#And he doesn’t want to blame the resident dragon but come on! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I��d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

2K notes · View notes

project-feive · 2 years ago

Text

Ranking my versions of my Five based off of her levels of unhinge-ness.

Read more below just because there could be some stuff considered spoilers?

1: NL!Callista Glover. “The Red Soldier” (my own personal AU) This bitch crazy and traumatized. Lived in Red Scorpion Base and was basically a test subject and didn’t meet Team Abel until S9. Do not turn your back on her ever. She will kill with no remorse. Feels everything and nothing all at the same time. Girly is in her Reputation Era and doesn’t plan on getting out of it any time soon.

2. ZR!Callista Glover. “Runner 5” (main series) She isn’t in her Reputation Era just yet but she’s close. Her mind is literally breaking and she’s been traumatized ten times over and her marriage fell apart in front of her eyes. Like girl needs therapy, meds, a vacation, the whole works. She’s approximately two seconds away from snapping and killing everyone.

3: Ista-Glow. “Rookie” (Dystopia Rising) She is a mercenary. What would you expect? Also major parental issues. Has died before and in Dystopia Lore coming back is a horribly kind breaking thing so def has baggage from that.

4. Evangeline Freeman. “Walker” (The Walk) Has mental health issues at the beginning but isn’t really unhinged at the beginning of her story. Slowly becomes more unhinged as the story goes on. Will definitely need therapy.

5. Callista ‘Cal’ Glover. “Rider” (Dragon Flight) This version of Callista is 14. Do you know how unhinged 14-year-olds are? I don’t think I need to say any more.

6. Glass Woman “Five” (Endless Sea add-on story) Poor girl loses her memory and has black glass armor. Doesn’t talk to the aliens on the planet she resides on much and doesn’t let them ever see her in the forest where she lives. If unhinged because she is very casual about breaking and entering into the literal castle of the alien royalty and bossing the king and queen around and getting them to do what she wants. Isn’t super high on the list just because she doesn’t ask for much or anything drastic.

7. Callista Elizabeth ‘Eliza’ Glover. “Apprentice Five” (Abel’s Buccaneers). Literally became Dr. Samuel’s apprentice because her sister abandoned her on the streets of a place she’d never been in because she flew off the rails after her fiancé died. Fell in love with Dr. Samuel because he gave her the tiniest bit of affection. Girly needs therapy. Not unhinged as the others but as some issues she needs to work on.

8. Callista Glover. “Specialist Five” (Venus Rising). Goes on a mission while dying so she can spend more time with her secret bf. When secret bf does she blames the Captain for not doing anything and plots to kill her even while running for her life. Ends up doing so after the last mission of the series. Ironically becomes the last one surviving when she is dying of a terminal disease. Although that last part doesn’t make her unhinged. Everything else though…

9. Callie Morse. “Stoker Five” (Mystery at 4000 Fathoms). Slightly unhinged due to grief. Literally loses it when she can’t find her locket with her late husband’s picture in the beginning. But she does start the healing process at the end of the new adventure.

10. Celeste. “Bellhop” (Hotel Hijinks). Not really unhinged, but does whatever unhinged stuff she’s told to do, like getting into a dumbwaiter to spy on others. This is especially unhinged for Celeste because she’s hard of hearing/mostly deaf so she’d have to peak through and read lips.

11. Quinn (Rule Britannia series). Not really unhinged, although we could say she’s crazy for dealing with so much bullshit for as long as she has. But for the most part is very level headed and isn’t completely murderous.

12. Detective Glover. “Runner 13” (The 13th Runner). The most level headed of them all. Has a brain cells and actually uses them. No inning was unless we consider how the story could end which can go which her going to most unhinged or remaining least unhinged. But during the mission she is not unhinged and is super prepared. Is a bit of a workaholic though.

@catsoutofthebags

#zr ocs #callista glover #runner five callista #zr #my runner five #zombies run #zr new adventures #never left au #zr Rule Britannia #zr the thirteenth runner #zr dystopia rising #zr Venus rising #zr Abel’s buccaneers #the walk #the walk app #zr hotel hijinks #zr Dragon flight #zr mystery at 4000 fathoms #zr spoilers

6 notes · View notes

mythicandco · 3 years ago

Text

I have 1% Battery Left And I’m Wasting it on This

A.K.A. Philip B. Wittebane (in which the “B” stands for “Belos”)

Warning: More than 90% of this is pure headcanoning and theorizing, based on the evidence that’s arisen and the ideas of many other members of the fandom. This theory has been circling the Owl House fandom for months, I DID NOT ORIGINALLY CREATE IT. Brooke and North are from this and so is some of the story, but the majority of the details are the work of my own convoluted brain. This was kinda disproved by Yesterday’s Lie but I want to post it before my computer dies. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this summarized monstrosity…

Everything is once again below the cut

Philip stumbles into the Boiling Isles by complete accident while on a hike through the woods, tripping into a rift in the fabric of space-time created by Titan’s blood interacting with other various magical substances. He doesn’t realize he’s in another realm until he actually stops to look around, and is startled to come face-to-face with a trio of witches.

The first witch, Brooke, is taller than their companions, with a big ol’ witchy hat and a pair of grey, tasseled earrings. North, only slightly shorter than Brooke, has a similar hat along with a matching cloak and blonde, curled hair. Her face is covered in scars. The last witch is Kirani, who ends up being a minor character but eh.

The trio is here to collect Titan’s blood for Brooke’s experiments with magic. They believe that by using their knowledge of potions, they can create an elixir of some form to allow witches to perform magic without the use of glyphs. The exact recipe is a work in progress, but they know that Titan’s blood will be a key ingredient.

When the group first encounters Philip, they are startled by his small, round ears. The bemused human assures them he means no harm and eventually they decide that even if he does want to hurt them, he doesn’t have access to the magical knowledge to do so. This is further proven when a dragon nearly eats Philip (more on that later). They take him to their village to help him find a way home and survive until then.

Over the next five or so years the group spends a lot of time together, Philip begins writing a journal, and North, Brooke and Philip form a friendship, often going on adventures together with the help of their palismans. North even trusts Philip enough to let him use her staff for transportation until he eventually gets the chance to carve his own. During this time Philip also learns a lot about glyph magic and the creatures of the Boiling Isles, and is surprised at how naturally it comes for him to draw the glyphs from memory and get them right.

At one point Philip and the others travel to the Knee to retrieve some Titan’s blood from Eclipse Lake. Brooke stays behind to start collecting the other, more local ingredients to their spell, and North is forced to stay behind due to injuries sustained after fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures.

The expedition is a disaster, and after mistaking fool’s blood for Titan’s blood, Philip is the only one who makes it out alive following the cave-in. Philip is horrified at this turn of events but simultaneously relieved that Brooke and North didn’t accompany him on this particular mission. He comes back with the Titan’s blood, but not the rest of the group, and has to explain what happened.

The village begins spreading rumors that he killed them to take the blood for himself, or that he is too incompetent to continue leading these expeditions. Brooke and North also get a share of the blame, being the ones who brought the human to their village in the first place. Brooke retreats to their study for a few weeks, taking the Titan’s blood with them.

Things get even worse after the Titan’s blood excursion and the neighboring witch tribes hear about the dangerous human who supposedly kills witches and other creatures in cold blood for his own gain. (Rumors are nasty things, slightly more terrifying the longer they’re out there.) Philip finds it almost ironic that in this world of freaks and monsters, he’s the target of the torches and pitchforks.

While out trading at a small market shared by a couple of the tribes, North is confronted by the leader of another clan and accused of betraying her kind. Things escalate quickly and she barely gets out without things coming to blows.

Philip starts worrying that he is becoming a burden and a danger to the others, not because he actually wants to hurt them, but because they will get in trouble for sheltering him. He offers to help out Brooke with the portal, which is nearly finished. While they are distracted, he pockets some of the Titan’s blood and some other magical supplies from when Brooke was experimenting with improving a witch’s ability to perform magic.

Philip uses the potion on himself, but because he is human, not a witch or demon, and isn’t connected to the Titan, he can only use magic by taking it from another source. He starts off using various plants and the horns and tusks of the creatures the village usually uses for jewelry or tosses aside after, I dunno, making a pie with it or something, and practices using spell circles in secret, making sure he can defend himself and the others should the need arise.

Soon he discovers that he needs more and more magic to stay powerful - to stay stable - and slips up in front of Brooke, losing control for less than a moment before using a spare flower he’d been keeping in his back pocket as a gift for North.

Brooke, understandably, is freaked out by what the fuck just happened and Philip begs for them to keep it a secret. He admits that he stole some of Brooke’s concoctions so that he could protect himself from the witches of the other tribes, and that he needs a reliable source of energy to continue using magic. Brooke argues that what he’s doing is dangerous and unnatural, and that a human shouldn’t be able to use magic the way he does.

Philip is furious, yelling at Brooke for hogging all of the magic for themselves. He says that where he comes from, witches were supposed to be burned at the stake or drowned. Brooke, horrified, backs away. Philip realizes he’s gone too far and flees back to the home he and the witches constructed when he first arrived in the Boiling Isles.

His state continues to worsen, and eventually he is driven to snap his own palisman in order to consume its essence. With horrified awe, Philip discovers palismen hold far more magical energy than the little table scraps he’d been collecting before. He is able to briefly rejoin the rest of the tribe, but Brooke doesn’t speak to him and he keeps thinking about his broken palisman.

A few days later Brooke finally finishes the portal and gives Philip the key. The human doesn’t get the chance to test out the door before one of the rival tribes attacks the village out of nowhere and Philip joins in defending the people he’s spent years with. North is stunned that he can weave magic without the use of glyphs, but she doesn’t have the time to consult Brooke on where the human gained this new ability.

At some point Philip corners the leader of the rival clan and nearly kills her, running out of magic just before the final blow is dealt. He reaches for the nearest source of power - North’s palisman - and snaps it in half.

For a few moments, North and Brooke process what just happened amidst the chaos. Then the fighting stops and everyone watches as Philip finishes consuming the palisman’s essence.

Philip looks up with glowing eyes and pauses, confused at everyone’s expressions. The fighting picks back up, this time directed at him, and someone throws a spear straight through his chest. It goes in one side and comes out the other, but the human(?) remains unharmed. The witches and demons start freaking the fuck out, because wouldn’t you in this situation?

Finally registering what he’s done, a horrified Philip backs away and makes a break for the trees. He never sees Brooke or North again.

In a clearing in the woods, Philip summons the door to the Human Realm but doesn’t have the courage to step through. He realizes that he is no better than the other monsters of the Demon Realm. He’d probably be shunned if he went home. Would anyone even recognize what he’d become? He once again briefly loses control of himself before giving up and throwing the key to the portal into the trees as hard as he can, before disappearing into the foliage himself.

North burns everything Philip touched, his books, home, everything in her fit of anger over the loss of her palisman and one of her best friends (or maybe something more). She is furious with Brooke for not telling her about him sooner and the two witches engage in an argument. Afterwards, Brooke discovers the journal Philip was going to donate to the market library, the one with all of his recorded notes and diagrams about the fantastical horror of the Demon Realm, and instead of burning it, donates it in their lost friend’s name.

A few centuries go by and Philip Wittebane’s name is practically lost to time, save for the journal that still resides in the almost-constantly growing library in what is now Bonesborough.

A powerful, controlling figure arises, claiming he alone can communicate with the Titan, and that the wild magic used by witches is wrong. Emperor Belos unites the witches of the Boiling Isles under the Coven system, ascending the throne and becoming the most powerful being (both physically and politically) on the Boiling Isles.

The rest, as they say, is history.

#the owl house spoilers #made before yesterday's lie #help my computer is dying

16 notes · View notes

queenofthefullmoon · 5 years ago

Text

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

710 notes · View notes

bennydwight · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Age Oneshot

Shameless, indulgent, one-sided Varric/Inquisitor, because I understand why we’re not allowed to romance the dwarf, but that’s not gonna stop me from being bitter about it.

(Also feat. Dorian being simultaneously the best and worst wingman)

~~~~~~

"Oh dear what's got the Inquisitor so long in the face this time?"

Lavellan hid her startle well enough that Dorian didn't comment. Maker's breath, he could be stealthy when he wanted to. Observant, too, so she didn’t see much point in lying to him. "I'm in love, Dorian."

She felt more than saw his interest pique, and he slid down the stone wall to join her on the steps. Below them, the courtyard was abuzz with activity: Dennet and his apprentice busied themselves with checking the new stock of mounts, the merchants from Val Royeaux shifted primly as Fereldan soldiers examined their wares, and patients of the last battle milled around the surgeons camp. Among them, even from this height, Lavellan could see Cole's wide-brimmed hat bobbing along through the crowd of wounded like a leaf on a river, likely offering comfort to those who needed it. Varric's copper hair trailed along beside, either gathering intelligence for his next book, or ensuring Cole stayed within the confines of human morality. Nice that those two got along so well.

Far below, a soldier said something and Varric laughed, the delighted rasp floating up to reach even Lavellan's perch. Why must he do that to her.

"In love, you say?" Dorian continued next to her. "Anyone I would know?"

Lavellan sighed. "He's roguishly charming, dashingly handsome, entirely uninterested, and so far out of my league he may as well be the Black Divine."

"Dear me, have you fallen in love with me all over again? Can't say I'm not flattered, though I recall us having this conversation once before."

That drew a laugh from the depths of her lovesickness and she nudged Dorian with a shoulder. "You know the flame I hold for you in my heart will never extinguish."

"Alas, perhaps in another life." He chuckled back. "Who's the fortunate gentleman?"

"Oh please, if you think I'll out and tell you like some babbling maid chasing the butcher's son, I give you too much credit."

He leaned back, stroking his goatee with an interested finger. "Making a game out of it then? Very well, I'll play along. Ten silver says I can guess the lad in three tries."

A game was exactly what Lavellan didn’t want, but she far too much enjoyed Dorian's scowl when he lost not to play. The ten silver could buy her something interesting from the baker too, next time they travelled to Val Royeaux. "You'll be paying for my next pastry run, Vint."

"Better save at least some of that silver for larger clothing then." He made a show of tapping his chin, deep, deep in thought, the flash bastard. "Roguishly charming, daringly handsome... Just to clarify, you are talking about a lad, yes?"

"Oh, no. Making that distinction would narrow the field by far too much. If you weren't paying attention to the pronouns, that's on you."

Dorian glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it while the gears of his mind were ticking elsewhere. "From the description alone, of course my first guess would have to be our distinguished commander? Not that I'd blame you, mind, he is quite the man."

Perhaps too much man for Lavellan, the commander was far too battle-ready for her to find attractive (though admittedly the scars did send something stirring within her). And Cullen's evasive reactions towards the advances of other members of the fairer gender betrayed a disposition more boyish than Lavellan expected. She imagined courting Cullen would be very much like courting the spirit of a farm boy in the body of a marble statue. "I flirted with him once, for fun. I was afraid he'd wet himself."

Dorian's laughter rang warm and clear through the courtyard. "That might explain why you couldn't tell him, the poor man would throw himself off the battlements."

Lavellan stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make it sound like my affections are a disease to be feared."

"They certainly spread that way."

"You enjoy it, you all do. Maker knows none of you under my command have ever gotten enough hugs in your lifetimes."

"Something we all know you're desperately trying to correct."

"This game is timed, Dorian, if you don't use your guesses in the next ten seconds then you forfeit."

"Don't be silly, that was never agreed upon," he waved a hand flippantly, but settled again. "Sera-"

"Nope."

"That wasn't a guess, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Sera is in league all her own, so it can't be her."

"It counts."

"It doesn’t. "

Lavellan never was very good at keeping a straight face, especially in Dorian's presence. "Fine, fine, you get one freebie."

"Then my next guess would have to be the Iron Bull."

Oh, she'd thought about it. Maybe Lavellan was just weak for big hands and a soft voice. And who could forget those muscles? But Iron Bull wasn't exactly secretive about his thoughts on relationships, thoughts Lavellan wasn't sure she could share in the long run. And maybe it would have been different if Iron Bull committed to the Inquisitor, but after an accidental (and awkward) run in with Bull and a kitchen maid, Lavellan was pretty certain she'd seen all she needed to regarding Skyhold's resident Ben-Hassarath.

Besides. She'd seen the silky way Dorian's eyes smoothed over Iron Bull's shoulders when his back was turned. There had never been two people she was less inclined to come between.

She shot Dorian a sly side-eye. "I'll leave the lovesickness to other, more suitable people when it comes to the Bull, I think."

He hid the hitch in his shoulders almost perfectly, but the pink dusting on his cheekbones was a little harder to explain away. To his credit, Dorian didn't try. "Ahem. Well, you mentioned 'uninterested', so it can't be the swooning--"

He trailed off, but Lavellan's sharp stare snapped to him, ears twitching up. "The what?"

"Nothing, a slip of the tongue."

"Your tongue is so slippery it's a wonder it doesn't slither out of your head. Now out with it, who were you talking about?"

Dorian heaved a mighty sigh, but his eyes shone in that way they did when he'd been sitting on a sweet bit of gossip for too long. "Very well, I promised Vivienne I wouldn’t say anything since you didn't need 'undue distractions', but since you insisted. One of your throne guards can't keep his eyes away from you."

This was news to her. "Wha- Are you talking about Davrish or Johannes? Or Tel, he fills in sometimes."

"The lad who usually stands at your left. Human, on the tall side, dark hair. Hard to see much under the helmet, but he's got a scar under his eye."

Davrish then. "He fancies me?"

Dorian laughed. "Like Solas fancies the Fade. He reveres you. Whenever you're in the Main Hall, he refuses to look anywhere else. He practically vibrates when you're judging someone, I imagine since he's never had a woman that close to him in his life. Have you truly not noticed?"

She truly hadn't. She'd spoken to Davrish several times around Skyhold, usually a casual bit of snark tossed around regarding the latest judgement, but never had she gotten the impression that he was interested. Perhaps since, whenever she frequented the Main Hall, her attention lingered elsewhere... "I suppose I'm usually distracted."

Dorian leaned closer, something wicked crawling into his grin like a desert lizard. "Distracted, are you?"

Lavellan huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could still her heart's rapid beat. "I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian, not all of us can lounge in the library all day, drinking cheap ale and commenting on whatever daily atrocity Solas is wearing."

"Oh, that reminds me, did you see the particularly awful armour he picked up during your last trip to the Oasis? I could go on for days about the state of the stitching alone-"

He definitely could, as proven time and again. Times like these, where her Tevinter friend really got on a roll, Lavellan could feign interest well enough while letting her mind wander to more introspective topics. She nodded and made appropriate noises at appropriate times to Dorian's impassioned ramblings, but once again her eyes sought the copper head weaving in and out of view of the crowd below.

As if sensing her seeking eyes, Varric pulled his attention away from Cole and stared straight at her.

Lavellan's heart stuttered to a stop. Even this far away, his eyes shone with the barely concealed mirth he always seemed to carry just under the crooked quirk of his eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled up in that roguish smile she loved as they made eye contact, and one hand (gloved, why always gloved) rose in a lazy wave.

Like a dunderhead, Lavellan practically tripped over herself to return the gesture, nearly catching her finger in one of the buckles of her clothes in the process. Varric didn't seem to notice, his smile widening before he turned back to his odd little charge.

Too late, Lavellan noticed Dorian had fallen silent beside her, his calculating golden eyes boring into her frozen face. She heard the dots connect.

"Oh."

Don’t make eye contact, don't make eye contact

"Oh, MAKER."

Lavellan spun on him, the tips of her ears burning under his scrutiny. "WHAT."

He stared back, expression refreshingly open for once, though it bore no malice. Only stunned disbelief. "Lavellan, the dwarf?"

Not trusting herself to speak around the dry lump lodged in her throat, Lavellan reached into her pocket and dropped ten silver into Dorian's unresponsive hand.

He stared at the coins as if in shock, though Lavellan knew him well enough by now to know when he was exaggerating emotion. Dorian and Sarcasm were old friends. "I can’t- Vishante kaffas."

"I know."

"Of all the available young matches here in Skyhold, you're wasting your time making doe-eyes at the single most ineligible person this side of the Anderfels."

"I know.”

"He's in love with a crossbow, for Maker's sake!"

"I KNOW!" Lavellan groaned, burying her head in her hands. "If you think I haven’t had this discussion with myself numerous times then you are sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Although," Dorian started in such an oddly contemplative tone that Lavellan peeked out from between her fingers. The silver was gone, tucked away while she'd been marinating in her own self-horror, and his hand returned to its previous action of thoughtfully stroking his facial hair. "He is quite the strapping one." His face took on a haughty air. "And we already knew you had a penchant towards the witty."

"Not only wit," Lavellan sighed, and now that her darkest thoughts hovered at the forefront of her tongue, she found it nigh impossible to stop them from stumbling into the light of day. "He's suave, confident in a way that still eludes Cullen. He has all the easy, rugged attractiveness of the Iron Bull with none of his-"

"Expansive tastes?" Dorian supplied, entirely unhelpfully.

"-worldliness." Lavellan corrected coolly.

"He's quite the complainer. "

"He's opinionated, and most of them are right. Varric is warmth, and friendship, and a drop of sunlight in the midst of the rainstorm that is the Breach."

"I may vomit."

"I am taking that as a challenge. He is soft eyes and soft leather, and the feeling you get right after you make someone laugh. He's quiet nights by the fireside, the smell of ink swirling in the warmed air. He is-"

"-headed this way."

Lavellan was just about to admonish Dorian for his unsportsmanlike attempt to distract her from her flowering prose (it had really started to flow there, too!), but a glance downward found Cole nowhere to be seen, and instead one copper-headed dwarf tromping up the stairs.

All thoughts of poetry dissipated. He was coming straight for them! "Oh... oh Maker-"

"Don't panic," Dorian smirked, "with a nose that large, he can probably smell your nerves."

She didn’t have the chance to smack him before Varric reached them, breath laboured in the way that often happened when short legs were presented with more than five steps. Lavellan wondered why Varric chose to spend the majority of his days in the Grand Hall when it required so many steps to get there (and she refused to let herself believe it was because he wanted to be near her, no no). "Well, you two are looking chummy."

"Varric!" Dorian opened with no shortness of theatrics, "We were just talking about you!"

"Is that right?" Lavellan heard more than saw Varric's raised eyebrow as she pinned Dorian under a glare so hot it had been known to stop enemies in their tracks.

Dorian, having evolved out of the category of "enemy" some time ago, barely noticed. "Yes, we were just discussing your romance serial, the one Cassandra enjoys so much? Are you planning on writing more?"

Lavellan’s glare had taken on a panicked note, her friend going rogue before her eyes. How hard did one have to stare at another for them to spontaneously combust?

Varric, large as his nose was, didn’t seem to smell her distress this time. He laughed. "I am if Seeker has anything to say about it! Why, you're a fan too? Learning anything interesting?"

"On the contrary, I have an idea for another serial I'm sure readers would enjoy."

Lavellan’s shoulders relaxed marginally, head tilting at a quizzical angle. What was he doing...

"I don't usually entertain book pitches, but for you Sparkler? Let's hear it."

"It's about a famous, powerful young artist, who falls in love with a roguishly charming, dashingly handsome writer-"

Aaaaand there went her shoulders again, hitched almost to her burning ears. Back safely to Varric, she frantically mouthed "I'll KILL you, you sunnuvabitch", the rest of Dorian's blatantly obvious pitch drowning under the blood pumping in her ears. His mouth quirked up in the only indication he was paying her any mind at all.

Varric made a thoughtful noise, and she didn't dare turn round to look at him. "An artist and a writer, huh? It's got potential. And no one can say it's... unrealistic." Maker's breath, was he implying something? Was that tone barely concealed subtext, or just Varric being an asshole?

And Dorian couldn't leave it at that, oh no, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus did things halfway. "And say, if you do decide to write it, I'm sure our dear inquisitor wouldn’t mind illustrating. Surely you two have known each other long enough that working closely for prolonged periods of time wouldn’t be too agonizing."

Using her body as a shield, Lavellan flipped him off.

"It's certainly something to consider," Varric hummed, none the wiser to Lavellan's mortification. Unless... he was playing with her? "I'm sure my lady readers would appreciate another romance."

Dorian stared straight into Lavellan's eyes. "They certainly would."

"What about it, Herald?" Oh Maker, he was leaning over her now. The scent of warm leather drifted over her like the sweetest perfume-- NO, that was gross! Don’t think like that! "Feel like collaborating?"

"Sure," her voice came out more like a squeak than a sound, and Dorian couldn't quite hide his snort behind his moustache.

The creak of leather as Varric leaned back. "Peachy. After we take care of this Corypheus business, of course, even I understand that we have priorities. Speaking of, I gotta ask Seeker something. Dorian."

Dorian nodded in farewell, radiating smugness. Expecting her turn to be next and realizing at the same time that she hadn't looked at Varric a single time during this conversation, Lavellan finally turned to the dwarf.

Bad idea. She turned directly into that insufferable crooked grin. His hooded eyes glittered with mischief, like he was privy to an in-joke. The sun set behind him, haloing his visage with golden light. Varric himself couldn't have written this scene better, and Lavellan hated herself for thinking it. Her ears drooped under the weakness of her own body.

Varric's grin widened marginally. "Inquisitor."

"Bye," Lavellan breathed more than said. Dorian snorted again, louder, but Varric was polite enough not to mention it. He continued up the stairs and Lavellan managed until his heavy bootsteps faded away to melt into a humiliated puddle. She slumped over her legs, burying her face in her hands.

"Dear me, Inquisitor, your ears are a most delightful shade of crimson."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"Once I can stand again, I am going to take my knife and cut out your tongue."

"Oh, I'd still find ways to humiliate you."

"I wont even use my nice knife. It'll be a kitchen knife. You'll suffer for days, just like I am now."

He patted her jovially on the shoulder. "Come now, Lavellan, surely you must know that Varric is crass and boorish, but he's far from an idiot. He'll nip this in the bud within the week and I need to get a decent amount of teasing in before then."

Lavellan punched him in the arm.

END

#dragon age inquisition #da:i #varric tethras #varric #lavellan #dorian pavus #dorian #Varric/inquisitor #varriquisitor?#writing #oneshot

15 notes · View notes

clownattack · 4 years ago

Text

Castor - character bio

I’ve been struggling with getting a bio out for Cas for waaaaay too long now, but i feel pretty ok with how it looks currently - i'm going to repost it on my art blog with some drawings of Cas and Hjalle in the future (hopefully). If you want to skip most of the nonsense and just get a feel for her personality, the section under the bio paragraphs is FULL OF POINTS.

links to drawn refs here and here

Longpost under the cut

✦ Early life in Hjalle:

Being born into the noble family Aran, Castor’s early life consisted mostly of being pampered by the attendants and strict education. Cas was a rowdy kid, and with time, lack of affection and validation from her family served to amplify the trait - she went from occasionally disobedient to full-on antagonistic towards her parents, and the nobility as a whole. She began to sneak out; spending her time outside of the Fort, spying on the guards and trying to bribe knights into taking her on as a page.

When Cas turned nine a sibling came into the picture, and she made it her duty to assure Aster’s upbringing would be better than hers. She poured everything she had into Aster, but soon developed a brash and overbearing streak, unyielding in her focus to teach the meek little sister to stand her ground. Aster became torn between Cas and the parents, who in all fairness, treated her much better than their firstborn. This would remain the case until Castor’s dragon-induced injuries.

In her late teens, Cas was seldom seen in the fort - to everyone's great relief. Her mood was always sour, she gave up on her studies and only seemed to care about Aster and joining the hunting parties. Her parents reached their limit when Castor announced she would not become one of the renowned judges of House Aran - this led to an explosive argument, which concluded with Castor storming out. For the following two years, she lived and worked with rangers tasked with protecting and providing for the town.

It was in those years that Cas acquired her battle prowess and scars, the most prominent being a gift from an especially large and angry dragon. A single swipe of its tail tore Castor’s chest and forearm open, forcing the hunting party to rush her to the fort in (what the hunters expected to be) a futile attempt to get her family to provide medical help for their dying kin. The reception was cold indeed, and if it weren’t for Aster’s hysterics and outrage over her family’s indifference, Cas would have not survived the grievous wounds. The upside to this event was a new high tale to impress people with, and strengthening the bond between two sisters. The downside - Castor was now under her parent’s thumb. They made her accept the position of inquisitor; to make up for the hassle she caused them. Taking up the mantle turned Castor’s world upside down - not only would she have to work in close proximity to her father, but her dreams of being knighted were shattered, as inquisitorial duties stand in stark opposition to virtues of knighthood. As Inquisitor she was tasked with investigating and interrogating for the court - the latter, as Aran tradition had it, was extraordinarily bloody.

✦ Vesuvia:

Almost as soon as she arrived, the city sparked something in Cas. This was unexpected to say the least; she was certain the years of gruesome work as inquisitor numbed her to simple joys of life. The sights and sounds of Vesuvia however, made her eager to explore and see how everything ticked - and the more she saw the more she wished to remain in the city. After attending the Masquerade and becoming acquainted with Asra, Cas was prepared to do anything to stay - even if it meant sucking up to the Buffoon count and begging for a job. Lucio proved to be anything but opposed - he’d heard of the “bloody good shows” (pun intended) Castor was infamous for, and was eager to take her off her parents hands. This led to working parallel to the count and his court, but also enabled Cas to dabble in magic under Asra’s tutelage.

This slight betterment of Cas’ situation would not last long however, as The Red Plague took complete hold of the city mere months after she took up her residence in Vesuvia. After perishing, and being brought back by Asra, she very slowly regains certain memories and traits - her sister, love of astronomy, sword skills. She sneaks out, snoops, and is a handful overall; but Asra is happy to see Castor’s “new” self free of bitterness and pain.

After this point, the “game events” take place. I like to imagine Castor braving an amalgam of Nadia and Portia routes, with a fistful (or multiple) of courtier drama. Castor is tasked with an investigation, slowly but surely unravelling how deep the corruption runs in Vesuvia, and how much of it can be attributed to the courtiers. The conclusion of her story focuses on first facing off against the court, then the Justice Arcana.

✦ Physical appearance

Light olive skin, she picks up a slight tan in Vesuvia.

Dark gray eyes, striking marbling on the iris.

Long girl - 176 cm tall, loves being the “tall friend” (and manhandling people close to her). Being taller than her is taken as an indirect challenge.

She has a rectangular body type, could be described as a “runner’s body”.

Prominent scarring across right forearm and torso, missing right breast.

Tastefully disheveled. Her hair has a constantly windswept quality, and the gray streaks seem to be especially unruly.

Inherited the “Aran silver” (early graying), she tries to ignore it. “The more you hide it, the more it shows”.

Secretly really bothered by the many similarities to her father. Avoids looking at herself too much, and whenever she does it feels like he’s looking back at her, judging.

Only ever smoothes herself over before important court meetings and social events. She doesn't know how makeup works, so before any party she asks Asra to sort her out. Cas looking prim is both a treat and a source of friendly jabs.

✦ Character traits

Power walking by default. This can be somewhat intimidating, and she won’t stop if someone is in her way - just put them to the side and continue.

Puts up a really convincing pretence of formality and refinement.

In actuality she finds this facade tiresome, and just wants to talk fast about battle/hunting feats or astronomy. Maybe show off her pyromancy.

Loves socializing, it recharges her batteries.

Dilligent worker.

Tends to overwork herself and neglect her relationships.

Often scatter minded and wanting to do too many things at one time.

Doesn’t appreciate people instigating physical contact or getting up in her face. She needs to prepare herself for it, or be the initiator.

Stubborn as a mule. Never knows when to stop pressing people.

Extremely callous at times.

Annoyingly overbearing

Most of this springs from a place of fear - things had a habit of getting worse whenever her family imposed decisions onto her. In her mind, if she’s the one holding the reins, everything will be better. And if something does fail - she will be the only one to blame.

Starting arguments comes much too easily to her, but she’s just as quick to introspect, and seek out the person she argued with to apologize and approach the issue in an appropriate manner.

Forgives easily

Eternally scoffing at astrology. She knows shes being bigoted, but at this point its almost like an inside joke between her and Asra. “Astrology? It's baby stuff. PSEUDOSCIENCE!” (she cries as she worries over her afternoon tarot reading and preparing pretty horoscopes for the Shop...)

A huge hypocrite at times. “Do as I say, not as I do” could easily be her motto.

Both the upright and reversed Knight of Swords card sums her character up perfectly.

✦ Occupation & Residency

Vesuvia:

Beginning of her story follows the game canon almost to a T - Cas lives with Asra in the Shop, and works there. It bores her to death, and she plays tricks on every customer just to entertain herself.

After being officially hired by Nadia as the Palace Magician, Castor moves out of the shop and purchases a modest house in Goldgrave, much below the value of what Nadia offered her, and what she could afford. It’s convenient and that’s what matters to Cas. She continues supplying the shop diligently, and takes over whenever Asra runs off.

Nadia insisted on Castor having an office in the palace. It grew on her with time, and after The Devil is dealt with it becomes her little “hub”.

Hjalle:

Cas lived with her family in the castle site until 17 years old.

After denying her parents their plans for her future as a judge, she hunkered down in a hunting lodge outside of the town, and spent almost two years living that way - she still thinks of these two years as the most joyous time in her life.

The only thing she ever used her family’s wealth for was commissioning the construction of an extravagant observatory. Reminiscent of a gothic fortress, the stark exterior is contrasted with insides filled with artwork and art-nouveau ornaments. The central chamber is a vast library with a powerful telescope in its apse - it is a sight that could take the breath of the most haughty of nobles.

There’s a tiny living space below the main chamber, furnished sparingly, but with a lovely fireplace (in Hjalle, its a necessity). It’s where Cas stays after becoming the inquisitor/whenever she visits after the in-game events.

✦ Trivia

Cas is 23 years old when she first arrives to Vesuvia - 28 at the time of The Devil’s downfall.

She freed Merlin from a merchant’s cage in the Red Market, during one of her outings in the three year interlude after her death - Asra fumes after they find out she snuck out to the market - yet is amazed that Cas found a familiar.

Cas regained her first memories via touching objects linked to her past life - a letter from Aster, articles of clothing, a sword...

This self re-discovering takes a turn for the worse when Cas finally finds a large, ornate knife - the one she inherited after becoming inquisitor. The memories it resurfaces are a staggering blow to Castor, completely derailing the beliefs she had about her own person. She thought of herself as a paragon, and remembering the torture she inflicted upon others, the lives taken in the name of “justice” made her relapse into bitterness and disenchantment. She deals with those feelings as her investigation into the courtiers progresses.

Predominantly uses pyromancy, other types of magic are strictly used for her work at the palace, and rather sparingly.

Could be best described as a battlemage - enjoys being in melee range and assaulting her quarry with both sword and fire; the latter being used more as a way to distract or stagger the enemy than actually harm. There's no fun in just burning them up!

Doesn’t cook for herself, although she has a natural knack for it - will only cook for guests and short people.

Her dislike of Lucio clashes with gratitude for employing her when she first arrived to Vesuvia - he was the knife which cut Cas off from her parents, and it’s something she could never forget.

Demiromatic/sexual.

She was offered to be knighted by Nadia after defeating The Devil. Cas declined - It’s much more than a title to her, and accepting seemed like mockery (considering her past as inquisitor).

Short fuse, she learns to better control herself while working in the palace. But if someone really pushes her the nearby candles miiiight get a bit out of control. Or she’ll just throttle them.

Hates her full name - Castor is such a mouthful. Sounds stuck up too...

#mc cas #castor aran #apprentice castor #oc bio #longpost #im pretty sure this is just incomprehensible #also text formatting on tumblr SUCKS i never knew until now #ive beed rewriting this for SO LONG NOW and im TIRED #so ill just leave it here #and if i ever feel like i can do better #oblivion is but a click away #begone #post #i cant write so PLEASE forgive me for the sins contained in this

25 notes · View notes

devilrosess · 4 years ago

Text

Spyro the dragon

Spyro the dragon is the main protagonists of the 1990’s to 2000’s video game series of the same name. They were initially developed by Insomniac Games (1998-2000), then Check Six Games (2002), Equinoxe in the same year, Digital Eclipse (2001 to 2003), Eurocom (2004), Amaze Entertainment (2005) and finally Toys for Bob (2018). I’m am only going to be focusing on Spyro in this particular series. Spyro in The Legend of Spyro and in Skylanders will be at some point in the future.

Like I said, Spyro is the main character of his self titled video game series “Spyro the Dragon”. Spyro has appeared in 10 games in total (11 if you count the Reignited Trilogy or 13 if you count it as three separate games) and has made cameos in the Crash Bandicoot series. He was also the former mascot for the Sony PlayStation. He is a small purple dragon with purple eyes, yellow spikes, orange wings and brown horns who lives in the homeworld of Artisans. But did you know originally his name wasn’t going to be “Spyro” and he wasn’t going to be purple?

Concept

While coming up with the character, one of the artists at Insomniac Games had an interest in fictional beasts (such as dragons). This artist was the one who came up with the concept of Spyro in the first place.

Insomniac initially came up with the idea for Spyro to be a green dragon named “Pete” however they couldn’t use the name due to possibly getting copyright claimed by Disney. So, they decided to change the name to “Pyro” (the Latin and Greek word for fire) but they thought that name was too mature for a game aimed for kids. The name was eventually altered to Spyro and they ended up sticking with it.

After Insomniac settled on the name, they had to decide what his colour pallet would be like. Now you might thinking “Didn’t they want him to be green?” That’s true, but they didn’t want him to blend in with grass. So, they eventually decided to make him purple due to the colour contrasting well with green whilst being a unique colour that wasn’t commonly used for dragons.

This is one of the earliest design sketches for Spyro.

Personality

Spyro has always been known to be four different things: Courageous, headstrong, eager and arrogant. But he also has a sense of heroism, friendliness and a fiery personality. He has little concern for his own safety and can be quite irresponsible at times, but can you blame him? He’s only a young little dragon.

Spyro can be a little curious but hardly cautious. He’s known to be quite sure of himself as well. You could even call him cocky.

Abilities

Spyro has gained a lot of abilities throughout the series but his main ones consist of charging his opponents with his horns and breathing fire. He can’t fly very well because he’s so young and he also can’t breathe a continuously long stream of fire, he can just spit fire bursts.

As Spyro gets older, he learns how to use his wings just like a shield, swim underwater, double jump, head dive and breathe streams of fire. In the later games, Spyro gains the power to breathe ice, electric and even bubbles. He also receives the additional power of breathing water. He is able to breathe wind and fly on his own but only at short distances.

Now, let’s get into his story.

Spyro the Dragon

Spyro as he appears in “Spyro the Dragon”.

In Spyro the Dragon, the main villain of the game, Gnasty Gnorc attacks the dragon realms, freezing all the dragons except for Spyro and his friend Sparx. The spell had no effect on them because they were smaller than the other dragons. The friends go across the dragon realms to free the 80 dragons from their Icey prison and recover their treasure in the process. After going through all the dragon realms (that’s including Gnasty’s realm and the former dragon junkyard) Spyro and Sparx have a final battle with Gnasty Gnorc and defeat him.

Later, Spyro remarks that in every good battle, someone needs a good adversary and that Gnasty was a worthy opponent. This then causes the dragons to become frozen again by an unseen character that’s presumed to be Gnasty Gnorc.

Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rampage!

Spyro in “Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rampage!”

In Spyro 2, Spyro and Sparx are on vacation from the dragon realms and notice a portal to Dragon Shores. They decide “Hey, we haven’t been there since we defeated Gnasty Gnorc.” and enter the portal. They are surprised to find that they’ve entered a realm called Avalar because residents of the realm: The Professor, Elora the Faun, Zoe the Fairy and Hunter the Cheetah had redirected the portal to send them there instead. They soon encounter a dictator named Ripto, who is enraged by the fact that they had brought a dragon to Avalar. There is a brief struggle that ends in Ripto escaping Summer Forest.

Spyro and Sparx (By Elora’s request) vist all the realms of Avalar and recover several Talismans, then pursue Ripto. They end up in a battle with one of Ripto’s minions, Crush which they win after he gets crushed under a pile of rocks (Ironic). Ripto escapes to Autumn Plains and Spyro and Sparx pursue him.

Spyro and Sparx eventually catch up with Ripto and have a fight against his mount, Gulp. Elora assists them by providing weapons. Ripto falls after the fight and Elora gives Spyro a place to rest.

Later, Spyro and Sparx decide to search for her and find themselves in Winter Tundra. They find out that Ripto survived and has locked Elora and the others out of the Tundra’s palace. Spyro and Sparx then have to travel through portals to recover enough orbs to defeat Ripto for good. After they’ve gathered enough, they challenge him to a duel. Spyro uses all the orbs he has collected for attacks while Ripto has his own orb to bring a mechanised version of Gulp. Spyro destroys it.

Ripto uses another orb to transform the floor into lava while creating a giant mecha-bird to defeat Spyro. Spyro fought the bird and defeated it, sending Ripto to what is assumed his end in the pool of lava.

Spyro and Sparx were then sent back to Dragon Shores to continue their vacation. It is then revealed in the epilogue of the game that Spyro visited Avalar after his vacation.

Spyro: Year of the Dragon

Spyro in “Spyro: Year of the Dragon”

In Spyro: Year of the Dragon, the dragon realms are celebrating the Year of the Dragon festival, a very important event. Every twelve years, the fairies bring dragon eggs to the dragon realms. This year, they’ve delivered 150 eggs. After the dragons sleep from exhaustion after celebrating too much, a rabbit named Bianca comes to steal the dragon eggs. The dragons wake up to find the eggs gone and witness Bianca with the last remaining egg in her hands. Spyro, Sparx and Hunter attempt to stop her but their too late when she takes the egg through a wormhole to the Forgotten Realms, the realm where the dragons used to live.

Since the dragons are too big to chase after her, Spyro and Sparx are the only ones who are small enough to go through and recover all 150 eggs. Hunter insists in coming along and goes through the wormhole with Spyro and Sparx’s help.

Bianca’s master, the Sorceress, alongside her, creates monsters to fend them off but their all obviously defeated by Spyro. Along the way, he makes four new allies: Sheila the Kangaroo, Sgt. Byrd the flying Penguin, Bentley the Yeti and Agent 9, the Professor’s monkey. When Spyro and Sparx arrive in Midnight Mountain, Bianca begins to realise just how far the Sorceress will go in order to obtain power and betrays her and joins Spyro. Spyro defeats the Sorceress but she didn’t die.

He had recovered 149 of the dragon eggs and collected 20,000 gems to fight her again in a region of the Forgotten Realms that was secret. He took control of a spaceship and defeated her, recovering the final dragon egg.

Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly

Spyro in “Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly”

Spyro, Sparx, Hunter and Bianca are having a celebration for the baby dragons that were rescued in the previous game gaining their dragonflies. Ripto comes and spreads 90 of the 151 dragonflies across the dragon realms. Spyro and Sparx track them down.

They eventually enter Ripto’s portal with the combined magic of the dragonflies. Ripto creates a shield for himself that is resistant to fire, Spyro destroys it and defeats him. Suddenly, he uses a magic spell to grow twice his size and create a flame barrier, causing Spyro’s fire breath to be utterly useless.

Spyro uses ice breath to bring down the barrier and freeze Ripto, who then uses his magic to grow even bigger and bring pieces of Crush and Gulp into his body. Spyro brings him down easily using his electric breath, defeating Ripto. Ripto then tries to curse Spyro, which doesn’t work too well.

Spyro: A Hero’s Tail

Spyro in “Spyro: A Hero’s Tail”

Spyro discovers that the dragon realms are being plunged into darkness by an evil Dragon Elder named Red. He, along with Sparx, Hunter and Sgt. Byrd team up with a new friend named Blink the Mole and track Red down, along with his alliance of Gnorcs (Gnasty Gnorc being among them.) and a new character named Ineptune.

They travel through new homeworlds and defeat Red. However, he escapes to his lab and builds an army by turning Gnorcs into robots. Spyro finally tracks him down only to see that he’s become a robot himself. Spyro defeated him and the Professor shrank him so couldn’t attack the dragon realms ever again.

Spyro: Shadow Legacy

Spyro and Sparx return to the dragon realms to find it in ruins by an evil force. They discover a Sorcerer is attempting to take control of the dragon realms using dark mirrors of each realm called the Shadow Realms. Spyro sets out to rescue everyone held captive by the Sorcerer and defeat him.

After Spyro saves the dragon realms and Avalar from the evil force, he finds Red in the Forgotten Realms and defeats him in a fight. Red then decides to change his ways and help Spyro stop the Sorcerer. Spyro makes his way up the Sorcerer’s lair and the two of them engage in a fight, which Spyro wins. He returns to the dragon realms where a parade was thrown in his honour.

Spyro: Season of Ice

This game is an alternate sequel to Year of the Dragon that’s set after Spyro defeated the Sorceress.

After Spyro saved the dragon eggs from the Sorceress, he, Hunter and Bianca decide to take a vacation. While Bianca was researching vacation spots, she lost her magic book in the Sorceress’ library, causing it to fall into the hands of the librarian, Grendor. He tried casting a spell on himself to make him super smart but read the spell wrong causing him to grow another head.

He began to use Bianca’s book to freeze all the fairies and scatter them across the Fairy Realms. Zoe alerted Spyro before she was caught herself and he along with Hunter and Bianca went to the Fairy Realms to rescue all the fairies, including Zoe.

When Spyro entered the first world, he found that Rhycons had infested the Fairy Realms and defeated them along with Grendor and freed the fairies.

Spyro 2: Season of Fire

When Spyro and Sparx returned from the Fairy Realms, Ripto returned as well for his revenge on the dragons by scattering all the fireflies all over the dragon realms. Which wouldn’t be so bad if the fireflies weren’t the source of the dragons ability to breath fire. Spyro and Sparx go to find all of the fireflies and eventually save them all, defeating Ripto once again.

Spyro: Attack of the Rhycons (Spyro: Adventure in Europe and Australia)

Ripto takes over the Professor’s laboratory and drives Spyro and Sparx out. They then travel through the realms to collect twelve hearts to open a passage back to the lab to confront Ripto. They eventually defeat him and he is banished until he meets Dr. Neo Cortex, the main villain of Crash Bandicoot.

Spyro Orange: The Cortex Conspiracy

This is a crossover game of Crash Bandicoot and Spyro the Dragon.

Ripto teams up with Cortex to get rid of Spyro and Crash. They genetically modify Ripto’s minions and disguise them as their two foes, leading both main characters to begin to believe that they are fighting each other. Spyro eventually meets the real Crash at Dragon Castles although, they believe that the other is the disguise Ripto minion. They realise that they’ve been tricked and team against Ripto and Cortex.

After defeating them, Crash and Spyro thank each other for their help.

Cameos

Spyro makes cameos in the Crash Bandicoot games.

Crash Twinsanity

Spyro discovers that his treasure has been stolen by someone and traces it down, he discovers that some of Crash’s enemies are trying to take the treasure and he toasts them as revenge.

Crash Team Racing: Nitro Fueled

Spyro appears as one of the racers in the Spyro Circuit portion of “Crash Team Racing: Nitro Fueled.” He is a speed based racer in the game.

And that’s it for Spyro. And yes, I will do the character profiles of the other Spyro characters in the series along with his profiles for Legend of Spyro and Skylanders. But until then, this it for the Spyro games.

#gaming #Spyro #spyro the dragon #insomniac games #crash bandicoot #character bio

29 notes · View notes

astro-pioneer · 4 years ago

Text

Anyway thoughts about Dain and others. I'm gonna separate this into different parts since it's probably gonna get confusing. Might do a second part for certain parts of this.

So to get as accurate as possible I did search for more information about The Abyss and Khaenri'ah

OK so I'll give a little back story before diving into my thoughts: Khaenri'ah is an underground unreleased section where, in Dain's words, "the gods' gaze does not fall". It is the origin of Khemia, a type of alchemy heavily focused on the creation of life that ultimately destroyed it. Also, for the Sword Cemetery, that is a result of a war between Mondstadt and Khaenri'ah.

Khemia

Anyway thought time - so since Knaenri'ah has very little fauna and plants they have to find a way to survive and get food and whatnot - hence the creation of Khemia. Now, since there's no information on the aftermath of using Khemia on let's say a human, we're going to make assumptions.

So obviously altering with human life is bound to have it's backlashes, right? My three main bully victims are going to be Kaeya, Albedo, and Dain. Kaeya first: he was sent to Mondstadt as a last hope for his original homeland (I got too lazy to type it continuously) so I'm gonna assume that, before he was dropped off at Dawn Winery, he went through some alterations.

Kaeya

And you guys are gonna get mad but I'm gonna talk about his eye patch. Now, my assumption with the backlash is that it does something physical to the person undergoing Khemia. And yes, while Noelle does say she prepares Kaeya's eye patch, that doesn't necessarily mean that she puts it on him and has seen him without it.

Seeing as though Khemia isn't well-known by the common folk and is concerning to the gods (at least to Venti - thoughts on this later) it's best to hide any evidence of it when around people. That might be Kaeya's case with his eye patch, especially with the issue with Diluc and his father.

Albedo

Listen I hate myself for even starting this but I'm too far deep to give up so we gotta talk about his sexy ass. Now, his diamond. If that's a birthmark then holy hell that's one gorgeous mark. BUT I don't think it is. Since he's the one who practices Khemia, he probably knows how to manipulate the placement to be somewhere hidden or so small you can't see it.

Lmao that kinda contradicted my diamond topic but my thought behind that is that he got that from his teacher (I REFUSE to type that long ass name ok) before he knew the art himself. Him knowing the practice and Venti's wariness of it makes more sense now - will be explained soon.

Dain

THIS BITCH- Ok I need more content of him so I can understand him more but I hate him so muuuuuch. So since he admits that he saw Old Mondstadt before Dvalin resided in it, I immediately thought to the battle at Sword Cemetery even though it doesn't fit with the geography (be honest though nothing matches the geography since the "Wolf of the North" is in the wEST) and you can't see it even from atop the logs (before anyone says anything, yes, I did check with the tallest character I have and yes, I did blind myself at one in the morning just for that.)

Anyway we're getting off topic what I wanted to talk about is the galaxy thing right over his heart. This is going to be short since there's not a lot about him but it's very obvious that it's not natural (well duh) and it reminds me of the particles that erupt from Paimon and that appears out of Aether's hand for an idle animation (I, personally, chose Aether for the MC so I will be using him most of the the time). However, there's noy a lot on him and his attire so this is all I really have.

Venti and Khemia

So a little while ago someone found out that in front of Venti's statue in front of the cathedral it says "Gate to Celestia" backwards. And I do love the theories from many others about how the game might end right where it started, aka Mondstadt. Khaenri'ah dislikes the gods and is not under rule of the Seven and, with Kaeya as a "last hope" so to speak, I feel like (if he doesn't get too attached to everyone) Kaeya and possibly Albedo as well, is going to lead the hilichurls and possibly the Abyss to Mondstadt to open the gate to destroy Celestia.

This is probably why Venti is wary of anyone who knows Khemia or is a known member of Khaenri'ah. This is far fetched but what if he knows of a possible ending without the traveller that is Mondstadt and possibly Teyvat as a whole being destroyed? It's obvious that history and stories are told through songs and, as Venti said in the archon quest, he knows songs "from the past, present, and future."

The Abyss ft. Khaenri'ah & Dain (again)

This is probably going to be the biggest since there's a lot of parts to it. So it's been confirmed that the hilichurls, the people of Khaenri'ah, are being controlled by the Abyss. My thought process was that the Abyss was once a part of Khaenri'ah but there was so much Khemia practice on them that they became less and less human. On a similar note, Instagram user natrya_art made her own theory based off of the Abyss and the chambers just off of the opening screen itself (also one about Dain, Durin, and Alberich (Kaeya's last name) that's still on her story :D).

You guys are probably like "Astro where are you going with this" so I'll stop adding random information and get on with it. Dain specifically only mentions Lumine with "her" and "she" along with "is" and similar present tenses, meaning that she is still alive during whatever time he comes from (as he will decide fate himself if "Albedo were to make a single wrong move using Khemia" (possibly opening the gate) and that's the only time he'll interfere). It's obvious he knows Aether, as he's very easy to talk once he mentions being a traveller. Now, when have you ever heard anyone in genshin mention traveller that is not about Aether/Lumine? Exactly, barely ever if at all.

I mention this since Dain's interest isn't peaked when Aether introduces himself as an adventurer but only after he says he's a traveller looking for his sibling. I, personally, think that Dain was a travel buddy for Lumine since, branching off of Natrya's theory about the Abyss, she was probably brought to the Abyss when they were fighting on one of the paths in Celestia in the beginning.

Since Lumine is trying to redirect Aether from finding out anything about her plans, it shows that she does not want him to either catch her trying to destroy the world or get caught in the crossfire and die. In the time where Dain comes from, though, that's probably what happened and the Abyss wins in the end. So Dain, already knowing where Lumine and the Abyss went, brings Aether to every location that he can remember.

During the old timeline, let's call it that since it's obviously going to change with Aether having help from Dain and Friends™, Lumine most likely talked about Aether and what happened to them. Maybe Dain was just trying to see if he was the real Aether during the tavern scene? No one knows right now honestly (other than the voice actors and creators honestly but they can't say anything.)

It's also obvious that he knows how far Aether is on his journey, as he mentions the Contract to End All Contracts but not why it was made or what the Tsaritsa did with them all while knowing about Venti being Barbatos and the Stormterror battle. This could just be blamed on his failing memory but that's not the case, as he says that he doesn't lack time and will wait to talk about Rex Lapis. However, it's obvious he only knows one side of it, as Aether and the player know of Zhongli being a player in the Rite of Descension but Dain doesn't, as he questions his attitude towards it.

Prophecy

This is copied from Dain's profile on the genshin wiki: The confluence between the past and future. The original calamity had been overturned, yet the island in the sky set the earth to burn. Chalk pursues gold, in this time inopportune, the eclipse is swallowed by the crimson moon. The future must atone for bygone mistakes, as the bond familiar falters and breaks— of the same blood, elders and the youth... Such is the cycle of the world, in truth. Dain, what is that strand of blonde hair to you? Someone you must kill? Or the object of your penitence? - Self-proclaimed prophet

I changed the colour of the parts I want to talk about. The first line is obviously referring to Dain and his connection with going back in time to change the future he came from. "The island in the sky" is Celestia, and the line about setting earth alit could be talking about the gate opening or the gods thinking it'll be best to destroy earth to save themselves.

"Chalk pursues gold." THIS LINE. This one line is what I want to talk about a lot. Gold is not referring to the alchemist who destroyed Khaenri'ah, as it's not uppercased as all names should be. Instead, it's referring to Aether. (Note: the game is actually supposed to take place as you playing as Aether, which is why he's always in the trailers as the protagonist and is more expressive). Aether has multiple gold or gold coloured parts to him, including his hair, parts of his outfit, and it can even be argued that his eyes can be included too. Chalk is, obviously, Albedo, which connects to the quest about him where he's called the Chalk Prince when Dragonspine was introduced. Speaking of Dragonspine, Durin (the dragon that died there) actually came out of Khaenri'ah. Weird how Albedo is almost always in Dragonspine right? The pursuing part can go two ways: his ending line about how if he [Albedo] destroys Mondstadt, will Aether be there to stop him OR to make sure Aether is there to watch him destroy it. A third side is that Albedo pursues Lumine to help with her plan of Destroying Mindstadt/Teyvat.

Crimson moon is obviously about one of the trailers, where I think Lumine is seen walking on the path where her and Aether fought the god in Celestia with a red moon and sky in the background.

"Bond familiar falters and breaks - of the same blood, elders and youth" Aether and Lumine. I feel as though one of them (Aether most likely) will feel the most betrayed and he will lose all trust and love in Lumine and what's she's doing/done. Elders and youth is interesting. It can be nodding at the gods and the people of Teyvat or the gap between Lumine and how she's grown old while Aether died when he was young.

"That strand of blolde hair." English classes and teachers do not teach this enough!!! So I'll say it: blond, with no 'e' is masculine and is used to describe males. Blonde WITH an 'e' is feminine and for females. The use of blonde instead of blond eliminates Aether, Albedo, and Dain. The only blond we really encountered? Lumine. And I can already see the "well what if they didn't know the difference between e and no e" but we're talking about a game where a god dressed as a bard speaks in rhymes and riddles while Dain speaks like hes a poet. They know what they did. This might hint to him being the former travel companion of Lumine and any possible feelings he had that might get in the way of stopping him from helping everyone to stop her.

The Three Questions

When talking to Dain he asks three questions in order to see how similar your thought process is to Lumine. "Who do you think was the key to stopping the Stormterror incident" or something along the lines is the first question. Your answers are Barbatos, yourself, or the people. I will try to go off of memory with my answers, as his quest has yet to be added to the completed quests, as it's in chapter four which hasn't been released yet. I answered Barbatos for this question.

The next one is about Liyue and who will take care of it since Rex Lapis is no longer there to protect it. I said the people of the harbour, which was the third question. The last one is about Visions and who are more important in the eyes of the gods. The three answers are people with visions, without visions, or neither. I answered neither, giving me the dialogue of Aether's answers being similar to Lumine's.

Vision Question

The one about Visions struck me as odd. Visions are given by gods to people that they have acknowledged, yeah? Khaenri'ah isn't acknowledged by the gods and isn't run by any of the Seven. So that means that no one who resided in Khaenri'ah were never helped or were given visions. So why would Dain ask about them? I think it's due to Aether and most likely Lumine being able to weild the elements without a vision. There's also two certain dialogue options that are in the form of thoughts (I do not remember what quests they're from however) and the first one is like "(I'm getting back to my original strength)" I think it was in regards to getting geo too or something while the other one is "(I wish to get the powers of the gods)" or something.

When I first got them I paused for a second. Original strength and the powers of the gods... This obviously means the fact that with one touch of a statue we can switch to that element and can be "blessed" so to speak without actually being blessed. Also I've been meaning to talk about this ever since I leveled up Venti's statue but so far both Mondstadt and Liyue have an extra oculus. This is probably going to be for every region. I found that interesting, since you usually almost always interact with the statues with specific oculi, making it more powerful and giving you more stamina in the process. I think we have to use the extra one to fully harness the powers of that god in order to beat the final boss (probably Lumine.) They are also under the "Precious Items" tab in your inventory which is somewhat significant as well.

I'm gonna end this theory here for now since it got extremely long lmao. A part two might be coming though!

#ೄ sage #genshin thoughts #genshin theory #genshin impact theory #genshin impact thoughts #genshin #genshin impact

10 notes · View notes

jeremy-ken-anderson · 4 years ago

Text

Monster Hunter Movie

Spoilers Will Be Present.

There are a lot of things one can say about the badness of the film.

To me there are two basic issues, which interconnect: Tone and Respect.

At the core of things the studio and director considered their own brands more important than the brand of their source material. This is an understandable mistake to make when you’re thinking business - after all how would you survive as a brand if you granted primacy to other brands all the time? - but concessions must be made or else you’re just appropriating the aesthetics.

That’s what happened here. And it’s half of what made the movie a bad movie.

I went in expecting it to be real bad and as a result I was only mildly disappointed in some missed opportunities as opposed to legit incensed the way some MH bloggers are. But I do not blame them for being angry.

The plot, basically, is: Some army folks include Artemis, who you probably know is the main character because a) she’s the captain b) she’s Milla Jovovich and c) she’s the character you played as in the movie crossover event in MH World two weeks prior. They’re looking for Bravo Team when they get sucked into a dimensional rift and dropped in the land of Monster Hunter. So far so Isekai.

They encounter a Black Diablos which doesn’t act much like the monster from the games. Also a hunter played by Tony Jaa fires a paint bomb warning shot at them - It’s unclear whether he was trying to get them to leave or just thought the paint bomb would let them know they were in mortal danger.

The Black Diablos kills one of them and they run into some rocky terrain to escape.

This turns out to be the nest of roughly a thousand Nerscylla - horrible spider monsters. These kill everyone else over the course of an 11-minute, uh, tribute to Starship Troopers I guess we’ll call it. Artemis survives. There’s a 20-second sequence I thought was very good as a scene but belonged in a non-MH film, where she escapes the nest where she just watched eggs on her buddy burst with baby Nerscylla and then suddenly rips off her army gear to check herself for eggs in this frenzied panic. Seemed like both a smart thing to do and a reasonable trauma response to expect from someone.

But it shouldn’t have happened at all.

Backing it up, the 11 minutes before it shouldn’t have happened.

Nerscylla isn’t a pack hunter. They don’t grow in gigantic broods. But more than that the whole scene was...mean-spirited, and ugly.

Something that is important to understand about Monster Hunter as a franchise is that the seriousness of the stakes - the town is always under attack, or some ancient species of monster has awoken, or some new deviant mutation is driving smaller monsters into settled areas - is always, ALWAYS tempered by a fundamental directorial optimism. I think this film may be the first Monster Hunter thing where anyone dies and we see it happening. There have certainly been characters who mourned or wanted vengeance (more in the manga than the games) but that’s always something that happened before what we’re watching, and that’s really important to the tone.

Jovovich also has absurd plot armor, which, frankly, would have been fine - possibly even admirable - if they’d been adhering to the “nobody dies on screen” rule. Having someone get blasted across the landscape and get knocked out for a bit...as a player I’d have found this hilarious. As it is, there’s definitely a “why is this lady still alive” vibe that keeps cropping up because the movie’s taken a lot of time telling us that people in its setting are fragile chunks of meat that can be torn asunder at any moment.

Anyway, after all this trauma she encounters Tony Jaa and they fight. Why? Probably because he’s a martial artist and they wanted to get some mileage out of that fact. This is extremely dumb. Again, the only place where I’ve seen anything more than casual ribbing between humanoids in anything MH is the manga, and even there it didn’t come to blows. And within the context of this film these people have no reason to think the other’s an enemy and two extremely deadly reasons - the nearby monsters - to work together. Both have been presented as smart enough to know this. But fight scene. Long, stupid fight scene.

The fight nearly becomes fatal, and they realize it’s dumb. There’s another 5-10 minutes of bonding. This is fine! Jovovich and Jaa have decent chemistry (never aimed at romance, which is kind of refreshing) and there’s a really cute Demon Mode reference and also a product placement that turns out later to be a pretty cool linguistic joke (she gives him chocolate, calls it chocolate, he later uses the word chocolate to mean tasty).

They have a plan to get Nerscylla venom and use it to hurt Diablos, maybe paralyze or put it to sleep, so they can get across the dunes it’s guarding toward Jaa’s team and the dimensional storm Jovovich came through from.

The venom doesn’t visibly have any effect, which makes the whole planning thing feel wasteful.

Also, everyone’s use of the basic Alloy and Bone set of weapons gives people who’ve played MH the impression that none of these hunters have successfully hunted any monsters ever. One of the core points with the games is the loop of fighting monsters, carving them up, and using their parts to make weapons and armor you use against other monsters. But more than that, the presence of monster-armor on your npc fellow hunters in camp makes the world feel lived in, makes the people feel like part of the ecosystem.

So with a bunch of needless gore, they kill the Diablos. I actually was kind of excited that she carved a piece off of it - ah, she was going to make armor or weapons out of this near-bulletproof monster’s hide! No, she made a pallet to carry Tony Jaa, who got hurt in the fight. Then when he can walk they leave the big ol’ scale behind. OK.

Did I mention Ron Perlman’s in this film? Well he is, and while it’s a good visual match to have him as The Admiral he’s also - like the film at large - not optimistic enough. The character he’s playing is an old warrior who’s survived tons of battles and laughs in the face of danger. Perlman’s rendition is moody and serious, which once there are fight scenes is a mismatch with his fighting style.

Like I said way up top, there’s a willingness to use the aesthetics of the beloved franchise. Just not the themes. They aren’t willing to present things from a Monster Hunter Franchise perspective, because these gritty, brutal worlds are the brand of this director. When the franchise he was working with was Resident Evil, gritty, gory brutality was a brand match and the resulting film was one of the better video game movies out there (yes, I know that’s not a high bar). Here, it led to a movie with a lot of visually beautiful work but a tone that seems directly disrespectful to its source material.

So that’s a problem.

I said the tone made one of the two big problems. The other would be an issue even if I knew nothing about Monster Hunter, which is a series of structural flaws in the direction - mostly around the pacing of the film.

Army opener, fine. Trying to set up rapport. Diablos fight, too long. Nerscylla scene, WAY too long. Jaa-Jovovich fight, WAY too long. Bonding scene, fine. Planning to fight Diablos, too long. Diablos fight, fine. Jaa’s desert near-death experience, too long (didn’t need to happen at all). Jungle region, a little long but not bad. Rathalos encounter, fine. Ship scene, exposition dump, long and also boring. Rathalos fight...

The Rathalos burns two hunters to death on screen. See above, this is bothersome. It’s also chucking people across the landscape. Jovovich gets tossed into a portal back to earth.

Also off a cliff. We’re back to the “how’s she alive?” problem. She gets rescued by the army, they start to take her for treatment, the helicopter is attacked by the Rathalos.

For a tonal mismatch this is probably the best scene. I think this idea, very Reign of Fire, is what the director really wanted from the film. MH monsters in NYC, Lagiacrus attacking surfers from underwater, all that. We couldn’t afford those sets, so we get a dragon attacking army toys in a desert.

Dragon wins. I honestly appreciated the sale of how a dragon could win this engagement. I think the direction and editing successfully created a scene where the army losing the fight felt plausible.

Of course, this makes Jovovich and Jaa taking it down feel a bit much, but okay.

And we finish with what amounts to a tease of the idea of a series. I don’t get the sense that this is a genuine appeal. I think the “idea of more fights” is the ending. It doesn’t work, mind you, but this has become a kind of trope for one way to end a video game movie.

The thing I like least about this trope is that to hype up the audience the characters in the film all seem suddenly excited to be engaging in the activity we’ve been shown to be terrifying and deadly for the whole film. NOW they think it’s fun.

And that’s an extra layer of disappointment, because it indicates that we could have been having fun this whole time, if the director weren’t obsessed with brutality.

#monster hunter movie #review #it's bad!

13 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #452

“what i’ve felt, what i’ve known, never shined doing what i’ve shown / never free, never me, so i dub thee unforgiven”

Are you a part of the LGBTQ+ community? I am. Do you have Tiktok? Are you addicted? I don't. Do you enjoy being outside? IF it's cool outside, yes. Do you like being around kids? No, not really. Have you ever gotten Covid-19? No. What's your ethnicity? Caucasian. If you were president, what's the first change you would make? I'd probably put in place free healthcare first. What is an animal that you'd like to have as a pet but it's not allowed? If an animal shouldn't be a pet, there's a reason. So none. What was your favorite meal as as kid? Has it changed now? It was spaghetti. I still love it, but it's not my favorite now. Which doctor is your least favorite? Primary, eye, dentist, gynecologist, etc. Potential TMI answer follows. So, the VERY easy answer is gynecologist. Like, I've never even BEEN to one because I'm too scared. Not because I think they'll find anything wrong, but because I'm just very self-conscious about stuff like that and I do fucking not want some random stranger laying a goddamn finger on me like that. My doctor is really pushing me to go by now though as a safety precaution, but I just really, really don't want to. Do you feel that you'd be any good at solving a murder? No. I'm so clueless. You own a dragon, but it doesn't breathe fire; what comes out instead? Water, I guess? That could be beneficial in a lot of ways. Have you ever been sprayed by a giant rain puddle when a car passed by? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. What color is your iPod? Hot pink. Do you think baby clothes are adorable? Ha ha yeah, I just tend to like miniature things in general, and babies are just... miniature humans lmao. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. If you could adopt 3 unique pets, what would you get? A plains hognose morph (probably a lavender, or snow?), a Brazilian black tarantula, andddd... an African fat-tailed gecko morph. What grade are you in, if you’re still in school? I'm not in school. Do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? Hell no, there's not shit here. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Only occasionally by certain people I like. What was the last new video game you were excited about? It really sucks I don't have the appropriate console to play it myself, but I was SUPER stoked for Resident Evil 8: Village to be released and literally watched like four different playthroughs at the same time, ha ha. Have you ever talked about your period with a guy? Were they okay with it, or grossed out? In a three-and-a-half years intimate relationship, it obviously came up before. He didn't care, because he wasn't 12. Have you ever been to small church/bible group/study? Forced to or wanted to? I was forced to go to Sunday school, as well as church. Have you ever been to an Asian (any type) market? If so, what is the closest one to you? I've never seen one here, even. How would you feel if your significant other had tattoos? That'd be a bonus to how physically attracted I was to them, probably, lol. I just love tattoos. Where was the last place on your body that you felt physical pain? My uterus is screaming. :') What are you listening to right now? I am fucking unhealthily obsessed with Violet Orlandi & Skar's cover of "The Unforgiven" by Metallica lkasdjkflawjerwr like I will not stop listening to it lol. Last person you texted? My mom. Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. Is there a certain person that makes you feel safe? My mom. Have you ever used a chainsaw? Nooo, and I don't want to. Do you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa? crihmuh Ever been so stunned, no words came out? Oh yes. Ever written that you were going to end your life? I have. I was fucking stupid and made a suicide note on Facebook. I genuinely wanted everyone on there to know what they meant to me, so like it seriously wasn't for attention, which I still worry people think that. Ever put fake bugs around your house to scare someone? Not to scare people, no. I have two faux tarantulas in my room as decor, though. Is there a reason you have the name you do? Not particularly. My parents just liked it, ig. Choose: the best song by Green Day? Aw, that's way too hard! I love Green Day. I guess if I absolutely had to pick, maybe "21 Guns." It's just a truly beautiful song. Have you ever tried to “save”, or “fix” someone, before? No. I don't believe that works and only damages you. Were ethics discovered or invented? That's a good question. I really can't say I know. Do you put effort into getting tan during the summer? Nah. Are you a fairly self-motivated person? NO. I need external motivation pretty badly. Be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? Or are they actually not worthy of your affections? I don't deserve him. List 5 things that have been on your mind most recently. 1.) wtf I feel about Girt and wtf to do about it; 2.) my weight; 3.) what job I'm going to search for once I make progress at the gym; 4.) whether or not to quit photography and focus my efforts elsewhere; and 5.), as always, Jason. What is better, history or science? Science is way more interesting. Do you flinch at the sight of blood? No. Do you enjoy swimming? Yeah. When you swear, is it usually in general or directed at someone? In general. I don't generally swear at people. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? Yeah; I've got a couple of musician friends. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? GO AWAY Ever slapped a guy in the face? No. I don't hit people. Do you think you’re a good friend? I sure try to be. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? I have on only one occasion when I Jason and I were texting and he pissed me off. I don't remember what we were even talking about now. My phone was fine btw, ha ha, I didn't like, chuck it. What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? Out of the natural hair colors, black. But I really like hair that's dyed exotic colors on like... anyone. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? Yeah. Have you ever given your phone number to somebody you met online? Quite a few people, actually. Most of my friendships are online. On average, how much does gas cost where you live? When I was out today, it was $2.99. Why are you happy? Who said I was? I'm not happy. What is in your pocket? Nothing. What was the worst feeling you last felt? Severe indecision. Worthlessness. Yesterday had some grim periods. What would you name your future son? I always answer with the first name, "Damien," so let's see about a middle name... uhhhh... maybe Damien James? I'm not really sure about a middle name, but that sounds nice. What are you waiting for? Girt to message me back. He barely touches Facebook, so I can't blame him, but I wanna plan a day for him to visit and we can hang and I can decide what the fuck it is I feel towards him. What takes your breath away? Big waterfalls, to name a major one. What fact of life would you rather not know about? That the world doesn't give a fuck about you. It sounds super pessimistic, I know, but it doesn't. There is no sentience to it, no will to keep you safe and happy, it just... exists, and we're thrown onto it to figure it out. Unfair things happen. That's life. ... Damn, this answer was dark lol. What’re a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww?” Meerkat pups doing so much as blinking, guys being really cute with kids, seeing elderly couples holding hands and just generally being precious, proposals (especially gay ones just because of how hard that was fought for), seeing literally any picture in existence of Mark and Amy together, veterans coming home and their dogs freaking out... Man, a lot of things. This question brightened my mood to think about. :') Are you easily scared by horror movies? Nah. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Illinois to visit Sara. :') I really wanna hang. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her bday a day before mine. Are you wearing a ring? I always wear two. Do you hate to hug people? No, I love hugs. How many rooms does your house consist of? Seven. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? Can I be a Pokemon trainer, pls???? What would you want to be famous for? Most ideally, a great wildlife photographer. The kind photography students would see and be inspired by. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a real animal, ha ha. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t have one. What is in your backyard? Not very much... I'm barely ever even out there, so I barely know. There's one shed, a small tree, and uh... idk. Who is/was your favorite teacher? I have a few. Mrs. Whitley, Mr. Proctor, Coach Collie, and Miss Tobey are some. What’s your favorite non-sexual thing to do with a girl/boy? Play video games together. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Ha, I have a tendency to do that... Would you rather start a new career or a new relationship? Career. I want one so very badly. Something on the human body that grossest you out the most: So even though I am sexually attracted to any gender, nevertheless, genitalia gross me the fuck out. Either kind. Penises especially though like what the fuck- Do you think it’s easier to raise a boy a girl? Why? From most parents, I've heard boys are much easier because girls (supposedly) tend to have more of an attitude. What is your favorite strawberry flavored food? Strawberry is generally my favorite flavor for like, everything, so this is just about impossible. Maybe uhhh slushies? What is the oldest video game system you’ve played? An Atari.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the unforgiven'' by metallica

2 notes · View notes

98prilla · 5 years ago

Text

Hidden Shapes

AO3

...

He runs.

He runs past Patton, he shoves open his door, locks it behind him, then lunges through the portal hidden under his bed that Remus had installed years ago, when he’d first moved to the light side, a shortcut to his imagination, to the dark side. He pulls the trapdoor shut behind him, landing on the forest floor with barely a sound.

Colors are brighter, stranger, he’s pretty sure in this form he can actually see colors others can’t, see at a spectrum impossible for humans, since he isn’t, not really. That thought chokes a sob out of him, though it comes out as more of a growling hiss, and he throws himself back into movement, speeding across the ground, jumping up, into the trees, when they become too dense, seeing the cliff approaching, but not slowing, he braces himself, springs, his stomach flip flopping as he drops-

Then he shoots his web and latches onto the trees on the other side, swinging across the canyon. If he were in a better mood, he’d be laughing right now, at the feel of the wind, at moving so fast, at letting himself go, more than he has in years, letting himself go feral, but he isn’t, his heart is pounding and his breath is speeding and he’s moving, faster and faster, and faster-

Then, suddenly, there’s no more trees.

He doesn’t have time to stop his momentum. He manages to web the ground, before he crashes onto it, letting his shoulder impact first, easily slipping into a barrel roll, before losing control and tumbling across the earth, head spinning as he finally comes to a stop, hissing through clenched teeth as he sits up, taking in the damage.

His shoulder is bruised to hell, and scraped raw and bloody, and so are his legs, his hands, though his appendages are intact. There’s a gash on his forehead, and he curses, pulling his sleeve over his hand, pressing it against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding, letting out another hissing breath at the ache in his chest, a bruised or cracked rib.

He’s crying. He doesn’t know when it started, he feels too numb to cry, but he is, a steady, endless flow of tears that wash down his face, and he squeezes his eyes closed, doubling over, legs closing in around him, hiding him from view.

“Hello, little one.” He nearly jumps, at the sudden low and sonorous voice, but he doesn’t care, he simply curls tighter, trying to suppress the pathetic whimper trying to escape his lips. “You aren’t one of the usual resident monstrosities of Remus’s design. Are you new?” He flinches hard, this time, realizing what he’s being mistaken for, because he must truly look horrendous, and Patton, god, Patton, not to mention Roman, once he hears, and Logan will just want to study him, dissect him, like some specimen, he doesn’t want to be the monster, he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’theisn’theisn’t- “Let me take a look at you, darling. I can help make it better.” He pulls his legs in tighter, shaking, forcing words to his lips.

“N-no. G-g-go away.” He hisses, and he hears a sharp inhale.

“Anxiety. You… aren’t supposed to be here.” He laughs, at that, a cold, hard, bitter laugh.

“look at me. Where else could I go?” He bares his fangs, eyes flashing and shadows growing as he feels hands pushing aside his legs, gently tipping his chin up, meeting the orange cat’s eyes of the dragon witch.

“I remember a time when you wore this form more often than not. You and Remus were feral little things, more beast than man, some days, all shadowy blobs of too many teeth and limbs and claws, with your venomous bites and poison laced scratches, I remember when you’d spend hours, weaving the most wonderous tapestries, that sparkled so brilliantly, in the morning dew. Or ones near invisible, that would trip up Remus, as he tried to invade your lair. Once you wouldn’t have consolidated monstrous, with evil, they are different. Plenty of monstrous things are still beautiful, after all. Plenty of monstrous things are still smart, and kind, and sweet, little one. I would have hoped that to be a lesson you remembered, still.” Her words are soft and gentle as she caresses his cheek, a tender smile on her lips. “I haven’t forgotten, my tiny terror.” He folds, falling into her open arms and sobbing, letting it all go, as her near black wings enfold them both, her tail gently coiling around his feet. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds him, rocks him as he cries, promising safety with her steady presence, her slightly hotter than normal warmth. “I gather from your state you don’t want to go back to the world?” He shakes his head frantically, not moving from his place in her arms. “alright, darling. Hold on tight, for a moment.” He feels a slight vertigo, the world running like a watercolor painting, before resettling to a homey looking cottage, a fire lit and providing gentle warmth, the floors covered in soft rugs, the smell of cinnamon and something else, something warm and fizzing and popping in the air. Magic.

“If you want tea, you’ll have to let go.” He does with a slightly rueful smile, one she adores, and she brushes back his hair, before moving to put the kettle on, getting her favorite teacup from the cupboard, along with a black and white chipped jack Skellington mug.

“you still have that?” He says, voice coming out hoarse, as he pulls himself into one of the surprisingly comfy wooden chairs surrounding the small table in the kitchen, watching as she bustles about.

“Of course. I hoped I’d have occasion to use it again. Though I admit I hoped it would be under better circumstances.” He winces, looking away.

“sorry. For not visiting. I… I should have. Me and Ree hadn’t been on the best terms, for… well, for a while. I didn’t want to chance being caught here by myself.”

“Yes. I heard all about it, believe me. He fluctuated between grief, despair, and unmitigated rage, before settling on a scarily distant disdain. Any mention of you and he just… shut down.”

“sorry.” He whispers again, to her soft huff.

“Stop apologizing, darling. I’m not placing blame or accusing. I know you had your reasons. Now, let me have a look at you, we can’t have those getting infected, and you know they will.” He groans, wincing as he pulls his sleeve away from his forehead.

“But it stings!” He whines, making her laugh, as she gathers the warm water and soft hand towel.

“You’ve had worse, Anxiety. And unless you want me to summon Remus to instant heal you, we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Her voice is slightly stern now, the same tone Patton always takes, when scolding them or breaking up a fight, and he smiles slightly, glancing up at her.

“alright. It’s, um, Virgil, now, by the way.” She smiles, coming around the table and gently dabbing away the dried blood from the gash, wincing in sympathy as he grits his teeth, before patting it dry and securing gauze. “Ah. It suits you, I think." He pulls up his pants to reveal his skinned knees, his shins peppered with scrapes, though nothing there is hurt too badly, though it still stings like a son of a gun. They’re just finishing looking at his shoulder, her turning away to get an icepack for it, when he hears the tell tale swing of the doggy door, small scratching against the mat in the entryway.

“Oh, god-“ He manages to just barely brace himself, as a ball of icy silvery blue barrels into his chest, knocking his chair over backwards, sending his arms pinwheeling before he collides with the floor, his fall slowed slightly by a quick spell, that lowers him gently the last inch to avoid concussing him. He doesn’t have time to thank her, however, as his face is getting destroyed by licks, and he can’t get a word out edgewise, between his pleas to stop, and his gasping laughter.

“Nilas, stop, down girl, NiNi!” He laughs, finally managing to get the large cat sized dragon under control, though her tail still whipped wildly, and when he rolled out of the chair to sit up on the floor, she instantly climbed his shirt, draping herself around his shoulders, tail hanging off one, curling around his upper bicep to keep herself steady, her head resting on her paws on his other. He laughs again at her low, contented chuffing, the equivalent of a dragon purr, as he scratches her head. “Happy to see me, huh?” She buts her head against his cheek in response, before giving it one more lick, before laying back down on her paws, though her head stays tucked up against his face.

“Yeah. I missed you too, Nilas.” He mumbles, pain forgotten in the face of a happy dragon snuggling against him, a soothing, perfect weight that grounds him, helps him breathe a little easier against the stress slowly fading away. He rights the chair and slips back into it, taking the mug that she sets in front of him.

“Roman still giving you trouble?” He asks, after a few moments in comfortable silence, taking a sip of the tea, which is deep and herbal, just a hint of sweetness from the honey. She scowls, and he can hear her tail sweeping across the floor.

“Don’t get me started. I enjoy playing his games, but that boy has not given me a moments peace. Do you know how hard it is, to swap into evil enchantress mode, when your nemesis has showed up in the middle of you baking? I had a pie in the oven and I couldn’t stop worrying it was going to burn.”

“did it?” he asks, grinning.

“No. I told him he’d better stop wasting his time with me, and worry about my agents infiltrating the castle, and he took off. There weren’t any, of course, from what I understand he had a lovely game of whodunnit about the royal crown, though it turned out he’d simply misplaced it.” Virgil laughed, imagining Roman frantically running around, accusing random townspeople, making one of those red string conspiracy cork boards, only to find it under his bed.

“Oh, that’s amazing.” He finally wheezes through his giggling, taking another long sip of his tea, before yawning hugely.

“alright, enough catching up. To bed with you.”

“but-"

“uh, uh, uh, you know the drill. You’ll be falling out of the chair soon, anyway.” She teases gently, helping support him as he stands, a bit wobbly on his feet, another yawn impossible to stifle sneaking through.

“Curse my traitorous body.” He mutters, making her laugh, as he lays down on the cot in the dark corner of the living room, pulling all the fluffy blankets up so high they nearly cover his head, Nilas circling a few times, before curling up snuggled against his chest, kneading her paws contentedly.

“sweet dreams, tiny terror.” She murmurs, kissing his forehead fondly, as his eyes flutter shut. “sleep well. You could use it.”

“mhm. Thanks, Tabitha. Love you.” He mumbles, drifting off, a small smile on his lips as he rests his head against Nilas.

She smiles, stroking his hair a few more times before pulling away, a low sigh slipping from her lips.

Well. No doubt Remus would appear soon, and he could explain what had sent Virgil into such a tizzy, though no doubt it was something to do with the others. He wouldn’t have been so scared of himself, otherwise. He was never scared of himself, until he started hanging around them. He used to revel in causing mayhem, tearing through the imagination, scrapping with Remus, winning, more often than not, on his own merit. He was such a small little shadow, but so fierce, with those eyes of his, peeking guardedly through his mop of hair, an almost perpetual frown on his face, always braced for the worst.

But he was kind, too. The first day she'd come across him alone, he’d glared at her, hissed, baring his fangs and scuttling backwards, ready to bite.

She’d knelt down, almost as surprised to see him as he clearly was to see her.

“hello, little one. What are you doing, out here alone?” He hadn’t answered, merely continued to glare, tensed to spring or run. She’d hummed, looking around, the field was full of knee high grass, his head barely poking above the stalks, wildflowers filling the space, butterflies (both literal and figurative) drifting through the air. A distant shout rang through the imagination, an echo of whatever turmoil was occurring up in the rest of the mind, and he flinched, curling in on himself, breath catching.

“ah. Trying to find some quiet, until the storm blows over.” The little shadow nodded, watching a bee struggle to stay atop a flower blowing in the breeze, before reaching out and holding it steady, a small smile crossing his face as he leaned in, watching the bee burry its head in the pollen. “Well, don’t mind me, then. Is it alright, if I stay here to read? I won’t bother you.” A moment passed, but he nodded solemnly, watching the bee flit away, before fixing his gaze on her, which she studiously ignored, studying her book while watching out of the corner of her eye.

Another echoing shout, almost like a thunder crash, and he let out a little shriek. Before she could ask if he was okay, the little shadow had scuttled closer, throwing himself onto her lap and curled in a shivering ball, hiding himself under her cloak.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright. They won’t hurt you here, I promise.” He hadn’t uncurled, and she’d hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, brushing through his hair with her other hand, humming softly, until she felt him slowly start to uncurl, realizing finally he’d fallen asleep, tiny hands clutching at her shirt, impossible to pry off even if she’d wanted to.

When Creativity and Deceit panicked later, realizing Anxiety had been missing all day, they were surprised to find him happily coloring on the floor of the witch’s cottage, dark aura dispersed enough they could actually see his body, a dragon curled around him protectively.

The next day he’d shown back up on her doorstep, a bit shyer, but no less brave, holding out a flower crown, painstakingly woven with colorful flowers, and it may have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. From then on, Anxiety, or Virgil, now, was as good as hers, under her protection, always welcome, always at home in her home. Her baby, her shadow, her tiny terror.

55 notes · View notes