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allteacher · 3 years ago

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Eris has been in the Tower for barely three weeks when she gets the message.

It should come as more of a surprise, but Eris has known since she crawled gasping out of the Moon’s tunnels that she would not have peace for long, even in the Tower. Even after she’d been discovered and inspected and questioned, spoken softly to and coddled and ensconced gently in her own private quarters— quarters in the civilian wing, far away from her old rooms.

“All your things are still in storage,” Ikora had told her that first day, watching Eris look around her new bedroom, empty save the large windows looking down on the memorial gardens. The view is of the Firebreak section; Eris had refused anything where she could see the names of the people she’d known, where the City planners had just yesterday taken down the stone inscribed with her own name.

She still hasn’t retrieved any of her things, the ragged cloaks or the blankets or the chipped mugs she’d stolen from the Hunter’s Lounge. She thinks about going into that dark room filled with the markers of her past life, sometimes. Sometimes she thinks she will open the heavy metal door and her old self will be standing there, surrounded by the past. Sometimes this is a dream; more often it is a nightmare.

Every few days, Eris sneaks into the supply closet at the end of the hallway and takes one of the chain locks from its carefully-labeled container. She installs them carefully, tests her weight against the door to see if it gives: fragile charms against some future ruin. She knows anything she is truly afraid of could not be stopped by something so mortal, but the action gives her hands something to do; material action, however useless, in service of her own protection.

(She’d done the same on the Moon, before they’d ventured down into the pit: the six of them, holed up in some small lunar colony outbuilding, she and Vell nailing sheets of spinmetal to the doors to keep out wandering Hive in the night. The chalk of bone dust in her throat as Toland had hung Hive-charms over each threshold, humming to himself.

Sai had looked at him, grin questioning. “Are those going to blow us up?”

Eris knows now they would’ve done much worse.)

She hauls herself to her feet, examines her handiwork. If Ikora saw her, she’d call Eris obsessive. Eris knows she is; she wants something new to obsess over. Wants to think of nothing but Crota, to dream of nothing else until his great luminescent corpse is rotting in his Throne. This is why, when her comm chimes with the one-two tone of a summons, she turns toward it with an eager expectation. Maybe Ikora has convinced the Vanguard to listen to her, finally.

The message is from a channel she’s never seen, not before she entered the Hellmouth or since. There’s no text, just a string of coordinates and, at the bottom, a series of pictographs. They’re not Hive runes, have none of the sinuous incomprehensibility.

Eris, the habit worn into her, has her suspicions. But she speaks of them to no one, has the feeling she’s guessed the importance of the secret she’s been entrusted with.

The message has no date attached, so she waits a few more days before acting. She spends that time in a stupor, drifting around her little room, sometimes venturing to the library or to the secluded back hallways of the Hidden to ask for information. She still keeps to the shadows, because no one in the City or the Tower has grown used to her presence yet. Idly, she considers the idea that she is making her problem worse, only alienating herself further by refusing to come fully into the light, to let herself be seen. In these in-between days, she cannot bring herself to care.

She considers leaving without telling anyone. She does not think she will be gone long, and she does not need permission to leave the City. But she considers what the Vanguard, already suspicious of her, would think, what conclusions they would draw. What Ikora would think if Eris disappeared into the night, like she’d done with Eriana so many years ago.

Finally, she sneaks into Ikora’s office.

Eris wastes no time on formalities once she sees Ikora's figure behind her desk, piled high with reports. "I am leaving the City for the afternoon," she says. It is not a lie, because she is loathe to hide anything but what she must from the one person who has tried to welcome her back into the City, who still sees her as an equal. "I am not going off-world. I should be back before tomorrow." The words feel stiff in her mouth even as she says them, but she is still relearning conversations not conducted in whispers or screams.

Ikora does not beam at her, does not over-indulge her, but Eris can still feel the warmth of her Light radiating outward. “Alright," she says, "Radio if you need any assistance. And let me know if you see anything unusual. I’ve been receiving strange reports, lately.”

Eris hopes that isn’t a warning. She inclines her head, leaves without a word.

She departs immediately, before her paranoia can get the better of her. She flies over the Cosmodrome for half an hour before inputting the coordinates she’d long since memorized— some Hidden practicality had made her delete the message almost as soon as she’d read it. She comes to the location soon enough, a little clearing tucked into some foothills. Still on Earth, which she privately considers a blessing. She does not know if she would have been able to leave it, yet, not when her wounds are still so raw.

Eris parks her little ship in the shadow of a few trees. She feels secure having it a physical presence near her, a concrete mode of retreat. It’s more than she’d ever had in the tunnels.

She picks her way across a stream, climbs to the top of a small hill that rises over the clearing. She sees the figure immediately, cutting a striking figure against the weak afternoon light. Even from here, he hurts her eyes to look at. She grimaces, continues down towards him.

As she grows closer, the figure grows more obvious: Osiris. She’d had her suspicions, driven by what she’d remembered of his writings before his exile, Toland’s ravings. Even the message had a certain Warlock quality to it, a mystery, a challenge. She and Eriana had crafted just such a message with their own hands once, join us in our quest…

Osiris looks as she remembers him, though she’d only ever seen him from a distance. Eriana had disliked him, had hated his presence as Warlock Vanguard. Despised his position because of the power it gave him over the Praxic Fire, who stood in clear opposition to everything he'd gradually become.

(“I don’t see why he’s so desperate to understand them. I’m tired of trying to simply understand,” Eriana had groaned once, servos whirring, bent over some ancient tome. “I do not need to know the Hive to raze them to ashes. I only need to know what they have taken from us.”)

Forgive me, Eris thinks. She will not get her vengeance without fully comprehending everything the Hive are, without learning the weft and weave of their existence so that she can unravel it.

She blinks and she is standing before him. “Osiris,” she says. Maybe it is her memories of Eriana but she feels like a newly-Risen, again, standing before him. He is a figure cut neatly from her past and transplanted into the present, unchanging, looking down at her.

“Eris Morn,” he says, and Eris does not startle but she is, for some reason, surprised that he knows just who she is. She knows that it is her own tortuous journey that has made him seek her out, that it is her pain that has made her valuable. Some part of her rails against it, even as she is desperate to turn her nightmares into something usable, to prove to herself that their deaths were not meaningless, that they have done something other than feed the Hive’s ever-eager desire for suffering.

Osiris is looking at her strangely. Eris tries to stare back, but her eyes skitter sideways off of him, the afterimage of his silhouette burning in her eyes. She must make another face, because Osiris’ Ghost slides close to him, spinning intently, and the aura of his Light fades to a shimmer over his skin.

“I know you have information regarding the Hive,” he tells her. “The City ignores your warnings.”

��As they ignored yours.” It is not meant as a challenge, but everything she says sounds bitter, now.

Most of his face is covered, but the tilt of his head changes. “Yes. But we both know what is coming. The question is how to stop it.”

Eris has never been good at these Warlock-games, at talking in circles, hinting closer and closer to what lies plain before them both. “I think I know how to kill Crota,” she says, because she needs to get to the heart of the thing that has been eating her alive. She needs to tell someone who will understand.

And she thinks Osiris will understand, because he has not been through the Hellmouth but he does understand what it is like to exist utterly alone with the enemy, to be shaped by your experience of something completely alien. To be so utterly changed that everyone around you can only think you mad.

“Tell me, then,” he says, and so she does.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #my fic #sometimes you have to get a fic out of your brain in order to get to the actual fic you want to write #aka 'this is the prequel to that eris&osiris fic i was talking about last month'#(they'll actually interact in that one i promise)

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Best Serial Killer Movies of the ’90s Ranked

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Someone must have left the freezer door in the morgue open, because grisly reminders of the past are thawing before our eyes. You can see it this weekend with the release of John Lee Hancock’s The Little Things, a throwback to the days when movie stars hung out at crime scenes instead of in spandex, and it’ll be more apparent next month with the launch of Clarice, a television spinoff of 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs. All the evidence points to only one conclusion: the serial killer thrillers of the ‘90s are back!

Not that we’re complaining. For a macabre minute or two, every Hollywood name appeared eager to play either the detective or the killer—the hunter or the obsessed, which often proved interchangeable for both characters. Granted that means there can be something formulaic about many of these movies. Yet they can also be bleak, hard-edged, and ambiguous. From our modern gaze, where the dominant studio conventions prefer reassuring morality tales and sunny lighting, these movies’ preference for shadows and discomfort in the mainstream is kind of startling.

So grab your magnifying glass and fortify your stomach, because we’re about to revisit some of the best (and worst) of ‘90s serial killer thrillers. (Also this list is strictly for the decade when the genre was at its height and it excludes slasher movies like Scream, which may feature serial killers but were not exactly adult-oriented thrillers.)

12. Eye of the Beholder (1999)

Eye of the Beholder is a tonal oddity that only passingly flirts with the conventions of ‘90s serial killer thrillers, all while it tries to pay homage to (read: rip-off) Alfred Hitchcock. But any credit it deserves for deviation—including making Ashley Judd’s central femme fatale the killer—it loses in execution. As a muddied, impenetrable tale about an intelligence officer (Ewan McGregor) who spies on and falls in love with a serial killer, Eye of the Beholder is a scattershot of bad ideas that run the gamut from ludicrous to misogynistic.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but this movie will close the lids over your pupils inside of 30 minutes.

11. Nightwatch (1997)

It feels a little mean to rag on Ewan McGregor back-to-back, but maybe serial killer movies just aren’t his genre? That could be at least one takeaway from an ill-advised double feature of Eye of the Beholder and Nightwatch, the latter of which is a remake of a 1994 Danish film that I’ve not seen… and probably won’t since both the original film and American remake are directed by the same man.

McGregor plays medical student Martin here, a kid who gets an after school job by becoming the night watch security at the local morgue. But as a series of grisly prostitute murders pile up, Martin realizes he needs to figure out who the killer is—that or continue to be framed by the necrophiliac fiend who keeps coming by the morgue for one last liaison. It’s exactly as skeevy as it sounds. Do yourself a favor and go your whole life without hearing Nick Nolte sing “This Old Man” while climbing onto a corpse.

10. Natural Born Killers (1994)

The movie that Quentin Tarantino disowned, Natural Born Killers is a seedy mess based on a Tarantino script that was heavily rewritten by Oliver Stone, David Veloz, and Richard Rutowski. The concept itself is a seemingly inevitable escalation of the “bad romance outlaws” archetype that’s been floating around Hollywood since at least 1950’s Gun Crazy, and which was then made iconic by Bonnie & Clyde (1967).

But whereas those films relied on bank robbers living fast, Natural Born Killers descends into a seeming final form with Mickey and Mallory (Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis) as giddy serial killers who are eventually out for maximum carnage. Technically the pair are supposed to be presented as victims of traumatic child abuse—and who are then wrongfully glorified by the media. But Stone’s sloppy and tanked vision lacks the discipline to achieve anything beyond its maliciousness. Early sequences imagining Mallory’s abusive childhood like it’s a television sitcom, and later psychedelic visions of Robert Downey Jr.’s opportunistic news reporter as the Devil, do little to divorce the film from its shallow self-satisfaction in close-ups of heads being shot.

The movie came under controversy in the years after its release for inspiring alleged copycat killers as well as school shooters. It feels irresponsible to blame media for actual violence, but it’s still quite an indictment that Stone’s attempt to criticize media glorification became a favorite for many a disturbed individual with a gun.

9. Kiss the Girls (1997)

When studying competent, middle of the road Hollywood thrillers, Kiss the Girls is a solid place to start. As a decently made bit of studio convention, the movie is anchored by strong elements like Morgan Freeman as James Paterson’s literary hero, Alex Cross, and Ashley Judd as Kate, the victim who survives a masked killer’s attempt to abduct her into his harem.

Moments like Kate’s escape sequence through the North Carolina wilderness are effectively filled with adrenaline, and Judd particularly gives the salacious piece conviction. However, it is salacious to a fault. Even if the movie toned down the source novel’s even more lurid misogyny, the film studies Kate and the other victims with a lascivious male gaze, blurring sex with violence, real world horror with leering entertainment. Right down to its title, the film can be rightly criticized as Hollywood glamourizing another story about violence against women. Whether that damns the whole movie depends on the viewer, but it certainly keeps it low on our list.

8. The Bone Collector (1999)

Marketed with a hell of a tagline about there being thousands of taxi cabs in New York City that’ll get you home—and one that won’t—The Bone Collector is almost comically slavish to the clichés of ‘90s moviemaking. The wrinkle here is that after a faux cab driver begins abducting his victims off the street, the crime psychologist who must stop him is entirely stuck by his bedside. Due to a tragic accident, Denzel Washington’s Lincoln Rhyme is paralyzed from the neck down. Yet he is still able to catch serial killers by communicating in the earpiece of police officer Amelia Donaghy (an entirely unconvincing Angelina Jolie).

Movies

Lost Girls Review: Netflix Takes on the Long Island Serial Killer

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Books

The Last Book on the Left Takes on the Grim History of Serial Killers

By Alec Bojalad

Together the pair stay one step behind the mystery killer’s tracks as he executes a series of increasingly gruesome and ridiculous murders. It’s preposterous, and in some ways a forerunner for Saw with the satisfaction it takes in absurd death traps, but Washington is effortlessly compelling, even when he never leaves his apartment. As a bit of absurd Hollywood fluff, right down to the ultimately lackluster unmasking of the killer, it can be entertaining, even if you’ll deny it afterward.

7. Copycat (1995)

More potent than I remembered, Copycat is a genuinely well-crafted Hollywood thriller that may not reinvent the wheel but takes it out for a damn good spin. In the driver’s seat is Sigourney Weaver as Dr. Helen Hudson, a criminal psychologist who is an expert on serial killers until one follows her into the bathroom after a guest lecture. He nearly hangs her from the ceiling. Following that white-knuckled opening, the film jumps years ahead and Helen has become agoraphobic and afraid to leave her home.

Yet when a local series of murders reveal the pattern of a predator imitating the methods of his favorite “celebrities”—one crime scene is like the Boston Strangler and another emulates the horrors of Jeffrey Dahmer—Helen is pulled out of retirement by a no-nonsense detective (Holly Hunter). The winning chemistry between Weaver and Hunter—who are refreshingly free from the studio-mandated romantic subplots in some of the other movies on this list—and the blunt force power of their performances aid this sincerely disquieting flick. A needlessly convoluted third act aside, the movie still works as a warning about the danger of fanboys a generation early.

6. Fallen (1998)

Denzel Washington appears again thanks to this clever supernatural spin on the serial killer genre. At the beginning of Fallen, Washington’s John Hobbes appears on top of the world. The serial killer he chased for years (Elias Koteas) is about to breathe deeply in the gas chamber. Yet after the lever is pulled, and with Koteas singing the Rolling Stones’ “Time is On My Side” until his last breath, a funny thing happens: the murders continue.

In fact, more than just the killings, strangers in the street sing “Time is On My Side” in Hobbes’ ear, and he soon realizes that he faces a devil of a killer whose been operating since the beginning—quite literally since the villain is a demon who was once an angel that fell with Lucifer. It’s a bizarre premise given strutting confidence thanks to Washington’s performance, as well as good supporting work by John Goodman and Donald Sutherland. Twenty years later and its ending still sticks with me.

5. The Exorcist III (1990)

If you haven’t seen The Exorcist III, we know what you’re thinking: “Really?!” Yes. In fact, this isn’t even an exorcist movie; it should’ve been titled Legion like the 1983 novel it’s based on. Alas writer-director William Peter Blatty was forced to use the title and do reshoots that added an exorcism in the climax. Still, this supernatural thriller which involves a serial killer back from the dead is far better than it has any right to be.

Following the character of Lt. Kinderman from the 1973 masterpiece, the middle-aged gumshoe is now played by George C. Scott instead of the late Lee J. Cobb, and he possesses Scott’s usual love for contrasts between the restrained whisper and a bombastic howl. He also makes a sympathetic, secular detective forced to face the horrors of Hell when a series of murders committed against Catholic priests appear to be the work of the Gemini Killer (Brad Dourif), a serial killer whom Kinderman sent to the chair more than 10 years ago.

Movies

The Exorcist III is a Classic and Better Than You Remember

By Jim Knipfel

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The Exorcist Is Still the Scariest Movie Ever Made

By David Crow

Somehow the fiend—plus Kinderman’s long dead pal Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller)—appear to now be living in the same body of a John Doe kept in a mental asylum. With an unrelenting atmosphere of dread, palpable tension, and more of Blatty’s intellectual struggle with concepts of faith and evil, the film is more high-minded than its hacky title suggests. It also features one of the best jump scares in movie history.

4. Summer of Sam (1999)

The only movie on this list directly based on an actual serial killer’s crimes, Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam is a serious-minded joint. However, it’s only partially about the murders perpetrated by David Berkowitz, aka the “.44 Caliber Killer,” aka the Son of Sam. Rather the film focuses on the effects a serial killer has on the culture of New York City during the sweltering summer of 1977, and how it affects young lives trying to make it in the big city.

Influenced by Lee and his co-writers Michael Imperioli and Victor Colicchio’s memories of growing up in 1970s New York, the pic is a love letter to a grim moment in history when the city was about to explode with murders, blackouts, crime, and disco. All of this is digested from the vantages of Vinny (John Leguizamo), a philandering hairdresser guilt-ridden for cheating on his wife (Mira Sorvino), and his childhood pal Ritchie (Adrien Brody), who’s left the old neighborhood behind to join the fledgling punk rock scene.

With a greater interest in how a serial killer affects the culture and institutions of a city on edge than being a traditional crime drama, Summer of Sam is a bit of a forerunner to David Fincher’s far more polished Zodiac from a few years later. With heavy-handed dialogue and a plot too big for Lee to fully get his arms around, even at 142 minutes, Summer of Sam can be uneven and messy. But it has the sweaty incorrigibility of a long night out, and of revelries half remembered like from a fever dream.

3. The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)

The rare serial killer movie told entirely from the perspective of the killer, Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley is disarmingly creepy. Despite its glossy awards bait sheen, there is a cold-blooded streak that runs deep to the heart of the piece, likely due to Patricia Highsmith’s source 1955 novel. Starring Matt Damon fresh off his Good Will Hunting golden boy sheen, the film uses its casting to disorient and ultimately disturb.

Like Highsmith’s book, the film is not structured like a traditional thriller. It instead favors a detached ambivalence about its seemingly nebbish hero as he agrees to become an errand boy for the rich by traveling to 1950s Italy in order to retrieve a silver spoon cad (Jude Law) for his father. But the more time Tom Ripley (Damon) spends with Law’s Dickie Greenleaf, the more he grows envious of Dickie’s lifestyle, his wealth and confidence, and maybe even his affection for socialite Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow). There is a subtle—too subtle due to ‘90s Hollywood conventions—homoerotic undercurrent throughout the film as Ripley slowly works up the courage to take his first life. It won’t be his last.

Movies

Knives Out: When Murder Makes You a Better Person

By Natalie Zutter

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Seven: The Brilliance of David Fincher’s Chase Scene

By Ryan Lambie

Highsmith wound up publishing four subsequent sequels to The Talented Mr. Ripley, but unfortunately no more were made with Damon. Perhaps because this was too unsettling for an ongoing franchise.

2. Seven (1995)

While watching David Fincher’s masterful Seven, the thing that immediately stands out is the oppressive nihilism that permeates throughout. There were decades of neo noir before this detective yarn about the hunt for a serial killer, but none demonstrated such an overbearing sense of despair before the opening credits were even concluded. And perhaps what makes it unshakable is how welcoming the film is toward bleakness; it succumbs long before the gut-punch finale.

Telling the story of an old cop days from retirement (Morgan Freeman) and a hotheaded rookie detective (Brad Pitt), Andrew Kevin Walker’s script has an economy of pace that still impresses despite its cynicism. Very quickly one murder becomes two, then three, and soon four. Yet none of the atrocities are reveled in by Fincher’s blocking; they’re off-screen mutilations which leave psychic damage on his two leads and, eventually, us. The deaths also quickly establish a pattern that their serial killer is targeting seven souls, each intended to embody one of the seven deadly sins.

The movie is a classic now for its climax where the killer “John Doe” (a reptilian Kevin Spacey) turns himself in and leads the cops into the darkest pit, but it’s the entire package that makes this one linger more than 25 years later. At the end of the film, Somerset quotes Hemingway by saying, “‘The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.’ I agree with the second part.” I’m not convinced his film does.

1. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

As the film that kick-started the idea that serial killers could create their own film genre, The Silence of the Lambs still remains the best of its kind. Blessedly unaware that it was creating conventions for countless copycats, the film tells its psychological drama with simplicity and clarity. Whereas other films on this list bask in their bleakness, there is a dogged optimism and even perverse warmth to this Jonathan Demme adaptation of Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs novel. And that’s of course largely attributable to the casting of Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster.

As Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins is of course monumental. It’s a performance that turned a quinquagenarian into an overnight movie star, and became Hopkins’ calling card as he returned to the not-so-good doctor’s well one too many times. Still, he’s undeniably enthralling as Hannibal, a cannibal psychologist with superhuman powers of observation and mental menace. Even so, Foster is often overlooked by critics for her own contributions as the FBI trainee who’s proverbially fed to the incarcerated Lecter—a pretty face to get the serial killer to consult pro bono on the crimes of another mass murderer. It’s just one more example of casual sexism faced by Clarice that gives Foster as much to play as Hopkins.

Culture

David Fincher’s Zodiac: The Movie That Never Ended

By Don Kaye

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The Little Things Ending Explained

By David Crow

Surrounded by the slights and prejudices of men—be they in law enforcement or straight jackets—Clarice is constantly underestimated. She finds an intellectual rapport with Hannibal, but she pulls herself out of the darkest night, and the screaming of the lambs, without assistance. Her perseverance matched by Hannibal’s darkly seductive qualities is the juxtaposition that makes Silence of the Lambs one of the finest films of its decade.

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vesuviannights · 5 years ago

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Lucio x Reader 🍋🍋

Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or body parts.

As an Omega, you’ve spent your life yearning for adventure and covering your symptoms with any range of spells and herbs you could find. And the world has been kind to you, keeping you hidden from any Alpha who would wish to have you - until a white wolf appears in your forest sanctuary, golden eyes and blood-stained maw, and your carefully crafted control begins to unravel.

5411 words.

Featuring: omegaverse lore, knotting, breeding kink, cum stuffing, biting/claiming, Alpha Lucio, Omega Reader, some Asra x Muriel, mentions of blood, mentions of starvation

If you’re familiar with Omegaverse lore, know that I’ve fiddled with some of it to merge it with what we know of the Arcana universe. If not - welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay! Here’s an informative page if you want to learn about it before you read, but if not there’s just enough exposition woven throughout the fic to give you the basics.

Also, the whole ‘consent what consent’ vibe in Omegaverse fics always throws me a bit, so there’s some vaguely political stuff in here to address that.

This is the second fic (and third prompt) for my Terrifying Ten scorecard!

You had never wanted to be an Omega. Or a Beta. Or even an Alpha. You had only ever wanted to be you, and free to do whatever you pleased, and not weighed down by what each label meant, or how others looked at you because of it.

And so you had spent every year since your first heat, that horrifying moment you could no longer deny exactly what you were, trying to figure out new ways to stop or mask it.

Casting spells. Starving yourself. Hiding out in certain magical places to mask your scent. Carrying specific herbs or magical items with you to ward off the all-too-obvious symptoms until you could find sanctuary.

You knew it was dangerous. Illegal, in some parts. The right kind of Omega might be considered property by the wrong kind of Alpha, and the longer an Omega went through their heats without sating them by submitting to an Alpha, the more they risked one day being crippled by them.

But you…you risked it all. All for freedom. All for the world. For wanting to see and explore and live how you wanted and not for someone else.

And all because of what your Aunt had told you one day, when you had been walking past the Count’s palace. Her eyes had glazed over, her voice had become fickle and husky, like it always did whenever she was possessed by the spirits.

And then she had turned to you and whispered the six words you knew you could never escape:

One day he will have you.

The air is crisp around you as you push your fingers through the damp soil, seeking the mushrooms and roots you need for your evening meal.

Beside you, a basket is already near-filled with them, all sorts and varieties and colours, ready to be washed and made into stew. You would usually never pick so many for yourself, especially not during your heat when you were too nauseous to eat, but you always enjoyed leaving some for Muriel as a thanks for letting you kick him out of his hut for a week.

You didn’t think you could ever thank him enough, really, but you tried to every moment you could. The sanctuary it allowed for you to have was priceless, and no gift would ever suffice in return.

You drop a few more roots into your basket before dusting the dirt from your hands. A little is still there when you move your hair from your face, and flecks of it catch in the strands and on your cheeks.

You huff quietly under your breath.

—and just barely hear a second, more distance huff join it.

You freeze at the sound, an almost low growl that reverberates through the clearing and straight into your chest.

And that’s when you feel it.

Eyes.

Watching, waiting, curious.

Ready to devour.

You stand on shaking legs, your eyes darting around the edges of the clearing. Three rapid beats of your heart pass before you see it, hidden in the shadows of the trees just beyond reach.

It’s a wolf. White as snow, with two golden eyes and a bloodstained maw that curls back over its glistening teeth.

Your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it, the world stilling around you as its eyes pin you in place. There is a burn at the base of your throat, a thickness you can’t quite dislodge. A soft wind pulls at your clothes, rustles the trees around you, and when the wolf takes a single step forward, you’re hit with the faintest scent of honey.

It’s this that snaps you from your daze, that awakens you enough to release a short gasp as you take a single step back. The wolf’s ears perk, its pupils blow out, but it doesn’t take another step, and you manage to clamber your way back into the hut and slam the back door shut.

You pull every lock but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

You wait out the night in the bedroom upstairs in darkness, all curtains pulled, alone with your thoughts and fears until the sun peaks over the frosted forest trees and you are safe once more.

There are no more signs of the wolf, a mere figment of your imagination when you set foot back in the city a week later. Asra sends word that same day of his own return—without Muriel, but with fresh fish from the northern rivers.

And so you venture into the markets that evening with your satchel and coins, determined to have at least something in the house other than dried fruits and stale bread. Perhaps some root vegetables and spices for the fish. Some wine to pair with it.

The city is bustling at the evening hour, and you pick your way through it via a series of back streets and alleys you know well. Already in your bag is a fresh pick of swedes, and your mind is set on the mulled wine from the vendor by Salasi.

As you side step a cart and duck into an alley, you let out a quiet sigh—and are immediately hit with a swoop of heat that nearly crushes you.

It moves from head to toe with brutal force, one clean swoop before it settles in your gut. Your knees give from beneath you, and you barely notice the sting of you palms as you catch yourself on the ground.

Your vision is pinpricks of black, a foggy midnight. Racing heart. Short, shallow gasps.

And when you look up, you see it.

The wolf.

The sounds of the city are so distant, cut off by a fog you barely have the clarity to try and push your way through.

There, in the airless alley, there is nothing in the universe except for you and the white wolf as he paws forward, sharp claws clicking on the cobble.

His eyes are searing into your soul, and with each step he takes closer you find yourself keening, little whines and huffs from somewhere deep in your chest as your fingernails curl into the ground, near snapping from the force.

The wolf comes to a stop before you. As you wait on shaking hands and knees, it presses its nose to your face, your jaw, your neck. It inhales, and with it comes an oh-so-soft growl before it begins to circle.

And there you kneel, barely a day after your heat had already passed, brought down by the Alpha who circles and inhales you like its last meal.

When it steps behind you, you feel quiet noises of protest bubble in your chest, little whispers of no no no no no as he presses his maw between your legs—and with that singular action comes the wolf’s deepest growl yet, one that makes your arms give out from under you.

You fall and curl in on yourself, shaking and shivering even though it feels like a baby sun has found its home in your body, flaring and stretching itself out to every nerve and muscle it can find.

You’re barely aware of the wolf shifting, of its human scent hitting you.

A dying campfire. Honeysuckle.

You gasp out and try to shift out of his arms when he scoops you up.

“No, no,” you moan. “Please—please, I don’t—”

“Ssshhh.”

His voice is so soothing, right against your ear. Gentle. Safe.

You relax, the world slipping for a few moments as you press your face into his chest. His hands—one soft, one hard—curl into your body to keep you close. You sway as he walks, a soft oceanic movement that lulls you, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones.

And then the world goes black.

You blink and push yourself up on a shaking hand, the room slowly clearing as you brush the sleep from your eyes.

Every part of you is a little sore, as though you had run for too long without water. It’s daylight. The smell of fresh bread lingers in the room, and a moment later—

Asra appears in the door, soft smile and dazzling eyes as he leans against the frame.

The shop. You’re back in the shop.

“I was wondering when you would wake.”

He has that look about him. That freshly-fucked glow, the kind he always has when he comes back from being railed by a rutting Muriel’s fourteen inch cock for six days straight.

You stand, stretch, rub your face. “Is there food?”

“Plenty. You know I always need to replenish when I’m back.”

Downstairs, there is a ridiculous spread. Dried figs, small chunks of cheese, breads and olive oils, cold cured meats from your favourite market vendor. There is even a small selection of sweets in the corner, placed closest to Asra for ease of access.

The sight of so much food should be overwhelming, but you’re used to it. Asra never puts his money where his mouth is, or rather the food—always says he wants to eat and eat and eat after returning home, when really all he wants is to pick at things like a spoiled concubine.

He lounges on his side by the low table, supported by plush silk cushions while you lower yourself to sit cross-legged opposite him.

The two of you immediately begin working through the food while he talks about his plans for the week, how the weather will turn just enough for the two of you to spend a night out in the fields stargazing.

You murmur and agree to each thing, though you don’t really remember them once he moves on to the next one. Your concentration isn’t normally so poor, and if he notices you thinking on it, he doesn’t say a thing.

The spread of food slowly clears, until about half remains, and Asra has stopped picking.

You have a piece of toast halfway to your mouth when it hits you. Hazy and not entirely there and curious.

The alley. The wolf. The…the scent.

“Are you alright, love?” Asra asks, his voice coming to you as though through a thick fog.

You’re frowning, eyes unfocused. You don’t know if you’re alright. You can’t quite recall how you got home, or what happened after the scent.

Asra’s face shifts. He reaches out for your knee, squeezes. Your hazy memories become a little more so, and then you blink, and they are gone.

You exhale softly, and accept a small circle of cheese Asra pushes toward you. Your cheeks bloom in your happiness: it’s your favourite, a kind only available in a far-off city on the continent.

Grabbing it up with unapologetic greed, you take your first bite and release a soft moan. Asra beams at your pleasure, and the final sliver of uncertainty eases itself from the room.

“How did your week go?” He asks.

You nod, and you tell him it went well. You got a lot of reading done. You tried to paint. Muriel has a new row of herbs in his garden, though you couldn’t say what—identifying seeds has never been your specialty.

Asra’s eyes light up, and he laughs. “Muri will adore them, I’m sure.”

And you smile back, and bite into your toast.

“Last time I changed something in his hut,” you remind him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “He pouted for a week. Remember? He hated those carvings. Said he wanted to move out, they were so hideous.”

Asra’s lips twitch up, but something seems to fall, too. You tilt your head and watch as his gaze lingers for a second longer, then loses the fight and drops away.

“He’s…not leaving the hut, is he?” You ask slowly, a little more alert. And then, with a slightly tighter chest, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

He shakes his head, no, and then shrugs.

“Maybe. Muri is getting restless anyway,” he says. His gaze drops to his hands, where he’s picking at his nail beds. “He wants pups.”

“Do you?”

And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, a resigned, “Yeah.”

But. There’s a ‘but’ there, one you know not to push.

With the remains of your meal scattered and a new weight settled over the shop, you stand and begin to collect whatever you can save for the next day. Asra remains in his spot, staring at his nail beds, until you crouch by him and kiss his head, nodding toward your shared room.

The day melts into the afternoon, until the sun begins to disappear beneath the skyline and you’re stirred from your dozing by the sounds of rapping at the shop door.

Asra murmurs and stretches out beside you, then slowly unfurls each of his limbs from each of yours and moves for the door. Faust slithers out from the sheets at the foot of the bed and curls into the curve of your neck, and the two of you are very nearly back to sleep when Asra returns with a small piece of paper bearing the palace seal on the back.

He holds it up to you between two fingers, nose crinkled in mild distaste.

“It’s—” You pause to yawn, murmuring quietly as you sit up and rub at your eyes. “It’s from the Countess?”

Asra nods.

“The Count’s ruts have been getting longer and longer,” he sighs. The paper vanishes in a puff of magic, and he begins to gather his scarf and coat as he speaks. “And she can only be alone with the insufferable twat for so long herself.”

Your lips twitch a little at the comment, and he slings his bag over his shoulder before offering out a hand for Faust to slither up.

“Muriel isn’t back in the city yet,” he says, looking a little worried. “Will you be okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” you assure. You lean forward to kiss Faust on her nose, and then flop back down into the sheets, ready to settle in for another nap. “Wake me when you get back.”

Asra murmurs his goodbye, and you’re already slipping when he closes the shop door behind him.

Until another rapping comes, this time much firmer and a little more impatient.

Near blind, you push yourself up and stumble toward the door, still rubbing sleep from your eyes with the heel of your palm as you open the door.

And before you stands your white wolf.

Count Lucio.

You know it without thought, without consideration, as though every nerve in your body knew the exact feel of the flames that licked at them whenever he came close, in whichever form he chose.

You wait for it to hit you, that crippling heat, that burning need, but as you stare up at him through your lashes and his canines glint in the torchlight, you find nothing inside of yourself except your own racing heart.

You pause before you speak, body still as your eyes flicker over his face. “How—how did you know Asra would leave?”

He peers into the shop and steps inside, not waiting for an invitation as he looks around.

“I was a particularly insufferable twat today,” he tells you. “So that Noddy would request your master’s company.”

You exhale hard to cover the shake in your chest as you close the door, and against your better judgement you lock it.

“He’s…not my master,” you murmur to him.

He turns to you, canines glinting in the torchlight. “No. He’s not.”

With long, sure strides he stalks toward you, and of your own accord your eyes drop down and you walk yourself back until you hit the wall. He gives a low growl of approval, and—

There it is again, that scent, honeysuckle and a dying fire. Your eyes flutter shut; you can already feel the promise of what comes next.

“You’ll find I’m not a patient Alpha, my sweet,” he murmurs to you.

His alchemical arm reaches down, you feel it brush against the fabric of your clothes before he pulls something out. Your eyes catch on it, but you still can’t look up, still can’t raise your voice above a whisper.

“What is that?” You ask.

But of course, you know what it is.

“You know what it is,” he answers, an impatient lilt there. “Though perhaps you haven’t been knowledgeable in the ways you’ve been using it.”

He holds it out, and you take it in trembling fingers.

Myrrh. You knew it well, despite your attempt at ignorance. Muriel used it so people forgot him, and you used it to ignore what you were.

Asra had introduced it to you as something he himself had used in his battle to fight off his own heat and find true love instead—something that had clearly worked, and knowing that Muriel and Asra were as much in love as they were mated kept you religious about carrying it with you wherever you went.

With a clever combination of other herbs and spells, it kept the worst of it at bay. The pain was still there, but not the crippling heat, not the burning desire to be fucked and pupped without conscious choice.

You had never submitted to an Alpha, and you had never attracted any.

Until now.

Lucio tuts, pushes the hair from your face, laughs with an almost condescending edge.

“You’ve never submitted to an Alpha before now because you were waiting for me. This—“ He snatches it back to brandish it, then crushes it in his alchemical hand with a scoff. “This means nothing. That day in the forest I could have had you, could have pinned you and pupped you while you screamed.”

You shiver at his words. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you said ‘no’. Then, and last night when you collapsed in the alley. I’m an Alpha, but I’m not a monster.”

He traces your bottom lip, and it trembles then parts as your tongue darts out, hesitantly lapping at the tip of his thumb. You dare a glance up and see the approval in his eyes, the darkening of his irises, and your stomach leaps at the look. You turn your head and close your lips over his thumb, whimpering and whining as you suckle.

“You won’t last forever, pet,” he says. “You will have to submit. Your body demands it. Even now I can see the sweat of your brow, the tremble in your thighs…the myrrh and spells hide the symptoms but they don’t erase them forever.”

And at his words, your entire body shudders and you drop against him. It’s the alley all over again, a heat licking up your spine and every nerve, clawing at your veins, you’re whimpering and whining and the only thing you know is honeysuckle and dying woodfire.

He is growling, muscles rolling, pressing you against the wall as he nuzzles into your neck, as he paws at your clothes.

Say it say it say it say it—

You don’t know what he’s asking for, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your chest heaving, you need it now, you need to be rewarded, filled, fucked, pupped—

The thought slams into you without elegance and without warning, and you gasp out and shove him away, but he comes right back. He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clashing as he ruts his hips into your thigh.

“Say it!” He growls; it’s deeper, it echoes in your mind, demands. An Alpha’s voice.

You whimper, and the word tumbles from your lips in a pathetic cry.

“YES!”

And then he’s on you. He’s shredding your clothes, his teeth are at your neck, grazing and threatening to mark. You can feel the heat of his cock as he throws you down onto the table, you part your legs whining and clawing at the wood.

He snorts at the sight of you, a cold sneer as he looks you over. “What am I supposed to do with you like this? Present yourself.”

You scramble to roll over onto your stomach and push your hips into the air. You can feel your sudden heat lashing at your body, causing arousal to drip down your thighs, lubricating you for everything to come. You push your hips back, panting and whimpering, trying so desperately to find the heat of his cock.

His cock, his seed, to be filled, to be swelled, to be knotted and held there and bred and pupped and fucked over and over and over again—

“Please!” You whine and look over your shoulder, but he growls and pushes your head back down.

“Behave yourself.”

You feel his cock press into your inner thigh, and you know he must have shifted into his mating form, because no human cock could be so large, so thick. You shudder, your eyes sting from desperation.

He just laughs. An Alpha in control, desperate to fuck you and pup you, but he won’t make it easy for you to get what you want.

“Please!” You gasp out again. “I’ll—I’ll be good, I promise—”

“Oh, my dear little Omega,” he purrs into your shoulder blade. He pauses to graze his teeth there, and you go near-feral from the sting. “You will be good no matter what, my cock will see to that. Have you ever taken a cock this big before?”

You shake your head.

“Have you ever taken cock at all?”

You swallow, and when you don’t answer, his grip on your hips tightens.

“AH!” You yelp and jerk away from the bruising, but he drags you right back with a warning growl.

The action causes the head of his cock to slip into you, and you sob at the stretch of it, as the ache in your body burns even deeper at the knowledge that he’s inside of you, but not enough to sate you.

“Do you want my cock, little Omega?” He purrs. “Do you want me to fill you?” You give a pathetic whine. “Oh, you do? Well, then perhaps you should ask for it.”

Your words begin bubbling out before you can stop them.

“Please, please please—”

He scoffs. “Better than that, my dearest.”

His alchemical fingertips trace the curve of your spine. You clench and shudder around the head of his cock, but he remains perfectly still.

“Tell me exactly how you want me to take you.”

Your eyes roll as you gather your next words.

“I—I want—” You attempt to turn your face into the table to hide yourself, the drooling mess of your mouth, the crossing of your eyes, but he twists you back with an impatient growl. “PLEASE! Please, f-fuck me, please fuck me, fill me with your cock, breed me and pup me and fuck me please—”

Your words snap his final ounce of control, and he slams into you in one go with a howl, one that seems to shake the walls of the shop and every object on the shelves.

An Alpha’s howl.

A claiming howl.

The Count of Vesuvia, finally having found his Omega.

He begins fucking you without warning, long and thick strokes you know couldn’t possibly fit inside you. But they do, your body has shifted along with his own and every inch of him can fit inside of your dripping hole.

The room echoes with wet squelching noises as he moves at a brutal pace, his growing knot and balls slamming against you as he buries himself as deep as possible each time.

“Ohhh, does that feel better, pet?” He croons to you. “Does it feel good having my cock inside of you, fucking you like the submissive little bitch you are after you spent so long denying it?”

You nod and gasp, nails dragging along the oak of the table as you try to gain purchase to push back. You want his knot. You need it so bad, you need to be filled—

You sob. “P-please!”

“’Please’?” He laughs, and the barely-hidden edge makes that final hold on you snap.

“I WANT YOUR KNOT!” You scream. “I need your cum—I need it please—”

He reaches forward and closes a hand around your neck, yanking you up and back against his chest. His movements don’t still as both arms close around your waist, caging you in.

“I’ll knot you,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “I’ll fill you with my cum and then my pups and watch you swell with them over and over again—” You whine as he speaks, and the deep growl from his chest is his approval. “But first, you must give me something in return.”

And then you feel it—the scrape of his too-sharp canines against your neck.

He wants to mark you.

Claim you.

Make you his, and only his, for everyone to see.

“Yes!” You gasp it out without even thinking, without needing to. “Mark me, I’m yours, I’m your mate—”

He lets out a feral growl at the word. “Say it again.”

“M-mate, I’m—” You feel your grip on reality slip, just for a moment, only to be brought back by his hand at your throat, shaking you as he rattles your body with his brutal pace.

“Louder, again—scream it for the city to hear!”

“MATE!”

His hand tightens just that little bit more.

“Again!”

“MATE, I’M YOUR MATE—AH!”

His teeth sink in, right as his knot does, and it’s the most exquisite pain you have ever felt in your life.

While his teeth cut into your neck and mark you with his scent, claiming you forever as his, his knot stretches you to its impossible size, locking you to him as his cum spills inside of you, copious and hot and thick.

You groan and whine and whimper at the feel, the world blacking out for a few moments as your body strains to take it all in. No world, no words, no time; just the warmth of his cum as it swells your stomach, the sweat that trickles down your collar bone along with the blood that stains your skin and his teeth.

When you return to consciousness a moment later, your own orgasm is rocking through you. It’s burning you from the inside out, leaving you dazed and aching, squeezing around his swollen cock and knot, greedily draining him and everything he is offering you.

As you start to come down, panting and gasping, you can feel something at your thighs. You realise, with heavy eyes and barely-there mewls, that there is so much of his cum inside of you, flooding you, that it has leaked out past his knot. It’s dribbling down your heated skin, following the curve of your thigh, the back of your knee, to the floor with soft little pats.

You let out a soft cry as he pulls his canines from your neck, then laves at the marks with his tongue to seal them. Your hand goes to your stomach, still so impossibly swollen with his cum—and one day, if he had his way, with more than his cum.

His hand joins yours at your stomach, pressing gently. You groan in protest at the ache, and he shushes you with a kiss behind your ear as more of his cum leaks out and runs down each of your legs.

“Oh little Omega, look at the mess you’ve made,” he murmurs.

His voice is quiet now, the Alpha sated, though it’s only temporary. Within half an hour, his knot will have receded, and he will be ready to fuck you again, and knot you again, and fill you with his cum again, over and over throughout the night and well into the next few days, until his rut is over and he has had his fill.

You let out a soft cry as he shifts the two of you to stretch out along the table, his body curved along your spine.

“You’ve been coupling thistle with the myrrh, have you not?” He asks.

You nod. Even though you were so careful to never be exposed to an Alpha until now, you still took the precautions to prevent pregnancy.

“That will have to stop immediately,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. He nuzzles with his nose, and then presses a single, slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “I want you swollen with my pups.”

You swallow thickly, and when you don’t nod or make a noise to agree, he reaches forward and roughly takes hold of your chin. Your eyes go to his lips, feeling the Alpha roll through him again, you can’t meet his gaze.

“Do you not want my pups?” You shake your head. “’No’, you don’t want them, or ‘no’, I’m wrong?”

You swallow. His grip tightens. You whimper, and in response you feel his cock twitch inside of you, setting off a new round of heat that begins to curl around your abdomen and the base of your spine.

You’re already panting a little when you answer. “I want your pups. I want to be your—your breeding bitch.”

“Good mate,” he murmurs. His hand goes back to your stomach, pressing against the swell of it once more.

As if pulled by strings, you whine and twitch against him, and his body rolls with a growl as he nuzzles into your neck.

“B-but—” You gasp it out, and feel him freeze behind you. But he waits. “I…I want to wait. Please. I don’t think I can handle…pups, right now.” You swallow, and when he still hasn’t said a word, you add in a whisper, “I want to see the world.”

It seems like an eternity before he speaks, or moves, or gives you any indication of what he feels. His lips remain at the back of your neck, and his hand against your stomach, the pressure there just enough to be a constant reminder of how full you are of him.

“I would never dream of taking your autonomy from you,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “If you wish to be swathed in silks, then I will find the best out there. If you wish to spend your days lounging in my palace without lifting a finger, then I shall assign you a thousand hands to help. And if you wish to see the world…”

Your breath catches in your throat. You can hear the shake on his voice, the barely-contained Alpha—and beneath it all, the terrified Count Lucio, afraid that affection will not remain forever. That you will not remain forever.

“…then you will see the world.”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to thank him. Instead, you lift a hand to his wrist, holding it against your throat for the comfort and security it offers.

It doesn’t take more than a few moments before you feel him tensing behind you, the Alpha’s growl building in his chest.

“I will fuck you on every surface in this shop until sunrise,” he says, voice deathly still. “Until you can no longer walk, until you can no longer swallow my cum or fit any more of it inside your aching hole, and even then. And if your master returns, I’ll make him watch—maybe I will even make him join, no matter who his Alpha is. How does that sound, pet?”

You’re shivering from the heat again; without the myrrh and with your Alpha so close by, with your new mark burning at your neck, there is little to do.

Everything he says sounds so wonderful. So delicious. You want to be fucked and bred and swollen and held down while he does whatever he needs to you, while he coos to you about how much of his cum is inside of you, how swollen and aching you are, how pretty it looks dribbling down your thighs and leaving drops on the wooden floor of the shop.

All too soon, before you have even managed to answer, you feel him beginning to pull out of you. Along with it, some of his seed spills out onto the table, and you feel tears sting your eyes at the loss.

Until he rights you, hips in the air, and rakes his claws down your spine as he leans in to whisper.

“Spread yourself apart for me like a good little breeding slut.”

And then he slams himself into you once more.

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

#the arcana #lucio #count lucio #lucio x reader #lucio morgasson #the arcana lucio #the arcana count lucio #lemon #writing #theterrifyingten #ttt

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namjoon-koya · 5 years ago

Text

The Sin (1/1)

A/N: this is probably the shortest chapter in the series since in this one the reader was pissed at Mando and left him.

The ride back was silent, Mando didn’t say anything to you and you didn’t say anything to him. You felt rather awkward that the situation escalated like that but you didn’t change your mind this was wrong...

Suddenly a button started ringing Mando presses a button and you see a hologram of Karga come up “Mando, Y/N. I’ve received your transmission. Wonderful news. Upon your return deliver the quarry directly to the client.” Karga lets out a chuckle “I have no idea if he wants to eat it or hang it on his wall, but he’s very antsy.”

You glance over and see the child touch one of the controls of the ship it’s probably interested in the ball you thought. You let out a soft chuckle as you watched it “safe passage! You know where to find me.” Mando turns off the hologram.

He notices your gaze looking at something, he follows your gaze and sees the child chewing on something “it’s not a toy.” He says before taking it away from the child.

You watch as Mando picks up the child from its hood before placing it back inside its carrier, you felt your heart grow heavy you didn’t want to give it to the client.

The child coos as its gaze meets yours, you smile before turning around you watch as the planet approach as Mando pushes a few buttons.

Finally he lands the ship “lets go.” He finally says to you, you quickly rush outside you didn’t want to go with him to see the client it was driving your insane how he couldn’t see how wrong this was!

Before you could make it outside the ship you felt Mando yank on your wrist making you face him.

“You’ve been acting strange.” He says to you. You let out a snarky chuckle “I just don’t want to go with you that’s all.” You tried breaking free from him but continued to hold your wrist “why?”

“You know why.”

“Because of the child? What made you change your mind?” He kept asking you questions and it only drove you more insane you finally yanked away from him.

Never once have you gotten pissed at Mando, you two always did stuff together without hesitation because you two were just great friends like that but.. now ever since you both met this child it basically drove a rift between the two of you.

“Because this is wrong Mando!” You shout at him as he continued to stare at you “this is the way.” He only says as he waits for your responses.

Your fingers trembled as you held back every curse word you could think of to call him “no that’s your way.. not mine.” You say before walking away from him, of course you’d always be there for Mando he’s.. special to you.

But this time you couldn’t stand by him you could only hope that Mando would make the right choice.

You walked away from Mando, and he watched you leave the child whimpered sadly as it looked up at Mando “she’s not coming back..” he mumbled before starting to walk inside the town.

The child stared at everything it saw, it cooed as it looked up at Mando but he didn’t look back down at it. Mando’s mind kept thinking of the things you said his eyes scanned around the town but didn’t see you.

Mando arrived to where the client’s base was, he knocked on the door as a droid popped out from a hole and asked Mando for something, Mando pulled out something and showed it to the droid who scanned it.

The droid went back inside the hole as the door finally unlocked, stormtroopers walked outside before looking down at the child who only lowered its ears.

One of the stormtroopers walked inside as Mando followed behind him the second stormtrooper followed behind Mando as the door closed behind them.

As they walked inside the stormtrooper in front pulled on the child’s carrier “easy with that.” Mando says in a threatening voice “you take it easy.” The stormtrooper barked back at Mando.

The door opened to reveal the client and the doctor, the client quickly got up as he picked up a tracking fob “yes!” He said happily as he walked over to the child.

The tracking fob beats rapidly as he gets closer to the child “yes! Yes! Yes!” Mando watches as the two men watched the child in fascination “yes.” The client said again as the doctor pulled out something to examine the child.

The bright red light reflected against Mando’s helmet as it scanned the child, the doctor smiled “very healthy. Yes.” The client looked up at Mando before giving him a confused glance.

“Where is your comrade?” He asked Mando, Mando looked down “she’s.. somewhere.” The client didn’t say anything before moving onto something else “your reputation was not unwarranted.”

“How many tracking fobs did you give out?” Mando bluntly asked him “this asset was of extreme importance to me I had to ensure its delivery.” The client walks away from Mando “but to the winner..”

The client pulls something from underneath his desk as he places it on top “go the spoils.” The client pressed a few buttons making it open to reveal Beskar, Mando leaves the side of the child as he walks over to his reward, he picks up two Beskars and examines them.

“Such a large bounty for such a small package.” The client says as he stares at Mando, the child lets out a cry as the doctor leads the carrier to another room as Mando watches.

The child only stares and Mando sadly lowering its ears before disappearing into the back room as the door closes, Mando looks down at the Beskar before looking at the client “what are your plans for it?” Mando asked.

The client’s face didn’t change “how uncharacteristic of one of your reputation you have taken both commission and payment is it not the code of the guild that these events are now forgotten?” The door from the other rooms opens as more stormtroopers pour of it and stand behind the client.

Mando eyes them “that Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor unfortunately, finding a mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” Mando puts the Beskar back as he stares right at the client.

He closes the case of the Beskar before carrying it out the door, he walked back to the hiding place for the Mandalorians as he walked by some Mandalorians he saw that a few glanced at him he knew that they were staring at him because of the reward he was carrying.

He walk over to Armorer as she sat by a table, he placed the bounty reward on the table before opening the case to reveal all the Beskar inside, she took a few as she examines them.

Some Mandalorians walk inside the room as well “this amount can be shaped many ways.” She says to Mando as he places the Beskar on the table.

“My armor has lost its integrity, I may need to begin again.”

Armorer continues to stack the Beskar on the table “indeed I can form a full cuirass this would be an order for your station.”

“That.. would be a great honor.” Mando said to Armorer. She notices more Mandalorians come into the room “I must warn you it will draw many eyes.” She warns him.

Then heavy infantry walks up to the table he picks up one of the Beskar he looks at them before noticing a mark on them he scoffs “these were cast in an imperial smelter.” He shows the other Mandalorians “these are the spoils of the great purge.”

He turns back to Mando “the reason that we live hidden like sand rats.” He said before tossing the Beskar on the table.

Armorer picks up the Beskar as she stacks it on top of the others “our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength.”

“Our strength was once in our numbers now we live in the shadows only to come above ground one at a time, our world was shattered by the empire with whom this coward shares tables.” Heavy infantry got closer to Mando, but Mando didn’t flinch or coward away.

“No wonder your comrade left you in the dust.” Heavy infantry said before going over to remove Mando’s helmet. Mando quickly smacked his hand away as the two began to fight the rest of the Mandalorians and Armorer watched.

Armorer finally got up, Mando and heavy infantry both held daggers right at each other “the empire is no longer and the Beskar has returned when one chooses to walk the Way of the mandalore, you are both hunter and prey how can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life? Have you ever removed your helmet?” She asked Mando.

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

Armorer pauses for a bit before saying “this is the way.”

“This is the way.” The rest said.

Heavy infantry and Mando finally put down the dagger away from each other “this is the way.” Heavy infantry said as he stared at Mando then turning his attention to Armorer.

“What caused this damage?” She pointed at Mando’s armor.

“A mudhorn.”

“Then you have earned the mudhorn as your signet I shall craft it.” She said as she sits down.

“I can’t accept, it wasn’t a noble kill.” Mando says as he sits across from her “I was helped.. by an enemy.”

Armorer glances at Mando strangely “why would an enemy help you in battle?”

Mando remembers that day, the child had helped you and him against the mudhorn if it didn’t who know what would’ve happened that day.

“It.. did not know it was my enemy.” Armorer tilts her head “since you forgo a signet I shall use the excess to forge whistling birds.” She says placing a few Beskar aside.

“Whistling birds will do well reserve some for the foundlings.”

“As it should always be the foundlings are the future. This is the way.”

“This is the way.” The group chanted.

“This is the way.” Mando repeats.

Your POV:

You walked inside the bar where usually Karga was at, you quickly scanned the room to make sure Mando wasn’t there and he wasn’t thankfully. You let out a sigh before walking to the bartender to order something “Y/N.” You heard Karga called out to you.

You took your drink over to Karga as you sat across from him “Hey Karga.” He seemed to frown at you “where’s Mando? You two are always together.” You grip your drink in your hand “uhm.. busy.. he’s busy.” You quietly said as you took a sip from your drink.

Karga continued to stare at you, you hated when he did that you weren’t good at hiding your expressions but Karga then smiled at you as he then continued to ramble on about a few things.

After the chat with Karga you decided to leave you bid Karga goodbye as you left the bar you wondered what happened to the child and with Mando, you wanted to see him but the guilt of letting the child go back to the client was eating you away.

There were many reasons why this was bothering you so much, but you couldn’t blame Mando for not knowing things in your past you both never really talked about things like that.

You looked up at the sky it was always gray and gloomy but why did it look more sadder than it did before? You let out a sigh you didn’t want this to tear your friendship apart with Mando it meant too much for it to end.

You were going to find Mando but something odd was happening some of the people in the town were gathering together with Karga.

You got closer to them but made sure to keep yourself hidden “do you really think we’d get a reward if we bring Mando and the child back to the client?” One of the bounty hunters asked.

“Of course! If the child is away from the client that only means the hunt is on.” Karga replies to the other bounty hunter “and if Mando gets in the way just kill him.” You felt a small gasp escape you as you heard him say that.

You needed to find someone to help you! But who?! Everyone was against Mando at this point for the reward that the client would offer, but that’s when you realize the only people who would help mando would be the rest of the Mandalorians.

He told you about them because he trusted you, he always did.. you quietly snuck out of your hiding spot and went to go find the entrance to the Mandalorians. Once you found it you made your way down the stairs.

It was dark and quiet making you more nervous of your movements “hello?” You whispered trying not to spook anyone near by or make them attack you.

“What are you doing here?” You heard someone say making you flinch a bit “I.. I need help, Mando he’s in trouble.” You say you heard more footsteps but you didn’t know where it was coming from until a light shined brightly.

You saw so many Mandalorians looking at you, it surprised you usually there were never this many Mandalorians in one place but yet here they were “You’re Y/N?” You heard a voice come up from behind.

You turned around and saw another Mandalorian but she was dressed differently from the rest “how do you know my name?” You asked her.

“Mando as you call him has told me many things about you, but I’ve heard you said he needed help?” You nodded “please the entire town is against him and me helping him it won’t help him that much.” You said to her.

She glances at the rest of the Mandalorians giving them a nod “this is the way.” All of them said in unison.

“Does.. that mean you’ll help?” You asked hoping they’d said yes.

“For our own yes.” Another Mandalorian replies he was bigger than the rest making him more intimidating.

“Thank you I’m grateful.” You said smiling at him.

“Have you ever flown on a jetpack? Or know how to use one?” He asked you.

“No I haven’t.. please don’t tell me what your going to make me do.”

Third POV:

Shots rang out in the town as Mando ducked for cover, you were right he couldn’t let the child go with the client guilt ate away at him and he didn’t even know why... he wished he could’ve apologized to you but you left and it was his fault.

He looked down at the child as it opened its eyes and looked up at Mando it let out a coo, he needed to protect this child.. he can’t let it go back to the client even if everyone was trying to kill him at this point he’d risk his life for the child to have a normal life.

Suddenly he heard something fly above him as it shot at someone who was standing on top of a building, Mando looked up and saw the Mandalorians on jetpacks fly down and start shooting at the people who were shooting at him.

He was.. shocked he never thought that they would come up from hiding just to defend him.. but one question lingered in his mind how did they know he was in trouble?

He heard a loud shooting and looked up and saw heavy infantry expect.. he was holding someone and that someone was you “I’m NEVER doing that again!” You shout, even if it was for a short time you hated heights!

You saw Mando looking at you, you quickly rushed to his side “Y/N.. you came back?” You rolled your eyes “I was pissed at you Mando, but id never leave you like that.” You said giving him a warm smile.

“Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!” Heavy infantry said running to the moment between the both of you.

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” Mando says as he hands you the child, it gurgles in delight as it saw you “I’ve missed you too.” You said smiling.

Heavy infantry and Mando saw the bonding you had with the child “this is the way.” He said to Mando “this is the way.” Mando replies.

You felt Mando grab your hand in his “let’s go!” He shouts, you nod as the both of you start running to his ship “what made you change your mind?” You asked him.

“Things.” He says as the both of you board the ship “well I’m glad those things made you change your mind.” You say.

“Hold it.” Both of you heard Karga say, Mando protectively covered your figure with his “I didn’t want it to come to this, but then you broke the code and now your dragging Y/N into this.” You notice Mando look over at something before using his control wrist to activate the ship’s control as smoke covered the ship.

Mando quickly pushed you to cover you, as Karga shoots his blaster but missed you and Mando he was shaking trying to see through the smoke but Mando shot him right in the chest area making him fly out the ship.

“Are you alright?” Mando asked “y-yeah.. so is the child.” Mando nodded before making his way up to the ship as you followed him.

You sat right beside Mando with the child in your lap as Mando started up the ship, you could see the Mandalorians still continue to fight against the people who shot at Mando.

Mando quickly flew the ship away from the town you let out a sigh, placing the child down on the floor as it started to walk around.

“Thank you.” You heard Mando say but not face you “for what?”

“For.. telling the Mandalorians to help me.”

“You’re welcome..” you mumbled.

You looked outside and saw one of the Mandalorians fly by next to you guys on his jetpack he made a salute to Mando before flying off “I gotta get one of those.. you flew with heavy infantry didn’t you?” He asked.

“He complained about how tight I was holding onto him.” You heard Mando let out a soft chuckle suddenly you saw a small green hand reach up to small ball on the controls of the ship.

The child let out a coo to get Mando’s attention. Mando unscrewed the ball before handing it to the child it let out a giggle before disappearing underneath the controls.

“So.. can I call you daddy Mando for now on?” You joked “unless you wanna be called mommy then no.” You let out a laugh “I really missed you for those few hours Mando.”

“... so did I.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian episode 3 #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian series #mando x y/n #mando x you #dyn x reader

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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

Text

Up From the Depths P.2 - Re-Review #33

Look at that scenery! It gets me every time, I will be honest.

“This is Thunderbird One in immediate pursuit of The Mechanic.”

“I’ve got you Thunderbird One. Thunderbird Five is tracking you at a thousand metres and closing.”

“The TV-21... I haven’t seen it since I was a kid. It’s just as cool as I remember.”

“Please use caution, Scott. The Mechanic must be piloting remotely. That means he’s got nothing to lose.”

“Except Dad’s old plane he’s carrying.”

“Scott, there’s a safe area up ahead. You could knock out the TV-21 and bring down the plane with zero civilian causalities.”

“No way, Thunderbird Five. That plane belongs to us and I’m going to get i back in one piece.”

And that decision causes a load of problems - but had Scott not made that call, the episode would have been quite a bit shorter, and Scott probably wouldn’t have met Ned - and I wouldn’t have been able to write a fic about called ‘When Scott met Ned’, so I’ll go with it.

“Scott, when I designed the TV-21, you’re Dad wanted all the thrust I could give him. That booster is the most powerful I’ve ever built.”

“More powerful than Thunderbird One?”

“Well... yes.”

“Thunderbird One is going down!”

Grandma being able to give Scott those instructions makes a lot more sense now the whole series has aired. When we first saw this episode, I was a little bit like.. explanation please? (Because based on TOS Grandma; she didn’t seem the type to fly). But, it’s okay, they came through and gave it to us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the TV-21 out of my sight.”

We know you won’t John.

“Thunderbird Shadow moves fast and quiet. He won’t hear me coming.”

And another Kayo ‘I can totally manage a solo mission moment’. Yeah, remember one of the last ones? As in the nearly dying part (’Touch and Go’)? Clearly not. Is it just me, or is that getting a little bit repetitive and annoying now? I really found that Kayo had an attitude in this two-parter.

I for one, am very glad Grandma called in some assistance.

“Hello, Dear? Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, Mrs Tracy.”

“How would you like a second chance to get The Mechanic?”

“I’d enjoy it more than Parker likes complaining about the weather. Scotland, Parker.”

“Right haway, M’Lady. hOf hall the places to ‘ide hout ‘e picks the rainy hone.”

Parker, I’d like to claim that such might actually be me, down here n the South West coast. Hello, always rains down here... except it’s actually really nice right now. I claim it’s the lack of pollutants affecting the air quality and atmosphere. But’s that’s just one girl’s theory.

Look at his face, his poor little face. Thunderbird Four really is in a state though...

“What do you think?”

“I think we have a lot of work to do.”

Scott looks so sad, sat back at his dad’s desk, bless him. Knowing him he’s probably reliving the fact that he failed to get the TV-21 back. He’s always too hard on himself. Anyone else remember the events of ‘Recharge’? Virgil, come give him another talking to, please.

“I get that everybody loves the TV-21, but it’s just a plane.”

“It’s also a symbol of your Father’s determination. Ever since he was a boy, your Father dreamed he’d be the fastest pilot who ever flew.”

“So he and Brains built the TV-21?”

“It was beautiful! Dream come true!”

“Until The Hood crashed it.”

“But he didn’t crash his dream. Your Dad didn’t care about being fastest anymore. He only cared about being first. First on the scene when people need help. First to act when someone’s in trouble. And instead of one ship to do it all, he built five. The TV-21 was the beginning of International Rescue.”

“We need to get that plane back!”

That’s the spirit, Alan!

I’m loving all these scenes on Tracy Island in this episode just to say. Definitely another reason why it makes it into my favorites. It’s an episode which really succeeds in making the boys both human and heroes and I will endlessly love how well written this family was in this two-parter.

“What’s the situation, John?”

“The Mechanic’s craft has stopped over the GDF’s high security iridium vault. The GDF are responding now.”

Because we all know how well that will go down...

“All personnel have been evacuated, Colonel Casey. Except one.”

“Well get him out of there.”

“He said he won’t leave. He’s afraid of losing his job. Oh, and he told to say ‘Gladys won’t go either’.”

“What’s his name?”

I think we already know the answer.

“A crewman. Tedford. Ned Tedford.”

“Oh boy.”

Called it!

“No one’s stealing the world’ supply of iridium, Gladys. Not on our watch!”

That’s right everyone! It’s our favourite gold member of the Rescue Club! Ned Tedford and Gladys!

“Phew, Gladys. I thought we were in trouble there for a second.”

Yeah, Ned you kinda are... See I told you, never leave the GDF to handle things. I bet Colonel Casey is really regretting allowing Virgil to convince her to give Ned a “nice cozy desk job” with the GDF.

I love how Colonel Casey just says “there’s a worker inside” - she knew it was Ned, she could have told them it was Ned - it’s even more comical that she chooses not to.

“It’s never even been tested!”

“Brains, whatever it is, will it help us stop The Mechanic?”

“Conceivably.”

“Then we’ll take it!”

Good choice.

Maximum Max is a brilliant new development and one I think Alan really loves - it was like giving the kid more video games to play with. And it gave Scott a chain to go and rescue Ned! Hooray!

“It’s game time!”

Yeah it is! And just look at them go.

In my opinion, this goes down as Scott’s best ever entrance to a rescue.

“It’s International- Arrgh!”

*Has iridium thrown at him*.

Definitely the best entrance.

“Keep your dirty hands off this iridium!”

“Ned Tedford?”

“Oh, it’s you! Sorry about that!”

I think that was meant to be Scott’s line. And the fact Scott can reognise Ned (when we know Colonel Casey didn’t give a name - well, that we heard), means he must have been told a lot by his brothers. Or, that’s the assumption I’ve always made.

“Why am I not surprised? I need you to climb into the airlock.”

“No way! I was told to watch this iridium. I won’t let it be stolen!”

“Uh... it’s already been stolen, Ned. You do realise you’re in space, right?”

I mean, I would hope the floatiness gave that away...

“Hmm... That does explain the floatiness.”

Or apparently not. I am proven wrong. Again.

“But it does not change anything! I’m not going anywhere without this vault!”

And there is another decision that sets the path of the episode. If they could have just rescued Ned and Gladys... I can’t help wondering if they would have stood a better chance at recovering the TV-21, or if it still wouldn’t have made a big enough difference.

“Alan, we’re gonna’ have to retrieve the iridium as well.”

“Scott, that isn’t the mission!”

“It wasn’t, but it is now.”

Always listen to your field commander, Alan, and today that is Scott, and he’s made the call. Whatever you and I may think of it.

The International Rescue theme played on bagpipes was absolutely wonderful!

“hIt’s been cloned! That’s hone hof the ‘ood’s hold tricks!”

“Where do you think he got it from?”

That is a new one... Another thing to add to the list of connections between The Mechanic and The Hood, because that implies a more long term connection than we might have first thought.

And all I have to say here, is poor hAlice! May she rest in peace.

“But it’s Dad’s plane!”

“I know, Alan, but it’s not Dad.”

That quote, will always get me.

Remember what The Mechanic said about taking what he wants? Yeah, well he very nearly took Thunderbird Three down with the TV-21.

“Sorry Dad.”

I think he would always have rather had his sons, than his old plane, sad as it is to have been so close.

“The TV-21 was so close!”

“Dad really loved that plane.”

“Ah, in the end the TV-21 was just a bunch of steel and rivets. Your Father would never have risked failing a mission just to save it. What he really loved was us. All of us. His family.”

So, after all that, Thunderbird Four is fixed, and everyone has gathered together (even John) for a bit of well earned family time. Yep, there are hundreds of reasons to love these last two episodes.

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midnight-writ3r · 5 years ago

Text

Boy got horns

Kim Doyoung x Genderneutral reader

Summary: Doyoung appears in your life without warning, bringing with him a series of unusual happenings. You quickly find out he's mean, smug and narcissistic - he basically screams god complex.

Oh, how ironically wrong you are.

Warnings: Bullying! Also, a little bit of blood/gore but it is SUPER tame and not described.

Genre: Fluff, Crack, supernatural

A/N: Lmao I have no idea where I'm going/was gonna go with this, but it was stuck in my head and I had fun writing for Doyoungie 💕💕 so enjoy this pointless piece of literature!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The first time you meet Doyoung is in class on the first day of the new school year. From the first moment you can tell there is something strange about him though. For several reasons, really.

First of all, the teacher never bothered to introduce him to the rest of the class, as she would normally do with new students. If she didn't look at him or question him every now and then, you would have thought she doesn't see him at all. Yet, they're interacting, as if that strange boy had been there for years now. All casual.

Then there's the rest of the students. You might be an outsider, but you know your classmates. Enough at least, to find it odd that such an eye candy managed to sit all by himself at the back of the class. Usually, girls and boys would crowd around him, as they do with Jaehyun, one of the more popular students in your year. And the oddest thing about it, is that he doesn't seem to even mind. The contrary actually:

He seems awfully pleased at being on his own. From back there, he can look over the whole class and there is this superior look on his face. When he even goes as far as to lounge his legs on his desk, he looks nothing short of a bratty King, sunk into his throne.

It itches you to talk to him, to question him and to prove to yourself that you're imagining too much into this situation. There's just one problem.

"Morning pugly." you ignore the nasty snicker of some of your classmates at the corner.

You'd never be able to gather the courage to talk to Doyoung. Even if you did, your classmates would probably take any chance they get to embarrass you in front of him. And what for? A brief glance of notice? A smile? With how gloomy his gaze is, youre not even sure if the guy has it in him to smile.

With a brief huff you push your glasses back up your nose, "Good to see you back gollum, you give me a good laugh all year." a girl sneered, as she passes your desk.

Ignoring that and many other comments that follow, you sit through the rest of class. A couple of times paper balls, with mean messages written onto them, would hit your head and you'd discreetly throw them in the trash. By now, you were really good at aiming at the trash can in the corner, without the teachers noticing.

A sting on your scalp rips you out of your stupor. The guy sitting behind you pulled your hair. You briefly turn around to throw them a threatening glare.

However, before you can do that, something odd happens.

Through the open window of your classroom, a swift shadow appears and darts right for the guy. It's a raven, you realize with a gasp. It's clawing at the guy's face, even as he tries to fight it off. The teacher and the rest of the class all errupt into panicked screams and shouts, as you watch in awe, how the raven rips out a chunk of hair from the guy's scalp and flies back out of the window. Everyone is in a frenzy.

Except him.

He's laughing into his palm, like he is purposefully doing a bad job of concealing it. You stare at him in confusion and also slight terror. When he notices, he gives you a smirk and you quickly turn away.

What the hell? What was that?

The guy is sent to the nurse immediately and, just to make sure he gets there without anymore bird attacks, the teacher accompanies him. In truth, you guess she just really doesn't want to stay in that classroom any longer. Nothing to blame her for, really.

However, you know what happens when there are no teachers around and you dread it more than anything. After everyone has finally calmed down and went back to getting bored again, the people start crowding your desk.

"That sick bird shoulda gotten you, I bet it would get a good nest in this thing you call your hair."

"Not to be mean, but you definitely need a makeover. Or maybe ten."

"Maybe I can help with that?" the girl who had called you gollum before, pulls her gum from her mouth. You grimace, but a pair of hands on your shoulders prevent you from moving. No matter how hard you try, you can't scramble away, when she reaches out, to smear the gum in your hair.

You close your eyes. When they leave you alone, you can just cut it out with scissors. Maybe you even manage to wash it out.

But the gum never comes. Instead, what comes is a surprised gasp. You open your eyes, just in time to see Doyoung taking the girl's gum and placing it on her own forehead. However, the sound that follows is neither disgust nor anger.

It's a scream of pure anguish.

When your big eyes look at the girl's forehead, there is steam levitating into the air and you hear a small sizzling noise. Suddenly, there's a sickening smell of burned skin in the room.

The girl stumbles back, trying to rip the gum off, as Doyoung watches her with a thoughtful pout, "You humans are so narrow minded. Finding pleasure in hurting others..." he smirks to himself, "I thought that was exclusively our thing."

When his eyes flicker to you with a warmer version of his smile you can't help but flinch. Either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care, "Come on, let's get out of here. There's no fun people around and the teacher is busy making out with the janitor."

You gape at him. So do the other students around you. "Look, stay here and get tormented if you want to. I'll get some ice cream." Everyone has formed a tight circle around you, Doyoung and the girl, but when he steps towards the classroom door, they jump apart as if he were a lion, ready to pounce.

Still confused beyond belief, you stare at the girl, who's silently crying and peeling the remains of gum from her forehead. Then, as if stung by a bee, you pack your things and run after him.

"How did you do it?" you pant, when you finally catch up to him.

He gives you a curled smirk, "How did I do what?"

"D-don't play dumb with me! That gum had at least a hundred degrees!" you stress.

Passing through the halls and towards the school's entrance, he nods in thought, "Odd things happen."

You puff out your cheeks in exasperation, "They happen around you!"

"About that, you're right." He says and stretched his hand to you, when you finally make it out of the building, "I'm Doyoung, by the way."

You're almost scared to touch him, because, what if his hand is as hot as that gum? But when you shake his hand, it's pleasently warm and soft, "Y/N."

"Nice to meet you." Doyoung smiles again and turns away. You don't follow him right away, so he leaves you standing there.

"Thank you!" you shout, when he's almost at the street and you finally think of catching up to him.

As if not knowing a thing, he lifts a brow, "For?"

"Don't think I didn't notice." you say and when he humms, as if to prompt you to continue, you explain: "I don't know how you did it, but you helped me. You... Defended me."

Rolling his eyes, he says: "How adorable, you think I did this for you."

Ignoring the sting in your chest, you ask: "Why then?"

"Entertainment." he leans down, so close that your noses almost touch, "You've gotta admit, the look on their faces was very funny."

Doyoung laughs at your taken aback expression and the flush you're pretty sure you're sporting right now. Without another word, he turns to walk further.

You follow him wordlessly. There's a little awkwardness from your side and you wonder why you're following him around, like a lost pup. He doesn't seem to mind though and the two of you walk in silence for a few minutes.

Soon, you reach a familiar area that you like to frequent with your best friend Taeyong a lot; a long street, filled with an old-fashioned market. Booths with veggies, bread, candy and all kinds of hand crafted goods line both sides, so far down the street that you can't even see the end from the start. The sky above you is filled to the brim with clouds. It's a little chilly, but for now you seem safe from rain.

Doyoung heads right for an ice cream booth and orders a cone with chocolate and vanilla. Then he turns to you, "Y/N will pay, since I've been such a good friend today."

The guy working the ice cream booth looks at you with a bored expression. You're still taken aback, but you manage to scramble for your wallet. Only when Doyoung is happily licking on his ice cream and the two of you walk further down the market street, does it occur to you what you just did.

"Why, you-"

"One hand washes the other and such." Doyoung says, as if that's a sufficient explanation, "Like you said, I helped you."

You sigh and decide you can handle the three bucks spent on Doyoung's delighted expression.

"Why did you let them pick on you like that?" he suddenly asks.

You take a moment, "I... I just don't think I should encourage them to do worse."

"You think that'll happen?"

"If I piss them off enough to actually want to hurt me" you shrug, "Jup, I'm guessing that's what would happen."

He humms and starts munching on the cone, "Only if you don't do it properly."

"What do you mean."

Crunch, crunch, "You have to put them in their place."

You laugh, taken aback, "You sound like a dictator."

"I'm just following my principles." he shrugs, "after my little tricks, they will definitely not come for you, if I'm around. But I have better things to do, than devote my time to being your bodyguard."

"Understandable." You scratch the back of your head awkwardly, "for real though, are you a magician or something?"

He laughs, wide and bright and you decide it's unexpectedly nice, "No, not a magician."

"So you're not a magician and neither are you a dictator", tilting your head, you look at him, "Are you a fairy? Or a spirit maybe? God?"

He chokes on his ice cream cone and then laughs so hard, it's like you've said the funniest and absurdist thing ever, "No, thankfully, I'm not god." When he looks at you, his gaze is smug, "I'm surprised you haven't caught up yet. Let me give you a hint."

He winks and above you, a bolt of lightning drenches the world in white. You gasp. There, behind his back is a dark shape, bigger than even his whole body. A pair of wings, you realize with your heart pounding like crazy. But not only that. There, between his fluffy, black hair, a pair of pointy shapes contrasts against the white sky.

Horns.

You gulp, when you meet his eyes again. They're drenched in a red glow and paired with this sinister smirk, the answer finally comes to you. But the words get stuck in your throat, disbelief and fear clouding your mind beyond use. His wings flutter softly, as he speaks them for you:

"I am the devil."

-*- FIN -*-

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 years ago

Text

Furlough

Series Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and his team are stuck in their compound. Following a mission, you disagree with your stalwart leader but he does not take kindly to your defiance.

Sequel to Insubordination, Pulling Rank, and Misconduct

Chapter Description: Steve makes an announcement but it isn’t good news for everyone.

Warnings: dub/non-con and explicit sex. Obviously 18+ (like this whole blog)

Note: We’ve got some more spicy scary Steve over here and he’s even got his own POV in this one. So let’s buckle in and enjoy the ride.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to send an ask, reblog, or reply of your thoughts:)

Despite your attempts to appease him, Steve’s open hostility towards you remained. You started to suspect that it was the other side of the coin. He didn’t just want to humiliate you behind closed doors, he relished doing so in front of others. The team was supportive but had given up actively opposing him. The last had almost resulted in a physical altercation between Sam and Steve and another backhanded remark about what was owed to the fearsome Captain. You couldn’t handle it if someone else was hurt because of his loathing for you, so you told them to stop. It wasn’t worth the effort. You could handle his passive aggression; they didn’t know what else you had already dealt with.

The four of you were sat in the briefing room around the long table. Steve had called the meeting and yet he was the last one there. You were about to fall asleep in your chair. It had been a late night. A rough one. After another two weeks of his nightly incursions, you were exhausted. He had only grown crueler. Even as you submitted to his every wish, fled from his ever glare and sharp word, you seemed only to feed his anger. He sought you out; he was with you all the time, even if physically absent. His presence could not be escaped.

The door opened violently and Steve’s footsteps woke you at once. He walked along the length of the table until he stood at the head. His blue eyes flicked to you subtly. Beneath his beard, his lips twitched before his usual scowl set in stone. He glanced around the group and sighed. “Nice to see you all on time...for once.” He put his hands on his hips.

The table shared silent looks of resent. You were all tired of his malicious remarks. He acted as if you were entirely useless. Well, being suspended from duty, you were, but the rest went out and put themselves in danger for the man. The least he could say was thank you.

“What’s with the attitude?” He huffed, “I have good news. Something to wipe the insolence from your faces.” You waited for him to continue. He always did enjoy the sound of his own voice. His prolonged battle speeches and valiant orders. “I was speaking with King T’Challa, the very man who’s provided us this compound, and he has invited the team to Wakanda for the holidays.” He smiled proudly, “Christmas isn’t really part of their culture but he understands that it is a special time of year for us.”

“Oh?” Nat seemed stunned. You all were, truly. It had been a while since there had been an happy news in the compound. You looked to Wanda who was smiling.

“Well, most of us should be going,” He said as he paced around the table. He stopped behind your chair and gripped the back just above your head. “Those of us who have earned a vacation.”

“Steve,” Nat hissed, “You can’t be serious.”

“I can’t deny the three of you have worked hard in the field,” He leaned on your chair so it shifted, “But I mean...a whole month of suspension. That’s like a vacation in itself.”

“You can’t leave her here alone,” Sam piped up, “If you do, I’m not going.”

“Me either,” Wanda crossed her arms. “As it is, Y/N should already we back in the field. We could use her out there.”

Steve rolled his eyes and jolted your chair as he released it. “Fine,” He said sternly, “She can come but she’s not my problem. She’s yours.” You stared at the table as he walked away. “We leave in two days. Six hundred hours sharp. You’re late, we don’t wait.” He paused; tense silence was the only response. “You’re free. Go on.”

You stood with the rest but were stopped by your name. Steve was watching you. You suspected he had barely looked away from you. “Stay. We’ll discuss your suspension.” The others glanced at you and you shrugged at them. A weight settled in your chest. You didn’t like being alone with him. Nat gave a small smile as she followed Wanda and Sam out the door. They didn’t know; couldn’t know. If they did, they wouldn’t be able to change it.

The door closed and you sat back down. “You didn’t think I was really going to leave you here, did you?” He taunted. Of course, you didn’t. He wasn’t going to let you be. It had all been for show. A little game for him. He could never pass up a chance to have you at his mercy. You looked up as him darkly. “Now, now, don’t look at me like that, soldier. You should be thanking me...on your knees.”

You inhaled and tried to wipe the sneer from your face. “Captain, are we going to talk about my suspension or not?”

He chuckled. “Sure, we’ll talk about it. You’ve got one month left.” You bit your cheek, holding back a retort. “I really don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now.” He closed in on you and grabbed your chin roughly. “Don’t worry. We can still have our little exercises in Wakanda.” You didn’t say anything. You just wanted him to let you go.

He removed his hand and stepped away, turning his back to you. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll consider ending your suspension once we return. If not, I might just make it indefinite.” He paused and spun back to you, “That’s it. Go. I’m done with you for now.”

You stood. He raised his brows in challenge and you backed away. You left him as he was; victorious. In the hallway, you felt as if you could breathe again. You turned the corner and almost leapt into the wall as you were frightened by another.

Wanda was leaned against the wall; waiting for you. “So, did he lift your suspension?”

“Not exactly,” You answered. Her eyes seemed to look past you; inside you. “He said he might but I doubt it….whatever, it is what it is.” You shrugged, trying not to show your discomfort. “At least I get to go to Wakanda.”

“His friend is there,” She said pointedly, “Perhaps it will cheer him.”

“Yes, Bucky. Maybe it will.” You tried to smile.

“He is cruel to you,” She narrowed her eyes, “Very cruel.”

“He’s angry at the world,” You said evenly, “Nothing we can do about that. He’ll get over it one day.”

“He shouldn’t treat you like he does,” She asserted and you glanced over her shoulder down the hall. “You shouldn’t let him hurt you.”

“It’s just words,” You lied, looking back to her numbly. “I’ve had worse said to me.”

She stared at you. Measuring you with her crystal eyes. “You’re strong,” She said, “But you’re not alone. Remember that.”

“Thanks, Wanda,” You swallowed. You didn’t want to talk anymore. Couldn’t talk about it anyway. You couldn’t drag anyone else into this. “I guess we should figure out what we’re supposed to bring to Wakanda.”

“Suppose we should,” She accepted your sudden detour warily, “I’ll help you pack. Maybe Nat will join us. She’s always the best at it.”

***

You were the last to board the jet. Steve had opted to drive the Wakandan vessel and you were happy for it as it allowed you to hide in the back. Sam was the first to doze off as Nat and Wanda talked sleepily beside each other. You were too anxious to relax. Steve’s task didn’t keep him from peeking over his shoulder; catching your eye more than once. He would smirk and turn back. You wondered how much he could truly get away with in Wakanda. Maybe there would be a lock on the door; but was there any strong enough to stop him?

You shifted in your seat as the hours went by. You wished you had been left behind. Memories of the previous night flashed in your head. Steve had been as rough as ever; if not rougher. He had almost suffocated you as he pressed your head into a pillow. You could hear his ruts now, the pain in your hips, his flesh slapping against yours. You were tender still. Bruises greeted you that morning along your thighs and hips. Tender as you ran your hands across them.

When at last the jet landed, you hesitated to rise. You waited for Sam to wake up and Wanda and Nat to tease him as the ramp lowered. The three of them disembarked together and you made to follow them, your suitcase heavy as you rolled it beside you. A pinch on your ass made you jump as Steve came up beside you. You eyed him venomously. You didn’t want anyone else to see him pulling shit like that. Worse than them knowing what he was doing was them thinking you were fucking him for your place on the team.

He shrugged and winked. You turned and did your best to walk at a distance from him. He quickly went to the front of the group and led them from the jet pad into the palace below. You looked around, tearing away your worries to admire the marvels around you. Wakanda was beautiful. You could see why it was a long-kept secret. If it wasn’t for your company, you’d want to stay forever.

The interior was even more astounding. The African decor was breathtaking; the bold colours, hand-woven patterns, and finely-crafted ornaments. You could see there was history in every inch of the palace; every bit of it had meaning. It was a statement to freedom; to resilience.

You were greeted in a sparkling hall by the king, T’Challa, his sister, Shuri, his mother, Ramonda, and their ever-present protector, Okoye. A shadow appeared from the corner as Steve led the entourage and shook hands with T’Challa. Bucky smiled as his oldest friend and you couldn’t help the bile it spiked in your throat. Was he worth all this?

Yet how could you begrudge him Steve’s actions? You knew Bucky; he was nice enough and he been a dependable ally in combat. You couldn’t fault anything he had done. He hadn’t asked Steve to make a stand for him. He hadn’t enlisted you, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda to fight his battle. No, that had been the Captain himself. He was the one in charge as he liked to remind everyone of constantly.

After some overly formal and awkward hellos, you were ready to be excused. You might be able to get away with a nap while Steve was distracted with Bucky. At least get settled in. Your heart dropped however as Bucky neared and you saw Steve talking with T’Challa instead. You needed to get away before he remembered you. You couldn’t very well ignore Bucky to ask Shuri where you could go pass out.

“Hey,” You greeted him and he clapped your shoulder, “So, how’s the countryside?”

“Relaxing,” He smiled, “Lonely, sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam ducked into the conversation, “I heard you had a bunch of goats to keep you company. You must fit right in.”

“Eh,” Bucky sneered, “Shut up.”

“You two,” You grumbled, “I swear. This time I’ll let you guys fight. I’m not getting in between this again.”

“Buck,” Steve’s voice kept you from laughing at the pair. He stepped up beside you. You could feel the heat of his body as his arm almost touched yours. “T’Challa says you’ve been working on some stuff in the lab.”

“More like testing,” Bucky explained, “You wouldn’t believe this place, it’s amazing.”

“Yeah, well, I hope we’re not intruding,” Steve kidded, “Believe it or not, it get pretty boring at the compound.”

“I figured this bunch would be getting into all sorts of trouble,” Bucky gestured to you and Sam; Nat and Wanda were just behind you chatting with Okoye.

“Mmm, sometimes,” You didn’t miss the subtle glance Steve sent your way as he answered, “Nothing too bad though.”

“Um,” You leaned back on your heel and looked over your shoulder, “I actually have to go tell Nat something. Totally slipped my mind earlier. Excuse me.”

You scurried away before the tension could become any more intolerable. You couldn’t take Steve standing so close and acting so...nice. He wasn’t nice. He was terrible. You skirted over to Nat and edged your way into their little group.

“Hey,” You nudged her, “Do you know where we’re staying? I’m exhausted.”

“You should’ve napped on the jet,” She reproached softly, “And I’ll find out. Just be patient.”

“Fine” You sighed and pursed your lips.

You could wait as long as Steve wasn’t hovering over you. You looked over your shoulder at him and he seemed to sense it. He met your eye and the corner of his mouth twitched. You quickly turned back to the others and found another pair of eyes watching you. Wanda squinted but said nothing, drawing her attention back to Okoye. You clasped your hands together nervously. You couldn’t have her poking around. For her own good as much as yours.

***

Steve felt a stir in his pants as he watched Y/N drag her bag behind her. T’Challa was rambling as Bucky approached the lone woman who seemed all to eager to go unnoticed. Along with his arousal was an unexpected flash of anger. He didn’t like her being around other men; not with him near. In the compound it was easy enough, her and Sam were like siblings but something about the way his old friend looked at her had set him off. Her and Bucky had always gotten along. He had forgot about that.

He excused himself from T’Challa as Ramonda approached and walked over to the small group, shouldering in next to her. “Buck,” He greeted. He could feel her next to him. She flinched as he butted into the conversation, “T’Challa says you’ve been working on some stuff in the lab.”

“More like testing,” Bucky offered; it was good to see his old friend happy again. “You wouldn’t believe this place, it’s amazing.”

“Yeah, well, I hope we’re not intruding,” Steve kidded. He focused on keeping his voice light. “Believe it or not, it gets pretty boring at the compound.”

“I figured this bunch would be getting into all sorts of trouble,” Bucky waved toward Y/N and Sam. The chatter of the others in the room buzzed behind them.

“Mmm, sometimes,” Steve couldn’t help but peek over at her. He was starting to get hard just thinking of their last meeting. “Nothing too bad though.”

“Um,” Y/N glanced over her shoulder as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “I actually have to go tell Nat something. Totally slipped my mind earlier. Excuse me.”

Steve watched as she detached herself from the group without pause. She was making a point of not looking at him and it made him bristle. It made him want her. Need her. He turned back to Sam and Bucky as they started arguing about some gadget or another. He could still feel her resistance. Even after all these weeks, she had yet to break entirely.

Her resilience had been what he had first seen in her but now it was growing entirely irritating. She still had those moments of defiance; alone or otherwise. Her eyes burned him when he was on top of her and it fed his own fire. He would only work her harder; bending her body, scalding her flesh with his resent. And with that reserved for others. She was silent these days and yet her face told a story in itself. An unsaid rant towards him. How he had changed... He was still the same man. Still her Captain and she best remember it.

As his erection pressed against the front of his pants he cleared his throat. It was gonna be obvious soon. He sensed movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder. As he met Y/N’s stare, his lips twitched and she quickly looked away. He turned back and crossed his hands in front of him, fingers wrapped around his wrist as he tried to hide his rising excitement. The whole flight he had been thinking of using her. Of commanding her onto her knees.

He was drawn from his descending fantasies when the women behind him dispersed. Shuri began to lead them to the door and Steve hurriedly excused himself. “Hey, I think they’re going to settle rooms,” He nudged Sam, “I’m kinda spent from the flight.” He looked to Bucky, “You don’t mind if we catch up later?”

“No, I get it,” Bucky smiled and ran a hand over his thick hair. “I was just playing around with a new rifle anyway. You guys kinda interrupted, you know?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve chuckled and playfully shoved his friend’s shoulder, “Later.”

Sam followed Steve as they caught up to the rest, rolling their suitcase behind them. Y/N turned her head slightly, sighting him in her peripherals but did not looked further. Shuri chattered on as she led them through the airy hallways. She stopped suddenly and waved to a breadth of doors along the next. “This will be your wing. There are enough rooms for all of you.” She smiled, “I trust you can figure it out from here.”

“Thanks,” Steve nodded as the princess sidled past him before he turned to his team. He pushed ahead of them and looked at the doors. “Sam,” He pointed to the closest, “Wanda,” The next, “Nat,” He could see Y/N fidgeting as he assigned rooms, “Y/N,” He pointed over his left shoulder, “And I’ll take the last one.” It was directly across from hers. That fact made her jaw clench.

“Jesus, Cap, we’re not children,” Sam muttered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Steve retorted and spun around.

He marched to his door and opened it, shoving his bag inside. He could hear the others as they followed suit and he turned to watch. Nat and Wanda were almost to eager to be away and their doors shut almost as one. Sam dipped into his room with a yawn, but Y/N remained where she was, her eyes glued to her door. Steve grinned and left his door ajar as he approached her.

“You can share mine,” He smirked as he touched her upper arm and she winced. She drew away from him and grabbed her suitcase. She said nothing as she sidestepped him and finally headed for her room. Steve caught the back of her bag and wrenched it from her grasp, almost bending the metal handle. “I’ll help you with this.”

He lifted it easily, his hand on her shoulder as he guided her down the hall. She tried to shrug him off but he merely dug his fingers deeper. They stopped before her door and she opened it reluctantly. He tossed her bag inside as if it weighed nothing and snapped the door shut swiftly before she could enter. He caught the back of her shirt and tugged her towards his own room.

“It’s a vacation, Y/N,” She tried to dig in her heels as he growled in her ear. She reached back to claw at his fingers and he let go only to grab her by her ponytail instead. “We might as well enjoy our time away.” He forced her through his door as she hissed at the pain in her scalp. He released her gruffly as he shoved her ahead of him and kicked shut the door.

She turned to watch him enter, her shoulders tense as she crossed her arms. He could see the dread as it filled her, mixed with a palour of disappointment. She had thought she could get away from him. That wasn’t how it worked. Steve looked around at the room; it was nice. A tribal tapestry above the king-sized bed; he’d make good use of that. The trappings were finely arranged and he was as impressed as he had been with the rest of the kingdom.

Y/N moved away from him as he paced around and pulled open the curtains and let in the Wakandan sunlight. Every step he took past her or around her, she edged away. He was so hard. He dipped his head through the door on the other side of the bed. The bathroom was immaculate; a large tub drew the eye; more than big enough for two. He reached down to rub his throbbing bulge as he pictured her naked and wet before him. He would have her bent over the marble soon enough.

“How about a bath?” He turned back to the room and found her creeping towards the door. He stormed towards her before she could complete her path. “You think I won’t drag you back here,” He slipped his fingers beneath the belt of her jeans and dragged her close to him. “Now, be a good soldier and get undressed.” He urged her towards the bathroom and released her roughly ahead of him. “I gave you an order, soldier.”

“Yes, Captain,” He grinned as his cock began to ache at the words.

He was close behind her as she entered the bathroom. He tore his tee over his head and began to work on his belt buckle. He blindly undressed himself as he watched her do the same. His eyes went to her hips and ass as she bent to untangle her panties. “Well, get the water going,” He commanded as he stared her down.

Her eyes flicked down to his cock and he wiggled his hips just slightly. She looked away quickly and crossed to the tub. She bent to turn the faucets; a perfect view of her ass and just a hint of her pussy. He didn’t know if he could wait. He was tempted to go over and fuck her then and there.

She stood as the water began to flow and he was moving towards her in an instant. She braced for him but he passed her by with a chuckle. He stepped into the tub and lowered himself with hands on the marble walls. He sighed as he reclined against the back and ran his hand from his chest to cock; lingering there.

“Get in,” He ordered and she raised no argument but a shaky exhale. “Turn around,” He directed her until her ass faced him, “Down.”

She obeyed and his large hands were at her waist. He helped her lay over him, his front to her back. He shifted her so that her ass was just above his cock. His tip cloyingly prodded at her folds. His hands explored her body, kneaded her chest and hips, traced the vee of of her pelvis, cupped her ass as she rested weightless over him. He could feel her holding in her moans; her body taut against his fingers.

“Turn the water off,” He said as the tub filled. She gave another ‘yes, Captain’ and sat forward to do as he bid. As she started to lower herself again, he took her by the hips and guided her body to his. He reached down and positioned his sore cock. It was tortuously painful now. He need her warmth around him.He entered her easily; the heat of her walls and the water melded around his length. He groaned as she gave a small squeak. He bent his arms to restrain hers, his hands at the back of her neck.

“Ugh,” He grunted as he thrust into her, “You’re so tight.” He loved the way she felt around him; so snug, so soft. “You like your Captain’s cock, soldier? You like it when I stretch that little pussy of yours?”

He could feel her shock as he body stiffened at his words but she only moaned as he pushed himself further. He kept his pelvis flush to her, longing to go deeper though he was at his limit. She took him well.He pulled out and she shuddered. He slammed back into her, the water rippled around them, and she squeaked. He loved that noise.

“Tell your Captain how much you like his cock. Tell me you love my cock.”

She closed her eyes, her head falling to the side. “I love your cock, Captain,” Her voice was wispy. She was fighting it. Fighting both him and herself.

He carried his motion, his thrusts growing closer together as his cock pulsed against her walls. He needed the release. The water splashed around them as he hammered into her and let go of her arms to pull her legs up around her chest. It opened her more to him and he could feel himself bottoming out in her. Her hands went flat against the sides of the tub and she tried to measure her breaths but they soon grew chaotic.

“You gonna cum for your Captain?” He hummed and she whimpered. “Did I say you could cum yet?”

“N-no,” She gritted her teeth against his merciless pounding. “No, C-c-c-captain.”

“Your Captain wants you to cum,” He growled, “Cum for me, soldier.”

He held her legs as she tried to straighten them, her muscles strained and suddenly released as she orgasmed. Her pussy clenched his cock over and over as the strangled cry rose from her. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop as he felt himself nearing his own climax. Before he could, she was orgasming a second time and it forced him to follow as her pussy milked him. He filled her with a deep snarl, his hot ribbons snaking around his cock as he rode out his peak.

He stilled her body atop his and she twitched around his cock. He didn’t remove himself as he basked in the afterglow. His breath rasped out as he brought his hands up to free her hair from her sagging ponytail. He brushed his fingers through it, “You like it when your Captain cums in you?” She shook her head and sniffled. She wiped her eyes as she hid her face from him. “What was that, soldier?” His hand paused on her head.

“No, Captain,” Her voice cracked, “I’m not...I’m not...protected.” His hand fell from her hair and she sat up swiftly. Her warmth left his cock as she climbed off of him. He could see his cum floating in the water as it leaked from her. “I have no birth control.” Her eyes stared at the white strings in the tub.

Steve’s cock twitched at her admission. Even after such a violent release, he was ready for more and her words made him hard again. The thought of her possibly being pregnant didn’t bother him as much as he thought. In fact, it incensed him. He sat up in the tub and grabbed her wrists, drawing her back to him.

“You think I give a fuck?” He sneered, “If your Captain gives you his cum, soldier, you say ‘thank you, can I have some more?’”

He lifted her by her hips and slipped into her, her hands beat against his muscled stomach. He brought himself to his limit and kept her there. He savoured the feel of her around him. He took her head between his hands and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were panicked; fearful. He had broke her at last.

“Do you want more, soldier?”

Her lips pressed together and her eyes swum for a second before she swallowed back her despair. “Yes, Captain,” She said weakly and he felt her pussy pulse. He could’ve cum at that very instant.

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#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fic #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #series #insubordination #pulling rank #misconduct #mcu #marvel #au #darkverse #sequel

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lairofsentinel · 5 years ago

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I've done a long set of three posts about Viren, to understand his char because it's fascinating. The links to a deep analysis are at the end of the post.

Here I will only write the main conclusions as a summary:

If there is something to say in short about him is that... he was not evil at all [I’m not sure by the end of season 3]. He was not thirsty for power during the flashbacks. He always defended Humanity at all cost, using any means at his disposal, and plotting around Harrow to have a better influence on him to suggest him when and how to kill Dragons.

He decided not to ignore the starvation that his own kingdom and Duren were going to suffer, and he came up with a “creative solution”.

He faced Avizandum trying to save the Duren’s Queens [they are precious people, not replaceable soldiers]

He knew Sarai used to see Xadians as creatures with sentiments and families, which was a danger to humanity, since Viren knows Dragons have no mercy towards humanity. So he may have plotted her death, or simply took the opportunity when it was presented. [Update below on this matter]

He manipulated Harrow [one of the many times] to craft the weapon of Vengeance and kill Avizandum, erasing one danger to Humanity.

He called the Pentachry and tried to convince other Kingdoms to kill dragons, so humanity could be safe. He followed a path to gather more and more power to accomplish this goal.

He took the throne for Humanity’s sake [we need to remember he is “the only sane man”].

Everything has been done for Humanity's sake [in his perspective].

Viren never saw himself as a true Servant of a Kingdom, but the Saviour of humanity [he sees himself as someone too precious for Humanity itself!]. He follows the trope of the "Only Sane Man" too [that's why he thinks of himself too special], he is the only one knowing how truly important is to destroy Dragons to let humanity flourish.

He sees soldiers as replaceable pieces, more means to his “noble” ends, and has no scrupulous to manipulate anyone in the smartest way--the King, his children, and even several other Kingdoms's rulers--to save humanity of what he sees as an imminent threat.

However, we saw him that he loved Harrow as a brother so much, that he would have accepted death to save him, putting aside all that obsession about Humanity's safety. I believe Harrow kept Viren more human and less affected by the "hollowing" effect of the Dark Magic than he wants to admit. Once Harrow is dead [specially after the argument with the concept of being a lesser being= servant, that has strong reminiscence with Ziard and Sol Regem], Viren starts a lonely path of "becoming the saviour" of Humanity. And Aaravos takes the place of adviser, doing with Viren, what Viren did all his life with Harrow.

Viren is the "Aaravos" of Harrow.

Viren and Aaravos are two masterminds, having their own particular agendas at the shadows of the one they are influencing. They consider themselves wiser than anyone, and have no problem in using all means to get their goals. They are the same in different levels with different experiences. But I think that Viren's punishment for his manipulations over Harrow is having met Aaravos. If he loses Aaravos' guidance in season 4, I wonder if Viren will recover his senses and realises that he had been doing things against humanity and regrets them. I believe he has good chances to have a half-redeeming arc once he loses the suffocating presence of Aaravos around him. Maybe he returns to his old self, focusing in “saving humanity”, but now, not from Dragons but Aaravos. It would not surprise me if Aaravos has an analogous purpose: saving his people from some bigger danger we don’t see.

Viren has a deep hatred toward Dragons that may or may not be fed by the Historical meeting of Ziard and Sol Regen, that showed that Dragons have never offered many choices of humanity to pick. Maybe that discourse encouraged his way of seeing things related to Dragons as “there is no other way than killing them”. Viren and Ziard may have a blood relationship since both have the same staff. It’s fair to suppose Ziard as an ancestor of Viren.

By the end of Season 3, Viren has been manipulated by Aaravos to such a degree that he is manifesting a lot of symptoms that Humanity's safety is not his main goal anymore, but "Conquering Xadia" [something that may suggest it's Aaravos' true goal]. Viren even turns into "magical creatures"="monsters" his precious humanity, showing how much of his main goals have been corrupted by the presence of Aaravos in his life. However, it's also true that this symbol can be interpreted as Viren seeing soldiers as expendable, as he always saw them, so he doesn’t mind to destroy their humanity to save a “bigger humanity”. But I prefer to think that this symbol shows how much he lost his original goal under the influence of Aaravos. Now he is looking for power to conquer Xadia / destroy the ones who imprisoned Aaravos / and free Aaravos from that dimension he is trapped.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Viren full analysis [part one] [part two] [part three]

-------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE: Since some people told me that the authors claimed that there is no more info about Sarai’s in the following Seasons [I’m believing in their words despite not seeing proof of this, sadly], everyone assumes that she simply died by a lighting and Viren has nothing to do with that death.

Exactly because my whole hypothesis and the reason behind these posts is to show that “maybe” we should be careful about those fragments of the past, is because it’s Viren himself who is narrating them. There is not much information about him and about Sarai’s relationship with him at all. Omission some times is a way to manipulate and twist a narration, the whole series is about that.

As a person who watched the show, to me, Sarai’s death is at least questionable. We don’t have more witnesses than Viren, and we know that Viren, like Aaravos, can be unreliable narrators, making us be more judgemental on certain creatures than what we should. It’s a question. I’m not assuming things happened that way [maybe in the summary sounds more rotund than in the post with details, but meh]. Again, this is what I understood, that sadly, not always ends up what the authors wanted to [The example of Isabela in Dragon Age 2 being understood as barren was a big misunderstanding that, no matter how you see that scene, it looks like that despite the writer told us already that it was not the intention. But the scene looks like that! XD]

So, after reading some people who were between angry and sad about this matter, I believe there are two possibilities:

**He killed her. Viren did not like Sarai as Harrow’s advice, because she may put in danger humanity [we saw he was present when she talked to Harrow about she disagreeing with this plan and Harrow being a stupid]. Although there was not exactly a precise plot against her, Viren, as the opportunist he is, took the chance in the moment he saw it. As soon as he saw the possibility of getting rid of her, he did it, using her last breath as an ingredient for a spell he knew already could be used to kill the Dragon King as soon as he could find a unicorn horn. He awaited the horn, while letting the hatred in Harrow grow. This is why Viren wants to sacrifice himself during the night of the Moonshadow attack, in order to “clean” his sin with Sarai [he did not do all what he could, because his intention was other, and he saw it only escalated things], because he explicitly says that “he needs to be the man that Harrow once believed he was”. This is an interpretation.

** He did not kill her. Viren in fact is kinder and has a more beautiful soul than we want to believe. He saw Sarai dying and he could not do anything about it, he felt deeply guilty, so he took her last breath without knowing what to do with that [I always saw these dark mages gathering Xadians limbs and Xadians bodies, not human ones, but ok, he took her last breath having no idea at all what could he do with a human last breath]. However, years later, out of guilt, decided to avenge her and, by super chance, he had all the elements to do so when Claudia found him the horn. He insisted too much to Harrow about taking revenge. So, in the end, he avenges Sarai’s death and he is in peace with that, until the night of the Moonshadow attack. It’s when he decided to acknowledge his mistake of looking for revenge [or guilt for Sarai, for not doing enough when she was dying] so he tries to save Harrow by convincing him to exchange their bodies. In this interpretation Viren is shown too selfless and too focused on Sarai’s life/vengeance, to a level I didn’t see in him in any other part of the series, except in those in which he controls the narration. All the info about his relationship with Sarai was omitted or doesn’t exist at all. We have no idea, so why would he focus so much on her revenge if he sees Harrow happy with his current blessings?.

That’s why I wrote all this... to try to have all the info and the important scenes in a same place highlighting who is saying what. This Series works, apparently, with unreliable narrators, so it’s more than important to know who says what. But again, this is just for personal use and it’s my own interpretation. Everyone is free to disagree.

#viren #the dragon prince #The dragon prince lore #character analysis #no no I dont defend or support Viren's ways #but I love mastermind characters

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headquarters90 · 5 years ago

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Darkness (Warrior of the Source 11)

Pairing: Darkiplier x French Goddess!Reader, Reader x Original Characters (Platonic/Family), Reader x Greek Gods/Goddesses!Characters

Words: 2,547 words

Warnings: Training in the beginning, cursing, (not sure if this is needed but) witchcraft

A/N: Here’s the late update for Warrior of the Source! Once again (or in case you didn’t read the update post I made), the holiday season sucks and I work retail so schedule may be wonky. Also, in case anyone wanted, I am willing to tag people within this post. Just drop an ask and I’ll tag ya in the next one! JadeDarrow

Series Masterlist

“Doing good, girls!” Pierre called out as you grunted against your sister’s attacks. “Y/N, you-Or do it without me telling you too.”

A snort left Angel’s lips and you grinned as the two of you continued to spar against each other before coming to a halt at your aunt’s command.

“These two trained almost every day together when Y/N lived at home,” Bellatrix stated. “They need to go up against someone that doesn’t know their moves, Pierre.”

“Then who do you suggest, sister?” Pierre questioned, raising an eyebrow as you glanced towards the two entities across the room, watching. “Last I checked, only a few can handle going up against the two.”

“I’m aware of that, Pierre,” Bellatrix scowled at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus on them sparring without abilities and focus on them using said things.”

“Auntie-”

“You have to take it easy on abilities you rarely use, Y/N.” Her eyes shifted towards you. “Basically, all abilities past down by Thomas.”

“Life and death,” Pierre mused and you looked towards him, shaking your head. “You still hold a majority of the abilities from when you were the Goddess of Life and Healing, Y/N?”

“And some death abilities as well. Thana is my mother,” you muttered, sticking your tongue out at Angel. “Sorry, sis.”

“Y/N, with what you’ve been through, you having all those abilities is a good thing. Even if some Gods believe you’re overpowered.”

“I’ve had some taken away.”

“Enough with the chitchat, ladies,” Pierre cut in and the two of you looked towards him. “Jeez, how are you two not twins?”

“Piss off, Pierre.”

“Angel!”

Angel sent you an apologetic smirk and you shook your head, summoning your staff as Angel summoned her scythe.

“Should we take-”

A grunt left your lips, loud enough to cut Pierre off, and your eyes shifted around the room once the pressure had disappeared.

When your eyes didn’t catch sight of your sister, you brought yourself to focus on any sound that gave her away. Hearing a quick and quiet breath to your left, you swung your staff towards the sound. A thud sounding off through the room as Angel reappeared, her scythe blocking your staff. Her eyes held a slight annoyance as they glanced towards you.

As she disappeared from sight again, you heard a quiet whoosh behind you and turned quickly, your hand flying through the air. Vines shot up from the ground, wrapping themselves around the handle of the scythe, stopping its movements. Your eyes met Angel’s, watching as she raised an eyebrow and you soon winced at the quiet screeching you heard as the vines withered, falling to the floor.

“Uncalled for.”

“They were wrapped around my scythe.”

“You know I hear their cries!” You scowled as you found yourself at the end of her scythe, your eyes narrowing at the smirk on her lips.

“Well, it seems like-”

“They’re not done,” André cut him off. “One of the many things Angel constantly teaches those under her command; never yield when a blade's at your neck, only when you feel blood dripping. But with these two, you’ll have to call it.”

“Call-”

You drowned out the words as you brought up your foot, ducking under the blade as you forced it out of her hand. Making your staff disappear, you caught her scythe, holding it behind your back as you stood.

While you had been made as the personification of life and your sister as death, it had been told to you over and over again that you were more like your mother, the original personification of death and Angel more like your aunt, the original one of life.

“If I didn’t know about better, sis, I’d say the role of a Reaper would look good on you,” Angel spoke, raising an eyebrow at you as you took your time to get a feel of the weapon before tossing it back.

“Not my thing.”

“Alright, girls, I think that’s enough for you two today,” Bellatrix spoke before scrunching her nose.

“I have a meeting with Jean-Paul.”

“Who all is needing to attend?” Pierre questioned and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “I am a brother.”

“Who Jean-Paul still does not trust. Do the four of you plan to attend?” Bellatrix's eyes shifted from you and your sister to your cousins and the four of you glanced at each other.

“Juliette?” Angel questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll go for the two of us, you for you guys? Evens out the playing field?”

“It’s your guys turn anyways,” Jean-Louis snorted. “Plus, I think Christina is still upset with me.”

“I wonder why, son,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “We should get going. Dinner tonight, Y/N?”

Your eyes drifted to hers as the question, a chuckle leaving her lips at your confusion.

“It’s Wednesday already? And even with what’s going on?”

“You know your mother. And father at that. And you already missed your one this month.”

Angel snorted, patting your back as you pursed your lips.

“I have guests.”

“Take it up with your mother.”

“You know what she’ll say. She’d invite them!” Angel exclaimed, scrunching her nose.

“Let’s get going,” Juliette butted in and Bellatrix agreed as Angel grumbled, the three of them disappearing.

The same could be said for the majority of the Warriors and their lovers – except Hades.

“Hecate sent me with this.” Hades showed the book before tossing it towards you and you caught it. “Her newest copy of her new Book of Shadows.”

You hummed at that, turning the book in your hand. While you only met the Greek Goddess once or twice, like Persephone, Hecate had taken a liking towards you and it only expanded once she learned that you were a fellow Goddess of Witchcraft, causing the two of you to share copies of your Books of Shadows. Hades was, unwillingly, the middle man between you two – especially since he was best friends with both of you. He had voiced his “annoyance” on multiple occasions but when it came down to it, he was glad you had found someone to hold a similar interest in it.

“Also, this book showed randomly on my doorstep. Cerberus doesn’t understand how since no one passed his Gate and I made sure it was safe but I don’t understand the language.” He tossed another book but before you could catch it, someone else’s hand shot out, catching it. “That wasn’t for you, Dark.”

“A book randomly shows and you give it to Y/N simply because you cannot read it? How idiotic,” the entity scoffed as you stared at the cover, the words translating easily in your mind.

A gasp left your lips and, lifting your hands, you took the book out of Dark's hand, raising it in the air without touching it. You stared at it a second more before dropping it back into Hades' hands.

“Take it to the library. Maxence, I need salt, chalk, crystals, almost everything from my Craft room, please,” you called out.

“Y/N?”

You glanced towards Hades before making your way to your library. Millions of thoughts ran through your head as you heard two sets of footsteps following you. Your eyes lifted to Maxence whose lips pursed with worry as he held a piece of chalk to you. Taking it, you were quick to draw a circle, directing where Maxence would place one as well, making sure he drew the star correctly.

“Set it there, Hades.”

“What’s going on?” Hades demanded and you lifted your eyes to his.

“The book is called Warriors of the Dark. I cannot touch it nor can the rest of the Warriors. It's cursed. I have to remove the curse.”

Hearing a quiet click, you lifted your eyes to meet the annoyance within Dark’s.

“You said you’ll be the only God around 24/7 and yet, since working on this so-called cursed book, Hades has not left and called another here,” Dark deadpanned. “Goddess of Lit and Witchcraft yet you been in here for a majority of the day.”

Your eyes fell to the glass he pushed closer to you and your lips pursed before your hand wrapped around it, lifting it to your lips to drink the much-needed ambrosia.

“And to think Gods need that to keep going,” he muttered dryly.

“I’m almost done,” you murmured, grabbing the crushed ingredients. “In order for a book to be cursed, at least this way,” you began to drop the ingredients onto the book and a gray smoke began to appear, making its way to the pentagram on the floor, “a soul must be trapped inside.”

Your eyes met the green ones of the lost soul, watching the soul shift in her spot, fear flashing in her eyes.

“What is your name?” You spoke gently, glancing towards Dark who stared at the soul before he turned to look at you as you turned back towards her. “Sweetheart?”

You watched her hands fly up to her mouth, shaking her head, and you frowned.

“You cannot speak?” Your eyes glanced around the room before grabbing your tablet, moving to stand beside the circle she was in without breaking it. “Use this.” Showing her how to use it first, you stepped back, finding yourself standing beside Dark as you watched her.

“Lia,” the tablet spoke out and the soul – Lia – jumped at the sound.

“How long have you been trapped in the book, Lia?”

“I was born in 1784 and the last age I remember being is 18.”

Your eyes fell to the floor for a second before lifting to meet hers once more.

“You’ve been trapped in this book for over 200 years.”

“Is it wise to be speaking to the soul that caused it to be cursed?” Dark whispered harshly to you and you looked at him.

“No, but we’re not speaking to a soul, Dark. If it was a soul, they would be more thankful for being freed and they would be willing to talk and tell the truth. The only truth they’ve told it that they’ve been trapped in the book for 200 years,” you spoke, your eyes returning to the entity in question. “There is a soul trapped and the soul is most likely named Lia but the entity we’re looking at is not one.”

“And here I thought I got you without speaking,” came the crackled reply as the appearance before them shifted from a fearful green-eyed woman to a smirking blue-eyed one. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Cassia.”

Dark raised an eyebrow at you and you glanced at him.

“Already have a new boy toy, witch?”

You glanced towards the Dark Sorceress before turning back towards the book, ignoring the chuckling that came from her.

“Your gifts are nothing like mine. Even with spells, you miss a key ingredient – the blood of darkness.”

Your eyes glanced towards her once before you turned towards Dark, holding your hand out and he stared at you.

“Just a prick on the finger. I’ll heal it afterward.” You tilted your head, waiting for his response as Cassia's crazed laughter filled the air.

Always balance out. No matter what the book signs, too much of anything dark create chaos and destruction. Always balance out the light and dark.

The words came to you as he allowed you to prick his finger with the tip of your dagger.

“Not yet. Wait a second,” you murmured, pricking your finger with a soft wince. Holding your finger above the book, you nodded. “Now.”

The two of you turned your hands over, watching as a drop of blood from each of you dropped onto the book. Smoke filled the air and you looked up in time to see the soul you were looking for – Lia – lung towards Cassia.

“Don’t break the circle!” You called and Lia stopped moments before the circle, eyes glancing towards you. “Lia, you’ve been trapped within the book?”

“With this lying bitch, yeah.” Lia soon winced. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“You know her?” Dark demanded and you glanced towards him.

“Yes, I do. This is Princess Lia of Italy. Or she was back in her time. She’s immortal along with her friends. I helped them awhile back to rid of the angels within them.”

“Yeah, miss Jophiel's abilities to not be thrown into a book. They tried to get Juliette but its really hard to get someone that is in contact with her guardian angel, in good terms with the devil and Archangels, and be blessed by two Goddess for her Craft,” Lia answered as Cassia snorted in annoyance. “I’m itching to drive this katana through your chest.”

“Violence never looked good on you, darling,” Cassia tsked and the Princess glared at her.

“I cannot wait for you to be reunited with Lyustifer and be meet with your worst nightmare.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

You pursed your lips before snapping your fingers as Cassia went to speak again and the sorceress’ eyes snapped to you with anger.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Her voice was driving me crazy.” Lia rubbed her temples as she walked towards you. “The book shouldn’t be cursed anymore since I’m no longer stuck in there. Mind if I go try and call Juliette? Or someone?”

“Hades is out there with Hecate,” you spoke. “And I’m sure Jophiel would answer if you called upon her. Same with...Miguel and Lyustifer?”

“I forget you call them by different names,” Lia mused, shaking her head before giving a soft smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. What are you going to do about her?”

“I do not know yet but Hellhounds will be the first to know. Give them my greetings?”

“Of course. See you around, Y/N.”

“Same to you, Princess.”

Once Lia had left the room, you turned to touch the book only to find Dark standing in your way with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you a fool, Goddess?” Dark demanded, his eyes glancing towards the sorceress in the room. “She tried manipulating you and you went ahead and gave the book not just my blood but yours. Stupid move if you asked me.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” you murmured, moving around him to open the book only for his hand to wrap around your wrist before you could. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not done.”

“Listen, Dark, stop acting as if you care. Since meeting me, all you’ve done is try to belittle me even though all I have to do is snap and you’re gone. Let go.”

Your eyes met his and, for once, annoyance wasn’t in his eyes but rather, yours.

Shuffling was heard from behind and, before you could do anything, Dark held your dagger up against the throat of the sorceress whose eyes glared at him.

“Pay attention to someone’s movements otherwise they’ll stab you in the back,” Dark spoke as he let your wrist go and you turned to face Cassia.

“Hades!” You called out, ducking under Dark’s arm as you made your way to the doors. “I need those chain things you made!”

As you opened the door to step out, you stopped, turning your head to face Dark.

“And Dark?”

His eyes glanced your way before he returned his attention back to the sorceress.

“What, Goddess?”

“Thank you.”

#darkiplier series #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x french!goddess!reader #darkiplier x goddess!reader #Darkiplier #warrior of the source series

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gemraldkid · 4 years ago

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Analysis and speculation on Bête Noire

Spoilers for Undertale and Glitchtale. Undertale by Toby Fox and Glitchtale by @camilaart

You thought I was joking? Nope. Here it is: a mix of canon, headcanon, and speculation.

Of all the characters that people are obsessing over right now (Ronan, Jessica, Gaster, Rave, the prequel wizards), I choose to put all of my energy into making some sense of the one character that continuously reminds us that we should hate them. I could be thinking about the struggles of anyone else. I could be worried for Chara or Asriel or Asgore (he’s not dead until he starts turning to dust), but nooooo. This is what occupies my thoughts about this series.

This is basically most of my headcanon relating to Betty. I wanted to put these thoughts out there before the new episode since... well, anything could happen.

Betty’s probably gonna mostly die from hate and stuff.

Imagine if we were actually supposed to end up feeling bad for this character? Right...

You shouldn’t take everything I say here as facts.’m pretty sure I made it clear enough which parts are speculation with the amazing power of verb tenses.

I’m open to corrections about currently available facts that I got wrong.

Glitchtale is a series that I’ve greatly enjoyed watching. I believe that it is one of the finest things to come out of the Undertale fandom. It is a testament to how good a fanfiction can be.

One thing that I find particularly praiseworthy is the way OCs are handled. They manage expand on the world without hogging the spotlight for too long. There’s a good balance between introducing new elements without ever forgetting about the old ones.

Of course, among many of the new characters, one in particular stands out: the current antagonist of Season 2, Bête Noire or “Betty”.

Betty is the character I have been the most fascinated with so far. She’s been a mystery to many ever since the punch to the gut that was the ending of “Dust”.

What follows is a look into the way that I perceive Bête Noire. I am not necessarily dead-set on a single possibility. While my views are backed up by certain facts, I acknowledge that they are also based on and influenced by my personal wishes for this character. Therefore, my words should be taken with a healthy amount of salt.

Betty was first introduced to us as an innocent 13 year-old girl, barely a year older than Frisk, physically. She was a shy, happy-go-lucky kid who became friends with Frisk after the latter saved her life from a fast-moving car.

Unfortunately, things were not as they seemed. The girl never was in any real danger as the car was an illusion created by powers. The scenario was merely a set-up to get her closer to Frisk and their family of monsters.

Illusions are likely a power granted to her by her trait: fear. With it, she is able to see the memories of others simply by looking them in the eyes. This grants her knowledge of their personality and, most importantly, their emotional weaknesses. Using that knowledge, she can create illusions to throw off her enemies. These illusions can serve a variety purposes even if they don’t directly involve fear. Examples include the aforementioned car and the illusion that caused Undyne to kill Alphys.

Bête Noire originally woke up when the barrier was broken, a month before the events of “My Sunshine”. This means that she spent a month doing “something” before starting her plan. She likely spent days and nights observing the humans and monsters. Through her observations and memory-reading abilities, she judged whether the monsters were truly as dangerous for human kind as she believed. This wasn’t all she observed, however. Betty also learned the ways and customs of this new time period. After all, the only memories in her possession belonged to someone who lived over 800 years ago...

Agate Lightvale was best known as the wizard of bravery who helped seal the monsters underground. She lived in a medieval time. While she was born into a common family , she didn’t live a common life. Her twin brother, Copper, was lucky enough to be born with a soul of determination, a trait so rare that only one person can possess it at a time. It elevated the Lightvale family to a noble status.

Growing up, Agate acted like a big sister to Copper even though they were the same age. However, this changed as they grew older and trained to become wizards. Copper became more independent while his sister started to develop a few insecurities.

Agate spent most of her time training in combat. She was always looking to improve, to get stronger, to surpass her limits. Unfortunately for her, being the twin of the soul of determination meant she was often overshadowed.

Her brother was essentially a “chosen one” of sorts. As a result, he got most of the attention. Agate would execute a spell flawlessly while Copper stumbled at the same task. Yet, he would be the only one to receive praise.

In addition to being the rarest trait, determination is also the strongest. Agate was confronted with the reality that, no matter how hard she trained, she could never surpass her brother.

Still, it didn’t stop Agate from being a kind and respected individual. True to her trait, she was know for her bravery in the face of danger and resistance to physical pain. In addition, she and Copper both stayed strong for their younger sister, Amber, who’s birth resulted in the death of their mother. Agate and her siblings were extremely close.

After the war between humans and monsters ended, she, her brother, and five other wizards created the barrier, trapping the monsters underground.

After a certain amount of time, Copper proposed the idea of releasing the monsters from captivity. He believed that humans and monsters could still live together. Agate opted against this. She believed it would be better for both races if they lived separately. The discussion got extremely agitated to the point where Agate spontaneously challenged Copper to a duel that would decide the future.

If I may break the flow of information a little, this part seems a tad off to me. I find it notable, at the very least. In the official depiction of this moment, Agate looks smug, as if she knows she is going to win. Isn’t that odd considering what we know? I believe there was more riding on this duel than the fate of two races.

Recall that Agate had a bit of an inferiority complex with her brother. Isn’t it possible that she also challenged him to prove she was stronger, to finally break out of his shadow by defeating him in front of the entire kingdom? If this is the case, I believe that the “confidence” she showed might not have been entirely sincere. Surely, a part of her knew that she couldn’t win. Yet, she still instigated a fight.

I think it’s possible that challenging Copper was not an act of hubris on Agate’s part; it was an act of desperation made in the heat of the moment.

Ultimately, she lost. Her brother was victorious. Agate was overwhelmed by her loss. While she had an abundance of physical bravery, she lacked it emotionally. Due to these factors, she lost her trait then and there. Completely humiliated, she fled to parts unknown. Still under the intensity of the battle, Copper didn’t think to go after her.

During this period of her life, Agate made many poor life choices. She searched for a way to break her limits more than ever before. She came across at least two forbidden spells. She used one of them to reverse her souls trait from the orange of bravery to the dark orange of fear. The process completely eradicated the last shred of sanity she had. After being absent for an unknown amount of time, Agate rejoined her family, who welcomed her back in spite of the changes she had gone through.

Driven by her obsession for victory, Agate furiously demanded a rematch from Copper. He refused, knowing it wouldn’t bring about anything good. Seeing that he wouldn’t move on the issue, Agate threatened the life of Amber, her own sister. Copper attempted to protect her, but was ultimately forced to watch as Agate stabbed her through the chest. This horrible sight caused him to lose his trait, allowing Agate to easily finish him in the same manner. She relished the victory as all life left his eyes.

Unfortunately, she would soon be forced to join her siblings. Inverting one’s trait is immensely stressful on the soul. With her time running out, Agate performed another forbidden spell to ensure that her will lived on: the Bête Noire spell.

The Bête Noire spell consists of creating a powerful, nearly lifelike golem called a “bête noire”. While the golem itself is powerful, a bête noire’s true strength lies in its longevity and ability to form complex thoughts.

Most spells typically act in very basic ways. For example, a simple fire spell will simply follow a chosen path or pattern before disappearing regardless of whether it hit its target or not.

Bêtes noires, on the other hand, can not only accomplish much more complicated tasks, but also think about how they will go about doing so. They are even be able to improvise if things don’t go their way. In addition, they can exist for several weeks before fading. However, if they have a way to replenish their magic (such as harvesting it from souls), they become virtually immortal. A bête noire is essentially a living spell.

Of course, to craft such a being, the cost is extremely high. It requires the caster to use their own soul for the conjuring. Then, they must also have a vessel other than their own body that can be merged with the soul to create the golem.

Agate was willing to sacrifice the life she wouldn’t have for much longer and she had two perfectly good vessels. Still spiteful towards her brother, the wizard chose Amber’s body over Copper’s. Her soul turned pink as it absorbed Amber’s body. With the deed done, Agate lifeless body fell to the floor.

The soul remained sealed and hidden for over 800 years until the barrier was broken. At that moment, it awoke, transformed into the being that would be know as Bête Noire.

Bête Noire knew her purpose from the very start as she possessed some of Agate’s memories as she possessed some of Agate’s memories. Unfortunately, the goal her “mother” left her with was no longer as good-natured as it once was. In Agate’s twisted mental state, it had gone from “Keep humans and monsters separate for both their safeties.” to something akin to “Kill all monsters so that they will never live in peace with humans. Do so by any means necessary, even if it means killing humans who oppose you or using the power of hate.”

Gathering hate is stated to be the universal purpose of a bête noire. It’s fitting when considering the name. “Bête noire” is a french term that literally translates to “black beast”. Black is the color (or lack there of) of hate. In addition, the term “bête noire” is used to indicate a person or object that someone particularly dislikes.

I originally found it ironic that Bête struggled to keep her hate under control, but the solution is simple. She likely only struggled to keep it under control because she wasn’t in her complete form at the time.

Nonetheless, I can’t help thinking that maybe bêtes noires are supposed to succumb to the hate they collect. Perhaps they are meant to serve as vessels for the stuff. After all, Betty still requires a large surplus of magic to keep it at bay. One would think a creature made to collect hate would do more than just resist it a little better than others.

Yet, if bêtes noires are supposed to succumb to hate, why has this one been shown fear it? Perhaps because, as a creature made purely of magic, it would be akin to death, something that she fears because fear is built into her nature.

In order to accomplish her mission, Bête had to gather information on both her enemies and the era she was in. She separated herself into two beings in order to hide her monstrous appearance and blend in with the humans. She dubbed the part she separated from herself “Akumu”, the Japanese word for “Nightmare”. Under the nickname “Betty”, she spent a month observing and planning.

It should be noted that she must have done so 24/7. Bêtes noires don’t need to sleep. It could also be for this reason that she is so unfamiliar with the concept. Agate’s knowledge about sleep was mostly omitted because it had little relevance to the mission.

As previously stated, Betty used her power of fear to look into the memories of the monsters. From the information she gathered, she judged that monsters were in fact deserving of death. This may seem strange to many since, as seen in Undertale, most monsters are innocent and kind-hearted people. How could she possibly think so poorly of them even after seeing their past? Is she blind?

I believe so. Betty may, in fact, be blind to certain degree.

Any normal person would most likely have seen that monsters didn’t deserve what was coming to them. Why didn’t Betty? Because she isn’t a normal person. Highly advanced or not, Bête Noire remains a spell, and spells exist to carry out the will of their caster. They are tools.

If magic bullets could miss because they took pity on the opponent, few people would use them.

Keep in mind that Betty isn’t just a bullet that uses up 0.001% of the caster’s magic. She’s a bête noire. People had to die for her creation. If a person poured all of their life force into a spell that would carry on their will, they would be pretty upset to learn that they failed because the spell didn’t want to do the one thing it was created for.

All this to say that I believe that Betty is unable to go rogue either physically or mentally. She has no choice but to believe she is in the right. After all, if she realized that her only purpose for existing was objectively wrong, it could make her a less effective weapon.

When she looked into the souls of the monsters, it is likely that she was never going to come to any other conclusion than “They are dangerous.”

She did see some of the good in them, but most of what she retained were parts that would prove her right. These included Asgore killing the 6 humans (even though it was the only way to save his kingdom), the horrors Asriel committed as Flowey (even though he was soulless at the time), and Frisk’s many resets (even though they aren’t even a monster). These actions were obviously horrible, but there were nuances that made them more understandable. Context was important.

Betty, who I believe was unable to pick up on such nuances, may have simply taken the most basic message from this. “These monsters did bad things, therefore they are evil and the same must apply to all of monsterkind.” She is blind to anything that doesn’t fit into the way she is supposed to see the world.

(Of course, this doesn’t mean she is unaware of Papyrus or Undyne’s heroic and selfless acts. It just means that can’t see them as proof that monsters are good people.)

As such, Bête may not be wholly responsible for her actions. Some of her malicious acts can be blamed on her creator. After all, her contradictory objective of killing humans to protect humanity was given to her by Agate, who’s mind was far from clear at the time.

However, other aspects are harder to justify. The pleasure she seems to take in her victims’ emotional suffering could have come from Agate as the wizard displayed something similar shortly before casting the spell.

The fact that Bête wouldn’t care if the world ended as long as it was by her hand definitely makes her seem incredibly hypocritical (which she is) and entitled, not to mention evil. I suppose that by annihilating everything she would technically accomplish her goal of killing all monsters. With her one purpose in life fulfilled, she would have no more reason to live. The idea of ruling humanity afterward is likely more of a bonus. Assuming this is the case, it’s a testament to how much important the mission is to her.

Finally, I would like to bring up the debate of whether Betty and Agate are the same person or not because, if they are, most of what has been written here will be completely pointless. There are two ways to look at this.

This post tells us that Agate is technically Betty, but it may only refer to them in the physical sense. Betty’s body is physically Agate’s soul. The debate is about whether they are mentally the same.

This comic is likely the largest piece of evidence to support this. To my knowledge, it is still canon. In it, Bête finds the remains of Agate’s body. Her reaction is quite interesting because she acts and talks as if the body was once hers. She also has to reassure herself that she “can’t die now”, implying that she was once mortal. She also mentions ensuring “our race’s survival” in reference to humanity. For that sentence, she includes herself with the human race. This implies that she was at least human at one point.

This evidence certainly appears conclusive, and it very well might be. However, it directly contradicts this conversation which, to my knowledge, is also still canon. Here, she refers to Agate as “mom”, indicating that she thinks her as a separate being. Why is this? Is one of these sources outdated? Possibly, but I have another proposal.

Betty’s mind appears to be all over the place. One moment, she laments the fact that she is meant to be hated and, at another, she takes joy in torturing her victims. She doesn’t want to die, yet she wouldn’t mind if the world ended at her own hand. She is hypocrite. Sometimes, she believes she is Agate’s creation; at other times, she acts like she is Agate herself.

Bête Noire’s first memories came from Agate. Surely, It isn’t too far-fetched to say that her mind was likely derived from her creator’s. If that is indeed the case, the solution is clear; Betty might be insane just like Agate was before casting the spell. Agate’s insanity could have rubbed off on her creation. Thus, it’s possible that Bête’s thoughts are meant to be hypocritical and contradictory.

In the end, is Betty Agate? She may not even know herself. I believe she is more of an imperfect copy or a “simulacrum”. The things that make her “Agate” are the incomplete memories of the wizard’s life and the similar way of thinking. In my opinion, these don’t make an entirely different person, but they also aren’t enough for her to be considered Agate. She is merely a being in possession of her creator’s memories.

Also, these hints might still be relevant today.

“Steven Universe logic”? You mean the show where almost every problem is solved by talking and all the villains end up becoming good? Sure, that could just be referencing Sans and Asriel getting talked out their states, but you never know. Maybe Betty’ll regret her actions too before dying. Eh? EH?!

“Never assume things”? No kidding. Words to watch by.

#bête noire #glitchtale #agate lightvale #Speculation #undertale #glitchtale betty

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lemonietrinket · 5 years ago

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King and Lionheart ||| King!Jungwoo x RoyalKnight!Reader

Part One

Genres: Fantasy, some Fluff, Angst but has a happy ending! Word Count: 2533 Warnings: Grisly ideas with a lot of death but no severe descriptions of it Theme Song: King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men

AN: Based kind of closely to the lyrics of the song? It’s really good! And I didn’t intend for this to be a two-parter, but yeah it turned out that way and I’m really sorry. Hopefully, it won’t be too long until Part Two is up. Thanks for reading!

~~~

The sky was an oil painting, vast brushstrokes of emerald steadily cloaking the azure-tinted clouds that graced the night. Stars speckled the deep blue silk as if a thousand ghosts were peering down at the horror that had unfurled at the foot of the fear-stacked mountains—thistle hued rock gashes in the snow.

The streets were crowded with translucent spirits, their bodies chained in silver to their spots. Their eyes were piercing, staring into the souls of those still attached to the mortal plane, filled with sorrow and the ferocity of dry anger.

But though it should have been, their fury was not aimed at you.

The two of you picked your way through the street. Jungwoo stumbled, his eyes meeting those of the lost, the slow tears refusing to halt. A neverending cascade, striking trails across his mottled cheeks. Trembling lips were silent, the only exception being his hushed breaths that collided with the air and froze.

You watched him carefully as you stepped over rubble from the ceremonial grounds, eyes never leaving his wavering features. Golden flags were torn and muddied with charred remains at his feet, as he came to a stop at a mother’s spirit hovering at the lengths of her restraints. A fragile, swallowed whimper left his body. It felt as if it carried his whole body behind it, yet was so quiet you almost missed it.

You took to his side, standing between him and the wayward figure. Your hand cradled his shoulder, leading him away from the remnants and into the middle of the abandoned street.

You had aimed only to talk to him, but he broke, pressing his head into the furs at your neck and crying openly. His sobs remained to be the worst sound you had heard, and you had heard many things.

Creatures built like towers made of scales fashioned of the carcasses they feasted upon, whose screams grasped at the depths of your heart. Abominations crafted of salt that tore at their own injuries as they battled, forcing bloodcurdling roars so grating that you could not believe they could emanate from something that was once human. The guttural clicks from the bone crusted maws of a beast you never did fully lay eyes upon, and you praise the deities above that made that so, daily.

None of it compared to the wound his sadness inflicted.

And there he was, his eyes as warm as summer nights where a blanket was no longer needed, his voice as sweet and smooth as butternut, his smile as bright and beautiful as the moon... he was the kindest soul. He greeted magpies no matter their number, and left food grown in the royal gardens for the deer of the forest.

He was your King, and you were his lionheart. You’d fight whatever came his way—and it wasn’t simply because of the job anymore, it had moved beyond that level a long time ago—and you’d protect him no matter the cost.

You held is larger frame in your arms, a thick glove easing his hood rimmed with ermine, pure and speckled with onyx, over his light hair. As he trembled, you felt your heart twist.

None of this was his fault. If you had not opened the gate, after hearing his ‘voice’, had thought rationally about the logistics of the height of the wall and how, in the spontaneous game, he could have gotten over to the other side to call your name, everything would have been fine.

You had a hand in the disaster, meanwhile, he played no part. And yet he blamed himself.

“Don’t look at them, Woo,” you whispered reassuringly, “they may be angry, but it is not aimed at you—it never will be.”

He whined, clutching at your padded coat as he clung even closer to you.

It was a lie. It was aimed at him. Though not rightly.

He’d inherited a tumultuous throne that he hadn’t been raised for, had faced three onslaughts and the threat of war at least once, all of which caused by bad decisions on the behalf of his predecessor, his childless, wreckless cousin. The people were angry before the fourth invasion arrived, though they had mostly kept it to themselves.

It wouldn’t have a chance to outpour, at least when they were alive. Now their spirits inhabited the streets linked to their chains, and they had the chance to show their anger in their cursed form of the afterlife.

It wasn’t his fault.

Even a country with the strongest army and all the resources of the world and preparation time leaking into months could not have withstood what had massacred the city.

They called themselves the Jotun but it was foul play to call themselves by that name, as even a true Jotun would not have been able to do what they did. Their attacks left people in pain long after death, as they stole everything, including the bodies of the people left unguarded.

It was fair to say there were no survivors, besides the two of you.

Just the King and Lionheart, heading south to seek help.

Your eyes scoured the busy streets, every stall, every face, every shadow, every crevice. You saw no danger, but you could not find him anywhere. You jumped in a poor attempt to see over the heads of the masses. But his bunny smile and his long white coat were nowhere to be seen.

You’d left for the best part of an hour, waiting to see the King of the realm of Aldworth. After attempting to be granted an audience with the three previous dominions that you had passed through to no avail, the King—a lady nearly as tall as the doors she had built with her own hands—had given you the opportunity to speak.

Your King had been left outside. You knew it would have been better for him to be the one that performed the speech—the plea for aid and forces to relinquish his kingdom from the control of the Jotun—but as soon as the words had come to your lips you recognised the dimmed glow his eyes and changed your mind.

The King had let you leave as she worked with her advisors to decide, but now, yours was missing.

Crowds of people scurried from left and right, then round and round and back again. Their bodies melded and waned, shades of brown to black, like the warm earth of ice-moult. Their lungs made weak clouds, that amalgamated into one thin mist, their voices carrying like the war cry of a long-slumbered deity of thunder, and their smiles narrowed into deceit.

And then a weight smashed into your back, very nearly knocking you off-guard.

Your hand flicked upwards out of instinct, to find no hilt.

It was then you realised that the arms at your neck were not malicious, and fit snugly at your collarbones, as a certain pair had always done.

“I’m sorry!” the man exclaimed, but there was the familiar lilt of mischief in his voice.

You gazed back, feeling your back unfurl and tendons relax, to see a huge grin on his face. “Jungwoo! Where were—? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he cried, just as he always did whenever he had something to hide.

You sighed. “Your Majesty, I’ve known you since we were children, I think I know when you’re lying to me. Now—”

He suddenly let go, swinging round to look at you, face to face.

That was something you could never quite face confidently, his intense stare. Deep irises of earth, when the ice-melt had washed away and left the ground umber in the place of pristine. Everything else you showed no fear, but with him, you felt your iron shell melt. He’d gotten them from his mother.

“I hid, because I wondered what you would do if I didn’t turn up,” he admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands entwined behind his back, “but then I felt too bad, and I was scared you’d throw a man into the ocean again, so I came straight back.”

“Is that all?” You frowned, ignoring the subtle dig.

He nodded enthusiastically, whispering an apology in a tone a thread away from serious.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling. “Honestly, Your Majesty—”

“Woo! You always call me Woo, why aren’t you calling me Woo now?” he interjected, forcing his lip to quiver.

You pursed your own. “Because we are in public and it is not etiquette to refer to a monarch by nickname, and you know that, Your Majesty, now please—”

“But I like being called Woo!” he exclaimed. A few merchants sent the two of you a few unnerved glances as they passed. You responded with a glare, and it had the desired effect, as they scuttled off towards the docks.

Jungwoo seemed to go into deep thought for a brief moment, eyes wandering about somewhat vacantly before he managed to reach a conclusion. “Wait! If I order you to call me Woo, doesn’t that mean you have to?”

You opened your mouth to begin, before you halted yourself. Though it was an unexpected conclusion, Jungwoo wasn’t exactly wrong. And with his beautiful eyes glittering in the knowledge that he’d won, you had half a mind to give in. Luckily rationality kicked in, and you swiftly decided it was safer to attempt to move on.

“As I was saying, Your Majesty, I expected so much worse than you merely hiding, and so please refrain from minor tricks—”

“Oh!”

You huffed. Being held by hierarchical convention really did take the pinch of salt sometimes.

Jungwoo smiled that radiant grin that rivalled the sun as he continued. “And I bought this with the savings money!”

You were about to request as calmly as you could manage to let you finish when he unclasped his hands from behind his back to reveal a hulking great sword gripped feebly between his fingers.

It had a hilt made of what looked to be pure gold, engraved with a series of runes and pictographs, telling something of a great hero slaying an ineffable beast from the oceans. Its edge was so clear and gleaming that even you had no idea what it was fashioned of—only that it could perhaps cleave bone in two, and that it had the appearance of costing the entire lot of your savings.

Words tumbled from your tongue, quivering and broken. “What is—? Jungwoo?!”

“Look it’s alright! You needed a new one after your old one broke and this one is pretty and the seller said it was magic so—”

“Jungwoo!”

“Y/N!” he said mock-sternly, though his expression seemed to be tinted with a seriousness you rarely got to see. “You are my holy, royal, sacred, personal knight! I can’t allow you to be under-resourced. That would make me a bad king, right?” He paused, and you originally expected that it was in an effort to await your affirmation. However, it dawned on you quickly that it was worse than that. His face fell, the smile that had the power to turn even the strongest hearts to putty dissipating on his features, until you were left with only an expression of emptiness before you.

“Who am I kidding, Y/N... I’m already a bad king,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried to hold the threads of his voice together, “and not giving you a sword to help you do your job—the job that I gave you, that you didn’t ask for... that would make me the worst king known.”

His words left you stunned, a condition you hadn’t felt in so long that you couldn’t place the last time you had experienced the loss of words, the swimming of your thoughts, the lack of clarity and solutions.

When you remained unbudged, lips agape and eyes wide and concerned, he continued, “You’ve gotten me through so much, Y/N. You’re my best advisor, my oldest and closest friend, my... my only friend... you’re the last survivor of my kingdom, besides myself. You deserve much more than this, but... this is all I can give you.”

You felt your throat tighten, breath staggered. You knew you should accept the sword, but your hands stuck by your side.

The wind slowly picked up, toying with the crimson flags of the street as the people of the marketplace seemed to fade into alleyways and nowhere.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice nearly so low the breeze almost carried it away, his lip trembling as his gentle face crumpled.

It was at his unnecessary words that something snapped in your brain.

“No apologies,” you stated bluntly, swinging into gear after buffering and taking the sword swiftly in one hand, “not to me at least. We will get the kingdom back, your people back, we’ll get everything back—no matter the cost.” You weighed the weapon in your palms, scarred from numerous grapples and close encounters with the old acquaintance of Death, and raised the blade where you could see the reflections of the sky, watery and pale. “When this sword and I are done, there will not be a single Jotun left.”

“Promise me...” he began.

You lowered the sword, to meet the gaze of his watery eyes, only to find his head still bowed. “Your Majesty?”

There was a wavering exhale, as he worked up the effort to speak rather carefully, “Promise me that the cost will not be you.”

You paused. Even if you’d known him for as long as your memory allowed you to know, this man was always full of surprises. Or perhaps your ignorance had stunted your awareness to see this one coming.

“Is that what you would prefer?” you enquired clearly, turning your head to try and get a better view of his expression. “Over your sacred duties to the throne and the guilt of losing the people?”

Jungwoo didn’t move. He remained still for the longest time, beyond the point that you began to worry. You could almost hear the thoughts, whistling through his mind at the speeds of a gale, crashing like an avalanche through a village against the walls of his mind.

You were about to call his name when he finally lifted his head. His features were stone, firm-set yet saddened.

He nodded once, and you were left stunned.

“Even if the cost of my life was the only way to bring them all...?”

He nodded again, with more clarity, a determination in his eyes that you knew would not fade, no matter the words you spent. You’d only seen it once before, on the day that he asked you to be his knight, his guard for his life. You had been completely unable to turn his words down then too, if you had even wanted to.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “you are my King, Woo.” You divulged in a final glance of your reflection in the blade, before adjusting the old sheath that had remained upon your back. “And so, your word shall be done.”

The sword slotted into the leather as if it destiny was made in those pure seconds alone.

~~~

Part Two - coming soon

Masterlist

[edited: 2/04/2020]

#jungwoo #jungwoo nct #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo angst #jungwoo fic #jungwoo multiparter #nct x reader #nct imagine #jungwoo imagine #jungwoo x reader imagine #jungwoo x reader adventure #jungwoo fantasy au #jungwoo royal au #nct angst #jungwoo x reader angst #nct x reader angst

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salvatoreschool · 5 years ago

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Kaylee Bryant Is All That And A Bag Of Chipz

PRUNE: You’ve been acting since childhood, was there any role that made you realize you wanted to pursue it fully as a career?

KAYLEE: I watched The Addam’s Family on repeat as a kid and started dressing and doing my hair like Wednesday Addams. It wasn’t until I started modeling that I realized Wednesday was actually played by an actress - Christina Ricci - and I could do that as a career. So from then on, instead of dressing like Wednesday I started taking acting classes!

PRUNE: Talk to us about your most recent role as Josie in Legacies.

KAYLEE: Josie is the first character I’ve been able to explore for an extended amount of time. She is incredibly complex in that she lives a very privileged life yet lacks so much confidence within herself. She grew up being the headmaster’s daughter, which attracts so much attention, but is constantly stuck in the shadows of her twin sister. I love playing around with how Josie interacts with different people and when she chooses to use her voice…or when she feels incapable of using it.

PRUNE: How would you describe Legacies to someone who has never watched?

KAYLEE: Legacies is the perfect escape from normal day life. It’s fun because you get that feeling of being in Hogwarts with the beautifully intricate sets and costumes, but also that classic drama between students that you would expect from a CW high school series. The writers do a really good job of keeping our audience on their toes with the monsters of the week, and the interactions the characters have with each other.

PRUNE: What can we expect from Season 2?

KAYLEE: This season is very different from Season 1. With Hope being erased from everyone’s memory you will find some characters interacting who you would never expect to be together. Julie Plec is describing the theme of the first episode as “Life Goes On.” Everyone is going about their “normal” lives, but what does normal mean when a very important piece of your life is missing?

PRUNE: You also recently had a pop up role in Santa Clarita Diet. What was it like working with Drew Barrymore?

KAYLEE: She was one of the sweetest people to work with! Drew brought an amazing energy to set that created a great working environment, which is something I always try to emulate on any set I’m working on.

PRUNE: If you could star alongside any actor/actress you’ve not yet worked with, who would it be?

KAYLEE: I have so many! The first person that pops into my head is Alicia Vikander. I started studying her work when I saw her film Pure. I really love how she incorporates her ballet training into her craft like in Ex Machina. Learning foreign languages is something I love to do in my spare time so I’m also incredibly impressed and inspired that she learned a new language for her role in A Royal Affair. It would be a dream for me to master a new skill or language for a project.

PRUNE: What other projects are you currently working on?

KAYLEE: We’re currently in production on Season 2 of Legacies, so I’m super busy with that. When we wrap though, I’d love to work on a film or go back to my theatre roots. I grew up training specifically in musical theatre so it would be amazing to flex that muscle again.

RUNE: What is one thing fans would be surprised to know about you?

KAYLEE: Maybe that I’m an introvert? I do a lot of livestreams and try to connect a lot with everyone online so people tend to think I’m super outgoing and extroverted. The reality is that I’m very shy and awkward in person. I feel like I interact with everyone so much online that I have a certain confidence, but whenever I meet in person I usually turn into a puddle and don’t know what to say.

PRUNE: Go to karaoke song?

KAYLEE: I don’t do karaoke! I get super nervous and can’t sing in front of my close friends and family!

PRUNE: Favorite show to binge watch?

KAYLEE: I just finished the fourth season of Stranger Things!

PRUNE: Where can we follow you on social?

KAYLEE: On Twitter I’m @BryantmKaylee and on Instagram I’m @kaylee.bryant

#Legacies #TheOriginals #TheVampireDiaries #TVD #JosieSaltzman #KayleeBryant #LegaciesSeason2 #GeminiCiven #TheMerge #KaiParker #LizzieSaltzman #JoLaughlin #AlaricSaltzman #CarolineForbes #LandonKirby #MysticFalls #SalvatoreSchool #JuliePlec #TheCW

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vedj-f-bekuesu · 5 years ago

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2019 in Retrospect

2019 has been fairly quiet, so I decided to start off this year by looking back on it. I’ll be dividing it by main fandoms/characters/ships because this year there were actually some new ones. That hasn’t been the case since, like, 2013.

Sonic the Hedgehog

It was an...alright year for Sonic. TSR was fine but too light on content, Mario and Sonic Tokyo felt like a step down from Mario and Sonic Rio but was still alright, and I have not played SEGA Heroes (and haven’t bothered with the Chao in Space short). Lowest spot for me was the IDW comic; the Zombot arc has had one interesting story so far, but the rest has had either bad writing (primarily aimed at Shadow’s turn) or it’s just been wallowing in its bleakness in a way even Shadow the Game didn’t. Then again, I find zombie stories uninteresting to begin with, so no duh I’m not interested in a Sonic take on it.

Chaotix kind of mirror that. Vector’s managed to get a good showing in, batting 3 for 3 on the game front, and having a key role in two of them. And like I said before, the Chaotix have genuinely had the most interesting stories within the Zombot arc, although with Vector and Charmy turned this may become more limited. Speaking of though, Espio and Charmy have had weaker presences. Espio managed to get into all three games in some form but to a lesser extent (one just by name), and Charmy was really left behind.

As for Vecpio, it’s been pretty bare for canon material stuff. Espio got mentioned in TSR as contributing the report that reveals Dodon Pa’s true role (with him and Vector being the key to making everyone shut up about him being suspicious, proving they’re best as a team). And Mario and Sonic Tokyo has something if you headcanon some stuff; when Vector talks about the medals, Espio is the first person you’re directed to. Nothing is said by Vector about Espio in text, but you can implicate that Espio was chosen first because of his strong link to Vector, being the first one Vector would trust to compete at a gold level. Other than that? Dry. And with no announcements for Sonic games in 2020, this may just continue.

Crash Bandicoot

On the reverse side, we have Crash Bandicoot having a really strong year. CTR:NF came out (which is a remake of my favourite Crash game) and has been doing gangbusters. On top of this, it has been going out of its way to revive pretty much every dead character in the franchise, to the point that we have RIlla Roo back in the fold (something I genuinely didn’t think would happen 19 years beforehand).

Skipping straight to the shipping for this, I wouldn’t have imagined it for Crash ever, but there’s actually some in-game material for me to latch onto for DingodileXKomodo Joe! Dingodile has been pushed into a more jovial character since N-Sane Trilogy, being even more doubled down on in CTR:NF. However, for the past 20 years Komodo Joe has managed to avoid being given traits closer to Espio. This game finally catches up to him, and does it hard. Seriously, his character took a hard turn for the stoic badass Espio did after Heroes, and when did Joe ever use Martial Arts magic ever? Aside from making that dynamic naturally more matching, Slide Coliseum joins in the fun with the visual upgrade. It has holographic projections of a trophy girl repping a couple of racers dancing each, and guess who the devs felt could be paired up for how they go together rhythmically? That’s right, my reptile boys. Man.

Super Mario Bros

What a weak year for Mario for me. What Mario got for new games this year were Luigi’s Mansion 3 (which I’ve not played), Mario Maker 2 (which isn’t new story content and doesn’t interest me in the slightest), Yoshi’s Crafted World (which I forgot was a thing) and Mario Kart Tour/Dr Mario World (which...um).

Because of this set-up, Bowser hardly got anything to do so he’s really been on the backburner. Considering how he’s been pushed in the rest of the decade that’s saying something. In fact, the most character stuff he got was in Mario and Sonic Tokyo, and even that was mostly just alright (I think Bowser Jr got the best deal out of that).

Spyro the Dragon

Spyro was alright, but this one’s more understandable. With 2018 being the big year for Spyro’s return, 2019 was a rest for the little guy. That being said it wasn’t completely quiet; Spyro Reignited Trilogy finally got its port on the Switch, and to tie in with that Spyro got an appearance in CTR:NF.

Because of the latter point, Gnasty Gnorc got a surprisingly strong year. Not only having more people learn about his glow-up in SRT, but bringing over that petty and angry character to CTR:NF. Seriously, his bit in the grand prix intro video is great, and he has more lines in his racing quips than any other game.

OK KO

I don’t think I made a post about OK KO on Tumblr (or maybe I did one, I can’t remember). But I did manage to get into this just before it got cancelled so there’s that.

I maintain that the Sonic crossover (aka the first thing I really knew about OK KO) didn’t give me a good impression of the show.It just seemed like “here’s the Sonic and Eggman dynamic but with more cartoon shenanigans*” and it spent more time making endless Sonic references. While some were deeper cuts which actually were impressive, most were references I could see in pretty much any Sonic-referencing material. It wasn’t until I decided to look up more info on Lord Boxman sometime after because I wanted to check if N.Gin was an influence that I found out the plot of the actual show (crossover notwithstanding) was pretty nuts and way more up my alley.

Speaking of, there’s Voxman. Whereas other ships on here I have to dig through material to construct nuggets from them, this was literally in the text. And why not, they have a good dynamic and are usually the most fun to watch bounce off each other. And I still like the fact that if KO and Lord Boxman were the Sonic and Eggman parallel, the story ends with Eggman becoming Sonic’s stepfather. Let’s see IDW tell a story like that, it’d be better than the Zombot stuff.

*I think that was the point but still.

LEGO

Man I wouldn’t have thought they would have remade LEGO Racers but the one they made this year was gre--

Okay no, this year basically reignited another flame that I thought was snuffed out like 16 years ago. For a brief history of me and LEGO, when I was six I had a freestyle box which I used to make an elemental superhero persona. I played with this until I was 11. Before then, my sister got some LEGO Harry Potter sets (which we still have in the loft), I played LEGO Racers a lot (and wasn’t very good at it), and I owned two random other LEGO sets (the trike from Life on Mars and Lava from RoboRIders).

After that, I only dabbled in LEGO when there was a Sonic set done for LEGO Dimensions. I did try to play more into it, but it was really prone to crashing in certain worlds so I eventually got frustrated enough to stop playing it. Sometime in the interim though my sister started enjoying LEGO films without me knowing, so when February came around I was dragged to see LEGO Movie 2 when all I wanted to see in 2019 was Toy Story 4. Dad insisted on it since we rarely have family outings. In retrospect;

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LEGO Movie 2 hit me in a way a piece of media hasn’t for years, or even decades. It’s shot up to be my third-favourite film of all time. And it’s revealed to me that LEGO is shockingly good at making endearing characters. So much so that breaking it down (pun not intended) has to be done by theme.

LEGO Movie: Part of the reason why I didn’t get into LEGO earlier was because I did see LEGO Movie back in 2014 when my sister was given it on DVD (she wasn’t into LEGO then) and I wasn’t impressed with it. In retrospect, I can appreciate what it did more, and I bring it up because it’s what makes Unikitty, Benny and Metalbeard so endearing when combined with what happened in TLM2. Lucy’s okay (moreso in the sequel), Emmet’s cute, President Business is fun but the MVP is definitely Rex Dangervest, who’s this feral monster but with Emmet buried away deep inside ready to flesh him out. When I make LEGO stories, I just have Rex change his mind on rescuing himself after getting the dinosaurs, and instead wreaking havoc in the present. This kills Emmet off in any story I do but it’s a worthy sacrifice.

LEGO City Undercover: As a video game person I’m kicking myself for not getting into this before. Frank Honey is the best; he’s adorable and weird yet still feeling very much human and basically the Emmet of his city. Rex Fury has grown on me lots since my initial assessment of him,it’s infectious how much fun he has with being a criminal (while Vinnie is more fun when not doing criminal stuff and Chan seems to be more focused on doing criminal stuff as a job. I also think his calmer side is criminally (no pun intended again) overlooked). Also Ellie is underrated, she is the best straight man you could ask for.

LEGO City Adventures: As I’ve said before, pretty much everyone in LCA is adorable, especially Duke and Harl. Still hoping for more Daisy time in the second season, she could be a riot if played properly and not just a Fendrich stooge.

Ninjago: Coming in with the hot take here; I prefer the movie version of Ninjago to the series. I think the problem with the series is that it has so much baggage from before the series started to iron out some of its issues and cliches that it’s kinda hard to get into as a new person, whereas movie Ninjago is a lot more approachable and written better off the bat (although I do see why it wouldn’t go down well with existing Ninjago fans). This all just makes me think of that moment in series 11 where Nya sees her worst fear of being normal in an artefact and it shows her movie self, almost as a take that. It just makes me think the show writers are salty about movie Nya kicking show Nya’s ass in being a better character. Also shout outs to Kai, Cole, Zane and Lloyd for being great characters as well (Jay is cute in the movie, his show self can be punted off a cliff for all I care). And I am with the movement to have Cole come out as gay (or at least bi if they want to keep Tournament of Elements I guess).

Nexo Knights: This show is regarded as another Ninjago wannabe, but it feels very different to Ninjago to me. So much so, there’s not a single one of the heroes I don’t like and they all need to be cherished. Macy gets props for being the best female character to me, Aaron is probably my favourite now and this is a house of Clance for future reference.

So, with all that being said, what do I think of the prospects for 2020? I think it’s going to be quieter than 2019 to be honest, since there’s a lot winding down, and on the game side there’s been zero announcements. Crash and Spyro having a rest is understandable, Sonic’s going to have to get past the movie before gearing up for 2021 probably (for the record I have no interest in the movie) and Mario just needs to try harder. And with OK KO dead, only LCA is holding the fort for guaranteed new content I want to engage in right now.

You know what would be fun though? Series 20 of the minifigures theme is due at the end of this year. Wouldn’t it be awesome to use the occasion to give some phsical minifigures to characters who never got them before? LIke, Rex Fury somehow still has enough demand to be a persistent feature in the customs market, give him an official figure (especially since he’s the only character from LCU that’s not Chase that’s even appeared in merch outside the game). Or let Sky Lane get her LEGO Universe look in physical form to go with her LIXS look. Or heck, finally give Rocket Racer his original look, that’s how I discovered the minifigure world in the first place!

#VEDJ-F talks #a lot #2019 #sonic the hedgehog #Crash Bandicoot #Spyro the Dragon #super mario bros #ok ko #lego #vecpio #tagging the vecpio because this is still a vecpio centric account at heart #but please I do not want lego chaotix that would just look weird

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