crusty first-generation Yuppie be crowned the ruler of the free world, and even someone who’s behind on their Bret Easton Ellis could tell you that Donald J. Trump is a sociopath and a narcissist.

Take that mindset, and cultivate it into an ethos that’s taught to children from a very early age - children who live, eat, shit and breathe in accordance with their parent corporation’s tenets. The more placid, mid-tier lifers in the genre are called sararimen, in reference to William Gibson’s use of the term to designate low-level company workers in Chiba City. A bit like Shenzhen’s factory workers and execs, everything in a corpo’s life is in service to the corporation.

In Night City, as of 2077, two major players have installed this culture of total obedience in their roster. Their names are Militech and Arasaka. One is a juggernaut in the field of military-grade personal defence, the other has a wider grasp and reach, but is more fragile. Arasaka owes that fragility to the last fifty years having involved its re-establishment and reconstruction. Fifty years ago, Night City’s Corpo Plaza was blasted open by a thermonuclear discharge that sent the Japanese giant packing. The charges had been set by three Edgerunners: Rogue, Morgan Blackhand and Johnny Silverhand - accessorily a well-respected Rockerboy and front-line member of the band SAMURAI. Only Rogue survived that fateful night, or so the street lingo goes, having gone on to start a legitimate consultation business as well as a fruitful career in the hospitality business. Her bar, the Afterlife, is Night City’s hotspot for every techie, script kiddie and accomplished cyber-spelunker.

Our gal Vivian knows this. She knows this, because Vivian “V.” Banks lives two lives.

In one of them, she’s a lean and hungry Junior Executive in Arasaka’s Counter-Intel division. In that line of work, you either fuck someone’s prospects or protect your own, or ensure that no up-and-comer just out of the company’s Law School program manages to push you off the board. She knows full well that in centuries past, corpo-speak was made up of mild euphemisms that at best referred to destroying a rival’s prospects or lifelihood. Taking a life was something that required careful deliberation, especially when tossing a fat severance bonus into an aging CFO’s three-piece pockets and letting your erstwhile rival snort cocaine off of the rolling hips of Tahitian dancers was so much cheaper...

Nowadays, zeroing someone is commonplace.

You’re born for Arasaka, and chances are you’ll die for Arasaka just the same. Viv’s killed, lied, cheated and even stole her way to her position, remorse being this vaguely churning sense of coldness in her gut that keeps one-night stands coming in and out of her bedroom. She only remembers her parents as being credit-chip enablers and personal enhancement drug addicts, cutting ties with them so completely on the day of her official hiring that it felt more like a tacit understanding.

On most days, sex and booze keep the cold at bay. On most days, Vivian Banks is a class-act of a sociopath. The stronger she gets, however, and the more paranoid her targets become - which reinforces her own paranoia. Before long, playing the part of one of Arasaka’s several poisonous flowers won’t work anymore.

Unfortunately, she trusts no-one. No Fixer could put her in contact with any hacker she’d trust, no rando fresh off the street with a retro-tinted National Arms plinker would satisfy her. To climb up the ranks and maybe share tea with Old Man Saburo himself, she needs a spotless performance record. She needs skills.

More importantly, she needs a reputation. That means leaving Arasaka Tower and mingling with the experts in their own field - and it means filling out her back book of successful hits. The drinks at the Afterlife are decent enough, but what she’s after is an official in.

If she can get to Rogue, or maybe even hook up with a ripperdoc not bought and paid for by the company, she might be able to score both new skills and increased performance...

If it were as simple as slitting Janet’s throat in HR and diving her way to an orgiastic performance review quite innocently left on the department’s server, she would’ve done that already. Viv is my obvious Pure Stealth build candidate, my main-line hacker and would-be engineer with a thing for black power skirts and designer offensive augments.

With that said, we’re months ahead of schedule, all the good shit’s already come out, so we’re stuck playing the waiting game...

What are your own character or build ideas for Cyberpunk 2077?

[cagesings]

 @angelsweeps  /  riff  sent:  “you’re  the  best  thing  to  have  ever  happened  to  me.”

 it's  difficult  to  smile  at  him  in  the  doorway.  though,  it's  difficult  not  to  smile  even  as  the  corners  of  her  lips  waver  and  part  with  each  yawn.  staying  awake  this  long  to  be  able  to  see  her  husband  is  a  surprise  to  herself.  the  past  almost  eight  and  a  half  months  were  long,  to  say  the  least.  each  day  lasted  forever  and  was  shorter  than  the  last.  it  was  less  than  a  year  ago  that  they  found  out  they're  having  a  baby,  yet  it  feels  like  it's  been  at  least  a  decade.  especially  after  today  when  she  couldn't  fall  asleep  and  eventually  woke  him  up.  the  baby  coming  early  scared  her.  johanna  still  doesn't  feel  prepared  even  as  their  daughter  lays  in  her  arms.  

 ❝  you  should  find  a  better  thing,  then,  ❞  she  mumbles,  unable  to  raise  her  voice  any  louder.  ❝  come  here.  we  have,  um,  we  have  a  little  girl.  if  that's  alright.  ❞  the  last  words  sweep  through  as  habit.  no  matter  what,  they  have  a  daughter.  they  can't  change  that.  the  moment  they  laid  the  baby  on  her  chest  while  she  was  shrieking  and  flailing  her  little  arms  in  protest  of  coming  from  such  a  safe  place  to  joining  a  too  bright  and  scary  room.  johanna  can't  admit  now  that  having  a  little  girl  scares  her.  she  knows  she  should  hope  for  a  healthy  baby  --  that's  the  most  important  of  all  --  yet,  a  boy  she  can  protect.  girls  don't  have  that  same  luxury.  ❝  we  don't  even  have  a  name  for  her.  ❞

[fauna96]

V Prompt: Role Reversal

Title: The djinni, the thief and the magician 

[This was hard. It was very very difficult... but fun! Kudos to who guesses from where I’ve taken Kitty’s name and surname as a magician.]

Agnes Pole had a secret, a secret that could have her killed. The fact was, she didn’t choose to keep this secret; it had just happened.

They made it easy, telling you to forget your birth name; but for Agnes it had been impossible. It wasn’t that she didn’t try: at night, when she was still a child, she used to close her eyes, squeezing them hard, and she tried with all her force to expel that memory: her mother’s voice calling ‘Kitty’.

Obviously, she couldn’t do it; and, as much obviously, no one knew it, less of all her master. After all, she was the one to issue Agnes, as her first lesson, to not trust anyone; and, implied, her too. So, Agnes had kept her mouth sealed; she hadn’t even dared to say out loud that forbidden name.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw Agnes Pole: a young woman with short, soft dark hair, her mouth constantly bending in a pleasing smile. She didn’t know how Kitty looked like, except for a lost five-year-old child.

Her sensor net started ringing in her ear; a moment later, at her window a pigeon materialized. Agnes made it come in and immediately it took the shape of a pale-faced young man in a grey suit.

«Mistress» he said, bowing slightly «I think I’ve found him».

 Nathanael was her regular demon for a few years, now; it was one of the first djinn with a considerable power that she had summoned, and, in the beginning, she had found it irritating without an exact reason. Really there wasn’t a reason, because the demon was precise, quiet and impeccable. Every magician’s dream.

But it was fussy, fastidious too, and with a hidden slyness capable to turn any order inside out, Agnes knew it. However, it was efficient; and, as Whitwell always said, finding efficient servants, and silent in addition, was extremely rare. So, Agnes had kept it and, in the end, there had been vantages: just to start, learning to give orders precise and crystal-clear. Then, she had found out Nathanael was a real font of knowledge and, if you made it the right questions, you would have obtained all the answers you wanted. If she had to describe her servant with a word, Agnes would have used ‘competent’.

And it really was (take that, Farrar), because it had been successful in individuate one of the thieves of artefacts that were driving all Tallow’s department and police mad.

Agnes, as the Chief of Security’s apprentice, had been placed to investigate on the series of thefts; in the beginning, she had to admit that, as a job, didn’t please her much: she hated work office, she’d have liked more to be thrown in action. Whitwell, in front of her complains, had barely risen an eyebrow. «You’re still an apprentice, Agnes» she had replied. «Be careful to not fool yourself. You’re clever and you have talent, but use your brain before talking. A work office, as you call it, could do you well».

Agnes had bitten her tongue. As she had to do every time she had met Farrar and had to endure a barrage of gibes.

And now, instead… «A very good job. Nathanael» she commented, leant on the car seat.

The young man near her tilted his head. «Thank you, mistress» he murmured, but Agnes could catch all the surprise behind the courteous tone. It wasn’t very usual that Agnes deemed her demon worthy of more than orders, but it was a particular occasion. «If everything goes well tonight, I’ll dismiss you for a while».

«Now let’s not exaggerate, mistress» the demon’s face was always pale and serious, but Agnes thought she could catch an… amused? glint behind the icy eyes.

Oh, why not? It had deserved it, at least. Of course, she would have to do without her most trusted servant, but it would have been a little time. She was perfectly capable to look after herself. It would have been weird, though, not having the tall, lanky shape behind her shoulders, silent as a shadow and as much as loyal…

«We are here» Nathanael murmured. «Do you see that corner over there? He passes over there every night to go to his… hideout. I think he has some hiding place under the bricks, because he always takes some minute there. And in that minute, he’s distracted».

Agnes nodded, without tearing her eyes away from the road. She made a gesture towards the djinni, and it slithered out the half-closed window as a curl of smoke.

They didn’t have to wait long: a figure was coming close with quick, measured steps. It stopped at the corner as expected.

And then there was a noise of struggle, a furious shout suffocated, then the boot opened up and something was thrown in.

 Nathanael didn’t like very much kidnapping kids; but he didn’t like disobeying orders either and being punished, so there wasn’t a lot of alternatives. Moreover, the kid in question had trashed like an eel and he was able to kick his shin with a boot that must have something of iron, because it stung a lot.

He and his mistress had taken him to an old abandoned library that they had used many times during various occasions. Miss Pole looked at the boy still passed out at her feet. To be truthful, there wasn’t real age difference between the magician and the commoner, but her posture, her clothes and everything made Agnes Pole always look older.

Nathanael looked at her at the corner of his eye while she seemed to review mentally what ask to the commoner. And probably, repeating herself to be calm and rational, a thing that wasn’t always Agnes Pole’s forte, despite her excellent teacher. Nathanael wrinkled slightly his nose thinking about Whitwell. Old vulture.

The boy made a sudden moan and his eyes opened wide. Nathanael saw them searching the room for a way out, then they rested on the two of them.

«Move and my demon will tear you apart».

The boy didn’t move. Then, unexpectedly he made a dazzling grin, shining on his dark face.

«Hello» he said.

Well, that wasn’t the reaction Nathanael was expecting, frankly. And neither did his mistress, holding her lips tight while the commoner kept watching them from below.

«What could have I done to deserve such an honour? Kidnapped by a magician?» he winked  with a mischievous expression, that little did suit a dirty boy, curled on the floor.

Nathanael saw clearly his mistress’ patience decrease; were they alone, he would have whispered to her to stay calm, tranquil: she was in charge, as usual.

But Agnes tightened her fists lightly and took a deep breath. «I want you to answer my questions, quickly» she said. «And maybe I could think even to let you go».

The boy sneered. «Of course, miss magician. And you give me a lift home, don’t you? No one believes it, not even your demon. You caught me, you won. I don’t know what else you want».

«The Resistance. I want your accomplices».

Fell a… curious silence. The boy grew quiet, then he spoke directly to Nathanael. «Did you tell her I’m from the Resistance? Because I stole some scrap metal? Oh dear!» And he burst out laughing so loud that the walls resounded. «I’m sorry, o most powerful magician» he could stammer out «but your demon dropped a clanger here. I work in my own».

«So do you steal artefacts just for an hobby of yours?» Agnes asked, her voice dangerously sweet. «And only magical objects, not simple jewels?»

«Ah, that is a little secret of mine, sorry. Anyway, of course I sell them. At the black market, but that surely you know. And surely you know that they’ll go to the Resistance or whatever. But I don’t want anything to do with them. I work on my own, told you».

Agnes smiled. «So those two… the kid following you anywhere and that girl so pretty… aren’t they your accomplices?»

A shadow passed on the boy’s cheeky face. Here we are, Nathanael thought.

«No» he spelt put. «They…»

«Don’t you think they’ll live better out that hole of yours? Maybe that kid would stop coughing so much».

The boy gulped and stared both in the eyes. «Look. I am a thief, it’s true. But I am not from the Resistance. You can promise me all you want, magician, but I can’t give you what I haven’t, and I haven’t any names nor addresses. If you want to throw me in jail for theft or say that I’m a terrorist, do it. It’s my word against yours, isn’t it?» His dark eyes lingered on Nathanael. «Oh, the demon, sure. You could have me tortured by it. Surely I could sing then, but I wouldn’t trust me too much. Always had a low pain tolerance level».

«Mistress» Nathanael whispered. «A word».

Agnes stepped back and tilted her head toward him. The boy’s sharp eyes kept watching them.

«I think he’s honest, partly. But if he sell magical artefacts…»

«He has some communication channel, yes» Agnes sighed and, for a moment, it seemed that her mask was slipping. «I was so close…»

«I think» murmured Nathanael «that he could be bought. Making leverage on… his two friends. Bought, not threatened».

Agnes narrowed her eyes. «What should I do? Buy them a house?»

«No» the boy’s voice came suddenly. He must have an exceptional hearing. «No. But there is something I want».

[cagesings]

 she  does  not  believe  him,  proven  with  the  way  her  brows  quirk  upwards  (  hearing  from  mrs.  lovett  that  her  mother  made  the  same  face  has  ceased  to  stop  being  a  strange  thought  ).  ❝  you  should  do  something.  bruises,  they  can  get,  well,  bad.  i  know  that  from  experience.  ❞  though  his  question  has  johanna  taken  apart.  how  has  her  day  been?  as  if  he  cares  about  such  a  meaningless  thing.  as  if  he's  trying  to  become  her  father.  ❝  alright  thus  far.  anthony  and  i  went  to  the  park.  ❞  there's  always  the  urge  to  mention  anthony  in  their  conversations.  not  only  because  of  her  pride  that  she  has  someone  who  loves  her,  but  also  to  rub  in  the  fact  that  her  own  father  hadn't  gone  to  save  her  from  the  judge  and  that  it  had  taken  a  complete  stranger.  she's  grateful  to  have  anthony.  ❝  to  see  the  birds.  he's  downstairs  now  with  toby.  perhaps  he  would  know  what  to  do  about  a  bruise?  ❞

               ˜”*°•.     At  Johanna’s  suggestion ,  he  merely  shook  his  head  . ❝ There  is   no  such  need . ❞  He  assured  her  -  the  tension  of  all  that’d  happened  merely  minutes  ago  screaming  to  come  to   the  surface .  It’d  been  close  -  Johanna’s  arrival  and  the  murder  had  been  close .  And   yet ,  geniality  did  he  offer  to  her  -  hoping  to  distract  her ,  get  her  to  erase  the  incident  from   her  thoughts .  For  while  Mrs.  Lovett  had  repeatedly  proven  herself  to   be  a  decent  liar ,  would  she  be  able  to  read  between  the  lines  ?  He  didn’t  know  -  didn’t  feel  the  need  to  find  out  either .   ❝ But  tell  me ,  how  has  your  day  been  ? ❞   Question  so  common  among  families ,  and  yet  -  so  strange  when  tossed   between  them .

[the-writing-otter]

Malédiction ⇴ Chapter V

⇴ Author: the-writing-otter

⇴ Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

⇴ Main Characters: Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok

⇴ Summary:

Crown, Jungkook; Cursed, Jimin; Cast-off, Jin; Seer, Namjoon; Seeker, Yoongi; Sought, Taehyung; Catalyst, Hoseok

⇴ malédiction masterlist

⇴ previous

Chapter V

Jin woke from his painful rest with the unmistakable sting of metal pressed against his throat. A lazy smirk crawled across his face as his groggy eyes made out his threat. Pale skin made paler by the black clothes he wore matched with dark eyes that promised pain, made Jin pause inwardly, but keep up his charade of nonchalance for his attacker. He was slight and shorter than Jin, but he could just make out the telltale signs of countless knives under his coat. His voice was low, and gravelly when he spoke.

"What's so special about you that the mousy wench needs to hide you back here?"

Jin's eyes widened slightly as he struggled to stay calm. He forced a shrug.

"What's it to you?"

Yoongi growled in warning, instead of frustration, finding himself strangely intrigued by the injured man before him. He didn't have a mission regarding this man, he was just curious; he could do this all day. The tip dug in just a touch deeper, enough to remind Jin who had the higher ground here. Yoongi had been aware of Jin's presence on the highways around the little port town for some time now. He made it his personal business to know who this infamous highwayman was and who he really was. Yoongi knew more about Jin than Jin did. What he didn't get was the girl. Why would a lackluster spinster barmaid need to protect so ardently someone who seemed very capable of protecting themselves? Surely Jin had other people he could trust, others who would keep quiet about him for the right price?

Yoongi's eyes narrowed. "It means nothing to me," he said, voice quiet. "But it does influence the preservation of your neck, so I'd say it means quite a lot to you, don't you think?"

"I do have a penchant for attracting pretty women-" A drop of blood appeared as Yoongi's patience wore thin. "Except she isn't pretty, so cut the act."

Jin managed an exceptionally casual sigh for how painful his position was. His shoulder was throbbing and he could feel his blood trickling down the column of his throat. Time was running out. He needed to get out and he needed to get his attacker away from Nora. He couldn't handle getting her in worse shape than she is. "An old friend." His words were honest and his guard was down. Yoongi watched as one shoulder slumped, the other staying tight with pain. He looked exhausted. 

"Suffice it to say, she owes me."

"And why would that be?" he asked, softer, this time, and coaxing. Jin eyed how warily; he was tired but he wasn't stupid. "I saved her life once, many years ago."

An old friend? "Victim of your profession who somehow earned your pity?" Jin shook his head; lying would get him nowhere. "An old colleague I should say. We sailed illicitly together."

It clicked. The story he had overheard, two years ago, of the two cabin boys who somehow escaped the infamous pirate Crazy Mibs' crew had wound up here. The pirate was notorious for causing more havoc than was deemed necessary even by immoral pirate standards and his reputation as loathsome and inescapable had been tarnished by the disappearance of two cabin boys. Mibs had gone on a rampage in a northern port and killed hundreds. The story had circulated quickly, but the boys were never found. Until now. One was right in front of him and the other, he was willing to bet, was coming down the hall to check on her charge. Jin heard the footsteps a second after Yoongi did, and he froze, eyes wide on the door.

After witnessing extremely strange and disturbing happenings in this establishment, Nora had learned how to conceal her emotions, especially surprise. So the sight before her, instead of prompting a scream, just made her want to cry. The shady man who had been watching her all night had a knife pressed to Jin's throat and his other fist pressing into his hurt shoulder, pining him back against the wall. Jin's face was pale with pain and he clutched feebly at the firm arm pushing into his wound. When she stopped short in the doorway, the man glanced to his left, one eye on her the other on Jin, but stayed oriented towards the wall behind the table. Jin's eyes screamed run but that was the last thing she could do and they both knew it.

"What do you want?" Even in her moment of panic, she kept her voice low and tight, not letting her barmaid act slip just yet. There was still hope, right?

The man grinned, and her eyes flicked to Jin, worried. "Just some gossip, that's all. Surely you can explain a bit better than him how the two of you are connected?" He cocked his head to the side, looking straight at her now. He really shouldn't have. Jin's formerly weak right arm shot out and grip the back of Yoongi's neck, digging his nails in as he slammed his face into Jin's knee. His left arm knocked Yoongi's fist away and pushed, sending him backwards but not before his knife cut a jagged gash down the front of Jin's chest and neck. He swung himself off the table, and out the door, disappearing into the dark morning hours. Yoongi shot up faster than Nora could run, and snatched her wrist, twisting her around to press her against his front, knife blade to her neck. His breath was labored from the fall and she could feel the blood dripping from his broken nose. 

"Where would he go?"

"I-I don't know, I don't know where he goes.”

He released her with a frustrated and angry groan and leaned against the table. He could always tell when someone was lying to him, and she wasn't. Her voice had changed, it sounded natural. She was scared, and scared people don't lie very well. Anyways, a highwayman would have more than one haunt. His lackey wouldn't know where they all were, in case she got caught. He sighed. Nora backed towards the doorway. 

"Wait."

She stopped. His eyes were dark, more mad than hurt. 

"Tell me."

"Captain Mibs was my uncle. You know the story. Jin saved me from a fate worse than death." She paused, almost surprised by her own honesty. 

"Why?"

He glanced up, studying her face. It was open and not unkind. He could see what Jin saw in her, but he got the feeling that that wasn't quite their relationship with one another. "It's my job to know what no one else knows." She smiled ruefully. "I know." Quicker than he could react, her body was on his left, right hand gripping his wrists expertly, kitchen carving knife pressing into his throat. "Don't touch him again, and if you need to, talk to me. You owe me, now, Shadow. What's your name?"

Blood dripped down the blade and she let off a bit to let him speak. "Yoongi," he said, voice raw with fear. She nodded and left, releasing him fully, apparently satisfied. No one had given him the slip in years and now two people had done it in one night, one of them a girl. Yoongi groaned and picked himself up. He needed a real job, he couldn't just keep gathering information. He needed a use for it. After what was a bounty hunter for?

Jin stumbled through the streets, aimless and bloody. He didn't know if the man followed or not, but he couldn't take chances. He needed to find a safe place for the night, then he needed to go to the northern roads when he had regained his strength. How he was going to survive till then, he didn't know. It's not as if he hadn't gotten hurt before, but usually he could patch himself up and continue working. Well, robbing. But this was the second time he had foolishly depended on Nora and had endangered both of them. He needed to figure this out. He needed enough money to get both of them away, and far north, far away from the abusive tavern owner, far from any port, far from any danger. That's what he promised when they escaped together. That they would not just survive, but live. Thrive, even. What her uncle had instilled in them from such a young age would be washed away and they would start over. They would be happy, finally. He tripped and barely caught himself, his thoughts distracting him from the foggy street he walked down. A shadow moved soundlessly from the alleyway next to him and crouched down to help him up. Jin jerked in the strangers hold, alarmed at a second surprise attacker. But the cloaked shadow didn't attack but held his arms loosely, gently. "Please don't do that, you'll hurt your shoulder more." His voice was deep and soft. He was still, but anxious to get Jin off the street. Jin stared, eyes wide, mouth gaping.

"I- uh...do I know you?"

The shadow man chuckled. "No, you don't, but I know you Jin. Trust me please? I need to get you somewhere safe." He nodded toward the alley to his right. 

He was pleading, Jin realized , and he had no idea why this stranger cared about him enough to plead for Jin's own safety. But the creeping feeling of danger around any corner pushed his judgement to the side and he followed willingly as the man pulled him into the darkness.

⇴ next

[meetthetank]

Peccatum Chapter 10: The Engine in the Woods

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

“Wow. Okay 11S, you win the bet,” 801S grumbles, fishing a handful of coins out of his pockets.

“Honestly I’m just as surprised as you are. I can barely talk to you guys for a mile straight, let alone fifteen,” he gestures to 9S and 2B who walk ahead of the group.

“They’re attached at the hip and they don’t even know.”

“They don’t have a clue.”

32S sighs, “If they end up together that’s one less scout in the group. We’d be down to the four of us.”

“Give Nines some credit,” 801S says, “It’s not like him to just leave his friends for a pretty girl.”

“Except that’s exactly what just happened.”

11S points to 9S veering off into the dense forest with 2B following close behind.

“Oh I’m gonna kill him.”

Despite being in the middle of a grueling march into uncertainty, 9S has an infectious spring in his step. He and 2B lead the scouts by nearly a mile for no other reason than they haven’t noticed.

They talk the entire time; well, 9S talks the entire time. 2B occasionally chimes in on something he says, but for the most part she walks in silence. The difference is that she looks at him with that adorable head tilt and a curious gaze . She seems actually interested in what he has to say, listening to him go on and on about the most inane of topics, such as his endless attempts to beat the Commander in gungi, and it makes his heart flutter.

It’s not the first time 9S has felt this kind of puppy love, far from it, but this is the first time that someone has reciprocated. Or at least he thinks she reciprocates. Sometimes he has trouble differentiating between what’s real and what’s imagined.

He knows he’s not imagining the subtle upward twitch of her lips when he starts rambling off about his list of strategies for the next gungi match.

“Maybe I should teach you how to play one day.” he says to her, smiling from ear to ear.

“Uh...I’m not sure I’d be much of a challenge.”

“Aw, it’s not about the challenge, it’s about having fun!”

“You were just comparing beating your commander to ‘a light genocide’.”

“Yeah but that’s different.” 9S scoffs and waves his hand dismissively, “That’s a rivalry that spans years!”

“Does White know that?”

“Not yet.”

2B covers her mouth with her hand, stifling a giggle. 9S feels his jaw go slack and his whole world slow to a crawl. He’s never heard her laugh before, let alone at something he said. Heat rises in his cheeks and his ears, and he swears his heart skips a beat or two.

“Are you trying to catch flies like that?” she teases.

“I-...uh- No just-....” 9S stammers, “Yawning.”

2B simply cocks an eyebrow up but doesn’t press him further. Shaking the stupor away, he jogs back to her side and tries to smooth over the awkward silence with whatever comes to his mind first. However, a sharp pain stabs at the base of his skull, making him hiss through his teeth.

“9S? What’s wrong?” 2B asks and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing,” he lies, “Just uh...got the sun in my eyes.”

“...It’s been overcast all day.”

He looks up if only to avoid making eye contact with her, “Ah, so it is…”

They lapse into silence once again while 9S forces himself through the piercing headache. Simply walking in a straight line becomes difficult and he ends up bumping into 2B on more than one occasion. He believes he hears her tell him to stop and rest, but he just waves his hand dismissivly. It’s hard to hear anything over the sound of his own pulse.

Except for...something. The faint giggling of children and dissonant tones of some bizarre instrument. It makes his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The forest, the well trod path, even 2B all blur together as the sounds grow louder. Dread takes hold of 9S’ heart when something red flashes in the corner of his vision. His hand flies to the hilt of his spear and 2B follows suit with her own blade out of reflex, but the only thing lurking in the shadows are small forest animals.

“...9S?”

“I’m...fine.”

Just behind where 2B stands, he sees them. Those two girls in red. They flash in and out of his vision, laughing at him. Taunting him. 9S stops in his tracks and shuts his eyes. In the past, these hallucinations would pass on their own if he just sat down and thought about anything else. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. All he has to do is wait and they’ll go away on their own. Don’t listen to their laughter, don’t listen to what they tell him to do. 

Don’t listen to what they say about 2B.

Their words make him sick to his stomach, not just from content alone, but they feel as if they’re being poured into his ears. He could do everything in his power to block his hearing, and the giggling of those awful girls would still pierce inside his head

You there...boy.

A deep bellowing voice cuts through his mind. The visions dissipate as the voice echoes against the forest. Even 2B stops in her tracks, the downy feathers hidden beneath her hair shifting and giving it the impression of volume. 

Little spawn. Who are you?

A breeze blows through the trees from a deeper part of the forest, far off the trail, bringing with it the smell of wood and various flora. Nostalgia wells up in 2B’s chest at the scent alone and she almost finds herself wandering in the direction of the wind by instinct alone. The only reason she stops is to not abandon 9S.

Come here, little one. Leave the reptile behind.

However, 9S brushes right past her and into the forest.

“9S?” she calls after him and follows the path he creates through the brush.

2B follows close behind, deftly navigating the uneven terrain where 9S stumbles and crushes branches underfoot. She calls his name and even tries to stop him physically, but he keeps pushing his way further and further in. 

Not far now, Little Spawn.

The booming voice in 9S’ head is oddly calming, like the voice of the kindly grandparents he never had, or a groaning old oak tree. It’s so much different than the girls in red that he has to know the source. He moves in a trance, barely aware of 2B following him or the twigs and thorn bushes that prick at his legs. The forest becomes so dense that it blocks out most of the sunlight and simply walking becomes difficult. Bird songs and the leaves in the wind are just as deafening as the droning voice drawing him further in.

They come to a wall of foliage, thick ivy and gnarled branches that blocks their progress, but just as 2B begins to urge him to turn back 9S takes a small hatchet out off his belt and begins hacking away at the shrubs. With a sigh, 2B begins helping by slashing a path through at a much faster pace. 9S pays her no mind, too far entranced by whatever he’s feeling to notice her, until 2B yanks him through the hole she carved into the dense foliage.

Whatever she was expecting it certainly wasn’t this.

In the middle of a massive clearing sits the corpse of some sort of creature. Nature covers most of its body, but 2B can make out the shape of its armored shell from which great pipe like structures jut out, and six legs as thick as the oldest tree trunks. The hundreds of jagged claws that cover its feet could be mistaken for ancient stones as well as the teeth that sit in the center of its long leathery neck. The only thing that stands out and isn’t covered in forest growth is the smooth black thing at the end of its neck. 

Just the sight of this corpse ignites a deep rooted fury within 2B. She has no idea where the feeling came from, but all of the sudden she wants to destroy what remains of it. To grind it into dust and leave nothing standing. No trace of this...thing that doesn’t belong in this world. 

...Doesn’t belong in this world…

She’s felt this before, this instinct. 

So why doesn’t he illicit this?

9S stands in awe of the corpse, dwarfed by the sheer mass of it. He barely comes up to the tip of the glassy structure, and each of its teeth are as big as he is. Never in his life did he’d see something like this, even in an army meant to fight monsters. Is this thing even real? The only thing he can do to be sure is to reach out and…

The moment his hand touches the glassy surface a low hypnotic drone reverberates through his whole body, and causes the girls in red to vanish completely from his mind. Even their whispers and giggles fade into nothingness. 9S leaps backwards when six, glowing green eyes flicker to life just beneath his hand. They shift in position in pattern, until they arrange themselves in a V shape pointing directly at him.

Something rattles in 9S’ skull like the droning noise that this creature makes but far more articulated and potent. He recoils back only to lose his footing when 2B throws him behind her, sword drawn and a growl in her throat.

“Hmph,” the beast says, a large cloud of steam leaving its mouth, “You carry our blood, yet do not speak our tongue?”

2B lets out a snarl and raises her sword to strike, still keeping herself between 9S and this massive creature.

“Stow your fangs, reptile. I cannot harm you.” it says, “My body has been broken for a long time.”

“2B, put the sword away,” 9S says, putting his hand on her tense shoulders, “If it wanted to hurt us it would have done so already.”

She snarls at him but reluctantly sheaths her sword in her back scabbard. Her eyes never waver from their lock on the massive creature’s body. 9S tries to put himself in between it and 2B, but a low hiss from her keeps him in place next to her.

“What are you?” 9S asks.

It lets out a low sound that’s similar to a laugh, “I thought I smelled ape on you. Only they would be so ignorant. I am Engine 34287 Batch 57. I believe the apes called my kind City Breakers or Engles.”

“Engles...I’ve heard about you. Or...not specifically you, but about City Breakers. I had no idea you were...living things.”

“Feh,” Engles laughs,  “Demons are as alive as apes and the creatures of this realm. Though we are manufactured and cultivated, we live just the same.”

“Manufactured?” something akin to disgust and hate rises in 9S’ gut, “You mean demons are...products?”

“We are weapons. Each of us has a purpose, a function we are designed to do. I was meant to break down the crude walls of your capitals, but as you can see I did not live to fulfill that purpose.”

“I don’t understand,” says 9S, stepping closer to it, “Did something stop you? Some weapon harmed you?”

“HA! No ape construct could pierce my hide. No, my body could not handle the strain of this world. My legs ceased functioning not long after I entered.” 

“Did anyone try to fix you?”

Engles shifts its head to the right and then the left, “No. My escort legion left me to rot, as I was no longer of use. The Terminals stopped giving me instructions not long after.”

“The Terminals?” he says, “You mean the girls in red? You see them too?!”

2B shoots him a strange look at the mention of his hallucinations. He’ll have to remember to assure her he isn’t crazy. Probably.

“Saw. Of course I saw them, ape. They are our creators. Our masters. Even one with infernal blood as diluted as yours would hear their call.”

9S feels sick to his stomach. The thought of finding himself in any way similar to the demons repulses him to his very core. A portion of his back, where his tail would be if it were visible, begins to ache with the phantom pains of attempted self mutilation. With great effort he suppresses the nausea and hatred for the sole purpose of gathering more information directly from the mouth of the enemy.

“Why...why didn’t you call for help?”

“Oh I did, little ape, I did. I called for...I don’t recall how long I called for help. Eventually I accepted my fate and found peace here as the forest grew around me. I became a home for many creatures I once found vile. Your realm is...far more beautiful than I believed,” Engles laboriously turns his head to 2B, “It only took me some centuries to see why your kind defended this place so fiercely, reptile.”

2B can’t hide the shock in her expression. Never in her life would she expect a demon to...understand. 

“Wait, what?” 9S interrupts, “I don’t get it. In every story I’ve read about the past Demon Wars, it was always the Angels that turned the tide.”

“In major battles, yes, but the High Enochians could care less about your realm. They only wish for us to fail, as it has been since the Alpha Terminal came into being. No, the Apes owe their continued existence in this realm to the Dragons.”

“That’s…” he stammers as memories fill his mind, “Wait, what about the red dragon? The one that burned down all those cities and townships not less than...twenty years ago?”

“Hm…” Engles rumbles, causing a flock of birds to scatter from the various pipes on its back.

“The General of our army lead a campaign to try and combat it, but it ended in failure,” 9S squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, “If what you said is true, why would a dragon side with you and suddenly start attacking human homes?”

Engles’ eyes flicker for a moment before refocusing on 9S, “My memories are fractured, but I do recall the Terminals negotiating a contract with an ambitious reptile.”

Just one answer launches a thousand more questions in 9S’ mind and he’s about to begin interrogating the demon further, but a voice echoes through the forest that fills him with panic.

“Nines?! 9S where the hell are you?!”

There’s no mistaking 801S’ voice, laced with annoyance.

“Shit. How far did we wander?” 9S hisses to himself.

“I don’t know, I was following you to make sure you didn’t fall into a pit or something.” 2B grumbles.

“We can’t let them find Eng-...the demon. They’d kill him outright and we’d lose enemy intelligence.”

“I have thought myself too proud to ask things of a reptile and a mongrel ape but...please. Keep this place a secret. I do not have much power left. I wish to die peacefully, and forever be a home for these creatures of the forest.”

9S and 2B hesitate, hearing the last wish of something they both consider a monster makes their chests tighten.

“...Of course,” 2B says with a solemn nod.

Engles lets out a long sigh and rests its head on the ground, “Thank you, Dragon. Perhaps, if I am still alive, you could visit me? It’s...nice to talk to someone again.”

“Yeah, we’ll visit,” says 9S as he’s pulled by the arm by 2B.

“Farewell then...friends.”

“There you two are!” 801S shouts as 2B and 9S emerge from the dense underbrush, “Where the hell did you wander off to?!”

“Easy, easy!” 9S responds, holding his hands up defensively, “We went to investigate a disturbance I heard deeper in the woods.”

“Why didn’t you call for backup then?” asks 32S.

“I mean...I had 2B with me.”

“Yeah, we know,” 801S accuses.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You know damn well what I mean!” he jabs his finger at 9S’ chest, “This is war! This isn’t a game you can just ditch to go elope in the woods with some harlot!”

2B bristles quietly but refuses to speak. Keeping her gaze forward she begins to walk away from the group, only to be followed by 9S and the rest of the scouts.

“She’s not a harlot!!-...” 9S shouts then stops himself before he lets his anger get the best of him, “I told you, there was a disturbance deeper in the woods and we went to investigate! If there was a problem I would have doubled back for help!”

“Whatever,” 801S grumbles, “Just go get on point.”

801S storms back to the other scouts, leaving 9S fuming alone. The nauseating mixture of self loathing, dread, and anger makes him tear up just a touch. He wipes his eyes with his scarf before miserably plodding back to 2B, ignoring the red flickers in the corner of his vision.

(Biiig shout out to @nierly-amazing for the sketch of lovely Engles!!)

[thedyingmoon]

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein V, Nero, and Nico get to eat pizza together. 🖤

~ I really wanted to dedicate this to everyone who liked the first four parts. Thank you so much! 🖤

~ And to @acieoj , I hope I'm not ruining your sleep again. 🖤

~ And also to @heaven-on-a-landslide , you're a very nice person. Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs. 🖤

~ Enjoy! 🖤

***

IV

Once inside, V noticed that not only the lobby got to be lavished with such care and attention when it comes to decoration.

Nico's unit was surprisingly neat and decorated in such a way that made Nero stare in disbelief and V look with wonder. Several paintings that depicted some popular stories of the Greek Mythology, like the sojourns of Heracles, the forbidden love of Aphrodite and Ares, and the abduction of Persephone, hung on the wall. There were fragile things around, like some painted vases, that would surely make anyone be mindful of their movements. There were even some old collections, like Homer, Alighieri, and even Lovecraft, on the shelves located on the beige - and - black - ensemble living room, small, but impressive, all the same. But, most importantly, there was a classic feel, and distinct scent, about the whole place that simply made V right at home.

"Looks like someone feels comfortable." Nero said, but he was ignored as V practically strode directly towards the glass top table in the living room where a black violin case was left forgotten.

The markings on V's skin vanished as Griffon and Shadow made their way out and made themselves comfortable like their master.

Nico came in, bringing in the delivery of pizza that just arrived a few minutes ago.

"Who knew someone like you could own a place like this?" Nero mocked the woman, pointing at the impossibly beautiful and cozy place. "Surely doesn't sound like you."

"Shut it, psycho!" Nico shot back, enjoying her banter with Nero and unceremoniously dropping the three boxes of pizza on the table near the violin case, startling V a bit. "And just to inform ya, I don't own this fancy place."

"Whoa, then who lives here?" Griffon, who has made himself comfortable on top of the shelves, joined in on the conversation. "Don't tell me you stole it!"

"No, little chicken! Any questions?" Nico screamed at Griffon's face, almost making the demonic bird fall off the shelves in fright. "I'm livin' here for a while, and I will appreciate it if ya don't make a mess, or else I'll throw you out,... or cook you in a steel pot!" She collapsed on the comfortable black sofa beside Nero and crossed her legs. "Any more questions, huh, little chickee?"

She reached into her pocket for a cigar and immediately stopped, suddenly looking horrified. She shook her head and cursed under her breath.

"What's wrong, given up with that nasty habit of yours?" Nero asked, already opening a box and digging in.

"No, it's just that,..." Nico said, fidgeting with her fingers. "She doesn't allow it here."

"Who?" Nero said, mouth already full of the special loaded beef supreme.

Nico pointed at the violin case in V's gentle hands ( in a space of a few seconds, nobody noticed the tattooed man as he picked it up ). "The one who owned that, and this place."

The childish smile on V's face disintegrated as he carefully out the violin case back down on the table. "Then, I guess I shall have to ask her first. Where is she?"

Nico shrugged. "Dunno. Said she'll be back before sunset."

"But, it's already half past six." Nero retorted, mouth full of his third helping of the beef supreme.

"Yeah, well, she'll get by." Nico answered, reaching into her pocket and producing a small piece of black envelope. "What we need to focus on right now is this."

As Nico put the envelope down on the table, V sat at the sofa across her and Nero, eyeing the suspicious thing with furrowed eyebrows.

"This is an RSVP from a wealthy man who lives just a few blocks away from here." Nico explained.

Nero chuckled, already picking up his fourth helping of the pizza. "Is that an invitation for a fancy party, or something?"

"See for yourself."

Nero was about to pick the envelope with his oily, messy hands when V stealthily snatched it away with his gloved hand, immediately tearing it open. And before he could extract the actual invitation inside, he carefully glanced at Nico and Nero's direction.

"If I may?" He said in a low voice, his smirk truly branding him as the mysterious man that they knew.

"Go ahead." Nico conceded, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Thank you." He said, finally extracting the small piece of paper inside and reading its contents aloud. "You who are brave enough to face the wrath of the Gods, come to this place this coming Saturday at exactly eight in the evening. It said nothing else,... except for the address,..." V's eyes lazily went back to the note, scanning it and making sure that he would not miss even the tiniest bit of detail, then looked at them once more. "... and the dress code."

"A riddle, huh?" Nero said. "Sure doesn't sound like Devil May Cry business."

"You're wrong right there." Nico muttered, having her first slice of pizza. "That exact invitation was sent to others within the country. Devil Hunters, to be exact. Hey, V, wanna eat?"

"I'm good, thank you." V answered, outright politely refusing the offer.

"How did you even know that?" Nero asked.

Nico leaned in closer to Nero like she was going to tell a huge secret. "So, I have contact with the others, like Lady and Trish. It seems that they also received the invitation. They even mentioned some famous and obscure names in the Devil Hunting business who got the invitation."

V listened in, absorbing every piece of information he could take.

"And, let me mention this - Dante also received one."

All of a sudden, all three of them heard a yelping sound near the window. Griffom almost fell off the shelves while the two men stood up, drawing sword and cane, ready for battle.

"Someone's listening!" Nero said, revving his Red Rose.

"Looks like we have an,... unwanted visitor." V whispered, slamming his cane against his left palm several times, ready to give some beatings. "Best to make it at home - "

"Guys, guys! Stop!" Nico practically shrieked, standing up between the men and the window where they heard the suspicious sound. "What did I say about making a mess?!"

"Hey, hey! There's an intruder right - AHH!" Griffon flew off the shelves, almost ripping the cream curtains when the tattooed woman suddenly grabbed him by the beak and forcefully threw him across the room, making both Nero and V dodge the incoming projectile. Shadow, who was actually unfazed all throughout the ordeal, looked up as Griffon flew, involuntarily, from point A to point B, and went back to lounging on the carpeted floor near V, chin resting on sleek, black forelegs.

"To not make any?" Nero muttered, answering Nico's question but still not willing to put his weapon down.

"Exactly! That's just the - ah - neighbor's cat!"

"That,..." V said, pointing at the window using his cane as an extension of his arm. "... does not sound like a feline, at least to my ears."

"Okay, okay, guys! Trust me and put your weapons down. Thank you!" Nico breathed a sigh of relief as the men calmed down a bit. "Now, as I was saying, we must go to this event and find out what this, wrath of the Gods, is!"

"We cannot go shorthanded." V mentioned, still looking at the window suspiciously. "If we take the riddle in a very literal sense, then,... we would not have enough strength. We would be dealing with the wrath of the Gods,... after all."

"That's where I come in!" Nico crossed her arms and smiled proudly. "Nero, how's the breaker coming along?"

Nero held up a blue metal arm which V shamefully did not take notice of before. "It's fine, sure."

"Oh, yeah? Then, I'll be making new ones."

"Isn't this enough?"

"No!" Nico screamed, then turned towards V, and using the same tone she used on Nero, she spoke to him, making his eyes leave the window. "And, you! You seem interested in all this, yes?"

"As a matter of fact, I'am." And it was the plain truth.

"Then, go get your own formal wear! I can't provide you with one. I'm an artisan, not a freaking, fancy tailor!"

"Wait, like, right now?" Nero asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Duh?! Are you, like, gonna wait till Saturday for that? Go, go, GO!" Nico, despite her diminutive size, tried to push both Nero and V towards the door, making the two of them leave.

But, why?

Nero might be easily swayed by the woman, but V remained sharp. His eyes lingered for a second at the direction of the window when Nico snapped her fingers right in front of his eyes.

"Hey, hey, if you're looking for some chicks, then you're in the wrong place!" Nico sassed. "Get moving!"

V sighed, getting annoyed by the woman. What was she hiding from them?

He called in Griffon and Shadow, who went to him without question, and followed Nero outside, hearing the woman close the door quickly as soon as they got out.

And as soon as the two were safely out, Nico hustled towards the place V was intently staring at, drew the heavy curtains, and revealed the wide - eyed girl who was just hiding at the balcony right behind the window pane. Nico opened the window and let the girl in.

"Are you crazy?!" She shouted at the girl. "Why would you be hiding there? This is your home, for crying out loud! Are you a thief, or something?!"

You just looked at Nico, (E/C) eyes still wide, chest still heaving.

"It's him, Nico." You said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

You grabbed Nico's shoulders and gave them a mighty shake. "It's him! The man with the violin in my visions!"

"Who?!"

"The one with the markings on his skin!"

It was Nico's turn to have widened eyes. She looked behind her at the door the two men just walked out of, then looked back at you. "The mysterious man? Are you sure about that?"

Yes, you were very certain of it. "It. Is. HIM!"

***

🖤🖤🖤

[edelgoth]

Hi! Can I request a matchup w/ a girl from 3H and Awakening? Im an INFP with a small number of close friends. I do my best to be polite to all people I interact with and Im told I have walls that are difficult to break through. Im encouraging and openly compliment people! I also quickly call out things that I think are wrong. Im very open with my feelings and I like being asked for my opinion. It takes a lot to get me motivated. Im also a tease with a smart mouth who jokes a lot! Thank youa

hey!! sorry for the wait!! you sound really sweet!!

without a shadow of a doubt, i match you with… 

dorothea!!

i think she’d just really like the way you go about things? and by that i mean, she would admire how you treat people while remaining authentic, and how you maintain a small number of close friends

you’d absolutely start out as good friends before the two of you go “o shit… they’re the One” 

and i feel like it’d be prompted by the fact that dorothea really values sincerity, and you would be a breath of fresh air for her

despite how she presents herself, dorothea doesn’t like herself very much (it broke my heart when i saw that ��herself’ was listed under her dislikes), so i think that she’d really appreciate how open you are with your compliments 

i just feel like dorothea would feel so lucky to have met you? like, you’re exactly the type of partner she needs, and she’d be able to rely on you in a way she hasn’t relied on anyone before 

just!! encouraging each other!! all the time!! with everything!! always rooting for each other in whatever you guys do!! 

i feel like dorothea’s the sort of person who’d be able to break down people’s walls easily? she’s just good with people like that, and she’d want to help you just like you help her 

okay but she’d also L O V E how you speak up when you see things you think are wrong; we know how dorothea feels about bullshit social structures, and honestly? i feel like she’d find it kind of hot

but you’re both teases, so half the time you guys just won’t let each other live 

if the mood is right, literally nothing is off limits; watch her tease you for your motivation, while you tease her for always sounding like she’s flirting with whoever she’s talking to (we stan a self-made harem queen) 

basically your relationship would be a beautiful balance of playful and deep? i feel like it’d literally be The relationship that dorothea dreams of 

ugh now i’ve made myself emo, please look after this incredible woman

alternate matchups

mercedes: perfect angel couple… too good for this world… we do not deserve… i feel like your relationship would be a bit less playful than with dorothea, but it’d probably be cheesier (in a charming way!). but, polite, encouraging angels who are always checking in with each other and making sure they’re well-looked after as they pursue your dreams? my HEART

annette: P L E A S E this would be so cute!! you two would be the MOST supportive couple, always encouraging each other and providing support! it takes a lot for you to get motivated? no matter! annette’s going to actively encourage you to do your best and be the best version of yourself you can be. pls take care of her!

i also match you with… 

olivia!!

oh my!! goodness!! name a cuter duo. i’ll wait. but seriously, you and olivia would compliment each other so well? 

as we all know, olivia is V E R Y quiet, and cripplingly shy. but!! it seems like you’d give off a very approachable aura, so she’d warm up to you quicker than to others

the fact that you’re very polite would certainly help, and i feel like you’d be something of a rock for her? 

she’s quite insecure, so the fact that you’re openly complimentary would be wonderful for her!! and like honestly, what isn’t there to compliment her on? 

while they’d make her really embarrassed, i think it’d be valuable for her to have someone who’s so actively reminding her of her worth?

i think the fact that you’re also encouraging would be invaluable to her, as she needs someone to help bring her out of the pessimistic ruts she falls into, and to help her realize that she’s good at more than just dancing! 

even though she’s shy, olivia’s actually quite good at talking about her feelings once she’s comfortable with someone, so i think the two of you would have a very good back-and-forth with each other! 

i think this emotional openness would help break through your walls, and olivia would absolutely offer the same affection and support that you give her 

i feel like she’d always be asking you for your opinion, partly because she’s genuinely interested, but also because it means that you’ll fill the silence aldskjdskjs

i feel like you wouldn’t tease her that often (she might be a bit too skittish for that), but you’d always be trying to make her laugh!! 

I Love Her please treasure this Literal Angel

alternate matchups

flavia: all i want in life is for flavia to validate me. your relationship would (obviously) be very different from that listed above, but i feel like it’d be really fun! flavia is absolutely going to kick your butt into action, but the two of you are also going to have so much fun. she’d like how you speak up when you see something wrong, and she’d love your smart mouth tbh.

lissa: she’d be a bit of a middle ground between olivia and flavia; she’d push you to do things, but by teasing you about it. she’s got the sweetness of olivia, but she’s much more lively and lighthearted. she’d also enjoy your sense of humour (as we know, she loves pranks), but she’s going to be less of a… Galvanizing Force, so to say, than flavia! 

[cagesings]

 @angelsweeps  /  riff  sent:  “  you  look  too  beautiful  right  now  ,  it’s  too  dangerous  to  make  direct  eye  contact  .  ”

 ❝  i  am  completely  naked  and  in  the  shower  right  now.  ❞

 fingers  tug  the  curtain  up  to  her  chest  as  she  looks  at  her  husband  with  raised  brows.  locking  the  door  is  always  difficult  for  her.  the  final  thud  of  the  lock  twisting  into  place  brings  back  too  many  memories  for  her  to  be  able  to  do.  it's  a  miracle  their  front  door  gets  locked  at  night.  it  isn't  johanna's  doing  when  she  tries  to  twist  the  knob  in  the  morning  and  finds  that  it's  stuck.  the  bathroom  door  is  no  different.  she  can't  lock  herself  in  a  place  where  she  feels  the  most  exposed.  though,  she  hadn't  told  riff  not  to  come  in  like  she  had  for  the  first  year  or  so  of  their  marriage.  they've  done  worse  things  than  simply  exist  in  each  other's  sight  nude  before.  

 though,  she  had  instinctively  turned  the  water  off  upon  hearing  him  enter,  the  scent  of  lilac  still  wavers  through  the  air  from  her  shampoo,  something  she  takes  notice  of  upon  taking  a  deep  breath.  can  she  continue  bathing  now?  or  are  they  going  to  stand  here  staring  at  each  other  (  apparently,  riff  can't  even  make  direct  eye  contact  ).  there's  still  the  fear  of  dropping  the  curtain  entirely.  despite  the  fact  that  he  is  her  husband  and  like  she  thought  before,  they've  done  worse  things  than  this  before.  

 ❝  besides,  you're  wrong.  ❞  johanna  tucks  part  of  the  curtain  under  her  arm  to  keep  a  better  grip  on  it.  ❝  i  am  not  beautiful.  especially  completely  naked  in  the  shower.  you  better  not  be  so  called  unable  to  make  eye  contact  before  your  eyes  are  going  other  places,  rolf  lautmann.  ❞  she's  covered  herself  up  anyway.  ❝  i'm  about  to  turn  the  water  back  on.  ❞

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Yard Work

Of the many lessons instilled in him by Granny Ethel, the one that Todd knows best, is that good, hard, honest work keeps the devil at bay.

It’s only a saying. But he takes it to heart, if only to reassure himself that his brethren don’t know or care where he’s disappeared to for the past few months.

Really, they shouldn’t care. They’re often called away and sent on wayward tasks by superiors and skilled summoners alike. Sometimes for years.

Todd wouldn’t mind living like this for a decade, or two.

The Human Todd—Theodore—though, doesn’t seem to hold the same morals.

“Ugh—why won’t the damn thing just start?” he gripes at the old push lawn mower, rusted and peeling with age, as he yanks the motor’s rip cord for the third time in a row—unsuccessful. Not even a stutter. The heel of his shoe bounces off of its faded red deck with a dull, metallic thump as he tries to kick it into submission, but hitting machinery never inspires it to suddenly, magically work.

It isn’t that it doesn’t have gas—Todd has made sure it’s well taken care of in its old age and properly filled. It isn’t that it’s missing its grass-catcher bag, either. That’s another issue to be met further down the road.

Ultimately, it’s just Theodore’s poor luck and impatience. And a dirty carburetor, perhaps.

He’ll let him struggle obliviously for a few moments more—but only a few. Granny Ethel’s lawn is overgrown with a wily mass of green-yellow grass up to his shins, in desperate need of taming. But for now, he just shakes his head and minds his business at the stone-bordered garden on the other end of the lawn, getting his claws dirty pulling stray weeds from between herbs and taking notes on which ones need pruning.

More importantly, he only allows Theodore to swear so loudly because Granny Ethel is currently absent.

Their friend Sam from the grocery store kindly drove her to her routine check-up at the local clinic earlier that afternoon, though they probably would have walked if it wasn’t in the next town over.

Being who she is, he’s still a bit surprised they didn’t.

Another kick echoes off the metal body of the lawn mower—followed quickly by a strangled yell and the sound of something heavy—someone—hitting the grass with a sharp rustle. A soft landing.

Maybe he’s lucky after all.

Todd still ignores him, and pauses briefly to admire the ruby red glare of a ladybug landing on the back of his dark hand. Even as the swishing of disturbed grass only grows closer, until a distorted human shadow blocks the bright patch of sun reflecting off of the ladybug’s fragile shell.

Theodore clears his throat.

The ladybug’s wings unfurl in a flutter and it flits away, following the wind.

Again, he clears his throat to garner attention—and Todd ignores him. But he does keep him in the fringe of his peripheral vision.

“No help at all.” He huffs out an insulted breath as he stomps away, unkempt, sweaty blond hair flouncing with each step. It must be the hardest he’s worked out in ages, to get so worked up.

But Theodore doesn’t return to the lawn mower—this time he heads toward the far corner, to the small brown shed topped with a patchy, bright yellow roof. Unpainted, unfinished. It’s something Todd will take care of at an appropriate time. Granny Ethel’s birthday, perhaps…though she hasn’t mentioned it just yet.  

The doors rattle as he gives them a shake—locked, naturally. He sets his hands on his hips and hangs his head in defeat. Bends down and almost collapses in the grass, ready to give up, but stops. Frozen, as if struck by inspiration. His head tilts dramatically as he peers toward something in the corner, resting in the shadows between the shed wall and the fence.

Todd has to admit, this interests him greatly—he turns his head to watch, but doesn’t move from his spot beside the herb garden.

Theodore straightens up and slinks toward the shadowed nook, reaching a hand out into the blackness. And when he draws it back, a scythe handle is gripped in his palm.

It’s dusty. Rusted and bent at the edges, probably dull—and complete with another hand grip protruding from the main rod like a functional tool. Made of old wood; reliable wood. Hand-carved. Theodore wheezes out a laugh of disbelief and quickly turns. Todd can’t turn around fast enough and catches the brunt of the victorious grin wrinkling his face. Knowing, and so triumphant. The absolute epitome of foolish Pride.

He doesn’t even know what he’s holding, certainly. Not with those pristine, clean hands that have only been pricked by a splinter today.

Todd rises to his feet, to his full height. There’s no need to heed ceilings—not outdoors. When he takes the first step, Theodore’s smile crumbles. He clutches the scythe to his chest and takes a step back, shoulders tense. He holds the eye contact just to spook him. Just a bit.

But he doesn’t walk to him. He reaches the lawn mower and kneels to pass a hand over its motor, clearing it of whatever issue remains.

Ah. Like he thought. It’s the carburetor.  

He takes the rip cord in one hand and gives it a brisk yank—the motor stutters. Again, he pulls it, and the machine roars to life. Obedient, like a well-tamed beast.

Theodore’s strangled yelp of outrage satisfies the primal human vengeance he’s come to know as “pettiness.”

As the lawn mower idles, Theodore sets the scythe carelessly aside, dropped against the shed, and trudges through the tall grass toward it. He seizes it by the handle bar without sparing Todd a second glance even as he towers over him, still kneeling, thanks to the height of his spiraling horns.

Still, he doesn’t seem to know just how to operate the machine he snatched away. He pushes it forward, too rough—and jumps back with a start, cursing as the fresh-cut grass clippings pepper his navy-blue slacks in a rush of green.

But the beast has already been released, and as his fingers slip from the handlebar, it creeps its way forward without prompt and with surprising speed.

Straight into Granny Ethel’s beloved and flourishing lantanas.

Then right over them.

Both, speechless and stock still, stare at the vermillion whirl of shredded petals spit out in the lawn mower’s wake. Even as it bumps into the fence and tries to continue on, unaware—until it topples over and chokes itself out, blades whirring to a halt beneath its casing.

Just in time, too. In the distance, but not too far away, a car door slams shut. Swift and familiar, shuffling footsteps fast approach. The wooden side gate creaks open.

“We’re back at last, dears! I’m sure you’ve been working hard. Why don’t we take a break? I saw the most charming bakery on the way home and couldn’t help but—”

Something crashes against the cobblestone walkway. Soft—covered in a plastic bag. Bread. No, cinnamon buns. Todd can smell the sugary vanilla sweetness through the package. But he can’t quite turn to face Granny Ethel as a red hot glare fills his eyes, aimed only at Theodore.

But—no. It isn’t entirely the man’s fault.

It’s his, too, for playing a jealous, petty little game. Because he could have stopped the lawn mower and didn’t.

Sometimes, standing idly by is the worst sin of all.

Todd’s heart caves in as Granny Ethel breathes in and exhales, speechless, and presses her hands to her mouth when he turns to face her.

“Oh, my… The lantanas.”

Her eyes dart to the ruined mess of flowers and she takes a tiny step forward, over the fallen bag of sweet bread. Drops her hands from her mouth and holds them out in front of her as she ambles forward—and stops, a safe distance away from the destruction.

“Oh, my dudes, yikes,” Sam breathes, hissing in through his teeth and rubbing a brown hand across his frowning, pursed lips. “I, uh—I’ll go in and mix up some juice or something. You’ll need it.” He picks up the fallen bag of buns on the way.

Todd’s shoulders hunch as he very nearly curls in on himself in shame, wrapping his shawl tight around himself—because the heat never bothered him and it’s his it’s special and it was a gift from her and, somewhere deep down, he vows to never disappoint her, to hurt her, in such a way again. Ever.

Theodore, flushed deep red from neck to ears ever since his grandmother walked in, shuffles half-heartedly in front of the straight line of shredded lantanas, at least self-aware enough to realize he’d made a grave error. His hands knead roughly together, pale skin turning whiter from the pressure. Sweating, still, but not only from the summer heat.

“Gran, I…”

“Charles grew that patch for me.” Her soft poofs of cloud-white hair twist in the breeze as she closes her eyes and dips her head toward her chest, eyes closed. “Oh, they’ve been there ever since he planted them. Every single one.” She folds her hands in front of her loose, sunflower-yellow dress and shakes her head, saying no more on the subject.

“Oh my God. I’m so—Gran, I don’t… I didn’t mean to, it just… It wasn’t my fault!”

His frantic cry goes unheard by Granny Ethel as she stands with her head bowed in silence.

“There’s a silver lining, here, my dear.” When she looks up, her eyes shine behind her glasses, unshed tears catching sunlight, but her stare is hardened. And harsh.

Even with that small, tired smile, her fury is a cold-burning flame.

“You see, these particular flowers can live again. We will collect the undamaged stalks that are left and root them. Replant them. Then…” Her voice trails off into the silence of an unspoken thought. “For now, I’ll leave you two in peace to finish the yard work.”

Neither speaks a word, stuck in mortified silence, even as Granny Ethel disappears into the house.

The silence is only broken moments later when Sam makes his way back outside holding a tray filled with a glass pitched and three glasses, as well as a small pile of cookies. Peanut butter, of course.

But no sweet cinnamon buns.  

“Here’s that drink! Lavender lemonade with honey—and Granny’s special peanut cookies,” he smiles, trying his best to keep up a positive atmosphere as he sits cross-legged on the lawn with the fine silver tray in his lap. “She helped put it together, dudes, so don’t forget to thank her later.”

Theodore scoffs and grumbles out, “I’m allergic to peanuts,” but Todd knows that isn’t true. He’s seen entire containers of peanut butter disappear overnight, at times. And Granny Ethel simply wouldn’t do something that selfish, so he’s the only suspect.

But if the man is going to be that way about it, then all the more treats for him and Sam. He drains one of the glasses in a single gulp and devours two of the delicious, crispy cookies, nodding in appreciation. Because it’s what Granny Ethel would want—and he’d rather die than let her hospitality go to waste. Her happiness always comes first.

He hopes she’s not crying.

“She’s busy crocheting something in the den, by the way. Humming, and everything. Boy, am I glad she’s not mad.” Sam also eats a cookie and speaks around the crunchy bits in his mouth, providing him with just the answer he sought. “But, man, that’s some gnarly garden carnage, there.” He nods his head toward the lantanas and whistles low. “Did you apologize?”

“Why would I?” Theodore snaps, arms crossed tight as he refuses to look at the flowers and their faces, still evident in his guilt by the way he answers so quickly. When no one gives him an immediate response, he breathes a theatrical sigh and clomps toward the fallen path of ruined flowers. Hands on his hips, now, he observes the mess. “Is any of this even salvageable? None of the stems look un-shredded!”

“You should apologize,” Sam insists lightly, taking another cookie when he finishes the first. He meets Todd’s eyes and they share a knowing glance. Then, his brown eyes light up. “Oh—and by the way, Granny’s appointment went great! She’s fit as a fiddle.”

By now, Theodore is squatting amongst the flower shreds, combing through the mess for anything that looks particularly helpful and root-able. “Of course she is. Her energy knows no bounds.”

Todd can only nod. Granny Ethel’s health is nigh infallible. But—that aside, it’s time to return to work. He finishes his cookies, brushes the crumbs off his palms and carefully makes his way to the flower patch to pick out the lantana stems they can still save.  

There are few—but a few is better than none. And for the rest, they can grow from the seeds.

It will take some time to return Granny’s beloved lantana garden to its former glory, but not forever. And before they know it, this day will be nothing more than a mistake of the past.  

So, they continue their yard work until the day’s chore is done.

The remaining lantanas: neat. The lawn: trimmed. The herb garden: weeded and pruned.

When the tools have been returned to their proper place, they leave the yard behind, and Todd gives one final, sweeping glance around the space as he slides the back door shut.

Something is out of place. He can’t quite pin down what, but later, when he curls up in his small twin bed and drifts to sleep in the room he shares with Theodore, he dreams of a rusted scythe that he can’t quite remember putting away—one that he promptly forgets when he wakes.