#First the truth is killed then the people
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The Gray Reunion
Vi x reader
Words: 1.5k
Warnings: Violence, mentions of illness, blood, slightly spicy kisses ;)
Summary: In the midst of the chaos, you struggle to help the people of the Lanes. The truth behind the disaster sparks a confrontation that will test your bonds
Note:English is not my first language, sorry
In the past few hours, your modest apartment had turned into chaos. At least a dozen people had knocked on your door seeking help, intoxicated by something you hadnât seen in years.
They could barely fit into the small living room, which also served as your kitchen and bedroom, waiting for you to help them, coughing out toxic fumes. Everyone expected you, just as your father had done in the past, to help or offer a solution, but you were completely lost, fumbling with medical supplies that had been stored away for years.
"The gray," murmured an older woman who was holding her husband as he struggled to breathe.
"Thatâs impossible," you replied. "We havenât had problems with that in years, the ventilation system..."
"Then there must be a leak," she interrupted, raising her voice before a violent cough cut her off. You watched as her hand was splattered with blood. She inhaled deeply before continuing, "Iâve been through this before, but we donât have the years on us anymore. Your father treated it countless times. Doesnât he have notes somewhere?"
You sighed in defeat. "Iâve lost most of Dadâs things over the years. All I have left is what you see." You placed the stethoscope on a childâs back to listen to his breathing. "Thereâs nothing I can do. We just have to wait for the lungs to clean themselves... and stay far from the leak."
A collective groan arose from the people packed into your small space. "And how are we supposed to do that? We live there! Where can we go?" Various complaints began to rise.
"I wish I had an answer for you, but I donât. We just have to wait until they repair the leak."
"Theyâre not going to fix it! Itâs those damn enforcers! Theyâre killing us to get to Jinx!" Another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.
You tried to remain calm. Could that be true? Were the people above really capable of poisoning everyone just to catch Jinx? Those above had taken so much from you already that it seemed entirely plausible. But then an image came to mindâViolet. She was in Piltover now, and she would never let this happen, not to the place that had been her home for so many years and still was yours. Right?
You continued your work, trying to calm the rebellion brewing in your living room, tending to the most severe cases of nosebleeds and eye hemorrhages. But there wasnât much more you could do. Around three in the morning, the last person finally left.
Exhausted, you collapsed onto your bed, utterly defeated. Chances were, all the patients youâd seen today would return tomorrow with new symptoms. It was impossible to recover from the gray while constantly exposed to it. You knew that if it was a crack, it would take years to fix. And if it was intentional, if they were hunting Jinx... that would also take time. There was no way theyâd catch her.
A knock on the door kept you from falling completely asleep. You cursed under your breathânew patients. Your fatherâs voice echoed in your mind, reminding you how he wouldnât rest until heâd helped the last person who needed him. You repeated the phrase to yourself before getting up to answer the door, only to be met with a great surprise.
Vi stood there, but the most shocking thing was her outfit. She was dressed as a full-fledged officer, an enforcer. You couldnât suppress a gasp of utter disbelief. You had spent years of your life together; you knew her story as well as your own, and never would you have imagined the possibility of her wearing something like thatânot even as a joke.
"Iâm truly surprised," you murmured. She scoffed in irritation. You stepped aside to let her in, and she dropped her new, heavy gloves onto your floor. You bit your lip to keep from scolding her.
The past few days had been madness: Viâs return, the search for Jinx, and your responsibilities trying to honor your fatherâs legacy had left you with barely a moment to breathe.
"Lots of patients?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Too many," you replied, collapsing onto the bed again. She still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can lie down if you want... Unless youâre scared of dirtying that pretty uniform." She let out a short laugh before lying down next to you.
"Iâve barely seen you since you came back... I donât think I ever got to tell you how happy I am that youâre here... Despite everything."
"Yeah, I suppose the first hug you gave me said it all."
"I mean it, Vi," you said, turning to face her. "Everything got so hard, but now youâre here, and I feel like things will get better."
She smiled faintly. "Yeah, we just have to fix a few things, and everything will improve." She propped herself up to sit beside you. "You look really pretty," she added. "Those dark circles suit you."
You couldnât help but laugh. For just a moment, all the bad things disappeared. It was just the two of you in your small apartmentâno Jinx, no gray, no problems in the Lanes. Just you two. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She froze for a moment.
"I thought you missed me," she teased.
"I did."
"Thatâs not a reunion kiss. This is." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. You welcomed her eagerlyâit was like a breath of fresh air, something rare where youâd grown up. The kisses grew more intense, and your hands wandered over her torso and back. Vi positioned herself on top of you, using her hand for support on your pillow. But she quickly pulled it back.
"Whatâs this?" she asked.
You looked to the side, confused, and saw a large bloodstain. You hadnât even noticed it. You sighed. "Iâm really sorry." You sat up slightly, but Vi didnât move off you. You grabbed the pillow and threw it to the other side of the room. "Itâs been such a complicated day with the ventilation cracks."
"Yeah, donât worry. Iâm not at my best, either."
"Doesnât seem like it." You kissed her intensely again, and she adjusted immediately.
"When all this is over, we should go on a real date. Like dinner and all that cheesy stuff."
You laughed against her lips at her failed attempt at romance. "I just hope itâs soon."
"It will be," she declared confidently. "Once they catch Jinx, everything will get better, and life in the Lanes will changeâjust like Vander always wanted."
Viâs hands slipped under your shirt as you shared another passionate kiss, but her words lingered in your mind.
"Wait, wait, no," you said, pushing her slightly so she moved off you.
"Oh, do you want to take control, doll?" she teased.
"Did you have anything to do with this?" She looked confused, so you pushed her again to sit beside you. "The gas? Was it you?"
Vi stayed silent, hesitant to answer.
"Is this some kind of joke? Youâre poisoning us just to catch your sister?" you shouted, furious.
"Hey, hey, itâs not like that... I mean, yes, but not how you think."
"You bitch," you spat, jumping out of bed. "Do you even understand the damage youâve caused?"
"Listen to me. We used the gray to clear the streets, to keep people safe," she tried to explain.
"Used? Whoâs âweâ? You and your new enforcer friends? Well, you didnât protect anyone!" You exploded. "Do you have any idea how many people you hurt? At least fifty came here today!"
"Sheâs a murderer! She killed half the council, sheâ"
"Sheâs not a traitor," you cut her off sharply.
The room fell silent as you watched Vi clench her fists in anger. Youâd struck a nerve.
"Did you really do this for her? Or did your new enforcer friend convince you?" you spat, unable to hide your disgust.
"Donât call her that!" Viâs hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, pushing you against the wall.
You stayed inches apart for what felt like ten seconds before she let go, though she didnât step back. Her heavy breathing mixed with yours, and you could smell the perfume from her uniformâa scent impossible to find down here.
"Get out of my house," you whispered.
"You have to understandâ"
"Get out!"
Vi sighed loudly, grabbed her heavy gloves from the floor, and walked to the door. You opened it for her, stepping aside. She crossed the threshold without meeting your gaze but stopped in the doorway.
"I hope your new friend is worth it." She didnât turn around, just kept walking down the dark street, away from your home.
You couldnât stop the tears from falling.
What had you expected? Nothing had stayed the same over the years.
You locked the door before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow would be another hard day in the Lanes.
#arcane netflix#arcane series#league of legends#league of leguends#vi arcane#arcane lol#arcane league of legends#arcane x reader#arcane#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#the grey#arcane s2#arcane season 2 spoilers#arcane season 2#arcane s2 spoilers#arcane season two
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Time Ticking, Patience Thinning
Hereâs another chapter that I hope you enjoy đ«¶đŒ please lemme know if you do~ would make my day!
previous chapter
âWhatâs your name again-? I didnât quite catch it the first time.âÂ
When the boy opened his mouth to answer Agathaâs question, your gaze instinctively shifted to him. What happened next took you by surprise. As he began to speak, a shimmering sigil materialized above his lips, silencing his voice entirely. Your brows furrowed in confusion as your gaze slowly shifted to Agatha.Â
âInteresting,â thatâs all she said.Â
"What do you mean?âÂ
âNothing to shout about,â she waved it off, giving you the hint of keeping that detail Teen a secret for now. âAnyway, I canât promise Iâll remember your name.âÂ
Her words caught you off guard, and it took everything in you not to burst into a cackle. Even so, a tiny puff of air escaped your nose, almost sounding like a snort. Agatha turned to you then, her composure always impeccable, infuriatingly so.Â
âWe better get going now,â she brushed past you towards the front door, or rather, the spot where it used to be.
You smacked your lips at her nonchalance. If you werenât in such a rush, youâd invade her personal space right there and now, capture her lips with yours to wipe off that knowing grin from her face.Â
Instead you only said, âI drive.â
She didnât object to that. In fact, she preferred it when you were the one behind the wheel. It gave her the liberty to let her hands wander over your skin.Â
As you slid into your car, Teen's eyes sparkled with the hopeful anticipation of claiming the shotgun seat, but Agatha cut off his enthusiasm rather quickly.Â
âBe a good pet and sit in the back, will you?âÂ
The boy shot you a sideway glance and you muttered a soft âsorryâ in his direction. Resigned, he slid into the backseat, clicked his seatbelt into place,and slouched in quiet defeat, arms crossed over his chest, reminding you of his young age.Â
âMaybe on our way back you two can switch-â
Agatha didnât even let you finish, âOr maybe not,â she muttered sarcastically.Â
You sighed and started the car, with no clear destination in mind just yet, âvery mature.â
She didnât respond to that and simply hummed.
âSo, where are we going?â Teen asked after a bunch of minutes.Â
You looked at him from the rearview mirror, âfor starters we do need a Coven to walk the Road.âÂ
He looked like a child on Christmas day, âyouâre taking me to your Coven?âÂ
With your eyes back on the road, you hummed, âUhm, not exactly.â
âWe never had one,â Agatha clarified, âI mean, not for long anyway.â You glanced at her briefly, wondering what she might say to the boy next. For a fleeting moment, you thought she might blurt out the entire truth right then and there. But it wouldnât be like her, so you brushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came to you.Â
âThey annoyed me,â she said with a dramatic tut, âso one day I woke up, feeling inspired, and turned them into dust.â
You nearly veered into the opposite lane when she said that, your knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. It wasnât the whole truth, but it wasnât entirely a lie either. Yes, she had killed her Coven, of that there was no dispute. But what she left unsaid were the reasons that forced her hand, reasons that probably nobody knew, thatâs why people were so quick to come up with the âwitch killerâ nickname.Â
Teen looked terrified and uncertain what was to say next. And Agatha, being Agatha, looked quite pleased with it.Â
"Thatâs not exactly how it went,â you mumbled, giving away the hint that there was more to say, without actually saying it. You stole a glance at Agatha, her smile teasing, slightly amused by the familiarity of the situation. There you were, once more, doing your best to clean up her reputation. She told you many times you didnât have to do it, but you couldnât help it. âWhat I can say is this: theyâve blown the whole âwitch killerâ thing way out of proportion. Agatha isnât a bad person.âÂ
Sure, you couldnât deny the fact that Agatha killed witches, more than a few. But survival had a way of sharpening its edges, forcing impossible choices. She killed to save herself when no one else would. She killed to save Nicky. And later on⊠she killed to find a way to save you. Itâs long overdue that people knew the truth, yet you knew it wasnât your place, at least not only yours, to spill it.Â
When Rio sent the Furies after you, they took possession of your mind, twisting reality until it was unrecognizable to you. Their voices inside your heart hurt in the most inexplicable way, but you resisted, you vowed to. You never fully understood how your condition affected Agatha and Nicky, because whenever you had a fleeting moment of clarity, they chose to savor the time together rather than tell you how much it hurt them to see you like that. During that time, Agathaâs killings increased but you wouldnât know. She didnât need to kill witches to heal Nicky, though. The moment you used your magic to bring him back to life, the curse had been lifted and with it, Nickyâs illness. But your magic had come with an unexpected price to pay. Rio had warned you, but you refused to listen.Â
Noticing the way your eyes dimmed, Agatha slid her hand above your knee. She knew you too well to figure out exactly where your thoughts had gone. You were blaming yourself again. And she couldnât let you do that.Â
âDonât listen to her, Teen. She has the tendency of picturing me softer than I really am,â despite her serious tone, the way her hand squeezed your knee, told you a whole different story. All she wanted was for you to let go of your sense of guilt. âWhen it comes to survival, youâll do whatever it takesâ anything. I hope it never comes that far for you.âÂ
Teen considered those words in silence. Your version compared to Agathaâs and it all just clicked. You were protecting her and she was protecting you. In that moment, he decided the rumors about the two of you didnât matter, whether they were true or not. From now on, he would form his own picture of you both by living in the present and watching you do your thing.Â
âI think itâs sweet that you found each other and stuck around for all these years. Centuries, I presume. In a way you form a Coven of twoââÂ
Your heart warmed up at Teenâs words. It was kind of cute to think of it that way. Your lips spread in a smile and so did Agathaâs, but more because she was amused by the whole thing he just said. Sure, she agreed with him- the fact that there was a bond between you two was true. An understatement, to be frank. You went through so many things together that the sole thought of parting ways for whatever reason felt now like a complete idiocy. You belonged to her like she belonged to you.Â
âTeen, Iâm sorry to cut your enthusiasm, but she and I are in a relationship. That hardly makes us a Coven.âÂ
âIt makes us a family, though,â you pointed out.Â
You caught something flickering in Agathaâs eyes, a shimmer of emotion, maybe even vulnerability. Had it been just the two of you, she might have let it linger, but with the boy in the car, she felt uneasy. So she averted her eyes, focusing on the passing landscape to her right.Â
Noticing her hand slip away from your thigh, you pouted. Stubbornly, you reached out and placed it back where it belonged and when she turned, your lips curled up once again in a mischievous grin. Agatha snorted. That sass of yoursâÂ
âThereâs no time to be namby-pamby, my love. I need you to be focused.â
You rolled your eyes, but chuckled, âFine. Wouldnât want you to lose your only chance at surviving against the Salem Seven.â
Agatha's expression twisted into an exaggerated version of your own, mimicking your tone as she repeated the words you just said. The effect was immediate and both you and Teen burst into laughter, incredulous on your part.Â
âI donât sound like that!âÂ
âYou do,â she insisted, lips twitching in a smirk.Â
âI think she did a pretty good âyouââ, Teen added, only fueling your mocking disbelief and Agathaâs enjoyment.Â
âWhatever, Iâm done with you two.âÂ
Your eyes squinted towards a peculiar building standing in the middle of nowhere to your left. You decided to try your luck there, took a rapid turn and parked right in front of the building, your instinct telling you there was a potential witch in there. The faded sign hanging above the door caught your eye, and you read it aloud: Madame Calderouâs Psychic Readings.Â
Agatha clasped her hands together, before rubbing them as if she was plotting something mischievous, âRight. Seems like we are here.â
Teenâs interest piqued once again, âYou think thereâs a real witch in there?â
Before you could respond, Agatha preceded you, âwe shall see if she knows the witchy handshake first.â
âOh my Godâ thereâs a witchy handshake?â
You let out an exasperated sigh while Agatha giggled to herself. It was so easy to play with that boy. âTeen, she is pulling your leg. Thereâs no such thing as a witchy handshake. Honestly that would be so demeaning.â
âSuch as flying brooms or pointy hats,â she agreed with you.Â
âI like flying brooms,â you retorted, as you three walked up towards the building.Â
Agatha draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a squishy, however affectionate embrace, âCourse you do,â she purred, ânext youâll be telling me you want to adopt a black cat as familiar.âÂ
âI already have a familiar, thank you very much,â you pointed out, âa nice turtle that your bunny keeps bullying shamelessly.â
Agatha gasped dramatically, but you knew it was just an act, âhe doesnât! Take it backââÂ
âHe does,â you chuckled. âAnd no, I wonât.âÂ
âUhm, we are drifting off here,â Teen interjected, with an awkward smile. He pointed at the building, making both you and Agatha shift your attention back to the reason why you were there. Gather a Coven of Witches.Â
âRight,â she took a mental note to return to the subject another time.Â
You nodded, stepping forward to open the door. Holding it wide, you gestured for Teen to go in first. He slipped inside without a word, rather excitedly actually, and as Agatha approached, she brushed past you, but not before her fingers slid into yours, her hand fitting perfectly in your grasp.Â
A small, teasing grin tugged at your lips. âI thought we didnât have time for sappy moments.âÂ
âDonât be such a brat,â she whispered into your ear, in a cheeky tone, you didnât miss. Couldnât, if you tried.Â
*
âYouâve been under the influence of another, haven't you? Someone you hurt,â the clairvoyant started, her voice solemn as she took in Agathaâs blue eyes. The smirk of confidence that had tugged at Agathaâs lips faded as soon as she realized that Lilia Calderou wasnât a fraud and knew who she was. You gave Agathaâs hand a tentative squeeze, a way to let her know you were thereâ that everything was okay. Her fingers tightened around yours in response.Â
âAnd she paid the price, too. They took your agency, but not hers,â she continued, her eyes landed on yours as you frowned uncomfortably. You never blamed Agatha for anything and you certainly wouldnât start now just because a clairvoyant said so. âI feel it, your magic. Itâs restless, volatile and quite dangerous. It should not exist.âÂ
You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, âHere we go again,â you muttered, voice laced with dry sarcasm. Agatha snorted out a low chuckle in response to Liliaâs words, âYou know nothing about her talent, so Iâd suggest you to be quiet about it.â She never cared about what other witches thought about her, but whenever it came to you, she would completely lose her mind, if someone dared to judge who you were, basing their opinion on a prejudice as old as the world.Â
âSo youâre a witch?â Teenâs question came in a hopeful tone.
âDivination witch is my guess,â you replied before Lilia could.Â
A mischievous grin tugged at Liliaâs lips. âIf you intend to overstay your visit, Iâll have to charge you again.âÂ
âOh, I think you can grant us another ten minutes of your time,â Agatha groaned, âItâs not that thereâs a line in here or something.â
In response, you saw Teen bow his head to wipe the grin off his face. You, on the other hand, made no effort to hide yours.Â
Annoyance was evident in her eyes, as she retorted, âwhatever you want from me, Iâm not interested,â Lilia stood up and without another word, she stood and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of her shop.Â
You and Agatha shared a knowing glance.Â
Teen appeared more disappointed than concerned, âNow what?âÂ
âNow we persuade her.âÂ
To preserve Agathaâs life, it was essential to gather some magic and you would have, no matter what. So you stood, eyes flashing with a newfound calm mingled with determination. Agatha noticed and smiled. She loved you for so many things and that behavior of yours, was just one of those characteristics that reminded her of why she chose to stick by your side so many years ago.Â
She gave you a nod of her head and followed you, as you took the lead. On the other side, you found yourself in what could loosely be called an apartment. A single room stretched before you. To the left stood a corner kitchen, its countertops cluttered with mismatched utensils, jars of herbs, the faint glimmer of copper pots, and a kettle she just turned on, probably to make herself some soothing tea.Â
âJoin us,â Agatha insisted, as you and Teen kept looking around. âHonestly the way you live is kind of disappointing. You deserve more and better than whatever this place isâŠâ Her gaze drifted to the far end of the room, where a mattress leaned against the wall, probably to save up space.Â
You wondered if there was a toilet hidden behind it. How low could a witch go?
The clairvoyantâs gaze flickered with hesitation, her lips pressed into a thin line as Agathaâs words sinked in. The shrill whistle of the kettle cut through the silence, drawing her attention and causing both you and Agatha to roll your eyes, when she spun around.Â
âLiliaââ, you couldnât do this all day. Â
âI donât know what you want me to say,â when she turned to face you, her eyes locked onto yours, sharp and intense. You could tell she was conflicted, exasperated even. âI wonât make the same mistake and fall into Agathaâs manipulative ways. They say you endured the Furiesâ wrath because you did and yet here you are, still standing by her side. I donât understand that.â
To say you were shocked was an understatement.Â
She had no idea what she was talking aboutâ Agatha had nothing to do with the Furies. For some odd, infuriating reason, nobody knew a thing about Rio Vidal, instead: the true cause of everything. Instead, according to the stories, it had always been you and Agatha all along, so whatever bad thing came your way, Agatha bore the brunt of the blame. You were sick of that.Â
Teen was in shock too, he didnât speak, but a part of him ached to defend both you and Agatha. Heâd read about the Furies, knew the torment you endured for years, but not for a second had he ever believed Agatha was responsible for it. It just didnât sit right with him. It couldnât be. Not when Agatha looked at you the way she did, as if you held all the stars in the sky just for her. As if you were everything she had left.
Watching you from her peripheral vision, Agatha recognized clear signs of your struggle. Your jaw clenched tightly, your hands curled into fists at your sides, and your lips pressed into a thin line, âIf you really think Agatha is somewhat responsible for what happened to me, which by the way is none of your business, maybe you lost your talentââ, your words hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere lingering in the room.Â
Lilia looked somewhat self-conscious about what she said and how they affected you, yet she didnât apologize. However, she held herself back from responding to your bitter remark about her.
Agathaâs lips stretched into a sad, tight smile the moment her fingers brushed against your forearm, and you failed to meet her eyes, âheyâ donât go there again. Itâs not worth it,â she cooed, voice firm, yet veiled with the usual fondness she only reserved to you. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment, your magic sparkling at the tips of your fingers. Lilia was right about one thing: your talent could be dangerous especially when wielded by a witch emotionally distressed or simply pissed off, like you.Â
âYouâre right,â you sighed, âLook, we are going to walk the Road. The Witchesâ Road. And we need a divination witch, but the choice is yours. You can keep living your eternal life in this kind of shack you call home or try to go back on top. Be a witch again.â
Liliaâs mouth almost dropped, then. âThe Road is a death wish.âÂ
âI survived,â Agatha waved with a grin.Â
âAnd yet youâve got no power.â
âThatâs why I need to walk the Road, again. To restock.âÂ
Lilia swallowed thickly. The offer was appealing and yet, she was uncertain. Agatha was, after all, known for having betrayed her entire Coven, at a very young age too. âHow can I trust you wonât take my power at the earliest opportunity?â
Before Agatha could say anything, you stepped forward. âShe wonât. I guarantee it for you.â Despite your growing distaste for Lilia at this moment, your principles held steadfast: no more witches would die because of Agatha. Or you. That was a promise you intended to keep. âYou seem to know very well what Agathaâs capable of, but my question is, are you just as familiar with my talent?â
Lilia almost found it amusing that youâd question her knowledge about witches of your kind. âI do. At least to some extent,â she clarified, âI know what a necromancer witch can do. And I also know youâre not a killer,â she finished on a softer note.Â
âAgatha isnât either,â you pointed out.
âWell, isnât your loyalty sweetââ
Your lover took a step ahead, stretched out a hand, and moved you behind her, the moment your magic intensified around you and her, âLook, youâre right, Iâve got a reputation, I canât help with thatââ she trailed off, gesturing animatedly while doing so. âI donât have time to persuade you into believing my intentions are genuine. Timeâs running out and if youâre not willing to tag along, then fine. Iâll still Walk the Witchesâ Road, restore my powers, and get my life back. Just remember that the path youâre currently on leads nowhere.âÂ
Her words were convincing enough, but it was the small piece of paper she was holding that truly caught Liliaâs attention. You hadnât noticed it before, nor were you sure where it had come from, but the realization struck quickly. A smirk tugged at your lips as everything suddenly fell in place.
That was an eviction notice.
âEven if I were to accept, youâd still need more witches.â
Agatha had a solution for that too. She grinned from ear to ear, âI was hoping youâd use your witchcraft to come up with a list of names. You can do that, canât you?âÂ
It was a rhetorical question, she knew she could.Â
Liliaâs lips stretched into a defiant smile, âgive me that,â she said, snatching the piece of paper from Agathaâs hands, along with a pen that lay on the table. She didnât even have to think about the names, they were already there, poised on the tip of her tongue or rather, the pen.Â
When she handed the paper back, both you and Agatha went as pale as a sheet. It couldnât be. At the top were your name and Agathaâs, followed by Lilia Calderou, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu Gulliver, and, finally, Rio Vidal.
#agatha all along#agatha harkness#rio vidal#teen#agatha harkness x reader#rio vidal x reader#lilia calderu#wlw#kathryn hahn#aubrey plaza#agatha x rio x reader
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Why Magnetoâs Storyline in X-Men: Apocalypse is The Worst (itâs not just Cherik)
Ok I just need to vent because this has been chewing away at my brain for far too long.
Cherik is far from the only reason why Erikâs family plotline in X-Men: Apocalypse is some of the stupidest, sloppiest, and most character-ruining pieces of writing Iâve ever seen. Haters may say âoh youâre just upset because he married someone who wasnât Charles.â But, like, aside from the fact that the original timeline already established that Erikâs top priority was always the fight for mutantkind and he had no interest in settling down - whether that had anything to do with his feelings for Charles or not - the problems with the Apocalypse writing go WAY beyond just him & Charles:
Erik would never abandon his cause at this point. By the end of DOFP, Erik has just been imprisoned for a full 10 years thanks to the JFK situation. Meaning he has spent a full decade being forcibly inactive in the fight for mutants. And he just learned that all of his fears about humans and mutants came to pass in the future to the level where a time-traveler had to be sent to change the past. And he was so set on averting that future that he tried to kill his friend and the sister of the man he loved, and then made a whole speech on international TV begging for the mutants of the world to fight alongside him. This is the POLAR OPPOSITE of a man who would feel like settling down and walking away from the fight within the next decade. The Sentinels being cancelled did NOT make mutant life easy overnight; Stryker was still up to no good, and there is no way that there werenât others like him doing the same. Yes, Ravenâs actions made a very positive difference, but I think we have enough brain cells to agree that this did not mean things for mutants immediately became sunshine and rainbows to the level where Erik - the most (understandably) paranoid character in the X-Men series - would even consider taking a break, let alone giving up the fight permanently. Knowing what he did about the possibilities of the future wouldâve made the Erik we know double down on his commitment to his cause and follow up on his actions in Washington.
Magda is a human. At this point, Erik hates humans. Again, he has just been imprisoned by humans for 10 years for trying to save a mutant, and he just learned that in the future, humans wouldâve wiped out mutants, exactly as he feared. Everything that happened in DOFP would only further inflame his already-passionate hatred of humans. He is not in the mental state to even begin to consider Charlesâ philosophy and give a human a chance at a relationship, let alone marry a human.
The family lives in Poland. The country where Auschwitz is. The country where Erik and his family and people was imprisoned, tortured, and executed. The country where Erik had to watch Shaw kill his mother. Basically the LAST country in the freaking WORLD that Erik would want to ever see again, let alone spend the rest of his life in. Erik is fluent in multiple languages - he is shown to easily converse in French and Spanish in First Class - and has been all over the world thanks to his Nazi hunting, so if he really needed to flee the U.S., there were a hundred other countries he couldâve gone to and blended into (Canada, France, Mexico, anywhere in South America, heck, he even couldâve discovered Genosha during this time). But in the original timeline, he didnât leave the U.S. at all despite being a national fugitive after escaping his plastic prison, and he never did get caught again, soâŠ.
Erikâs first meeting with Magda is completely OOC for him. Erik mentions that he told Magda who he was the first night they met and he trusted her then. EXCUSE ME??? Erik Lehnsherr does not trust strangers. Erik Lehnsherr does not tell the complete truth about himself and his past to just anyone; look at how deeply Charles had to probe before Erik opened up to him. This stupid line was obviously shoehorned in just to make their relationship seem like perfect soulmates and thus ensure it is doubly tragic when she gets thrown in the fridge 5 minutes later (more on that in a sec). Obviously the intention is for the audience to go âaww, he instantly trusted her, she instantly accepted him, this is true loveâŠâ Give me a break. Youâre really telling me that Magda met this stranger one night, found out he was none other than the international fugitive who apparently killed the U.S. president and just tried to kill another president on live TV, and went âoh, no problem, honey, letâs make a baby and live the cottagecore dream!â Thatâs some BS if Iâve ever heard it, and Iâm convinced the writers subconsciously knew it; thereâs a reason that is revealed in a throwaway line rather than shown onscreen, because then nobody wouldâve bought it.
Fridging. Magda and Nina exist in the movie for one reason and one reason only: To get brutally killed and give Erik even more grief and trauma so that heâll seek revenge on the entire world, aka do what the plot demands of him, aka have the same journey as he did in First Class (more on that in a sec). Thatâs all. Neither of them are any more than one-dimensional plot devices. They are not characters at all. Magda isnât even named in the actual movie (he doesnât even say her name when she dies) - itâs so obvious they didnât even know what her name would be when they made the movie. This is textbook fridging, and one of the worst examples of it of all time. Itâs all the worse considering that Erik never met Magda in the original pre-DOFP timeline, meaning Magda originally most likely lived a long happy life and died old in bed. But now, she gets fridged just because the writers didnât know what more to do with Erik. Itâs misogyny of the highest level.
Erik wouldnât risk starting a young family at this moment in his life. Erik was a Holocaust prisoner, his people were massacred, his mom was shot when he couldnât move the coin, and then Charles was shot when Erik accidentally deflected a bullet into him, and then every member of his Brotherhood save Raven were captured and killed. Not only is this more than enough grief for one character to have, but the man wouldnât dare risk having a new family of his own when everyone heâs ever loved has gotten hurt (largely because of him), and when heâs an international fugitive. That is no time to risk being selfish, and he would know. He wouldâve been the first to realize that a potential wife and daughter would also end up killed, and so heâd avoid that altogether. In fact, he wouldnât even consider it, because, as mentioned, he wouldnât leave his cause behind. You know, if he was actually in character.
A parenthood story for Erik was already set up. DOFP already hinted at Erik being a father, with Peterâs comment about his mom. So if the writers wanted to show Erik as a father, and to include Magda, they already had a solution that would seamlessly flow from the previous film - make Erik and Peterâs relationship one of the centerpieces of the story, and let Magda be Peterâs mom! (You know, like she is in the comics!)
It doesnât contribute anything new to Erikâs character development. From a screenwriting POV, this is unforgivable. May I remind you that Erikâs entire storyline in First Class revolved around grief and trauma for the loss of his family and people, especially his mom, and seeking revenge for it. Giving him a wife and daughter just so they can get killed too adds absolutely NOTHING to his character development. Itâs merely retreading everything that already happened in his arc: he loses his family and goes on a roaring rampage of revenge. Completely superfluous, right down to Charles insisting that thereâs good in him beyond the pain. The redundancy becomes apparent even in the dialogue, where Charles literally says âI told you since I first met you thereâs good in you too.â The script itself canât help but point out that all of this has happened before and literally nothing new has been added to Erikâs character arc.
See? Itâs not just because of Cherik. Erikâs story in X-Men: Apocalypse is an atrocity in basic screenwriting and character development, on every level. And I will never accept it.
(Please tell me Iâm not the only one who feels this wayâŠ)
#xmcu#x men#x men apocalypse#anti xmen apocalypse#magneto#erik lehnsherr#magda gurzsky#nina gurzsky#mutants#fox xmen#magneto xmen#x men movies#x men films#x men prequels#x men days of future past#peter maximoff#quicksilver#cherik#charles xavier#professor x#xmen meta#xmen magneto#xmen apocalypse
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"The truth - Part 1." Daryl Dixon imagine.
(Not my gif! But thanks to the amazing people who make them)
For the first time in his life, Daryl tells Carol the story of how you two met.
A/N: This got longer than I thought hehehe thatâs why Iâm dividing it in two parts. Thank you so much for all the love my last imagine received! I still canât believe it. Thatâs why I thought of combining the stories a bit, and showing you how I imagine Daryl and (Y/N) met, just because Iâm crazy and I even thought about making it a serie hahahaha but here youâll see a bit of how they broke up and in the second part, how they got back together and then later had Marley. Only on this occasion (Iâll try not to do it often) I used the pronoun she and her, but you can read it however you like. Thanks in advance!
âRick told me that Spencer invited (Y/N) to his house for dinner. Heâs been really insistent on them getting to know each other more since we got here.â
For him, it is as if Carolâs words are a sharp razor that cuts his breath away, that makes the world, his world to stop completely, leaving a great void where silence lies and reigns, without the constant grunts of the walkers on the other side of Alexandria's gates, without the singing of the birds that nest in the tree just outside the window of the home they share, without being able to hear the sound of his own breathing that seems to stop too just like the beating of his weak heart.Â
Because it was Daryl who told (Y/N) he couldnât be with her, so he wanted to believe that after that, she managed to extinguish every feeling she once had for him, as well as the light of their love that once shone and the one that was turn off when he left her, which trapped them in the shadows of a cold hurricane and an endless night, always so close but never together, running in circles far from each other without knowing where they were going, drifting like a lost ship in the ocean and in a complete darkness.
But thatâs bullshit, Daryl knows it, because she had been the only woman Daryl Dixon was capable of loving, and she is the only woman he would love for the rest of his life.
âUmâŠâ He swings the knife against his finger, sinking it in a little harder than necessary, but not able to ask more.
The night melts into his deathly silence, but, sitting beside him on the wooden step outside their house, Carol lets out a long sigh.
âWhat do you want, Daryl? Do you really want to see her with someone else?â
Darylâs chest feels hot, boiling, like the result of a high fever, like heâs been running for hours without stopping to catch a breath.
âI jus' want 'er to be happy.â
âThatâs bullshit and you know it.â Carol shakes her head, incredulous, but she has a magical way of telling the truth and still sounding sweet. âShe loves you, you, and I know sheâll only be happy with you, even if youâre the surliest man Iâve ever met.â
Daryl doesnât say anything, unable to look her in the eyes as he continues to stare at the grass, hiding behind his hair the eyes of a man who would give his life for the person he loves, but who is too cowardly to stop listening to the voices in his head that tormented him every night, that kept telling him that he would never be worthy of her love, that he would never be the man capable of being loved.
But Carol knows him, and she knows that he is beginning to drown, so, with a warm smile, she speaks again.
âHow did you meet her by the way? I donât think you ever told me that story.â
Softly, because he wasnât used to doing it often, Daryl smiles at the memory, and his ocean-blue eyes light up and fill with life, and for a moment, he is able to lift his head and look at the moon shining above them.
âWe were still pretty young. One night, Merle kicked me out of the ugly apartment we shared during one of his meetings with some drug dealers, so with nothin' to do, I went to a bar to kill some time. It was a shitty place, so I was surprised when she sat at the bar too, just a few feet away from me.â
âWhat was she like?â
âAs beautiful as she is now.â
Carol can hear the smile in his deep voice, as warm as the thought of (Y/N).
âAnd what were you like?â
âA motherfucker with nothin' to offer 'er.â Thereâs no emotion in his voice, but before Carol can give him a telling off, Daryl speaks again. âBut she looked at me like she could see somethin' in me, somethin' I didnât even know existed. She talked to me first, and asked if the bike outside was mine. I told 'er that it was, and she, with 'er eyes full of life, told me that 'er older brother used to have one just like that. I laughed a little because she shouldn't be there, she didn't belong in a place like that, and when I asked her, she chuckled, a warm sound, like she was full of colors in that shitty worldâŠâ
Daryl chuckles, and for the first time in the long night, he is able to look at Carol, only to confirm with his gaze everything he still could sense about (Y/N) at that moment. Carol can see his smile this time, slight but unmistakable.
âAnd what happened next?â
âShe told me she was runnin' away, that 'er father was goin' to marry her off to some dude of a wealthy family that would get 'em out of the debt that bastard got himself into in the first place. She was goin' to be sold, like a thing, by 'er own fuckin' father.â Carol can hear the venom in his voice, the hatred, the spite in the memory of his own father before he abandoned them. âI asked 'er if she had a place to go, and she said no. I donât know what went through ma mind when I told 'er ma couch was available, I donât know what went through 'er mind when she said okay n' thank you. That night when we got back to ma place, Merle told 'er she didnât look like some hooker he used to bring home. And (Y/N), without any fear, walked up to him and pulled out the gun she had stolen from 'er father, then pressed it against ma brotherâs chin, askin' him to repeat what he had just said. Merle loved 'er after that, and I didnât even know that asshole was capable of lovin' someone.â
Carol laughs.
âI didnât think I could love (Y/N) more, but now I kinda do.â
Daryl chuckles too.
âYeah, I kind of did too. I even thought, I have to marry this woman.â
âAnd you wanted to? Marry her, I mean.â
For a few seconds, Daryl thinks deeply about whether sharing one of his many secrets is the right thing to do, whether saying those words out loud would change the course of things, but at that moment, he considers that saying them is appropriate.
âI bought a ring a year after we got together. It took me a while to get the money, but I finally did it.â Daryl is relieved that she canât feel the heat on his cheeks, the blush of a boy who fell in love long before he knew what the hell love was.
âAnd how did you two get together in the first place?â
Daryl shrugs, smiling slightly at her like a little boy: and thankfully, heâd stopped pressing the knife against his finger.
âI donât even know myself. I guess it started a little after the dinner she made us the next day. I told 'er she could stay as long as she needed to get 'er life together, and Merle asked her to stay if she made him dinner. She was about to shoot him when he told 'er that our mom had never made us such a delicious dinnerâŠâ Daryl chuckles, just a little humorous, because the funny memory is mixed with the sad one. âWe jus'⊠at first it was purely carnal, we would have sex to release stress, we would do it and then I would leave ma room that was hers at the time, but there was always somethin' sweet about 'er, I could feel it in the way we kissed, in the way 'er body shuddered as I touched 'er soft skin, in the way she pulled me against 'er body durin'âŠâ Daryl looks back into Carolâs eyes after realizing that he was dreaming out loud, but Carol is there, smiling at him. âThere was one night, where I jokingly told 'er that I was enjoyin' this thing of makin' love every night so much that we should consider doin' it durin' the day too, and she jus' looked at me with a confused expression, but with a slight smile on those lips that I was dyin' to kiss in the mornings and at all hours, and she told me that was the first time that I didn't say we had sex.â
Carol smiles, quickly understanding what came next.
âYou were falling in love with her.â
Daryl nods softly.
âI was completely devoted to that woman from the moment I met 'er.â
âAnd you told her?â
Daryl shakes his head.
âNot with words, I ain't good with words, never was. But she knew, I think thatâs why she stayed with me all that time.â
âShe stayed with you because youâre a good man, Daryl, you always were and you always will be.â
Daryl shrugs, this time in a gesture that dismissed such an affirmation.
âI never told 'er I loved 'er, and she never asked me to tell 'er, but I could feel that she loved me in every kiss, in every hug, in every blessed smile of hers.â
âAnd how did you two split up when the end of the world began?â
âShe got a job shortly after I invited 'er to ma house. She was a vet, and even though she had little experience, 'er boss trusted 'er n' gave 'er a job. That night when people started runnin' and shootin', I went to look for 'er but she wasnât there. Her boss had been bitten n' I even thought she had been too, but somethin' in me told me that she was stronger, smarter and that she had managed to escape. When Merle and I left town, I never stopped lookin' for 'er: I knew she was alive, and I jus' had to find ma way back to 'er.â
âAnd you found her after all.â
âYes, I did, but when we got to the prison, somethin' in me kept tellin' me that I wasnât enough for 'er, that even if I took care of 'er, she deserved better. That night I told 'er that I couldnât be with 'er, not in the way she would have wanted. But the way she looked at me, as calm as she had always been⊠Iâll never forget the way she nodded and walked awayâŠâ
Unconsciously, Daryl presses the tip of the knife against his hand again, so imperceptibly that neither he nor Carol notice.
âBut you couldnât stay away from her.â
Daryl chuckles again, embarrassed with himself at the memory of Carol almost catching them in the act.
âHell no, I had missed 'er body so much. But it was like goin' back to the beginninâ. We had sex when everyone else went to sleep, but I knew it was jus' that: sex. I knew it the moment she wouldnât let me kiss 'er, the way she hid 'er face in my neck, holding onto my shoulders. So I jus' held 'er against me, huggin' her for as long as she lemme until we were done and she asked me to leave. It was like that all this time. I always have 'er close, but never close enough.â
Carol nods.
âThatâs why you stayed here, even though you never really adjusted to this life.â
Daryl frowns, going deeper into his own thoughts.
âI always spent most of ma life in the woods, runnin' away from ma father n' mother, and when they left, I did it to escape from myself. But when she came into ma life, Merle used to tease me and tell me that I had been tamed, that after every job I had, I always came home jus' because she was there. When we came to this place, I considered livin' on the outskirts like I always liked, but I⊠I canât be away from 'er.â
Carolâs expression turns into pure sadness, because she knows that Daryl is a good man, strong, loyal to his family, willing to die for one of them without a secondâs hesitation, so the insecurities he kept secret were like a knife in his heart and hers. But when she sees (Y/N) from afar coming home after her job at the infirmary, Carol knows that everything comes down to that moment, as if there was no way to escape that decision that Daryl must make, which is now or never.
(Y/N) is still a little far away, so she takes advantage of the moment.
âYou are the best man I have ever known, Daryl Dixon, and you deserve all the love you can ever get: from me, from our family, and from her.â Carol steps closer to him, hoping her words are as honest as she intends them to sound, and for a moment, they manage to draw Darylâs gaze into hers. âIâll ask you one question only. Do you love her? Do you really, truly love her?â
Daryl holds her gaze, but despite his terror, he manages to find the words heâs been dying to say to her. And when he speaks, his voice is low, husky, but self-assured.
âI do. I love 'er.â
âThen tell her, Pookie.â Carol kisses his temple, smiling at him with all the love she has for him. âI guess you still have the ring. So take her to someplace she likes, tell her the things you always wanted to tell her but were always afraid to say, and ask her to marry you.â
Daryl looks at her silently, with the expression of a scared child.
âWhat if she says no?â
âShe will say yes. I promise. But you have to do it now, Daryl, before she loses hope with you.â
Without saying another word, Carol gets up and goes into the house, leaving him alone, so Daryl can silently contemplate his life, the choices he made, and the love for her that he kept deep in his wounded, frightened heart. But there's something about Daryl that drives him to stop always keeping to himself like he always did, to stop staying on the sidelines, to stop being that man tortured by his own thoughts, to stop loving her silently from the shadows, always behind her to protect her from everything, just so that, in that moment, he would be the brave man she always saw in him.
When (Y/N) arrives at their house, she smiles at him slightly before walking past him, but stopping, just like her heart, when she hears him call her by that funny and almost ridiculous nickname, but with his voice full of love.
âPeach?â
Her hand stops on the doorknob.
âYes?â
For a small, fleeting moment, Daryl forgets how to speak, as if she were able to snatch all the words from him.
âAre ya doin' somethin' tonight?â
She frowns slightly, and although he hasnât turned to look at her, she looks at him strangely.
âI donât think so⊠going to sleep I guess, why?â
Daryl swallows the lump that forms in his throat.
âI thought that⊠maybe I could take ya somewhere, but we would have to leave before the sun comes up.â
Her heart is beating fast, an involuntary movement, because itâs been a while since theyâve been truly alone. It's a scary feeling, but deep down, she knows that everything is okay as long as they are together, even though they weren't together.
âOkay.â
Thereâs a certain playfulness in her voice, masked behind her confusion, but Daryl can sense it.
âIâll knock on yer door when itâs time to go.â
She nods.
âIâll see you in a couple of hours then.â
âG'night, peach.â
She laughs softly, but itâs the same lively sound he heard when they first met, and that, somehow, is like a good omen for him.
âYou too.â But she pauses, thinking deeply if her next words will make any change in him. She is afraid, she is so afraid of feeling close to him again, but the fear of losing him at some point is bigger than anything, but not by some walker, because he was smarter than that, but perhaps by himself, because Daryl's worst enemy was his own conscience. âDaryl?â
âYeah?â
Her heart beats differently, but she canât hold her words prisoner anymore.
âYou promised me you wouldnât do it anymore.â
He knows it without her saying it, because after so many years, she knows him well, better than anyone, and Daryl can feel his own shame blossoming inside him.
âM'sorry.â
Thereâs a deep emptiness in his words, and she canât help but feel that weight on her shoulders too. So, silently, she sits beside him for a moment, admiring the beauty of the moon that, despite that new world, hadnât changed thankfully.
(Y/N) reaches out her hand to him, the hand he hurt, and Daryl, unable to look her in the eyes, holds her hand as he feels the warmth of her body close to him, for the first time in months. Maybe she was never good with words either, but right now, all he needs from her is to have her close, as close as he would be to her if she said yes.
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cw: mentions of fishing and non-violent methods of killing fish. reader is described as smaller/shorter than law and is wearing a dress. trafalgar law x fisherman f!reader. | word count: 1k, reading time: approx. 4 min.
takes place in the shifting sands verse
Itâs a clear, cloudless morning above your island home.Â
Youâve risen before the sun, as always. Youâve made your way to the beach, as always. Youâve packed your nets and your knives yet thereâs one thing you could not have prepared to bring with you in your wildest dreams.
Trafalgar Law, the mysterious man you seem to keep bumping into no matter how hard you try to avoid him. He was walking the beach with his hands in his pockets when you arrived this morning. Briefly, you contemplated pretending you didnât see him at all but it goes against your nature to not at least be friendly so you asked him to join expecting a no.
To your surprise, he shrugged his shoulders and gave you an unexpected âwhy not?â.
Now youâve set out, two people in one small boat. The waves cause the boat to rock although itâs a gentler motion than the last few weeks have given you. Two weeks ago a monsoon blew through, a week after the lingering winds were nearly too strong to come out at all.Â
At least you have a second body to weigh your boat down in case a rogue wind does appear.
âDonât you have somewhere to be?â
You pose the question lightly, chin digging into your shoulder while you turn your head to look at him. Each time the wooden boat bobs, your body moves in like. Hips shift and feet widen to shoulder width apart on their own after years spent braving these very waters, your beloved lucky net dangling from your forearms.
The sunrise casts just enough light over him that you can make out the faintest hint of a smile. At least you think thatâs what you see before you look away, narrowing your eyes to look across the horizon.Â
âNope.â
Sunlight catches the rippling waters, making them sparkle. With a content sigh, you peek over your shoulder again to steal one more glance at him. That smile you imagined still remains. The corners of his lips are upturned just enough that the untrained eye may miss them but not you, ever astute and fixated on every move he makes.
âThen at least keep quiet and donât distract me,â you tut.Â
He rolls his eyes and shifts his position. Long legs are spread wide, feet planted firmly on the ground below him. His fingers are linked to make his hands into a singular fist that rests in the open space. You steal a glance at his forearms, bare as they are, but your bravery leaves and you donât linger for long.
âIâm not the one taking their own sweet time here.âÂ
Itâs difficult to argue against the truth. Laughing, you turn back toward the water and finally toss your net. The boat rocks stronger than the waves for a moment, slightly disrupting your stance and Lawâs hand makes its way to the small of your back. Long, tattooed fingers spread across the linen dress youâre wearing to cover up your bathing suit, sliding from your back to hip to keep you steady.
âI can handle myself.â
The reminder that instinctively leaves your lips makes him smile though you donât see it, keeping your face forward lest he make out the surprised expression on your face. This isnât the first time heâs touched you but this is the most intimate, far more so than popping and replacing stitches in the meticulously kept medical ward aboard Polar Tang.
Before you can further contemplate the weight of his fingers so close to your skin, your hips, the curving swell of your backside, your net pulls and you lean forward to reel it in. He leans with you, those long arms and tall stature coming in handy in situations like this, your back cradled by his palm while you bend over. He continues to sit with his legs spread and his feet planted just as firmly as theyâve been, watching you quickly pull the sopping wet fibers into the boat. Fish flop halfheartedly through the weave and you grin excitedly, looking behind you.
For the first time you see the position heâs in, looking up at you with that dark hair blowing around his face. The breath you were taking catches in your throat and you attempt to swallow it, knitting your brows together. The length of his arm still holds you upward, fingers digging into your dress.
âYou alright?âÂ
It feels like a loaded question but you answer it with a nod, looking away to gain some composure.
âYeah, yeah, sorry,â you mumble and mutter under your breath, bending your knees to squat. The new position finally forces him to drop his hand and lets it dangle while he rests his forearm across his knee. âThought I saw another boat in the distance.â
Itâs not a good lie and both of you know it. Law watched your body shift completely, your face change, your eyes dance across him. What your mouth wonât give away the rest of you always does and he picked up on it early.Â
Saying one thing, doing another. Always, always, always.
âThanks for keeping me steady.âÂ
Now youâre just saying one thing and meaning another. Fortunately he picks up on the thing you wonât say.
Thank you for touching me. For caring enough to do it gently, to protect me.
âWork on your sea legs and I wonât have to,â he shoots back, raising his eyebrows and groaning while he stretches out.
Laughing, you begin untangling the flopping fish from their captivity to inspect them. The smaller ones are tossed right back out amongst the shimmering seas. The larger ones are stunned using the ice pick that rattles across the floorboards each time the boat shifts while you mentally say a little prayer, thanking the sea and whatever created these gifts for giving them to you.
âDonât overestimate your importance, doctor.â
You donât look at him when you say it but he can feel the amusement. His mind can easily conjure the curve of your cheek. He shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest and his feet one over the other, extending them and letting his boots rest next to where your left foot is placed.Â
Each of your soles, his and yours, nearly touch.
#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#kendall writes#shifting sands and the fingers they fall through
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Yugo's Audience with Armand: Moving Past Previous Mistakes
If you think about it, after his sacrifice and his reconciliation with Amalia, his audience with Yugo is the scene that best highlights Armand's character development throughout the season, dare I say, the show. With it, we finally come full circle.
We were first introduced to Armand as he refused to let Joris anywhere near his father, even at the behest of the King of Bonta.
Up until that point, all we knew about him was from Amalia and Eva's retellings, where he was painted as often arguing with his sister, being an extremely difficult person to deal with, and having bad breath. And then we finally meet him and...
Everything they said about him turned out to be nothing but the truth.
But we don't really see the full extent of it until Amalia and Evangelyne pleaded their case regarding Nox to him, when he stubbornly refused to believe his sister, instead assuming her imagination had just gone wild. He didn't even rethink his assessment even when Eva backed Amalia up, which would have still been harsh of him to doâto believe his sister's bodyguard over her just because he has a crush on herâ, but it still would have made sense, as Eva is very level-headed and she never would have even entertained the thought of allowing Amalia to joke over something so serious.
That already established Armand as an arrogant and self-righteous prince who believes he is in the right just because of his position as heir apparent and older brother.
We must also keep in mind he actually had ample reason to believe Amalia about Nox's plans. While it's hard to tell the extent of his actions and the repercussions they had on the World of Twelve and his victims before the beginning of the show, the fact remains that Nox had been at large for 200 years. In that time, he probably ravaged countless villages and killed powerful creatures in order to drain their Wakfu. Surely, word must have at least got out about some mad Xelor going around and killing people!
In other words, it wasn't necessarily like Armand didn't have proof that Amalia was telling the truth. At the very least, he must have heard some rumours. And yet, that wasn't enough for him to believe his sister and act accordingly.
Not to mention, Amalia had ran away yet came back to warn her people of the upcoming threat. Yet Armand still thought she was making stuff up. Who in their right mind would leave their home only to come back to put everyone on edge over a lie?
One thing is acting spoiled from time to time, and another very different thing is acting sociopathic!
Now, let's compare this to his audience with Yugo when he sought his permission to investigate Sadida ground.
During the time between season 2 and the OVAs, Armand seemed to have developed a deep-seated mistrust of the Eliatropes, most likely caused by Qilby's deceit, and it was only exacerbated when the Eliatrope Goddess introduced herself and made her intentions of controlling the World of Twelve in order to make it safe for her children clear.
It's also worth pointing out that not even Yugo was safe from his scorn, despite being a staunch ally to the Sheran Sharms, and saving his kingdom and the world in several occasions. This I attribute both to the fact that Amalia's feelings for him got in the way of marrying her off (thankfully, he seemed to move on from that mindset in season 4, though he still didn't necessarily approve of Yugo), and the fact that King Oakheart was always so welcoming and trusting of him. Knowing Armand, it really wouldn't be far-fetched to believe he was jealous of Yugo's own relationship with his father.
And yet, when the time came for Yugo to request his help and ask him to place his trust on him, Armand agreed.
This is especially telling of his character development because, unlike in Amalia's case, Armand did have ample reason to distrust the Eliatropes.
It's true, except for Qilby and arguably their goddess, the Eliatropes are a peaceful race, but the Twelvians' experiences with the former two at least justify their unease around them.
Both of them display an alarming lack of empathy towards anyone but themselves or their people. After all, Qilby is responsible for the genocide of the Eliatropes, and all because he was bored and searched stimulation elsewhere because of his divine gift. But at the same time, while he couldn't care less for the World of Twelve and planned to have Rushu and his subjects destroy it right before draining it dry of all Wakfu just to fuel the Zenit, he was equally adamant to have his family and the Eliatrope children with him as he travelled the Krosmoz.
The Eliatrope Goddess, on the other hand, might not have been as outwardly callous as her son, nor capable of even going through with her threats and putting the world leaders in their place, but she is equally uncaring towards anyone who isn't one of her children.
In fact, that was the very reason why she made an enemy out of the Twelvian leaders and they came to resent her presence. Because she chose to override their authority and keep them all under her watch (which, until she revealed herself, had the Twelvians terrorised). But the last nail on the coffin was when she revealed that all that, the Eliaculus, sending the Eliatrope guard to help whenever there was trouble, everything, was solely to ensure her children's safety.
Like mother, like son. Am I right?
Even without saying anything, she made it clear that she cared not for the Twelvians and that the Eliatropes were her priority. And that's without getting into her manic insistence they left the World of Twelve to rot the moment the NĂ©cromes arrived.
Now, there's no denying that most leaders with any significant focus have been revealed to be jerks one way or another (looking at you, Queen Astra, Prince of Brakmar, and the entire Osamodas royal family), but they do have a right to be worried when Eliatrope didn't even bother to hide how, in her eyes, they're second class citizens compared to her own followers.
These first impressions really didn't give much reason for Armand to believe Yugo and to listen to his pleas. However, the most damning evidence of all had to be the fact that the NĂ©cromes appeared with the arrival of the Eliatropes. Between the suspicious timing and the fact that the portal-making race had dealt with traitors before, it sounded very unlikely that both things wouldn't be connected.
And Armand knew this. He was perfectly aware of how suspicious everything was, and he didn't hesitate to let Yugo know. However, he also admitted, several times, in fact, that Yugo had been an ally to the Sadida Kingdom since the beginning. That if both his father and his sister never hesitated to put as much faith and trust in him as they did, then it would only be wise he chose to trust Yugo as well.
A clear contrast to how he refused to listen to Amalia, his own sister, back in season 1, and all because he believed to be always in the right.
Season 4 was Armand's chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the audience, to go from an arrogant, jealous prince to a mature and wise king and brother. And while there are things I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for, I do appreciate the character development he went through. As I said at the beginning of the analysis, this scene proves he's come full circle.
#wakfu#wakfu season 1#wakfu season 2#wakfu ova#wakfu season 3#wakfu season 4#wakfu spoilers#wakfu analysis#armand sheran sharm#yugo the eliatrope#amalia sheran sharm#yumalia#wakfu evangelyne#master joris#joris jurgen#qilby#eliatrope goddess#sadida#eliatrope#nécrome#necro#king oakheart sheran sharm#ankama#dofus#krosmoz#nox
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At first everything had started slowly, a disappearance one night, another person who had gone missing the following week, people who mysteriously disappeared from their homesâŠ. Although for a small town like Darkween any small event was news, they did not give it special importance, taking it as people who had left town without warning, or people who had simply gotten lost in the forest. What they did not know was that not giving importance to these events was what led this population to its doom.
What once seemed like isolated events, soon began to become a regular occurrence, and every night more and more people disappeared without explanation, and soon people began to go out less and less, especially at night. However this did them no good, as whatever was causing these disappearances, it had no problem acting both on the street and inside homes. People were baffled, not understanding anything that was going on, but they soon found the explanation for these mysterious disappearances, and wished they had never discovered this truth.
One night, one of Darkween's neighbors heard a muffled scream coming from the street, and driven by his curiosity, he went out into the street to find out what was going on, but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. Running out to where he had heard the scream, this neighbor found a huge man with a very broad back who seemed to have in his arms wrapped in his embrace another man, who he could distinguish was one of the security guards in the area, who was patrolling at night. However, he recognized him only by his uniform, as his face was beyond recognition, as he looked like an old man caressing death, when the last time he saw him he was a man in the prime of his youth, intimidating with a single glance or a single flex of his tight muscles. There was nothing left to remind him of the man, and little by little the remaining bit of life and energy was disappearing as loud sucking and muscles expanding sounds could be heard as the man on his back clung to the guard's neck with great pleasure, as if he were enjoying the most delicious of feasts, until there was nothing left between his arms but the guard's uniform. Suddenly, after finishing with his victim, this creature turned around, looking directly at the neighbor he had been watching all this time, while licking his sharp fangs, wishing to sink them into the neck of his next victim right in front of him to feast and feed on his muscle mass, his energy and his vital essence.
And so it all began, soon all the neighbors of Darkween discovered the truth about the disappearances, since the vampire, having fed on dozens of victims, stopped hiding and worrying about being seen, because after having sucked the delicious juice of the life essence of so many humans, he knew perfectly well that they could no longer do anything against him. Many people tried to flee from this city, others tried to fight against the vampire by trying to drive stakes into him, and others took refuge in prayer thinking that this would save them. However, they all ended up the same way, since the vampire always anticipated the movements of the neighbors, attacking before they could flee the city, and when some illusive human tried to attack him, he took it as if the food was delivered straight to him, thus avoiding having to go hunting.
However, there was a group of humans who saw that the only way to survive was to serve the vampire, seeing him as a superior being who had to be obeyed. This group of people lost all scruples, and without thinking twice, sacrificed all those who did not share their beliefs to their new dark lord. In this way, little by little the population of this town began to shrink, while the sacrifices necessary to keep the vampire satisfied grew and grew, just as he grew bigger and bigger, more muscular, more powerful and hungrier every day. This town soon advertised itself as a tourist destination, as the locals realized that the only option for survival was to be able to offer outsiders as sacrifices. So, little by little, these servants of the vampire who had already lost all trace of humanity were sacrificing more and more people, enjoying watching their master sink his sharp fangs into his prey, draining their preys faster and faster as he became more and more powerful. With each prey the vampire grew from looking like a normal human to an eight-foot giant with superhuman musculature. Darkween's neighbors had created a monster, who with each victim they slaughtered became more and more unstoppable, and who soon would begin to spread his reign of terror throughout the continent and then spread it throughout the world, turning everyone into his servants and snacks, to make him a pure god of darkness.
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Some context for people not familiar with Aotearoa New Zealand history:
The Moriori people are the indigenous people of RÄkohu and the surrounding islands, also known by the colonial name "the Chatham Islands", in the temperate South Pacific, now governed as part of the state of New Zealand. They are Polynesian and share close ancestral ties with the MÄori people of Aotearoa.
As RÄkohu has a colder climate than most Polynesian islands, Polynesian crop plants brought from the tropics did not survive there, and Moriori developed an economy much more dependent on hunting and foraging than most other Pacific Island peoples, with an accompanying flattening of their social hierarchy.
An early Moriori leader, Nunuku-whenua, instituted an absolute prohibition on the taking of any human life even in self-defence or the pursuit of justice, known as Nunuku's Law; this contrasts with MÄori traditional culture where warriors were held in high esteem.
In 1835 a group of a few hundred MÄori displaced by wars on the mainland commandeered a British ship and invaded RÄkohu, where they proceeded to kill a large number of the Moriori population, who in accordance with Nunuku's Law did not resist.
When European colonizers came to RÄkohu their understanding of anthropology was under the chokehold of race "science", and since the Moriori had a simpler social structure and less technology-dependent economy than MÄori they deemed them to be a "lesser race".
However, archaeologists working on the mainland found strong similarities between the material culture of RÄkohu and those of the earliest people of Aotearoa. Since their anthropology told them these were two separate races, they concluded that the Moriori "race" had been the first people of Aotearoa and that the MÄori "race" had arrived later and wiped them out.
This idea did not fit the evidence and was soon discredited in academic circles. But after it had been discredited it was disseminated to primary school children across the country in the New Zealand School Journal (a children's educational magazine). For much of the twentieth century it was accepted by the general public as established fact.
To this day whenever MÄori pursue their rights under the law according to te Tiriti o Waitangi, you get white voices complaining "What about the Morioris?" They don't mean the real Moriori people of RÄkohu; they mean the imaginary Moriori of the pre-MÄori New Zealand past that they were lied to about.
(Even if there had ever been any truth to the lies, MÄori sovereignty in te Tiriti was never predicated on MÄori having been the first people here, nor on MÄori being perfect noble savages who never did anything wrong, both of which misconceptions are also prominent in these people's minds.)
#also the word âindigenousâ gets erased from the âmÄori peopleâ wikipedia page roughly once a week#mÄori#moriori#aotearoa history#rÄkohu#race âscienceâ#racism#popular racism
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Wild Life Mechanics
Hey guys, I was thinking about the Mechanics of Wild Life and the theory that the previous winners create the next game. The first thing I want to say is that while Cleo is a winner and we should respect the queen, it's clear that Wild Life wasn't created by her. While she is chaotic and loves to burn things, Wild Life is not a game she would make. She's pretty level-headed and only burns people's bases if they make her mad. She would not choose the next game to have random effects each session. Scar, on the other hand, is completely crazy and would have the games be so chaotic. Sure, Grian and the other Watchers are the ones who decide the game and how it functions, its clear that the winner has some input on how the game is created. Scar even mentioned in his first episode that he and others suggested ideas to implement into the game. He just wasn't sure if Grian put those ideas into use. It's just funny that the mechanics that Grian decided to use directly relate to Scar and the struggles he goes through. And I will be analyzing each Wild Card that we know of for now. (This will be outdated tomorrow since a new episode will come out. But I don't want the idea to disappear from my head, so I'm writing this now.)
The first session had the Shrink and Grow Wildcard and it relates to Scar's sensation of scale. While Scar is 6 ft tall and has known the feeling of being tall, for most of his time, he's in a wheelchair at around 4 ft tall and thus, he is also small. We saw that immediately with small Scar during Real life. Scar is both a tall man, and also small, just like session one's Wildcard where you can be both big or small. And for most of Scar's session, he tries to be in the middle. Just be his regular, Minecraft self, since he doesn't want to be reminded of relatity.
The second session was about having your food randomized and having to eat things like dirt and rocks. This relates to the fact that... well... Scar can't eat like a normal person anymore. Scar can only 'eat' through a tube and has to constantly make sure the food is mush. He also fantasizes about eating people. c!Scar is a cannibal and so when the watchers changed what he and the other lifers could eat, his brain couldn't handle that truth and just assumed they just couldn't eat. It was only thanks to Grian that he and his team managed to survive.
The third session was the snail and it was pretty simple what was happening. Scar had been tormented by the Snails in Hermitcraft and now they transferred over to the life series. The watchers made them into one-shotters because it would hurt Scar more since he's already not great at staying alive.
The fourth Session relates to the fact that Scar is pretty slow when making videos because of his illness. Scar starts off slow, but once he gets going, it's hard for him to stop. He mentioned tons of times that he tends to forget how long he should be on the computer and thus ends up being on a project for hours. Usually ending some episodes while it's like 1 in the morning for him.
And finally, session 5's gimmick was the Quizmaster, which relates to the fact that Scar is constantly reminiscing on the past. Mostly third life, double life, limited life, and secret life. Scar has been haunting people's posts and remembering the past. He got a good chunk of questions right. It was only the Last Life questions he didn't know completely since he was so sick during Last Life that he had to miss a session because of his real-world illness. Like he knew the horn Jimmy used in Double Life, but he couldn't remember the name because he's bad at remembering names.
Now, none of these gimmicks were meant to relate to Scar. After all, Grian created all the gimmicks. Its just funny how all of these gimmicks able to be connected to Scar. Grian truly is Scar's soulmate. Also, the fact that yellow and red names can kill dark green lives to get health back and has been compared to cannibalism is funny because I can connect this to Scar since c!Scar is a cannibal. He would totally implement the idea of adding some kind of cannibalism into the games. It is my headcannon that Scar was the one who had the random lives and life trade mechanic in Last Life while Grian put in the Boogeyman mechanic since Grian AND Scar both won Third Life. It's just a shame most people, including Scar, don't remember that Third Life was a double victory. So yeah. Scar is the only winner who won two games. Scott doesn't count because he didn't win Double life. He gave up the game to Pearl and she is the sole winner of Double life while Scott got second. Just wanted put idea up.
#winner's theory#goodtimeswithscar#wild life smp#wild life#grian#life series#gtwscar#gtws#desert duo
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BOWERS GANG HC
Summary You date the Bowers gang, but now they love for you is being shown to anyone who wants to get a sense of how the relationship with them works. What the cameras didn't film and what Stephen King didn't write.
Warning It was not revised, in each situation their tragic end was avoided (like going to Henry's house and being killed), english is not my first language.
Henry Bowers
You and Henry met at school. He wasn't used to being nice to people, but you were sent by the principal to help Henry with his studies. At first, it was really hard. He was rude, hated you, and embarrassed you in front of others. Until his hate turned to love, you didn't give up on him and you didn't hate him. Your sweet eyes made him see the light in the darkness, and he was confident that you could become his.
And it wasn't very difficult, because he protected you and took care of you, he invited you to go out with him and the boys and you became part of him, which made you open your heart. And with that came the rumors; "she's fucking them all!" "gang bitch!" "doesn't she have any shame?", but the truth was that you didn't care anymore and that improved for Henry too, he loved you enough to be nice to people when you asked him to.
Henry shut up everyone who was spreading rumors about you and made sure things between you were careful, he saw you as a sweet deer and didn't want to dirty your soul even though everyone already thought you were filthy.
But he hadn't even changed 50%, not at all! He took out the fights you had on your friends and sometimes his hatred was so great that he would even beat up poor street children, and that scared you. He felt absurdly jealous of everything and everyone, of his father who would praise you when he saw you "she's a good girl, keep her." of your friends when they tried to talk to you "why did Marsh the bitch called you?" and of his friends "is she going with us?". He couldn't hide it anymore and felt like he had to keep her away from everyone.
But of course she would use her persuasive skills to her advantage. âYou canât isolate me from the world!â âIâll kill myself if you do thatâ were enough for Henry to change his plans, and it worked. That afternoon Henry was coming home, he had gone out with the guys and was walking down the streets, heading towards the farm. Henry had gotten off two blocks before your house and you saw him passing by as you were sitting on the porch eating ice cream, he had bloody bruises on his face and his clothes were dirty.
âwho did it to you?â - she shouted from her porch
He made a few turns toward her, he climbed the small stairs to the porch and she stood, opening the door and leading him into the living room. They sat together and she touched his hand as they both remained silent. Henry would talk if he wanted to.
Henry wasn't the kind of person who usually talked about his feelings, but that day he even cried. Jealousy, anguish and fear surrounded him and he would be beaten again when he got home. But you said it only once and clearly and directly. Henry didn't like to talk much, especially when something hurt him, he would tell you with his eyes and sometimes with his touches.
âif you hurt them again i wonât be your girlfriend anymore.â
She then broke the silence, while he still looked down but at that moment something touched his heart and he laid his head on her chest, and she automatically held him.
His eyes moved away from the floor and went to your face, with confusion reflected in his blue irises. That day he promised not to fight without reason and not to be humiliated by children. You gave him a sweet and passionate kiss, which he obviously reciprocated and the simplicity of his love made you love him more and more.
Deep down you were the only proof of kindness that existed in his world.
Patrick Hockstetter
With Patrick Hockstetter, things are different. You were neighbors and became close when you were 8 years old when your mother started babysitting Patrick when his parents were at church. He hated going to church because he had to left the comfort of his home.
Patrick started hanging out with the Bowers gang which at the time was made up of Henry, Victor, Belch, Peter, Jard and Moose, but Henry didn't really like Moose and so he was quickly kicked out of the gang, until Jard moved out of town and Peter left the gang because he loved Marcia.
He started to feel desire for you when you guys still kids, well, you were messy and strange children and sooner or later it would end up happening, a little kiss. Patrick then grew in love with you but of course he would never admit it. He often went on âdatesâ with other girls and to be blunt he also took them to bed very easily. Sometimes you asked him to read some books, which he never did. He didn't have time for that bullshit, he skipped classes to be with the gang and spent the rest of the day with them, the little time he had he spent with the girls he wanted.
Patrick never actually admitted to liking you because he wasn't sure if it was reciprocal, he also never let Henry invite you to a ride around Derry with the gang because he knew what Henry's intentions were. Patrick felt obligated to take care of you and was preparing to tell you the truth "Im into youâ he hoped to say it quickly and matter-of-factly, if you said "Im into you too" he would kiss you but if denied him he would say "do you think I was serious? dumbass"
That midday you went to the barrens, it was disgusting but you liked it there because it was quiet and you could read your books without worrying. But before you completed your arrival you saw Patrick standing looking around, "Is he looking for someone?"
âI'm not in that direction, sillyâ - you softly shouted and he turned back glancing at you and smirking
Now he had given up on what he had to do and sat down next to you on a rock not too close to the water but not too far either. You were wearing a white dress and brown boots that matched his and until that moment he had remained quiet. He was gathering his courage and suddenly moved, sitting next to her.
âi think im into you, dollâ - it didn't go as planned, he sounded passionate and his intention was to sound cocky.
But you didn't answer, for the first time you didn't answer him. You sat next to each other and you laid your head on his arm, opening your book to the marked page. He was almost blushing, totally regretful even though your presence had done him well he was waiting for your answer.
âno amount of fire could challenge the fairytale he had stored up in his heart.â - she smiled and glared him when she finished - âGatsby.â
âdoubt tho that the stars are fire doubt thou that sun doth move doubt truth to be a liar: but never doubt i love.â - he looked down at the ground, kicking a few pebbles as his boots and hers brushed against each other - âHamlet.â
she chuckles - âyou read it...â - he didn't look at her but he could feel her sweet smile on him as she touched his hand and they both intertwined their fingers
âI read every single book you asked forâŠâ - he then plucked up the courage to look at her and in a few seconds they kissed, it was a lascivious kiss but so genuine that they couldnât help
Victor Criss
You and Victor met in seventh grade, he had been hanging out with Bowers ever since and you had math class together. You treated each other like arch enemies, you were smart but he was smarter than you, you got A's and he got A+'s, you applied to be the student council leader and he was the one who won just for being who he was and he gave up the position because he didn't really want anything to do with it.
But both of you were chosen by the math teacher to present the math competition, which you didn't like because you wanted to have participated in the competition but he loved it because he hated being seen as the nerdy bully. That day, something sparkled in his eyes and you noticed it, the way he looked at you while you performed and the way he loved every second of that time with you, you laughing at his jokes and covering for him when he got nervous and couldn't finish his sentence. Was it passion?
After that day, you started sitting closer together in class and you did all the pair work together. For the first time, the gang didn't make fun of him for being into a girl, they supported him.
Victor is an only child and his parents love him very much. He used to be a rebellious son and sometimes a little ungrateful, but after you appeared in his life and he introduced you to his parents, everything changed. You matched clothes, smoked together, studied together and had simple but full dates of conversations, smiles, stares, kisses and touches. He loves you more than anything and you know it, he doesn't usually kiss you in front of other people but whenever he does you get goosebumps, in a good way of course.
You were feeling lonely that morning and decided to go to Victor's house. You walked a few blocks since he didn't live that far away. When you got to his house, you rang the bell. "Damn, I'm going!" in an angry shout. He hated it when people didn't have patience. He opened the door and declared you with a smile, you had a bag in your hand with some cigarettes and board games. He blushed when he saw you and apologized for shouting.
âare you going somewhere?â - you entered in the house, closing the door and sitting on the sofa and you asked when saw him wearing his black boots, which he usually only did when he was going out.
âi was going to Henry's houseâ - he was untying his laces and throwing his boots into a corner of the room - âbut be here with you is betterâ
They went upstairs and as they passed through the hallway and entered his room she threw her bag on the table. They threw themselves on the bed and she took off her shoes before getting under the covers and they lay there for a few minutes caressing each other until the phone rang.
He stood up and walked to the hallway to answer the phone. You didn't hear him very well but you ignored him and just focused on observing every detail of Victor's room. The green wall, the posters, the messy study table, the closet with the door open and shoes that prevented it from closing, the TV with the video game controls on top and the books on the nightstand. He then came back, sitting on the bed and looking at you.
It was Henry, he was angry because I didn't go to his house - he lay down again, squeezing himself between her arms - he doesn't understand...
With Victor everything was calmer and after a few minutes of him smelling your neck, leaning on your shoulder and you stroking his hair, you fell asleep. There was no talking for hours and arguing or much less wasting words, you dozed deeply without thinking about what awaited Belch for having agreed to go to Henry's house.
Reginald Huggins
Oh, but Belch are so sweet. He loves you more than anything and it all started at Greta Bowie's party. He had gone with the gang but was on the couch, bored, talking to Victor while Patrick and Henry bothered some girls. You and Belch had already had an interaction, it was when you were walking down the street coming back from the bakery and saw Belch standing leaning against the famous blue 1977 Pontiac in front of the supermarket, probably waiting for the gang to return.
You introduced yourself to him and started chattering, which he hated at first. âI wish I had a car but my parents donât have enough money.â âI like Chevrolets.â He wanted to roll his eyes and leave you talking to yourself, but for a minute he decided to be nice and it was the best choice of his life.
At the party you sat next to him on the couch, smiling at him and he automatically smiled back without paying any more attention to what Victor was saying.
âi think gossiping is her only talent, because this party sucks!â - you shouted loud enough for him to hear since the music was drowning out everyone's voices
That was your biggest step, you and he started dating for good and that would lead to a future marriage. He loves every bit of you and your personality and would give you the world if you asked. You shared many things in common, including extracurricular classes, which made your love only grow stronger with every second you both spent together.
You had never gotten along with boys before Belch and meeting him completely changed the course of your life. Belch is an only child and lives with his mother and his mother raised him very well. Despite being one of Derry's typical bullies and rough with other girls, he treated you like a princess. His mother and you were the only women he treated well and the only who called him "Reggie" and he loved every letter when you called him that.
His friends always made a mess of his car and he never really cared about it, âOkay, they made a mess, Iâll clean it when I have timeâ but with you everything changed. Before he invited you for the first ride on the road he cleaned the entire car, inside and out. And then he did this every day until his friends stopped making a mess, he keeps pictures of the two of you in the glove compartment.
Belch could have gone to Henry's house like Henry asked, to shoot some bottles but Belch said no for the first time. Now you're in the blue Trans Am, although his friends had a higher priority when it came to rides, when you were there the car was entirely yours. He let you drive and was careful behind the wheel when you were in the passenger seat, but that didn't last long. Belch likes to speed up, and make you scream and your hair swing aimlessly out the window.
And that was what was happening now. There were no words for that moment, you were feeling the breeze of the wind on your face while the sun said goodbye to the humans causing a beautiful painting in the sky and a unique light on the earth. The bushes around the road screamed the peace that you both loved to feel when you were together.
âid ride to the moon in this car with you, honeyâ - she tried to get her hair out of her face as the wind blew harder and harder, which failed and made her burst out laughing
âI'll take you to every single place you want to goâ - he says a little loudly as the breeze and road noises almost made them sound inaudible
#bowers gang#henry bowers#victor criss#patrick hockstetter#belch huggins#reginald huggins#it chapter one#80s#vintage#retro#it 2017#pennywise#x reader#headcanons#fanfic#femreader
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Ok so I'm watching Supernatural right now, right, and I'm also a long time fan of Shadowhunters (as in, I watched it when it first came out, big fan). So I know how the dynamics work in the show quite well.
It also means I find crossover potential between the shows because, let's be honest, they'll go really well together. Two aspects of how the world deals with the supernatural, hunters being unaware of Shadowhunters because they can't even see them. Amazing, 10/10 crossover potential.
Now, what I don't understand is why people take Sam & Dean from the future (AKA later seasons) in their fics and have them work together with the Shadowhunters when there is so much rivalry potential between them.
Take Clary's ability to talk to angels, for example. If the two series were in the same universe, I can assure you that the angels will jump on the opportunity to communicate with her (or just talk to any of the Shadowhunters in general, since angels can do that in Supernatural as long as they have a vessel), tell her lies and/or half truths about the Winchesters
[like how they are demonic in ways warlocks aren't, how they turned at least two angels, one of which is an Archangel, mind you, against heaven and "made" the first one kill other angels for them. They even killed a couple of Archangels. Hell, depending on the timeline, they could even tell them that the Winchesters killed God, they can tell them how ungrateful they are, that they were God's chosen, that he gave them whatever they wanted, powers, immortality (he kept bringing them back to life), their loved ones back, etc and they still killed him]
They could manipulate the Shadowhunters to be on the lookout for the Winchesters just like they did with those church messengers.
What I'm trying to say is, that so many people have them getting along in their fics yet I can't find a single one where people actually explore the dynamics of distrust and even fear (those people killed GOD, everyone who knew would be scared of them) that could happen had the angels actually been involved and the two were actually set in the same universe and with their respective plots progressing at the same time (or at least the same years the shows themselves are set in, just make them match and/or make them interact during each of their respective seasons that occur at the same year/time frame).
It could honestly show such a new, raw and authentic turn of events that could make the fic feel just that much more real.
I love all types of crossover fics, I really do, I'm just really disappointed that there aren't any fics with this dynamic available and instead majority of them are all either Destiel or dimensional travel. It's just a bummer, honestly.
#supernatural x Shadowhunters#Shadowhunters x supernatural#the brothers winchester#winchester brothers#the winchester brothers#sam winchester#dean winchester#castiel supernatural#castiel#gabriel supernatural#the trickster#trickster#supernatural#spn#clary fray#clary fairchild#shadowhunters#the shadowhunter chronicles#the shadowhunters chronicles#supernatural crossover#spn crossover#Shadowhunters crossover#crossover#text post#I'm actually working on a fic like this#just because I can't find anything like it#but I really do want to read it#destiel#dean x castiel#castiel x dean
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Headcanons/Dynamic stuff for rook and contentment:
Little bit of background on my Rook for context/those interested: My rook doesnt have a name other than "rook." He's veshothi, raised by two Tal-Vashoth in a mercenary company/commune that still used role-names, so his name before he came "Rook" was "Tamassran"; he was trained to be, and briefly was priest of an altered, Tal-Vashoth bastardization of the qun (affectionate) as well as the teacher of the groups children (so, yeah. Tamassran.) He's a mage, so healing rolled into that. When his gender (neither a man nor a woman) came to light, his parents demanded he either change roles or stay a woman. He ran off with a recent-to-the-company laborer Tal-Vashoth named Athlok, settling in the Anderfels not far off from Lavendal, though the village is gone by the time canon rolls around. Athlok and he have a kid named Sataia, he works as the village healer and tutors the local rural children (though it takes a bit to earn trust in a mostly human and elven settlement). The local mine gets overrun with darkspawn. Athlok dies. Rook is blighted. Recruited by the wardens. (Sataia is okay!) You get the picture.
â Rook was possessed by Contentment in a similar fashion to how Lucanis was by spite, only much late (post First Talon Lucanis). Ie: captured by the venatori, who thought doing to Lucanis' lover what was done to him (very likely to fail and kill him) would be perfect poetic revenge for Zara's death. Obviously this doesn't go well for them.
â Rook and Contentment don't start on good terms, to put it lightly. Rook is, frankly, petrified of contentment as an emotion and as a spirit (he can't afford to let down his guard, to get comfortable. He certainly can't afford to rest). It doesn't help that Contentment introduces itself by impersonating his dead husband.
â Rook was already on very good terms with Spite. He's spent the whole game trying to get Lucanis and Spite to see eye to eye. By the point contentment comes into play, Lucanis and Rook are an Item with a capital I (mechanically, they were locked in), and Rook was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of making this into Thedas' second Polycule-That-Includes-A-Possession (DA2 Anders and Justice I love you)
â Contentment is a LOT older than spite, though not necessarily more powerful, and generally treats mortals as playthings or meal tickets, usually both. They're a bit of a busy body, possessive, and generally unconcerned with anything that isn't making the object of their fascination as relaxed and/or blissed out as possible. They can come off as lazy and selfish given these are traits they like to try and encourage in their mortals, but that's not exactly the truth of the situation. They covet beauty, kindness, and acts of devotion.
â Contentment (pronouns are they/it) is already head over heels for Rook. They like puzzles, and a challenge, and Rook is so wound tight that getting him Unwound is both.
â Contentment is mildly curious about Lucanis. Right now it enjoys Lucanis' company because Lucanis makes Rook content, which makes him Useful. Right now they see him as a mortal worth "keeping"; they're very invested in Lucanis treating Rook right, which they don't really have to worry about (Rook, however, is VERY worried about the pressure contentment is putting on Lucanis, and is having none of this).
â Contentment and Spite HATE each other.
âSpite finds Contentment arrogant, lazy, and selfish. Not only is Rook THEIRS, but Rook is far from happy with the current situation, and given Rook is one of very few people that really enjoys Spite's company, that's a big problem. It doesn't help that Spite is also pretty possessive, and that Contentment is far from nice to him.
â Contentment thinks Spite is immature, brash, and hates that he keeps calling them out when they try to manipulate the current situation in their favor. They're only doing what spirits of contentment DO; besides, all of this is in Rook's best interest (Rook very much begs to differ!).
â Spite keeps calling Contentment Desire, (with some pretty colorful adjectives attatched) which pisses them off to no end.
â Lucanis, by this point, is juuust starting to see eye to eye with Spite. They still aggravate each other, they'll probably never stop bickering, but he's softened on him a bit. Begrudgingly. Contentment is one of the things they really don't agree on, but warming up to Spite has left him a little more open minded about the whole thing.
â While Lucanis is wary of it, worried they'll take things to far, he could think of worse things than a demon trying to make sure his lover with a savior complex and "I'll rest when I'm dead" attitude remembers to eat, sleep, and relax once and a while. He's keeping a close eye to make sure Contentment never gets out of handâjust as Rook has been keeping an eye on Spite in the event Lucanis has gotten thrown into the back seat, so to speakâbut he's not hostile. He's not unlikely to develop a crush, but right now Rook is too freaked outâand Contentment too unconcerned with thatâ for that to be paleatable to him.
â Eventually this is going to settle into a really weird polycule. I don't make the rules.
â Everyone else on the team is mildly horrified and also eventually amused. Lucanis and Rook initially try to sleep almost in shifts (and it isn't like Rook wasn't already doing that for Lucanis before this when he could) but sometimes they nod off at the same time and suddenly everyone else is dealing with Contentment and Spite having the arguement of the century
â The possession and the unusual way it came about has the unintended effect of Lucanis and Rook being able to see each other's demons when they want to be seen, as well as hear them and feel their touch. This has interesting results. Namely Spite and Contentment bickering in the background until Rook and Lucanis both tell them to shut up. Outloud. In front of everyone else. Who can't see or hear them.
â Spite is taking FULL advantage of being able talk to Rook and he is being insufferable out it.
â Contentment keeps getting into Lucanis' personal space in ways that are generally annoying. Also making a lot of wildly innappropriate comments.
@ab121500
#veilguard spoilers#lucanis x rook x spite#lucanis dellamorte#dragon age rook#abomination rook#desire demon#lucanis x rook#warden rook#non binary rook#headcanons
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The concept of a Fool
(this is basically a fanfiction so I have fun with writing it. I didn't really have a full plan when I started to write this but it's about Sampo so I wrote a lot anyways)
Going through this world I realized one thing and that is, that no matter what, who I am is of no importance to the story. What is important is to know what you want, regardless if you know the ending of the story or not. If you know what you want you can steer the story into that direction. You don't need to be the protagonist, if anything it's better if you're not. You can ask yourself questions of my origin and please tell me those questions. I will answer them. Because everyone knows, someone who says they are a bad liar can spin the most magnificent of tales. What planet did you come from? Do you have a family? Any siblings? Did they die? Did you kill them? Are you human or a worm? A corpse or a puppet? I came from a pebble. My father was a needle, my mother was a leaf and my sister was a tax machine. The leaf was crushed by the tax machine and the needle broke after avenging the leaf and I was the one who smashed the tax machine. I neither leave footprints nor grooves in mud. I can take your money and I can dig a hole. So if someone gave me a mouth and taught me how to speak, tell me what would be the difference? I can walk, I can dance, I breathe and blink but if you take my hand you yourself would freeze.
When I was younger I listened to storytellers, well that wasn't their job but regardless they were good at telling them. Wonderful little tales based on what those people themself went through. To be honest whenever I listened to them I never believed a word they said. However then I realized it was never about if they happened like this or not. Because truly who cares? What does it change if the people lied or not, if those stories truly happened the way they described? I knew that with all those workers, I would take their name, listen to their tales and then they would leave and I would never see them again. So after that realization, I remembered their tales and I started to build myself with these stories as a starting point.Â
I made the clothes I'm wearing. Build tools based on blueprints I drew myself. I created weapons and gave them to the people that needed them. I made them specifically based on the people I would give them to. All who used my creations praised my talent as a craftsman.
There were articles written by me. They always told the truth, exposed the evil and praised the good. My word was law and could shift opinions as quickly as new trends could be created. Politicians paid me millions to praise them in my articles. And all believed my words. For I was known as the people's most trusted journalist. A new theater play started just a few weeks ago and have you heard, I'm the main attraction. The stage lights follow every step I take, the music dancing to my whims.Â
The audience, so focused on my every word. Applauding every note I sing. Maybe you're lucky and you can catch one of my performances.
One day I found a letter and a package in front of my door. The package had only one thing inside of it, a uniform. The letter spoke of a war and that I don't have a choice but to join it. I walked into the camp, scared but determined to defend my home land. I was handed a weapon, a gun, that was clearly used. Who knows who had used it before. I entered the battlefield, screams were the first thing I heard.Â
I fought and killed, defended myself from the enemies. I saw comrades die. I held them, hugging them till I could not feel the beating of their hearts anymore. I sat behind the walls of broken buildings hoping that I would come out alive. Â
In all my time I had seen so much. I saw how people were exploited and their worries and needs stayed forever ignored. The governments whose only purpose it was to stand with its people, spitting on the ones who they were supposed to protect and aid. I hated them so much, I hated the hypocrisy behind their actions. I joint group after group to tear it all to the ground. I helped liberate nations and become an enemy of the ones who tried to stop me. I fought for freedom.  Â
I grew up as an orphan with no coin to my name, no one ever gave me aid. They saw a sad little boy destined to starve on the streets. The only thing that was thrown my way were looks of pity. so I hid and observed. I saw what the ones around me were doing to earn money. The shop owners lied to every customer, inflating the prices of their goods. Street performers would make the audience gamble away all they had. Other children would beg and use the looks of pity to their advantage. I observed and learnt. I took from people what was precious to them and changed the appearance of what I stole. Then I went to the ones it once belonged to and sold it back to them. I build a name of a salesman who knew exactly what others wanted. A trusted man with quality goods and the price, always fair. It wasn't my fault if the goods quickly broke or if the material never fully matched all the way through.   Â
Once I organized a heist, determined to clean out every last bit of valuables that place had. First it was an attempt to right the wrongs of others. I stole, yes, but only so I could share it with the ones that actually needed the money. I told myself that for a few times but after the fifth heist I struggled to continue to tell myself that. The hostages in front of me, cowering, fear radiating in their eyes, knowing as well as I did, that all that was a lie. I didn't care about the civilians or the ones who were forgotten by society. I just liked the thrill. I never wanted the laws to change. If anything, I wanted more of them so I could break them over and over again. Then one day I realized, I was older now. Those stories, entering to tell others and myself. Now both, wrong, just tales, stories of workers I listened to as a child and also true, having earned experiences, I found myself in all those roles. I fought in wars, killed others, and experienced starvation. I built the shell of bombs and brewed poisons to fill them. I forged the blades I use to hunt and defend myself with. I wrote articles to influence the public. Played with how easy it was to point fingers and declare something to be good or bad. I infiltrated organizations and lied to friends and the ones who trusted me. Selling the good will of others and betraying them without looking back. And between all of this I was invited to perform, to be an actor. However the stage I was destined for had no adoring audience, just a crowd that knew, as well as I did, that we were laughing into the abyss. We knew how futile all this was but we still laughed because it just was so funny. I never thought about a clear line that I wouldn't cross. Stealing was fine, ruining people's lives was alright, destroying and tearing apart order and seeing places burn, was just part of who I was. But then I found that line and stopped for just a moment. It didn't change my world view, didn't make me a better person, just gave me a new perspective. So I gave my mask to a person I knew would never give it back to me for free. Only if I would do something for her, if I would dance to her whims. So if I ever decided to go back I could be sure that it was no quick decision based on longing or boredom. After I was free of the mask, of the tavern and the laughter, I traveled. It was the same as with the fools. Truly it felt like nothing had changed. I made friends that I quickly betrayed and I joined different factions just to see how those behaved. I found myself in different taverns. The only change was just the color of the curtains.
This next bit is hazy even for me. I went to a planet I shouldn't even have known of. But I went anyway, typing in unknown and forgotten coordinates. Maybe one of the workers told me a tale about that planet or maybe someone told it to another, while a little orphan boy was listening. Regardless, when I left my ship and was greeted with the cold winds of a frozen planet, it felt like I was entering an ancient theater.
Those winds let me deeper into those ancient halls. No walls, just ice and snow. Mountains covered in a thick layer of snow, reflecting the few rays of sunshine that were able to escape the heavy blanket of clouds. Like the spotlights above a stage. After walking in the freezing cold for what felt like an eternity, with the noises of my heavy breathing as my only companion, I found myself on a cliff looking down towards a city.Â
Sneaking into the city was a lot easier than I thought. It felt like I was walking next to invisible footsteps, leading or suggesting a way. I observed the townspeople and listened to them. Finding out about the name of the little city and its history. Well as much history as I could glean from peoples discussions and daily gossip. One thing that was clear to me was that those people were dying. They knew their time was running out but they just went on with their lives because there was nothing else they could do.Â
From my perspective, IÂ just, I don't know exactly how I felt. If anything, I think I felt disappointed. When I entered this theater's halls I thought it was a story about a place of tragedy but determination. Believing that they will come out alive that everything will be fine. All the factions I went to had at least a version of that determination but especially Qliphoths people tended to have that blind faith.Â
I'm not sure why, I could have left, but I didn't. This time I stayed and I stayed for a lot longer than I thought. I got to know the people of the overworld and played with their perception of me. They thought I came from the Underworld, an intriguing sounding place I was sure to visit as well. I quickly became a merchant and for some more direct and may I say ruder citizens, a scammer. Finding out what those people needed or craved was exhilarating. I played with what they wanted and seeing what they would do for just a simple distraction was fascinating. Being chased by the silver main guards was also just fun. I found myself excited by just the anticipation of what will come next? What do those people want? Where will I run and hide to today? But even though the Overworld was fun, the Underworld gave me a feeling I struggled to describe to myself for many years. The Underworld was a warm place, its people so busy running around, no time to lose. Working, providing both places with energy, mining all day. Kids running around playing, yelling at each other and laughing. The sounds of their voices and the noises of picks hitting rock and mining cards grinding on iron tracks, created a melody that was so vivid and clear to my ears, that I could almost dance to it. I let myself be carried by this atmosphere, following in the footsteps of the busy workers, offering my help and just being. I never had this much fun.Â
Then one day the atmosphere shifted. The gates and entry between the two places were cut off, the Silvermane Guards stationed in the Underworld were ordered to get back above ground, leaving the people alone. Priority will change opinions and perspectives but still for me and a lot of other Underworlders it felt like the Overworld decided we weren't worth their protection. With no explanation given they left them all to rot. Hoverwever surviving was a thing I was always good at and like me the Underwolders were similarly gifted in that regard. So they went back to work, now they needed to provide energy only for themselves so there was at least that. Still the places exchanged more than just energy. The underworld powered machines, providing energy for cars, for heaters, for gears to keep both cities turning. However the Overworld aided the people with food and medicine. So like at the beginning, I knew the people of the city were going to die but the way how, was now a lot clearer, a lot more vivid and I was lost. I didn't know what to do. Like everyone else in the Underworld I was stuck. I searched for ways to reach the Overworld to do something. But every time I thought I found a path, Svarog, an ancient robot that, at least judging with how stubborn the tin box was felt more human to me than robot, would find those paths as quickly as I did and destroy them. I was at my wits end, I didn't know what to do. I never was at my wits end, I always had a plan or a concept or just a spark of inspiration but at that moment my head was empty. Now, what to do when you don't know what the next step should be? I did the only thing I could think of.Â
I took a walk.Â
I kept walking blindly into any direction. The warmth around me was still there. The people were still so busy but now that warmth was fueled with something else, an undertone to that captivating melody. If it was frustration or anger or hurt I could never figure out but now the atmosphere felt like a steam engine with broken glass and dented metal.
Cracked but still moving. Â
Regardless of what will happen next, they will keep moving and so I will keep walking, for now, following in their steps, moving to their rhythm. I vouched that I would help them. This planet's tragedy and its people's situation and the underworld's whole existence sang to me in a way I both loved and hated. How dare they, how dare those people resonate with him? What does he have to do with they're shitty situation? Why should he even care and why doesn't he care at all about those questions right now? Does this really matter? The why or questions of how a planet, a city, people can be this unlucky. Finding a reason won't fix their situation and I don't know if answers to those questions would explain why I cared so much about those people. Especially for the people of the Underworld.   Â
While my thoughts were powering my steps I found the ground underneath my feet change. The rock and gravel dirtying my shoes changed slowly to a soft but still slightly dirtied white. The noise of my feet sinking into the thick layer of snow and the cold winds whipping around me was the next thing that greeted me. Â
I smiled and spoke out loud,Â
âFound it.â
The moment I found this little path I made sure no one else knew of it and somehow they didn't, not even Svarog knew of its existence. The path wasn't a simple straight line either. That would have been too easy. It was more like a winding array of lines all interlinking, melting together. Traversing through it felt like I was a wild gust of wind ripping through the delegate little lines, dancing through its halls with steps somehow only I knew.Â
This path was all I needed because now I could be a link between the two cities.Â
The Overworld needed heaters? Or oh no, their fuel source is running out. Who could help them? I made my money, built my reputation and made the Silvermane Guards fairly angry at me.Â
A scammer who somehow seems like he can teleport, so fast and undetectable, footprints lost in snow. Come on run and try to catch me. This will keep you warm, the unpredictability and distraction of a little chaos, who could deny its effectiveness?
The things I stole? the materials I traded for? The food I could buy? Why, all of it was too much for me alone. So I gave it to the Underworld but not through my hands. My face would not greet those hungry and determined eyes. They wouldn't take it from me. They would never take it from someone who can't be trusted.
I understood the concept of trust better than most others I met, so I knew how both, fragile and also how utterly useless it was to me in this situation. The people didn't need to trust me. They needed to know me. I needed to play with their expectations so I needed to create a character that could act in ways so predictable that I could steer people into situations and places that would help me. To be able to ensure their survival for just another day. Wildfire was perfect for what I wanted to do. Like with the Silvermane Guards above ground, Wildfire was all about justice and helping the people however they could and similar to the Silvermanes, Wildfire also had a leader. However their leader was a lot easier to talk to and far less complicated in her ways of thinking as the leader of the Silvermanes.Â
Natasha was a truly kind person and to my annoyance a pretty smart and observant person too. One of the first times I met her I just happened to have some rations with me so when I gave them to her. Simply because a doctor would know far better how to handle those things then me and that I could give her more for a bit of info on wildfire and its members. She smiled at me, looked me in the eyes and took the supplies with her, with only a âSee you laterâ as her answer.Â
I knew from her look, those eyes that read you like a book, that I need to be careful around her. I don't think she ever fully figured me out, however, she, from all the people I interacted with on that planet, came the closest to seeing through me and I would lie if I would say that that thought didn't worry me. I met other members of Wildfire and most of them reminded me of people Iâve met on my travels. A strong and straightforward but oh so rude and brash warrior, a shining light of hope and protection keeping the will and spirits of all that are around him up and running. An old general molded by fights and bureaucracy and a child so full of fire and life, making her run in chaotic and huge lines, brightening the streets wherever she goes. I aided them and the rest of Wildfire with what they needed, to help the Underworld to survive as long as they could.  Â
The longer I stayed the more I didn't want to leave. I knew I couldn't leave at that time anyway but I knew that there would come a point where I couldn't deny that my time here would run out. So I just kept up with what I was doing anyway. The merchant and scammer become more well known. The helping hand of Wildfire was both an annoyance to the group but also, you could sometimes hear a sigh of relief coming from its members when they saw little old me.
Then one day I heard the metallic sound of an ancient and imaginary whistle ringing through the cold winds of the snow plains. Whispers of old tales hit me once again and I felt my excitement grow. Oh what a wonder, the train stops here too.Â
As I said before, you don't need to know how the story will end, you just need to know what you want. Because the moment you know what you want, you have the power to push the story into that direction. When I got here I didn't know why, didn't care for why.Â
Now I know a part of me wanted to be here to feel this type of connection once again.Â
Stepping out of the dirty and cracked halls of the ancient theater, being greeted by the few rays of sunlight that could escape the heavy clouds. I felt again like an actor but this time taking on the same role that I also played for the townspeople. My part isn't over yet so gather around members of this ancient train and let me, your friendly merchant, Sampo Koski, tell you a tale of a doomed city and please,Â
help us all.Â
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy
#honkai star rail#hsr sampo#honkai star rail sampo#sampo koski#hsr masked fools#honkai sampo#samposting#sampo charachter study
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Re: the earlygame beef between Mammon and MC. I always find it so funny whenever I see the (abundantly common, entirely typical) "Mammon has been there for us since day one! Our first man! Mammon is the only brother who never threatened to kill us or try to hurt us!" posts. Because it's just...so incredibly obvious how wrong they are? I have to assume that the people making those posts either literally never played the actual game at all, or they played with their eyes closed. Or perhaps they don't know how to read.
Because the game was literally shoving the fact that Mammon hates your guts and wishes you were dead in your face for like 2 or 3 Lessons straight. On day one when he first meets you? He can't stand your ass. He wants you gone. All the way up until you make a pact with him, and even for a little while AFTER making a pact, Mammon actively despises you and tells you so himself. And then multiple other characters (including Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer) ALSO come along and give you extremely obvious exposition like "wow, it's Mammon's job to watch over you and protect you in this hostile new environment? And he abandoned you the first chance he got, leaving you to the wolves? Haha, classic Mammon. Of course he abandoned you to get eaten by other demons, what a goofy guy"
And YOU LITERALLY ARE ALMOST EATEN BY DEMONS. BECAUSE MAMMON DIDN'T GAF ABOUT DOING HIS JOB AND DITCHED YOUR ASS. The manga goes into more detail about it too, showing that you literally came to harm because Mammon abandoned you when he was supposed to keep you safe. And later on when you call Mammon out, he threatens to kill you and eat you. To your face. He literally does that.
Idk, it's just crazy to me how badly people can mischaracterize these things. I know that Mammon is the fandom baby or w/e but Mammon fans in particular love to rewrite history and infantilize him as this sweet innocent woobie who never did anything wrong. "Mammon is the only brother who never wanted to kill us!" you're literally lying, lol. He threatens to kill you and eat you to your face. "Mammon loved us from the very beginning!" No he didn't, he repeatedly told you that he hated you lmao.
This happens with other characters too, yeah. People include Beel as part of the "never tried to hurt us" group even though he absolutely DID try to hurt us when Mammon physically force-fed us his custard (another thing Mammon did to deliberately harm us) Also Satan gets thrown in the "one of the bad ones who tried to hurt us" camp, despite never actually doing anything to us. He gets angry and goes on an edgy little rant, but if you actually know how to read you'll notice that he doesn't ever actually DO anything to harm us or try to kill us. He never makes any kind of move to actually harm us, but everyone assumes he does? Wild. But Mammon gets this the worst for some reason.
I could go into a whole entire separate spiel about how the Mammon infantilization also applies to the "everyone bullies him for no reason even though he's literally an innocent pure baby who never did anything wrong ever" but I'm just gonna double the length of this already long rant. What's crazy is I don't even dislike Mammon, he's cool. But oh my god some Mammon fans can be absolutely fucking insufferable đ
Woobie đ I'm sorry, I know there's like paragraphs happening here but that word sent me lol.
I'm gonna level with you here, anon. This kinda thing just does not bother me in the slightest. I mean it doesn't matter to me if people mischaracterize or rewrite the story to fit their preferences. If it makes them happy, then they can go ahead and live their truth.
I think I probably land somewhere in between on the Mammon characterization scale, mostly because I like when he's a lil pathetic~
Anyway, if you want me to get into the nitty gritty of how I characterize Mammon, I can certainly do that. But I kinda get the vibe that you just needed to rant a bit. And that's okay, my ask box is always open for ranting or rambling or anything else!
#sorry I just love the word woobie dkfjf#and I just don't have the energy to get worked up about stuff like this#I think I'll leave this out of the tags though#anon asks#misc answers
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Of course, Valentino. So he likely knows about this little snafu, too. Lovely. That is a matter for another time, Alastor thinks, as right now he has to deal with the one presented before him, only breathing moderately easier when Vox seems to accept his desire to keep the television around as truth. Alastor is nothing if not possessive. He is not about to permit some strange hanger-on to ruin something he has been trying to build his way back towards for years now. That would be foolish.
Vox's response to him does not feel satisfying. There has to be more than just that - there always is. Just talk. Just decide what to do. Just take responsibility. Just keep it. Just destroy it. Just act as you should act in such a situation. Do what normal people do. Do that or else be cast aside for not living up to it. And on and on. Swallowing back his own hesitations, he focuses again on Vox's panic and fear. Again that he will leave. Things that are outside of his actual control - if Lilith wills it, he will have to go. But that is not something he will bring up here and now.
"First," he replies, a hand raising to take Vox's face into it. To steady him.
"Quit crying."
He knows that's a fruitless request. Vox will cry if he wants. But he has to make some effort to settle down whatever tide of distress keeps threatening to pull the man under.
"Second- Do you see me walking away? No. Now put that out of your mind."
Because he is here. He does not know what to do. But he's here. And that's a feat in and of itself, isn't it? Be grateful, says his internal thought process. That he is entertaining conversation about this at all and not simply telling Vox to make a decision one way or another. Though he wants to. Why is this reliant on his own input?
"Women have been bearing children for eons," he mutters. "That this is Hell and that you are not a woman only makes a marginal difference. Whether you keep it or destroy it, it's not going to kill you." He says it with conviction despite not truly knowing. "So calm down. If you want to talk then we'll talk. But I won't while you're in hysterics."
Because Vox is bad at listening when he is. Alastor does not want to put forth effort for nothing.
"I'm letting my heated conversation with Valentino and my own doubts infect things." Vox admits quietly. And that wasn't fair to Alastor and this conversation. Fueling the miscommunication taking place.
Not fighting it when he's pulled back. He searches his face. Even now that smile is ever present and it looks exhausting. Despite the whirlwind they find themselves in Vox has the desire to close the remaining distance and kiss his cheeks. He remains where he is and pushes the fleeting thought aside.
It is an immense relief and comfort to hear that Alastor isn't going to just straight up abandon him. Understandably one of Vox's largest and most damning concerns. People had forsaken all sorts of unions for far less than an unplanned pregnancy. Considering the short time in which they'd been reunited, could anyone have really blamed Alastor for getting cold feet?
As Alastor goes on Vox makes a genuine effort to listen and actually try to consider the words being said. Rather than just react and respond as he is so often prone to do.
Brows furrowed at that word. The weight of it. 'Expectation'.
"Us to talk." And he realizes with a shameful glance to the side that he is indeed a hypocrite. Considering he'd been preparing himself to run when facing what he thought was going to be another break up. Continuing on despite his own cowardice, "We made this thing together. And we should figure out what to do, together."
Vox really doesn't know fully how to envision or refer to it either. Hard to wrap one's head around things that way. Really he's making up most of this shit as he goes. There were no manuals or scripts to fall back on.
"I don't need you to coddle me or start playing picket fence. I'm not expecting you to be overjoyed to tears or demand a termination right this minute. I was worried you'd be disgusted or angry, enough that you'd leave, but that's different. I brought you here because I can't do this alone Al and I don't want to!" He doesn't know if he's explaining himself well at all. If he's getting his intentions across. "I don't expect you to have all the answers or solutions and I don't want to pin it all on you. But I need you! As my friend and as my partner, to at least be here."
"We need to figure out how we feel about all of this. What our options are. What we each want. What we think is best. And start considering what we should do." Wiping his face on his free arm. Voice finally breaking, "I mean f-fu-fuck! What do we do!? I don't know, no one does! And I'm so fucking sc-scared."
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St. Hilarion's ghost story
#payneland#edwin x charles#dead boy detectives#dbda#pre canon angst brought to you by the weirdo who's always drawing post canon fluff#something about oral tradition and old timey slang#i took quite a lot of decisions with this one so buckle up#first of all the female ghost keeps edwin's eyes color because there's still some truth to the legend#the background is the same shade of green to reference hell#just like it is when he's having his flashback#alive charles is dressed all in black because he's not a happy boy#i also made it so that he grips his clothes when his mate punches him even as it's intended to be friendly#because well#these people will end up killing him so it's less friendly when you remember THAT#charles obviously doesn't mean anything by the mary ann comment#he doesn't know the slang meaning and just blurted out what he remembered from the legend#he will find out reach some conclussions and go punch a wall about it probably#about edwin tho his escape is still very recent and he didn't expect this#but even so early on he knows charles means no harm and allows himself to be comforted#it wasn't intentional but hey edwin shruggin off charles' touch is a good parallel to that one scene after charles âkillsâ the night nurse
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