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saabbi · 3 years

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Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

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Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

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wowsoboring · 3 years

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Deconstructing baseless Harry Potter arguments #1: Harmony Edition

There’s a very helpful account on instagram (this instagram page merely gathers toxic harmony shippers, they don’t ship Harmione or hate all Harmione shippers, please don’t send them hate, show them love and support) where you can essentially find stupid fucking bashers who make baseless arguments. I’m all for Harmione shippers, as long as they don’t denounce Romione, bash Ron and just peacefully co-exist. To my pleasure, such people are out there: they just dont seem to be seen as often as the ones that are not nice. Maybe all I see is the mean people and the majority is nice, but in this post, I am attacking those who make baseless claims and bash Ron/Romione/Hinny/Ginny. I don’t myself hate all Harmione shippers. On top of that, as a Romione/Ron fan, i do acknowledge Ron’s character flaws along with Hermione’s and I hold them on the same pedestal.

This is copied directly from my own instagram page, granger.weasley_ on ig.

Anyways let's get deconstructing

rebuttal:

Yeah okay mf; maybe don’t compare real-life relationships with fucking fictional ones. Your relationship going wrong has nothing to do with Ron/Hermione. It has everything to do with you and your ex: the *real life* people involved in it.

rebuttal:

The weird subreddits and discord servers also seem to have a lot of die-hard Harmione “non-canon” shippers. They bash Ron and Romione (along with Ginny and Hinny) with a burning passion without any objective sense of remorse. They ignore all the merits of Ron’s character and bash him to push their agenda. They can’t even do so much as fucking acknowledge any of Hermione’s character flaws but still somehow manage to fixate on that one time when 11 year old Ron just shit-talked one line while Hermione had just publicly humiliated him in front of the Charms class and practically shouted at him for doing the spell wrong just before. I personally don’t because Hermione was 11 too and wasn’t that good at social cues that early on, which is more than okay. Neither am I.

Only a few people in the Romione fandom bash Hermione. And it’s not like Harmione shippers (most, not all!) don’t bash Ron and Ginny remorselessly, right? The fucking hypocrisy.

If someone considers Ron as the best member of the trio, it is their own opinion and not a fact. I do that. If you consider Harry and Hermione as the best member of the trio or in the whole wizarding world, most people don’t give a flying fuck and probably won’t argue with you because it is simply an opinion. That will only happen when you pass that off as a fact.

Statistically speaking, most (not FUCKING all) Harmione moments are in the movies. The weird dance scene especially. The passionate kiss that happens in Ron’s vision, shit like that. Ron is pushed to the sidelines in the last set of movies while Harry and Hermione show each other endless love and support. “I’ll go with you”. The books on the other hand, describe Harry and Hermione as siblings multiple times, with very little Harmione references.

rebuttal:

So you don't want us to fixate on the large majority of Harmione shippers who do the exact same thing, just kissing Hermione's and Harry's ass and hating on Ron. However you will fixate on people who are most likely not EVEN bashing or hating but pointing out a few character flaws in Hermione in a fair and unbiased way. I would know, I'm a huge fan of Hermione as an individual character (in the books). The only criticism I've seen of Hermione to this day has not been bashing. In the comment section of my own fics (shameless plug) I've seen some Hermione bashing. On an ao3 comment section. And I've seen so damn fucking many people bashing Ron, Ginny, the Weasleys etc. and garner tens and thousands of upvotes on quora.

What does Ron even need excusing for? The running away incident and Krum. What does Hermione need excusing for? Canaries, contributing to Ron's insecurities by making him jealous through Cormac and Krum even though she didn't even like them (especially not Cormac, she fucking hated him). Ron wore a locket that literally highlighted his fatal flaw (insecurity) in an echo chamber. Harry kept getting annoyed when Ron wanted to check in on his family. Harry asked Ron to leave; Ron didn't say that shit in the books about Harry's parents being dead: that was plain shock value.

And sorry for repeating myself but I have seen quite a few Harmione shippers bash Ron and Ginny and excuse every single thing Harry and Hermione have done.

37 upvotes on this weird comment that makes no sense? Echo chamber alert! You know what us Romione/Ron fans all have in common? We have never experienced such an echo chamber. I made a pro Ron/Romione post on reddit and got a considerable amount of people who bashed Ron and Romione in the comments.

The amount of Hermione haters is very few compared to Ron bashers. Nobody hates Hermione for being independent, determined, etc. We dislike perfect movie Hermione who’s an unrealistic image of females and seems like some sort of agenda than a real woman. Most Romione shippers/Ron fans and book fans in general (except for you apparently) dislike movie Hermione and still are fans of realistic book Hermione. Most, not all. In general, we do not claim anyone who does the exact same thing to Harry and Hermione that these sorts of Harmione shippers do to Ron, Romione, Hinny and Ginny. I say this on the behalf of all Romione shippers and Ron fans.

Ron's not a bitchy lay-about drama causing loser. That's Steve Kloves's movie Ron. In the books Ron is realistic and simplistic and apologizes whenever he causes problems. He acts up substantially twice in a span of 7 years where he is also a hormone-fuelled teenager.

This is so contradictory and juxtaposed to the point of near delusion. First you talk about how Romione shippers bash Hermione and then you bash Ron as a Harmione shipper. Mate, fighting fire with fire will get you called a hypocrite. Fix yourself.

So the movies are fine when they work according to your agenda? And yes how dare he add such a (fake) chemistry fuelled moment between Harry and Hermione while defeating the entire purpose and groundwork for Romione, the sadness caused by Ron leaving and so many more things? Those Harmione moments you mention seem friendship -esque more than anything else.

Steve Kloves's moments ruined many things while just paying fan service to the Harmione fans he'd birthed through years in the course of 6 movies where he showed Ron as a, how you so eloquently describe it, lay - about drama causing bitchy loser, Harry as one dimensional and Hermione as a zero - dimensional Mary Sue who might as well be the main titular character. Obviously Harmione fans such as yourself don't see the problem with it as it fits your narrative

We do care about Harry and Hermione at large. Most Romione shippers rightfully bash Draco, Pansy, etc. not particularly Harry and Hermione, that's quite rare. Harry and Hermione can get along without Ron as friends. Ron and Harry can also get along without. Hermione as friend. So can Hermione and Ron without Harry as friends or more. I don't understand your point and how what you said is any different than Romione or Ronarry’s friendship.

Constant arguing is not what they do. They bicker, they apologize, and sometimes they just do it for the heck of it. They are argumentative teenager. Opposites attract doesn't work in the sense of fire and ice, it works in the case of Brownie and ice-cream. Ron is passionate, laid back and insecure. Hermione's passionate, a workaholic and not as insecure. Ron can help her get calm and composed and get her to give herself a break. Hermione can motivate Ron and re - enforce his confidence.

It wouldn't be step incest. Harry and Ginny do not regard each other as siblings. They do not look similar whatsoever. And a Harmione shipper also bashes Hinny and Ginny along with Ron and Romione? Checks out

" that fucked up Harmony" hahaha. What?

Are you literally going to date someone on the basis of what Harry Potter ships they prefer? That is so shallow end depraved. Your Harry Potter ship preferences should not be the groundwork for your dating life. Please understand that. Harry Potter is a fictional world which is not real. Hogwarts doesn't exist. Magic doesn't exist. I sound like a Dursley but that's what it is: a fictional realm with fictional character. I would personally not give a fuck if my best friend or significant other was a Harmione shipper. In the case of them being a Ron basher, I would ignore it as if it was just a minor inconvenience and something we wouldn't be discussing and that's how it should be with you. Fuck BuzzFeed, your opinion on what Harry Potter ship / character is your favorite says squat about your personality and relationship with others in a romantic or platonic context. But who cares? Live your life however you want. I'll be stoic.

It's not opposites attract rubbish or high school opposites attract. Ron and Hermione aren't polar opposites like I said, they are a bit different but similar too in many ways. They have a lot more in common than Harry and Hermione. Ron and Harry have the most in common. Both Ron and Hermione are passionate, loving, argumentative, caring, etc. Your argument lacks substance. It's biased trash. And what does “obhwf " mean?

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at the end of the day, i’m just an annoyed teenager. I try my best to be open-minded to people but only as long as they are too. I tried to use my brain more than my feelings for this post.

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kosmosguk · 4 years

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5 days of spooktober~ #4: snare

day #4: incubus taehyung x reader x incubus jimin

word count: 1.4k

summ. it’s strange waking up in your car the morning after Halloween with no recollection of last night’s memories except for a foggy dream. But what if what happened in that dream was real?

warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon themes (mindbreak, cunnilingus, handjob, vmin giving each other the suck a couple paragraphs in), 18+, explicit language, alcohol, taehyung wwe-smackdowns you at some point

a/n: prr someone needs to stop me from rushing thru fics and not checking over my work. I ‘tis a woman on a time crunch so excuse any mistakes. Can y’all believe Halloween is in a couple of days AND we’re one fic away from the end of this fun lil’ holiday spree? Also, this drabble wasn’t very yandere-ish for some reason whoops. Thank you guys sm for 3.6k; I’m INFATUATED and somehow rly funny rn.

It seemed horrifically cheesy that you were out in the woods on Halloween on a night in which the moon was full and glinted a waxy blue. You had been drinking something bitter that burned on its way down your throat, and your head was spinning from the music of the party blaring around you.

You had only meant to step away from the party briefly, just to take a breath, but somehow you ended up deep in the woods. You stepped into something that made a squelch and wrinkled your nose in disgust.

God, you really didn’t want to end up as the first murdered side character of some half-assed horror movie thrown together on iMovie. And you even looked the part, with slightly smeared mascara and a short dress that you had to yank down so it wouldn’t expose an ass cheek to the unforgiving autumnal wind. You heard a noise, like the sound of a branch snapping underfoot, and your buzzed mind sobered as it quickly turned towards it.

“Fuck. Oh god, right there.’’

Wow, since when did the antagonist of a horror movie swear? They were always busy doing evil and ruining lives to swear. You blinked as the sound of skin against skin and ragged breathing filled your ears. Oh…oh. Yeah, you really had to get out of here.

You were about to gingerly step away when you heard the sounds shush, and you froze. Come on, come on, resume your activity, you pleaded in your head.

“Who’s there?’’

And you were running now, branches and twigs cracking underneath your frantic feet. No way were you going to meet face-to-face with two people getting it on in the middle of the woods. That would be an awkward confrontation to have.

You made it about another minute before something slammed into you and shoved you into the ground, knocking your breath right out of your chest and into the fall air.

“Literally, what’s your problem?’’ your voice mumbled out. You should have been terrified, and you were—the kind of scared that made you want to piss your pants. But you couldn’t show weakness; hell, if you didn’t die making the audience laugh then what was the point.

“Were you watching us?’’

You shook your head. Well, you tried to. Not much you could do when your face was in mud and your body was being pinned down.

“That’s not the kinky shit I’m into. I got a headache from the music and the sucky booze so I left for a breather. Didn’t mean to catch the two of you fucking, and if you want an apology, then I’ll give you one but only if you get the fuck off my back and apologize for body-slamming me. What are we? The fucking NFL?”

You were nervous sputtering now, and it must have shown because you heard his partner laugh, the voice light and soft and almost sweet if it didn’t sound so sensual.

“Come on, Taehyung. It was just a mistake. Besides, isn’t she funny…,’’ you felt this Taehyung get off your back, and you were being pulled up so you could face the two of them. The moonlight dappled through the leaves of the trees and sent waning droplets of pale light onto your dirtied face.

You could see the two you had interrupted…and wow, they were handsome to the point where it was almost otherworldly. If only one of them didn’t decide to WWE smackdown you into the forest floor.

You saw his partner smile impishly, a glint in his soft eyes, and he said with a lowered voice,” Hey, hey, Taehyung, isn’t she so pretty for a human? It’s been so long since I’ve had someone as cute as her.”

Okay, what the absolute fuck?

You laughed nervously. It was time for you to get out.

“Jimin, you’re right,’’ Taehyung’s lips stretched in an almost feral-like smile,” She is pretty.”

You saw a glint in their eyes, and suddenly, you were unable to move. You felt hot, tingling all over your body with a buzz that the alcohol had not given you, and your breaths were coming out in more rapid heated gusts.

You felt Jimin push you against the nearest tree, and his fingers toyed at the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?’’ his lips curved in a playful smirk, and when you nodded hesitantly, you saw his eyes darken as his soft pink tongue peeked out and pressed against his plush lips in a mischievous look. He was falling down to his knees, dragging your jeans and panties down with him.

You felt shame bloom in your gut but with it the heat intensified, and you were urging him to hurry by spreading your legs a little farther. You felt Taehyung press up closer to your side and the sound of a zipper echoed through the night air. He moved your hand to his throbbing cock, his voice hushed but breathy as you grasped it in your palm.

Jimin was pressing his tongue flat against your pussy, and you jolted, your eyes fluttering shut as he trailed his tongue up your slit and pressed it against your aching clit. He suckled on your clit, and you choked on a moan as he swirled his tongue around it. Your fingers trembled and tightened further around Taehyung’s cock, and you heard Taehyung groan.

Jimin’s movements against your pussy paralleled the intensity of your fist’s movement around Taehyung’s cock. He was savoring your taste, devouring you and playfully toying with you until every one of your nerves was alight. You were close, so close, and your head scraped against the trunk of the tree as your grip wavered around Taehyung’s cock.

“Please,’’ you begged, and your voice hitched on a loud incoherent keen as your legs trembled and quaked, and you felt yourself wet Jimin’s lips in a mixture of juices and cum. You heard Taehyung breath out a more ragged low moan, and something hot and sticky coated your palms and the fabric of your clothes.

You let go, almost sagging against the trunk of the tree, but you heard the two of them move, Taehyung taking Jimin’s place and firmly placing his arms underneath your ass to hoist you in align with his cock.

You tried to whimper, make a sound, but Taehyung leaned in closer—you caught a lustful glimpse of bright red in his eyes—and whispered softly in your ears, his cold breath brushing against the curve of your ear and leaving you trembling further.

“It’s my turn to devour you now, hm?’’

You felt lights in your eyes, forced to wake up in the back of your car.

“What?’’ you mumbled out as you heard someone banging on the window. It was dawn now, the sky a grayish-pink hue. You recognized the face of the friend you had gone with through your blurred vision and the throbbing ache of your head. You opened the car door and winced at the ache between your legs.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! Where were you?’’ your friend demanded.

You blinked once, then twice. You remembered taking a breather from the party and then…nothing. Well, not really nothing. You had a good wet dream, the kind that pinned you down and fucked you until you were a moaning whore of a mess. But that was but an alcohol-fueled dream.

Your friend sighed, shaking their head. “I guess whatever they spiked the drinks with did you wrong. Luckily, you’re safe. I heard that there was some kinda ghost in the woods. One of the drunk guys stumbled in and heard a ghost moaning, but he was wasted so it must’ve been a delusion.”

Your cheeks turned red as you felt something sticky on your pussy make a soft squelch as you made a move to try to get up. God, your hips were sore. That dream must’ve been something else. Unless?

“Are you okay? You look feverish.”

You blinked up at your friend for a moment and then shook your head, a silly smile on your face. You didn’t notice the eyes on you, the playful smile toying at the lips of the two beings hidden in the shadowy edges of the forest.

Yeah, one heck of a dream alright.

#yandere bts #yandere #bts x reader #yandere smut #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere jimin x reader #vmin #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #bts fic #yandere fic

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cinnamonest · 4 years

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Makoto Naegi (DR) - Yandere Profile

Me? Producing non-genshin profiles? Releasing two profiles in one day? It’s more likely than you think!

I’ll probably do my boi Hajime eventually too. I got several dangan requests so I’m gonna start with this one and do those gradually too.

Makoto is the perfect classic, traditional yandere. He fits every trope and aspect of the archetype so well, so I just had to make him a delusional, split persona type. It's a bit ooc of course but I just see him being that type to really snap and have a whole new persona underneath. Bless him. I love soft sweet boys and turning them into nasty lil obsessive gremlins. Also I couldn't decide on a setting/version of him, so I talk mostly about a normal Makoto in normal school life, but also what he'd be like during the killing game as well as a side of Mastermind Makoto bc I'm a sucker for mastermind AUs. Note, he's 18 or older in all of these, of course.

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Tws: stalking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, nsfw mentions, mentions of permanent mutilation, voyeurism Tws: (below cut) - voyeurism mention, noncon, Makoto being awful Additional warnings: very minor spoilers for Danganronpa 1

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Bounces between lucidity and delusion. DR1 Makoto is probably largely influenced by the stress of, you know, threat of imminent death, but even outside of such a situation, he'd be a very well hidden yandere. He's just so sweet! So gentle! You can't really seem him as threatening at all, so a lot of subtle things might go unnoticed, like how touchy he can be, how his stares linger, how people seem to avoid you when he's around. However, while the yandere side isn't obvious, the crush certainly is. He's a blushing boy, will get flustered the moment you speak to him, is constantly stumbling over his words, nervously scratching the back of his head, looking all over everywhere except at you, eyes darting away.

Obsessive. It defines his yandere side. Everything is about the obsession, the worship, it's overwhelming. The desire to kidnap you is partially protective, sure, but really? He also just wants you close, he wants you all to himself, he could just be happy looking at you forever. Stalker for sure. He's a classic style stalker, one to take lots and lots of pictures. His phone is handy for the ones that need more of a... secretive approach, but for the ones that he can take safely, from a distance, or the ones of you sleeping, they look best in polaroids.

He would definitely be one to steal things, particularly clothes. Wait until you go to do your laundry, and when you're there he'll do something like pull the fire alarm, cause something to fall over, and wait for everyone else to leave or investigate before slipping in - surely you won't notice just a few pieces of clothes missing, right? Just some gym clothes you worked out in, they smell so much like you, and some underwear you won't miss. They're just cute is all. Not for any perverted purposes, nope. He'd have a shrine, too. He'd steal creepy shit like soda cans you threw away, pens you held. He'd use his phone or one of those cameras from the mono machine to get as many photos as possible, running over them late at night, going through each one and rubbing one out to every photo he can get of your soft, innocent expression.

Deceptively intelligent. It's his number one trick. He comes off as a very... average person in pretty much every way, it's literally his character trope at first, but as we know, he's actually particularly intelligent and perceptive. Most people don't realize this, though, and it gives him an advantage. He is aware that he's perceived as a bit of an innocent, naive airhead, and will utilize that perception, which allows him to get away with quite a bit by feigning ignorance or innocence.

A split personality bouncer. Classic yandere style. Sweet, innocent, happy, but if you just keep fucking pushing the limits he'll - no, forget that, it's ok, he understands :) ....THAT kind of yandere. He spends the majority of the time on the sweet side, but, especially as time goes on, can easily snap to a much meaner, darker persona, but it's not how he is the majority of the time. It's only brought out by excess stress from all of the... complication of things involving you.

Speaking of how he has all the makings of a classic yandere, delusional regarding love as well. Highly convinced that you'll love him eventually, convinced that everyone is out to take you away from him, and convinced that he knows what's best for you. Perhaps a bit surprisingly, he falls into this delusion pretty easily and quickly. He's likely got a bit of an inferiority complex given, you know, being the "normal" person among some of the best people in their fields. He likes the idea of anything that can give him a sense of importance, of value, of being needed, and he chooses to project that into your protection.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Normal schoolboy Makoto, well, he'd have to find a way. He wants to, really, the moment he meets you, but how can he do that? He lives in a dorm. If you went missing, surely they'd investigate the dorms right? He'd ultimately probably end up running away with you, finding some way to get by while he keeps you safely locked up in some tiny apartment somewhere.

As for the how, he would take a very traditional method. Ask you to meet him at a certain place and time behind the school, and you'll never see it coming, be it chloroform or a blunt object or whatever he chooses. You wouldn't suspect someone as sweet as him to ever be planning anything of the sort. He feels bad for hurting you, but it's for a greater purpose. Within minutes he'll have you stuffed in a sports bag or instrument case or something of the like, carrying you off, and no one will no where you could have gone.

Will definitely be that one that gets interviewed by the news on TV, the best friend of the poor girl that went missing, and he's all sniffly and teary while talking about how much he misses you, how he's so worried about you. He's actually a very good actor when he really, really needs to be. It's also his way of atonement, in a sense. If he can show how much he cares about you, even if it's in a situation where he's lying, it makes him feel better.

DR1 Makoto, well, he'll be virtually immediate. Don't you understand the gravity of the situation? You could DIE! He can't let that happen. You may be insistent that it's ok, that you want to all try and work together, but in his mind, you just don't understand how serious this all is. You're just too naive. The only solution is immediate action. He'll be gentle about it, probably lacing your tea or coffee with something he found laying around in the nurse's office to make you just a little bit sleepy, so dazed you won't even realize he's guiding you back to a room that isn't yours, won't even hear yourself being tied up.

If the others ask what happened to you, well, he'll say he has no idea. They'll likely assume you're simply dead. After all, if a body isn't discovered, how would there be a trial? They search and search but no one ever finds a body. How strange.

He might simply tell them you're paranoid and holed up in your room. It's ok, though, you trust him to bring you food, so they don't need to worry about you. As for the trials, well, you can't participate in those if you're unconscious, now can you?

As for MM! Makoto, well... Who's to say this isn't his way of kidnapping you? You're separated from that awful awful outside world. That's The whole point of it all, all of this was for you. To isolate you, and the game is simply to strike some fear in you, make you understand how evil and traitorous humans are. You'll never want to leave. And of course, he intends to play until there are two students left. Unfortunately for the others, the winners have already been... predetermined.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Unfortunately for you, Makoto is one of those yans that is perfectly ok with your life consisting of being tied, 24/7, in one place. He'd keep you restrained at all times, with something soft of course! He doesn't want to hurt you, but it's for your own safety.

DR1 Makoto would constantly be coming back to the room to check on you, make sure you haven't left, make sure you're ok. He'd neglect all of his free time opportunities to talk to others and opt to come be with you instead.

Normal Makoto would invest in some special security measures, namely, a very special shock collar that he bought off of some sketchy site. It's made for humans! It has a lock with a code and everything. You honestly wonder why there's even a market for such a thing. It's not just light shocks, no, it has settings. It syncs to his phone, with a built in remote app, one he can push and it'll give you a nice shock of whatever level he sets it at.

However, the collar is also synched to a field of range that it will detect your location in. It's set perfectly to the boundaries of your little home. If you were to step outside the door or the window... Well, it's not going to kill you, but you'll be out cold, and he'll get a notification telling him you tried to leave. The first time, maybe, you can calm him down and convince him it was an accident, you tripped and crashed against the door and it just ever so lightly pushed you over the boundary. He'll believe it... Once.

Unfortunately, he's also one of the ones who sees no issue in permanent bodily modifications to deter you from leaving. He's not like some of the previous yans I've discussed, though, because it's not out of sadism or a lack of care for your feelings, it's a delusion thing. He'll be so sweet about it, reassure you that it's ok, it's for your own good, you're too precious and innocent and the outside world will hurt you, but this way you're safe from yourself and your own naivete. He'll be so, so careful and take such good care of you, he'll give you something strong so that you don't feel any pain at all.

He's also perfectly fine with you living in a constant drugged state, out of your mind, drowsy and completely unaware of anything in the world except him. And things are better that way - really, you can't say you're not happy, you seem so content like this. You don't complain, you don't get angry, you just giggle and smile and loll your head back and forth. You don't fight him. You just smile.

In other words, regarding escape, you might as well give up. Your only real chance is being rescued by someone else, someone who might just notice his increasingly odd behaviors, but if they believe you're dead, which he will go to great lengths to ensure you do, it's unlikely to happen. Any attempts will just be met with a sweet smile, a little laugh at how dumb you are to think that would really work, and quickly taking you back, where his demeanor might get significantly angrier once he can really let loose.

MM! Makoto is an equally unrealistic chance, the worst of all, really. It's just not happening. He'll also likely convince you, much like as the DR1 and V3 did, that the world outside is nearly destroyed, or somehow unlivable, that you're lucky to be here, and that this is the only place where you're safe.

If you try, he'll crack down on however the hell you managed to escape because... how would you even go about that? I mean, the whole environment was designed to be inescapable, and if a whole class of students couldn't find a way out, it's unlikely you will either. Any attempts will likely be dumb and unsuccessful enough that he can't even get mad, it's just amusing.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Oh, easy. We see in Chapter one of DR1 just how easily he will bend to the will of a girl he likes and nearly end up getting himself falsely accused of murder and all, so safe to say he's pretty easily manipulatable and if you're looking to survive, you can use that to your advantage. However, really, you're better off manipulating him into being a meatshield - he'll guard you 24/7 and be more than willing to die. Poor baby.

However, if he catches onto manipulation once, and it doesn't involve your safety, he'll learn pretty quick. Deep down he's a highly intelligent young man, and you may find the tables turning pretty quickly - he can easily manipulate your paranoia and mortal fear, convincing you that if you just stay with him, you'll be safe, convincing you that everyone else is out to get you, convincing you that this or that person is plotting to kill you. He's so sweet and innocent looking, you'll believe every word.

Bonus: If he were the mastermind, he'd be so deceitful and do it so well, you'd never know. An excellent actor through and through. In a way, it's not acting at all - he loves you and wants you to be safe. This is all so that you'll just understand that you need to be kept away from the outside world - you're actually perfectly safe, he's taken measures to ensure that, but you'd have no way of knowing. Even if you feel like those cameras in the rooms at night almost seem like they're staring right at you.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Very few. He'll baby you and prevent you from doing most things for yourself. He'll be one to try and keep you entertained, though, most likely get you some kind of tablet or laptop you can use to write, let you play all of his games, let you watch anything, and get you any kind of materials for any hobbies you have, provided he's deemed it non-dangerous. So, given all of that, you don't need to do anything else, right? He'll see anything more as just you pushing your limits, because you're trying to be difficult again. Complaints go in one ear and out the other.

DR1 would be the worst Makoto to have, because he can't provide you with much, and can't lock you in from the outside... so, his primary go-to is gonna be keeping you completely restrained all the time. Don't worry, though, he assures you that once you guys get out of here, he'll take you away to a much nicer place with much more to do! But for now, you'll be getting very acquainted with his ceiling, left with nothing to do but stare up at it. He'll try to be around as much as he can though, and won't leave you for too long, only leaving when necessary. And for the trials you'll just... have a little nap, so it'll feel like no time really passed at all.

Ironically, MM! Makoto gives you the most leniency. He'll make sure anything dangerous is taken away, but then, he'll let you roam the abandoned, hollow shell of the school, whenever he has to work on something, which isn't too often. Of course, this is partially because he's got an eye on you via cameras every waking moment, so really, you feel his presence even when he isn't there.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

For a normal Makoto, he'd be one to give you a "schedule" to help you adjust. He doesn't want you getting depressed and laying in bed all day, it's bad for your health! He wants you happy and lively and that way you can have more fun together! He'll give you a list of very simple tasks to complete throughout the day. If you don't do them, that's ok, you can do them together when he comes back, but they will get done. Other than that, of course, no running away, no attacking him, and you know, just try to be a bit grateful and nice.

If you make him mad enough, he needs time to cool down, and he presumes you do, too. He's one to pull psychological things -- locking you in a dark, dark room with no light or sound for a long enough time, all alone, ignoring your cries and whimpers until he knows you've learned. But once you have, and if he sees the results have turned out as expected, he'll be sweet and affectionate when he takes you out, and tell you he's glad you see things his way now.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Normal Makoto, once again, we have a very classic yandere trope. He's delusional and in love and anyone who gets in the way will suffer. He's, again, very deceptively intelligent, and he can easily commit a murder, even a string of murders, that no one would ever be able to put together, and certainly that no one would ever suspect someone like him of committing. You could say it's like a talent of his. He has no guilt or remorse, either, and no value for the lives of people who are his enemies.

DR1 Makoto, He's limited to two people, unfortunately. If he had it his way, he would kill them all. But still, that's enough to win. He'll bide his time, setting things up so that hopefully, the more intelligent students get eliminated early. He has masterful ways of pulling strings here and there, planting ideas in people's heads, off handed comments that might just inspire a killing. Once there's only idiots left, well, once two of them go missing, in the most elaborate, confusing murders in the game thus far, they'll never figure it out.

Of course, he'll certainly find a way around the rules. He'll force the mastermind to have no choice but to let you both live. Injured students can't participate in trials if they're out cold, no? So if you have some minor bone breakage, get drugged conveniently before a trial begins, you can't participate. And if you didn't participate, it would really be upsetting to everyone watching if Monokuma killed off a student who couldn't even partake in the trial. After all, they might have been able to turn it around! So really, the mastermind has to let you both live.

Or maybe, he'll convince you to do it with him. Force the weapon into your hand, force it down on the poor poor victim, holding your hand in his. Monokuma can't prove you weren't putting some exertion into it, that it was all his force. Therefore, really, you both killed them. Therefore, the trial is against you both. Therefore... He can get rid of everyone in the way, all at once, with only one left to go - the person behind that bear. And he will find a way - you'd be foolish to underestimate his capabilities. After all, you always thought he was just a lil empty headed guy, shy and flustered, and look how wrong that was.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

In the "developing stages" of obsession, not so much. He's generally a sweet, easy-going guy, even a little bit of a doormat if we're being honest.

Normally, he gets pouty-mad, not violent-mad. Almost what some might call a girl-sort-of-mad, the kind where he huffs and pouts and pretends to ignore you. It's either kinda cute or infuriating, depending on your mood or how you view it. In that state, all you have to do is give him what he wants, of summon a quick apology, and he'll bounce back to normal and loving and affectionate nearly immediately. It's part of an immature streak he has.

He has his snap moments, and will snarl and growl at you with the most furious expression for just a mere moment -- but he snaps back to sweet and soft as quickly as he changed the first time. It's a little bit of mental whiplash for you, really. You almost feel like you imagined it. In those moments, though, he may just for those few instants get a little violent.

If he's truly furious, he gets quiet. It's a little terrifying, really, you know something is coming, and it's not pleasant. He'll likely just grab you and slowly, tortuously drag you to whatever he has planned. He'll give you a very grim, cold expression, and coldly tell you this is what you deserve, and if that's locking you up, he'll tell you you can come back out when you're ready to behave.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. He's a worshipper. He can't even believe he gets to be in your presence, even look at you, he's unworthy and it's all so overwhelming.

It... Gets annoying pretty quickly, actually. He's not gonna sit around and degrade himself all that much unlike SOME certain lucky students cough cough, but he'll constantly grovel and remind you how perfect you are. He's not good enough for you, he doesn't deserve you... a bit ironic to hear, since that certainly didn't seem to stop him from taking you away against your will, but there's a lot of hypocrisies that don't really line up with Makoto.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Highly so, but also deluded into thinking you do pretty easily. Even if you're screaming and yelling, he just thinks you're having a bad day, throwing a tantrum. He thinks you do love him, if you're in the later stages of things. Anything that conflicts with this delusion is explainable otherwise, usually the default being that, as usual, you're just being difficult, but that's ok -- he really loves you anyway.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Ironically, what makes him unique compared to my other yanderes is that he's more fitting for the traditional yandere type - a very cute-faced, psycho sweetheart type. He's highly prone to the classic yandere tropes and attitudes, as well as the mental and emotional instability traditionally associated with yanderes - smiling no matter what, even as he does awful things, but also snapping to a dark, angry state over the smallest things.

Guilt tripping. It's his specialty. He's so cute, so sweet, you wouldn't want to make him cry and make him sad... Would you? You're not that cruel, are you? You wouldn't throw away everything he's done for you and leave him all alone with no one... Right? He'll easily manipulate you this way, it's his specialty.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

The thing about those soft sweet boys that are just so innocent? Half the time they're the nastiest, horniest little pervs there are. He's sweet, he'll help you with everything you need! You're struggling to reach that shelf so he'll just put his hands on your hips and squeeze you and lift you up! But he'll stumble a bit, and when you come down you'll kinda land on him just a bit, chest pressed up against his face, and you'll be the one embarrassed - but it's ok. He says he knows you didn't mean to. And he's so sheepish and embarrassed about it himself, clearly it must have been unintentional.

And he's so innocent and kind, you know he doesn't mean to be so touchy, doesn't mean to cling to you so much, so you can brush it off. After all, he's just so nice, you wouldn't want to offend him.

Will jerk off on every single thing he has of you. Every little polaroid, every article of clothing he's stolen, every little thing. It's gross. He's gross. By the time you're kidnapped you might even find some of your clothes that went missing, and they're hard as a rock. Ew.

Like a lot of yans, will get significantly bolder once he has you all to himself. Much more touchy, much more suggestive, boldly, openly horny and just, constantly begging you to just fuck already, whining and even rutting into you if you're still in denial.

MM! Makoto will also 100% watch you get undressed through the cameras every night. Save the video feed and just watch it over and over again, taking in every little detail. Cum all over each little video, watching it drip down the screen. He can almost pretend it's actually dripping down your face, and not just the image of it.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

I... within the first hour of your confinement you're gonna know what this boy's dick feels like. He has no restraint. He just loves you so much! Hell, you might even wake up to him just, grinding into you, jerking off to you. You're just so pretty. You can't expect him to be too restrained, you know? He's so overcome by love for you that he can't help it.

High-level delusional. Will make up every reason in the world as to why you might be rejecting. You're nervous, it's ok, he'll help you get over it. You're insecure, and he'll help you get around that too. Ultimately, in the end, you're not getting out of it, nor putting it off at all really. It'll be the first thing you do to start off your new little lifestyle.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

D/S dynamic

Except... in a really weird way. It's the sub without the dom. Or not really submissive at all. It's a very bizarre dynamic you'll have going on - the way he talks to you is so submissive, so sweet, constantly asking you if you feel good, constantly whimpering and making the cutest little noises, constantly worshipping you, you'd almost forget he has you tied up and is forcing you through it. He acts submissive in his own way, and yet he's completely controlling you. In fact, you're pretty certain he wouldn't actually let you top him in any way, and any attempts to do so will be met with him denying you, telling you to just let him do what he wants take care of you. His attitude and words are submissive, yet he insists on controlling you completely. It's, again, bizarre in its own way, but what isn’t bizarre with this man.

Oral fixation

A guilty one for him, with his whole service attitude and all, because he really likes to be on the receiving end of it. Cumming down your throat is fine and all, but really he's one to pull out and cum all over your face. Bonus points if you wear lip gloss to smear all over his dick, wear glasses he can get cum on, or anything that makes it feel special.

In his rare angry, more dominant moments, he can get kind of rough with it. If he's really mad at you, hearing you choke is a rather satisfying feeling.

Paizuri/Thigh fucking/outercourse

The boy's seen too much porn. Just, pleeeeeeease let him cum on your tits. Please. He begs for it over and over, doesn't matter if you tell him yours are too big or too small, he just really wants to cum on them. He just wants to feel your smooth skin on his dick you know? Maybe he can get the tip in your mouth while you do it too!

And while you're at it... Let him fuck your thighs. Please? Just hold your legs together, not hard right? There's just something about actually seeing his dick against you that makes it so nice, and so temptingly close to your holes. But if you've agreed to it as a way of preventing actual sex, it might just... accidentally go in anyway. It was just too slippery... but now, he's already fucking you so... might as well keep doing that instead.

Cockwarming/activity-sex

Our boy likes his vidya. And you know all those jokes and references to, you know, getting sucked off under the table while he plays games....? He just... really, really would like that. It's a big fantasy for him. He's probably the type of guy to be way too into league of legends dammit and he just, would love to have to try to be quiet, try to get off down your throat while trying not to alert anyone that can hear through his mic. Or just sit on his dick, it's heavenly, he'll gradually just lost control and start losing his game, before eventually cutting it off and exiting altogether in favor of rutting up into you. He likes it, but he doesn't have a whole lot of self-control to actually do it for long before giving up and just fucking you.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He's one of the ones that really wants it, he thinks it would be so cute, so precious, and of course the benefit of it tying you to him. He might be one to get a bit jealous, though. He likes your attention, and can be a little bit immature about it. Unfortunately, though, he's not actually aware of his own immaturity, so this can present a problem.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

(Insert "iiiiits punishment time!" joke here)

If he's in this mode, an angry mood, his demeanor for sex changes significantly. The weird pseudo sub attitude isn't really there, it's more of a quiet neutrality, a frustrated, but calculated anger that brings out the worst in him. It's honestly frightening for you in and of itself because it's such a dark expression and rough voice and so unfamiliar that it would freak you out just to see him like that.

The go-to is impact pain. In this rare-ish mood, he can actually change pretty significantly -- normally, he'd never dream of hurting you, would feel awful if he did, and would not enjoy it in any way, but now? He kinda... feels like you deserve it, and he'll undeniably get off to it a bit. Something about watching you cry and squirm really helps alleviate the anger. He'll be soft about it later, wipe away your tears and softly murmur nice things... but he won't apologize. You deserved it. If it's that bad, then you'll just have to not do it again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

A thigh boy. Let him use your lap as a pillow, and he'll be a very happy boy indeed. He likes feeling them wrapped around his hips, or his head, likes squeezing the flesh in his hands, likes running his hands up and down.

#yandere x reader #yandere danganronpa #yandere makoto #yandere naegi #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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scarfdyedshadow · 4 years

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The Unveiling of Ibaraki-Douji’s Character Across FGO (1/2)

I should start with the disclaimer that this isn’t specifically intended to be an analysis of Ibaraki as character, or so to speak an analysis of her narrative arc, character development, and growth over the course of Grand Order. For that, I extremely recommend reading the meta posts of @xenodile. They are very thoughtful, insightful, and nuanced analyses of her.

This is more or less a consolidation of my thoughts on the reveals made about her character over time, the slow meting out of tidbits about what lies under her surface and what her true basis is. In short, the deciphering of her puzzle. In that regard, this post won’t go into Ibaraki content irrelevant to that, such as the relative low points of her treatment over time.

Ibaraki: “Kuha, kuhahahaha! Woman, woman, woman! Is this the first time you’ve seen something like me? Then engrave it within that body. Cram it in in place of the organs that’ll be devoured by insects after death. Violent like a rampaging beast, terrifying as a god, miserable as an insect! Knowing neither human weakness nor a warriors’ pride, lowly so as to wield one’s rotting arm as a weapon! That is an Oni. One who terrifies humans with all they have, a man-eating demon!”

When we’re first introduced to her in Rashoumon, Ibaraki is an intimidating presence, speaking of the depravity of the oni and how she is the embodiment of it. Right off the bat, there’s something to be said about her being fixated on what an oni is and how she fits the bill, rather than her own individuality.

Ibaraki: “Kuha, kuhahahaha! How nice, how nice!”

Kintoki: “This isn’t nice at all! Your eyes aren’t laughing at all, damn you!”

Ibaraki: “….mu, don’t insult me. I’m not used to laughing. Laughter from the bottom of my heart, huh… I can’t do it like Shuten.”

And only just a bit later, it already becomes clear she’s forcing herself a bit. She’s not used to laughing, to be able to do it fully and genuinely. And again, shortly thereafter, her weakness is called out.

Kintoki: “Can’t you tell? Bah, whatever. Hey General, can you tell her?”

Protagonist: “It’s because you haven’t eaten Shuten.”

Ibaraki: “Y-you human! Don’t say such a cruel thing! Eating Shuten was just a manner of speech! That... like hell I can eat her! I would never injure the Shuten that I respect so much, you fool!”

Kintoki: “See? She’s like that.”

Protagonist: “…a chicken.”

Quite contrary to her initial impression, Ibaraki’s fundamental nature is that of a coward. Certainly she has some capacity for fierceness and fighting, but she doesn’t truly live up to the violent, miserable, and terrifying image she projected at the beginning. And as for why she did that?

IbarakI: [Blushing] “C-can’t help it, this is an Oni’s custom! An Oni must always put on airs! That’s what Mother taught me!”

At this point we learn that the airs she puts on are an ideal she tries to live up to in order to be a proper oni, as taught by her mother. That’s someone that will come up later, but for now we learn from her debut event that Ibaraki feels compelled to hold herself to a particular impression, to appear as a fierce inhuman oni, due to her mother’s teachings.

There’s nothing in particular I want to highlight in her profile and lines, wherein she mostly presents as she does at the beginning of the event, as an imperious and deadly leader of oni. It certainly can be gleaned from her lines though that she puts a particular emphasis on her being an oni as opposed to a human. Throughout her various appearances in this interim period, she continues to insist on being a true and vicious oni while generally in practice being a big dork, though she never truly acknowledges this.

And indeed, throughout all this, her esteemed mother she seems to hold in veneration, perhaps even fear, continues to come up. It’s evident that even if she isn’t physically present, her influence is felt every time Ibaraki pushes herself to be a proper oni, to hold herself to that standard.

And then we get to her mats profile.

Ibaraki isn’t just upholding that image with words and to a mild extent actions, she’s literally pushing her own body to adhere to that particular image. It makes what we’ve known about how she forces herself pale in comparison.

Her personality section, as much as it understates what she went through because this game isn’t the ideal of taking things as seriously as they should be, explicates why she is how she is quite clearly. Her mother of noble birth, devoid of love, literally beat her into the mold of a proper oni. The reason she acts the way she does is because she was forced to every single day act as a proper scion to the oni, assume responsibility as a leader of oni. She was left with no choice but to mutilate her own heart and strive to act as a prideful monster, and she is constantly self-conscious of maintaining that image.

This then would seem to be the final word on how Ibaraki’s character came to be, but there are some additional wrinkles, first alluded to here as well.

Watanabe no Tsuna is a hunter of oni, the man who put an end to her grief stricken rampage and humiliated her by cutting off her arm. It’s only natural that she should hate him and want to kill him. But why then does she feel the conflicting impulse of wanting to talk to him? Why does she feel strong curiosity about him? What is there to be curious about, when he did what any human would do if possible and put a stop to her destructive rampage? Shuten only offers a cryptic answer, and Ibaraki is left with the lingering question.

Dialogue 9 I am an oni from Hell, but from the looks of it, that one's an oni of the present world. I can sense the blood of a high-class god from Shuten Douji, but Ibaraki Douji has a smell similar to mine. ...She must have been a human, originally. (If you have Shuten Douji and Ibaraki Douji)

The sparrow Beni-enma, soon to release in FGO NA, has a line for Ibaraki Douji, and it is a truly absurd place to receive such a major revelation. Ibaraki was not born as an oni, but as a human. It’s a detail that contextualizes why her mother of noble oni stock was so unrelentingly harsh on her, why she was so particular and forceful about making her into a proper oni. Such is doubly necessary to make up for the deficit of having once been human, of being so impure. It contextualizes as well why she didn’t take to that traumatic teaching easily, why she still lapses into a sweets loving coward. Her fundamental nature isn’t quite that of an oni, and that’s why she has to push herself so hard.

But then, how has this not especially come up before? Ibaraki’s basically never alluded to having formerly been a human, something which you would think impossible, even if she has an image she works hard to maintain. Likewise, she seems a certain degree too casual, too unaware, when it comes to what her mother put her through, even if she bears fear and awe.

Of all the places to do it once again, the tail end of Beni-enma’s interlude answers the matter, and once again contextualizes all of Ibaraki as a character prior. She was so thoroughly traumatized, so thoroughly indoctrinated, so thoroughly broken, that she repressed the memories of what she endured. She only remembers it as a distant emotional impression of having to crawl towards an impossible goal, of having to smile even as if she was in agony.

And Shuten maintains that illusion. Ibaraki has always been how she is. She’s never been through anything like that. She’s always been an oni’s oni, the ideal oni everyone wanted, and there’s no need to dwell on anything else.

Ibaraki is able to maintain her current self by burying her trauma deep inside of her, clinging to a reality of a stern but teaching mother that never existed. Of course she’s full of pride. She’s an oni, so she should act like an oni. There’s no need to think about difficult things, or be moved by uncomfortable sentiments.

Of course she doesn’t remember being a human. She had her past torn away from her by what she was forced to become, her memories ripped to shreds by the unsentimental abuse of her so called mother. To acknowledge what came before what she is now would be to undo her entire self.

And Shuten reveals she maintains this lie so that Ibaraki can remain happy. She fears Ibaraki will fall apart if the delusions she clings to are torn away. To simply allow Ibaraki to be carefree and pursue her desires is all she feels she can do.

But why does Tsuna come up? What bearing does he have on Ibaraki’s trauma? He’s nothing more than a sworn enemy that put a stop to her rampage and disgraced her by cutting off her arm. Certainly his presence stirs up some feeling, but it should have no bearing on her past, her pain, what she was and what she forces herself to be. Why does Shuten believe that if Ibaraki were to meet Tsuna, she might break down?

Tale of the Beginning and the End

― And just like that, it was all over. Grisly claw marks, destroyed houses, shattered household belongings. And a single woman nearby, close to the brink of death. I may or may not make it in time. It seems like I was wrong from the start.

I never expected us to come in contact with one another. The last thing I wanted to do was to even look at you. However, as long as you were alive. As long as you were happy. I thought that would be enough. But look, this is the reality.

she's dead / it's your fault she was killed / it's your fault that oni escaped / you must kill her don't avert your gaze / look away i'll carve out those golden locks of hers / you're not done yet decapitate her / kill yourself who should I blame? / no one is to blame

― And just like that, the man ceases his delusional thoughts. Oni are meant to be killed. I will slay her...that's all, nothing else to it. No, think. I have to keep thinking. Even if I die, until I die, even if I become corrupted.

I remember that look in her eyes, like bubbles that floated away and vanished.

Quietly, without a hint of any intense emotion, I stared back at the girl who had fixed her gaze on me. Everyone is a sinner. Oni are sinners, people are sinners, the girl is a sinner, I am a sinner. They are not just sins, but responsibilities as well.

I tightly grasp the hilt of my sword. I have no intention of giving it up to anyone. Having it even be stolen would be absurd. "Slaying that oni, is my duty."

― Tsuna, Tsuna, TSUNAA!

......the oni's claws approach. Something, whatever it is, swells within my trembling heart. I rotate my body, turn my arms, and swing my sword.

The truth of this fight, along with its conclusion, will soon disappear to the passage of time.

No one else can understand, will be able to understand this fight to the death between the two of us.

Watanabe no Tsuna’s profile paints the picture of a man unmoved as he slew countless oni. He is without hatred and without joy. He is akin to a robot.

And yet In his Bond CE this man who is even uncertain he has emotions to begin with, when it comes to Ibaraki, is left questioning everything he is. He is wracked with self loathing, desires even his own death, and condemns himself as a sinner. He berates himself and rages at himself.

He never expected to come into contact with her. The last thing he wanted was to ever see her again. It was enough that she was happy and alive. And yet it had come to this. No one but him can understand the truth of this fight.

The picture is perhaps of having come home to ruination. A doll lays discarded. Why is it that Ibaraki-Douji wishes to talk with a human she has only known as a sworn enemy in a single encounter? Why is that she has such a sheer curiosity about him? Why is it that to meet him again might break down the illusion of what she is? Why is it that the machine of a demon slayer breaks when it comes to encountering her and her alone?

Ibaraki-Douji, despite everything she pushes herself to be, was once human. She had a human family, and a human past. And perhaps that past is not quite as dead as her heart makes it out to be.

#fgo #fate grand order #fgo meta #fate grand order meta #ibaraki douji #ibaraki-douji #watanabe no tsuna #fate series #fgo spoilers #ibaraki doji #I fully expect information from 5.5 and Tsuna's lines to either add to this or potentially mess up the impression I garnered from the CE #time will tell #fate grand order spoilers

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alexjcrowley · 3 years

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Hi! This fanfiction is based on an idea by @idrilearfalas , she wrote the entire concept and the iconic/important lines you'll find in this fanfiction, check out her blog, she is great.

The Pompeii mission, Mobius thought it would have been an easy one. Everybody knows what should happen in Pompeii and it's usually all natural. You just have to make sure someone dies- eh, sorry Plinius- and someone lives.

It's an easy mission, normally, but not when you have to handle a certain norse God of Mischief. One who likes to throw a tantrum on every other occasion.

It's usually nothing more than bantering, playful and witty at its best, sharp and bitter at its worst, but it's something Mobius can handle. He can even enjoy it, when he makes a stupid joke and Loki tells him how stupid it is and they both chuckle. Loki has to learn something new about being a TVA agent and most of the times he makes a fool of himself before getting the thing right, so Mobius can tease him a little and Loki will respond sharp as ever, but with a sort of...endearing note in his stubborness.

Those are good days, days Mobius comes back to his apartment with a smile and when he closes his eyes he can still hear the God's laughter at whatever funny thing happened that day, or replay the moment when they looked into eachothers' eyes and they suddenly understood what to do with the mission, with a single glance.

Today was not a good day. He didn't know the reason. Maybe Loki woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe Mobius accidentally made an unpleasant comment, but the norse God started their mission with a pout you could see on the face of a child when they don't get the Christmas present they wanted.

"Oh well" Mobius had thought. Oh well, it's just another bad day, a day in which he had to watch his mouth, because you don't want to deal with an angered God. The general mood was low, the Minutemen looked already tired before the mission had even started and Mobius knew from the moment he passed through the portal he wanted to come back home as soon as possible.

But this wasn't an ordinary bad day. Mobius was prepared to deal with a bit of coldness, with a lack of enthusiasm from everybody, what he wasn't ready to deal with- he didn't want to deal with Loki acting like an asshole.

"And that's it? Really?"

"What did you expect me to say, exactly? You brought me here, you told me I was living a delusion and you gave me no choice other than being your hound. I apologise if I can't think of you as one of my dear friends."

"One of your dear friends? Who would the others be? Just curious, because I have seen your entire life and there is not one person, except maybe Thor, you actually build this strong and trusting relationship with-"

"Wonderful, so why did you expect you'd be the first one I'd decide to grant the gift of my friendship to? I am not even your colleague, I am subjected to this stupid organisation and to you in particular. We are not friends, we forcibly work together and that's it."

Mobius and Loki had been speed walking during the entire discussion, but Loki stopped for a moment.

"You can't fool me, I know very well I am not anything more than your ticket to the Variant. I'll be damned before I put my trust in you, we both know, after all of this has come to an end, nothing will be between me and that resetting stick."

You see, on an ordinary bad day, this would have never happened. On an ordinary bad day, Mobius wouldn't have seen all of his efforts to build a decent relationship with Loki shattered. Was he used to a suspicious Loki? Yes. To a Loki who said that trust is for dogs and children? Also yes. He had been used to that Loki since he first opened up his file. But he had also started being used to Loki's rare moments when he opened up, to his hidden heroic side which desperately seemed to call for attention, to his awkward, genuine reaction when he was showed any form of affection. Mobius had seen Loki spitting his "trust nobody" one liners with less and less convinction everyday, and then they were only mumbled comments to keep up a façade, and then they had become whispers, and then eyes rolls, to the point that Mobius had thought Loki had started warming up on poeple- warming up on him. But he was wrong. Just because Loki didn't voice his dissent, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

It didn't mean he saw Mobius as more than just enemy, even after everything they had been through, even after Mobius took on himself the risk of whatever would have happened to Loki and because of Loki, even after the trust he had shown him, even after the laughters and the lunches and the jokes and the stolen glances- now, look at who was the delusioned one.

Did this upset Mobius? Absolutely. But it also fired him up. Frustration, anger, embarrassment, Mobius erupted with a fiercety matching the volcano explosion just minutes ago.

"Do you really think I would just let them reset you?"

Although shorter than the God, Mobius stood up in front of him looking him in the eyes.

"After all I have done to keep you alive, after all we have been through, do you believe I'd just abandon you to your de-"

"What else would you do? Keep me with you, as your 'friend'? What, you took pity on me and were planning to give me a desk so I can spend the rest of my eternity working for the same people who robbed me of my future?"

"Now stop it, you two, the passage is open, we need to leave" said Hunter B-15, but Loki and Mobius didn't seem to have any intention of listening to her, so she just signed at the rest of the group.

"Come on, hop through it, they'll come when they're ready" she ordered. She waited for the Minutemen to go through the passage, she looked once again at Loki and Mobius and she shook her head, following her collogues back to the TVA. She closed the passage, aware that Mobius could have opened another when he wanted to.

"Just because you are a selfish, uncaring bastard it doesn't mean we all have to be. Is it so difficult for you to accept some people care about you? Like your mother or your brothe-"

"Don't you dare talking about them, you know nothing about them-"

"I literally know everything about them-"

"And stop pretending you care about me or trust me, I am the God of Illusions, I know all your stupid tricks, I used them before-"

Loki and Mobius were shouting very loud, they barely heard the footsetps of someone approaching. A Variant, not the Loki Variant, another one, an enemy of the TVA, probably.

Mobius noticed them in the corner of the eye and turned around fast enough.

Loki was not minimally done with the discussion, but if Mobius was looking away from him, something must have happened.

Loki has been in battles. Battles on Asgards are usually more "traditional" than what you see on Midgard. Sure, they can use magic, but it's mostly swords and axes and arrows and, sometimes, good old-fashioned punches. When he had been on Midgard, Loki had learned war had incredibly evolved. The glorified Midgardian technology changed the face of battles. He had seen a few of the new weapons, nothing that impressive, incomparable to magic. But he remembered them very well, he knew he was not a good idea to underestimate them. So he remembered the sound of a bullet. It was loud, violent, fast. It lasted a few seconds, and then there was silence. If you aim right, your enemy is not just wounded, he's already dead.

They both turned to see the Variant pulling out a gun, and then Loki heard it.

The sound of a bullet.

He shoved Mobius away, before the agent could do anything about it. Mobius heard the sound of a bullet as well, he heard Loki moan in pain and he knew he hadn't been fast enough. But he made up for it pulling out his gun as well, shooting the Variant right in the chest, it only took one bullet to kill him.

Mobius was suddenly grabbed by the arm by a bleeding Loki, who was trying to stand up in vain.

Mobius kneeled next to him, holding him and putting his head on his lap.

Blood. So much blood. The bullet hit the stomach. A normal bullet? You take him to the hospital and chances are he'll be fine. A bullet like that, with a venom release? Kills you in a matter of minutes.

'He is not going to survive' a voice declared in Mobius's head.

He had seen scenes like this too many times to ignore the truth, even if he was desperately trying to. So many missions ending up with corpses, Mobius had witnessed so many deaths like this. It was useless to try and save them, the most merciful act was to immediately reset them to spare them the pain.

But not with Loki. Mobius had already started pressing on the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Useless, all of this was useless.

Loki was uttering verses more than words, normally at this point he would have neen already unconscoius, but the whole being a God must have come with some sort of enhanched healing capacity.

"I am not...ugh, not surviving this?"

"No, no, you are, I just have to take you through the passage-"

"I am...the God of...lies, I know one when I heard...one" Loki coughed.

No, no, no, one thing was seeing Loki dies in a stupid video, another was to witness him dying between his arms, Mobius thought. He couldn't bear this.

Loki looked so scared. He didn't even have the strenght to talk to pretend he was fine with this, he accepted this death. He just looked pained and frightened. He tried to tighten his grip around Mobius's arm, but he couldn't, he was loosing too much blood too fast.

"He looks so young, God, he looks so young" was all Mobius could think. He had seen Loki die, he had seen him a hero, a son of Odin, a troubled man with a controversial life, but this Loki, he was too young. He was just learning what his life could amd couldn't be, he still hadn't make up with Thor or heard his father tell him that he loved him. There was an entire future for him ready to be rewritten, he couldn't die in that moment, he couldn't die on him.

"Aren't you...you tired of watching...me die..."

"You are not dying, Loki, we just have to press on the wound for bit longer, enough for it to stop bleeding, then I'll take you through the passage and-"

"It's always...so pathetic..." Loki coughed again "of a scene..."

Mobius looked around him for another piece of cloth to press on the wound. He had already sacrificed his jacket, but, in absence of anything else, he ripped part of the sleeve of his shirt and pressed it on Loki's stomach. The white cotton was soon impregnated by dark red blood.

"At least...both times...I died for someone I-"

Loki coughed again, exhaling his last breath.

Mobius stopped pressing on the wound. He stared at Loki's corpse in a silent horror.

His body wasn't cold yet, the blood was still flowing, but he was dead. Loki was dead.

Mobius conceided himself a few seconds to fully realize there was nothing left to do. He wanted to scream, but his mouth didn't emit any sound.

His hands still rested on the wound, wet woth blood.

"It should have been you, is that what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Mobius reluctantly teared his gaze off Loki's corpse, to meet the eyes of another God Mischief, one alive and on the run.

Towering over Mobius with his dark cloak, the Dangerous Variant casted a shadow on the two TVA agents. He then kneeled beside Loki's corpse.

Mobius looked at him is disbelief.

"Why are you here?" was all Mobius managed to say.

Why are you here now? Where were you five minutes ago, when Loki was still alive, when you could have done something? How are looking at your own corpse- they were, after all, the same person- without any anger, or surprise or shock?

Mobius wasn't scared of the Dangerous Variant, on the contrary. Although TVA insisted on branding him as this big enemy, he had on several occasions helped him and Loki out, even saved them from some very bad situations. He had never constituted a threat for him or Loki. Sure, he was a mass murderer, but that was kind of a Loki characteristic in general.

"Okay, here's the deal" said the Variant, without looking away from the dead body "You use your...your- ah, what's its name, the- the remote to go back in time, I'll take his place and it's happy ending for everyone. Except for me" he mumbled "but that was mever in the plans, wasn't it" he smiled bitterly, pushing a lock of the dead Loki's hair away from his face.

"What?" Mobius exclaimed.

"Just do as I say" the Variant kept looking down at the corpse "You turn back time, I take the bullet, you two live, I die. It's easy, Mobius."

"How the hell should this be easy?" Mobius shouted, prey to grief and confusion "Why would you do that? What's- what's the meaning of this?"

The Variant had been willing to lend a hand in moments of need, but he was no suicidal.

Finally, the Variant pried his eyes away from his other self and looked at Mobius.

"You asked me once why I was doing what I was doing, remember?" he began.

Mobius slowly nodded.

“Killing TVA officers, trying to destroy the system" the Variant continued "It was just... revenge. Against the TVA. For taking away the thing I cared the most about."

He then looked Mobius in the eye, with a strange intensity, some sort of regret.

"...I was that Loki"

He looked once again at the corpse.

"Then they killed you." he paused.

Mobius didn't say a word, but he kept looking at the Variant astonished.

"And I decided it was time to stray from my written path again. Because nothing else mattered anymore, except making them pay for what they did and making sure what happened to you in my past... did not happen in your present."

The Variant idly run a bony finger over his other's self pale cheek. He then raised his eyes at Mobius.

"I will take his place because he still has you" he then declared "and he still has time to accept" he made a small gesture with his hand, encompassing his dead alter ego and Mobius "whatever you’ve got going on."

Mobius looked at the Variant ever so bewildered, but the Variant simply closed his eyes for a few seconds, looking for the right words.

"He still has time to tell you...all the things I never said."

The Dangerous Variant was on his knees, teary eyes and a lump in his throat, but he then stood up and cleared his stance. Despire the shaken voice, he proclaimed with all the courage he seemed to own: "I am Loki of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose." He screamed that to no one in particular, or maybe just to himself.

Mobius had been shocked into silence until that moment. Still looking at the Variant, he stood up too, hesitated for a moment then extends his hand to Dangerous Variant. The other one looked at it for a moment, and then firmly grasped it, shaking it.

Mobius was still very confused over what has just happened- what was going to happen.

"Are you sure?" he asked "You...would die. For good. I- I don't think there's a way everybody can get out safe from this- even if you consider time travel and-"

"I know. That's why I am doing it. So that you two get to live, you still has reasons to do it." the Variant said, no hesitation.

"I was right, you know," Mobius said, still reluctant to leave Loki's hand- the moment he did, the Variant would have to die. It was still hard for him to sentence someone to death. But his lips curled into an almost amused smile, even though with a note of sadeness "You're not a villain."

The Variant snorted- oh, Allfather, he had missed Moby's antics- and rolled his eyes, then looked at Mobius again, trying to hide his amusement. You had to have a sense of humour to live his life, Loki thought, there weren't many moments to laugh in his existence, he had to learn to appreciate rare moments like those, when fate graced him with the last sight of the love of his life.

"Turn back the clock, Mobius."

After a slow nod, his hand still in Variant Loki's, Mobius did as he was said.

***

Two days later those events, ut was a good day. In the previous two days, the TVA had finally declared that one of his most wanted Variants was not a problem anymore. Mobius simply stated he had "been cared about", with a hint of sadness nobody cared for. Loki had been quite shocked to witness his death, he had tried to do something for him, but Mobius had looked at him the way he rarely did- with resignation. Nothing left to do. He had offered Loki to spend some time together after the whole thing, to buy him a drink if he needed, to simply listen to him or leave him alone, if he wanted to. It wasn't easy to be a spectator of their own death.

Loki had recovered quicker than Mobius would have thought. Sure, you could still see Loki lost in his train of thoughts when he was left on his own, but he had seen himself die once, he could handle twice.

"Paperwork. To distract you. As a treat." Mobius put on his desk a stack of papers the size of an encyclopedia.

Loki frowned: "And you call this a treat?"

"Well, you can always go help Casey cataloguing the infinity stones, if you like it best" Mobius chuckles.

Loki mindlessly started playing with the Tesseract on his desk- yes, they let him keep it. After all, it was no more than a glowing blue lamp at the TVA.

"Mh, whatever" Loki sighed, picking up a paper, still glaring at Mobius.

"Oh, you have to file these for the end of the day, which gives you around...hmm, something between one and four hours in earth time, I don't remember now. Good luck." Mobius added before starting to walk away.

An irritated "what" that was probably heard in the entire pocket reality of the TVA made him stopped in place. Mobius couldn't help but smile, but he didn't turn around.

"You must be joking! This is- this is unacceptable! What is even supposed to mean between one and four hours? I may have king ambitions but you are the real tyrant!" Loki shouted.

"Oh, Loki" said Mobius, finally turning to face the God "This is very flattering, but I am no more than a mere bureaucrat."

"Yes, and the worst kind." the other replied. He then looked around him, noticing that everybody has stopped whatever they were doing to listen to his shoutings. With a faint flush on his face, Loki sat back in his chair, just after glancing at the whole room and snarling a "What are you looking at?"

He then looked back at Mobius, sighing a "I hate you so much".

Mobius simply smiles.

"Sure you do, kitten."

I am sorry for the spelling mistakes, I tend to make a lot of them and also I am not a native english speaker, so I hope I everything I wrote makes sense.

#lokius #loki #loki 2021 #loki laufeyson #loki tv show #loki disney+#loki series #loki x mobius #mobius #mobius m mobius #moki #timefrost #time husbands #wowki #angst #variant loki #death

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

Blood Hungry: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

“The guy the kid described definitely sounds like a tweaker,” you say once you, Spencer, and the cops show back up at the police station.

“Pull the files of all the methamphetamine arrests in the past six months,” the sheriff asks of the deputy.

“Will do.”

“We should narrow the suspect list down according to the guy's residence. Crimes like these are always crimes of opportunity,” Spencer points out.

“So the first guy on our suspect list will live in the closest proximity to the victim.”

“Do you have a place where we can set up?”

“You can use Simpson's desk. He's out. You got a phone there and a computer. Meantime, I'm gonna narrow down that list,” Sheriff Hall says.

You and Spencer walk over to the desk, and you take a seat on the edge of it while Spencer sits on the actual chair.

“You know, that house was full of chaotic energy. I saw Annie walk around her house, and I felt Wally’s energy as well as both unsubs. One was violent and angry while the other was jittery and nervous. There was only one killer, and the other guy didn’t even know what he was doing.”

“That can help us when we determine who’s on our suspect list,” Spencer nods.

“Hey, you guys find anything?” Derek asks as he and Hotch enter the station.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Y/N found an eyewitness. A little boy who saw someone in the driveway.”

“That's more than we got at Thompson's place,” Hotch shrugs.

“We got two suspects,” JJ and Elle make their way over to everyone else. “Judd Franklin and Domino Thacker.”

“Can I see them?” you ask, and JJ hands over the files.

Both men are equally suspicious, but Domino is the one who screams at you to catch him. You hand over the file to Derek who reads it.

“I know Domino. He's bad news. Serious tweaker. Cooks his own stuff,” Sheriff Hall butts in.

“Does he live near the crime scenes?” Elle asks.

“Almost directly between them.”

“Robbery, armed robbery, possession, and possession with intent. This guy's been hospitalized for overdoses and attempted suicide,” Derek reads.

“What do you think?” Hall asks.

“We need to find Domino,” you conclude.

Derek and some burly cops went to get Domino which was the best idea they had. According to Derek, this guy ran and tried to fight back. However, due to his small stature and nervous outlook, he was easily caught and brought back to the station where Sheriff Hall placed him behind bars. This guy is wearing nothing but his underwear, so he was given a blanket due to him shivering like a Chihuahua.

“Hey, Hotch, I think it’s best if I talk to this guy. His energy is spiking in every direction, and I know I can make a connection with him easily.”

“Okay,” he nods.

Him, Derek, and Elle want to see this pan out, so they follow you to where the suspect is. From only one glance, you know this guy is the thief and not the killer. His energy matches the nervous energy you saw at the house. He is the one who robbed Annie, not killed her.

“I’m freezin’,” Domino complains as he scratches at his head.

You, Hotch, and Sheriff Hall are the only ones inside the cell while Derek and Elle are hanging outside of it.

“Domino, what were you doing at Annie Stuart’s house?” you ask gently.

“I didn't do nothin'. I got the flu. I'm sick is what I am,” he sniffles.

“We know you were there, boy,” Hall glares.

“Sheriff,” you whisper and shake your head when he looks at you.

“In the driveway. I was lookin' at that car, but I never stoled it. I was thinkin' about it, but I left. I seen that kid.”

“The blood found on the bottom of your boot is Annie Stuart's. The tread from the bottom of your boot is the same as the tread found all over the crime scene. Inside!” Elle yells.

“Elle, stop,” you snap and glare at her.

She is not helping this situation.

“Deputy. Coming out,” she sighs and leaves since she knows she won’t be of any help here.

“I didn't do nothin',” Domino whimpers.

“Domino,” you sigh and bend down so he doesn’t have to look up at you. “Look at yourself. You have a record and the blood of Annie all over you. How do you think that’s going to hold up in court? Think about that.”

“I... I… came back. I came back to her house. But he was leavin'.”

“Who?”

“Some dude, man. I don't know.”

“What was he wearing?” you ask.

“He had a hood. A black hood.”

“Domino, look at me,” you order gently, and he just shakes his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one is. I just want to talk to you. Come on, look at me.” He finally does and you can see just how scared he was. “You didn’t do this, did you?” He shakes his head. “Okay, if that’s true, then you gotta help us out here. Talk to me. You left. You saw him leave. Then what?”

“Went in and--and she's lying there. You know, um, I needed money real bad so... she was already like that.”

“She was like what?”

“You know, she was all cut up,” he starts to cry.

“She was all butchered up and you robbed her anyway?”

“It ain't right!” he yells, and you stand back up. This interview is done. “It ain't right! I'm sorry! It ain't right. Oh, god, forgive me. Oh, god... It ain't right! I'm sorry!”

“We’re done here,” you say to the Sheriff and Hotch.

It’s time that Domino is left alone to think about what he’s done. When you get to the main part of the station, you turn to the Sheriff.

“He didn't do it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He was pretty freaked out just thinking about what was done to Annie,” Derek points out.

“People pretend,” he shrugs.

“Anybody delusional enough to eviscerate Annie would not be lucid enough to recount it the way he did. Trust me, he didn’t do it. He robbed her, but that’s it.”

“Alright. I'll have him taken to detox and then I'm gonna arrest him for robbery.”

“In the meantime, I'd have your men canvass the neighborhood again to see if they saw a guy in a hooded sweatshirt,” Derek orders.

“Will do,” he nods.

Once you and the team had a rough idea of what to look for, it was time to give the profile. Every single cop in the station gathered around to hear what your team had to say. According to Gideon, he discovered that the unsub is drinking and eating the blood and organs after placing them in round containers. It’s why there were bloody rings on the coffee table. You have enough to put together a profile.

“We are looking for a twenty to thirty-year-old male,” Hotch begins.

“The unsub engages in anthropophagy. It's a psychotic conviction that he must drink human blood and possibly eat human flesh,” you add.

“For Richard Rrenton Chase, the vampire killer, he drank his victims' blood because he believed that aliens had invaded his body and were slowly drinking his blood,” Spencer spits out facts only he would know.

However, you knew about this too.

“If he didn't get the blood he needed, he'd die. Anthropophagy suggests such an extreme level of psychosis and disorganization that he couldn't have ventured very far from home to commit these crimes. This guy lives or has lived in this town. He knows the territory.”

“You've all seen him,” Derek takes over. “Maybe at the ballpark or riding his bike home from the grocery store. He wasn't always a threat. He could have been your neighbor. He might have been your friend. We think something about his delusion is keeping him here in town.”

“So, we're gonna start at Annie’s house and we're gonna spread out there in quadrants. We're gonna eliminate all of his hiding places,” Hotch determines.

“Paul Thompson's funeral is this afternoon. A lot of his neighbors are gonna be there,” Sheriff Hall mentions.

“Then that’s where we start,” you nod.

The funeral is in full service, and you’re scanning the area to see who might be at all suspicious. Most everyone is passing your tests, but there is one woman wearing a lacy black veil that raises a bunch of red flags. For some reason, she has a tint of that angry red energy you saw back at the house. There is something not right with her.

You go to mention this to Hotch who stands next to you when JJ and Elle walk over with a bunch of case files.

“So, we got some names of unsubs. Farrell Belvedere, twenty-three. He, uh, took a little too much LSD and flipped out in a Winn Dixie and tore up a cheese counter.”

“It’s not him,” you shake your head.

“Okay, show her Mark Ward. He's twenty-one with five counts of petty larceny. Attempted suicide, committed for a year, but now he's living back with his parents.”

“Nope,” you shake your head.

“The last one is Oley Maynor, twenty-five. He was institutionalized for severe manic-depression. He has violent mood swings. When he was eighteen, he got arrested for biting the heads off chickens.”

“He matches what I saw. It could be him, but it ain't the other two. I know it for sure,” you say.

“Gather as much information as you can about him,” Hotch orders.

“You got it,” you nod and leave with Elle.

Derek catches up with you and Elle to gather information on Oley, but you have one woman in mind. By the time you got debriefed, the funeral was over. The woman in the lacy veil was leaving, and you rushed over to her to see what she knows. You really want to get a feel about who she is and what she’s hiding because you know she’s hiding something.

“Ma’am, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” you ask and flash her your badge.

“Of course, what do you need to know?”

“Do you know a man named Oley Maynor?”

“Of course. I just saw him the other day,” she nods without looking at you.

“You saw him where?” Derek asks.

“He was with his brother. In fact, I think it looked like they didn't want to be seen because he took Oley out of the car and went straight into his house.”

“When was this, Mrs. Mays?” Elle asks.

She must have known who this is because you didn’t know her name.

“Three days ago.”

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#blood hungry #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #season 1 episode 11 #s1e11

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO, Episode 28 of Word of Honor was a roller-coaster ride.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later if you want to see it unspoiled.)

They managed two entirely separate scenes in this one that had me going “Did … did that just happen? Is this really happening?” Let’s get this one out of the way first: The scene of Zhao Jing in his serial killer lair with the altar and memorial tablets and his serial killer trophies. Y’all. I swear, scene opens with a shot from behind of drunk Awful Yifu in his Fantasy Ancient China underwear staggering through a set of doors into a room with candles and draperies, and before I was able to register the rest of the set design, my brain gave a terrified squeak and started rabbiting around like, “Oh my god, please do not let this be Xie’er’s bedroom. Oh my god, they wouldn’t actually go there, not even hinted, surely that would be too far!” Then my eyeballs caught up and registered the set, so I thought I was safe, but that didn’t even turn out to be the moment in the scene that had me going “Is this really happening?” (Although I do think the fact my brain immediately jumped to that scenario speaks to the creepy vibe the show has managed to build between Awful Yifu and Xie Wang). So, Zhao Jing is a sloppy drunk and absolutely shitfaced, stumbling around and yelling at his dead brothers, and I’m sitting here watching him, feeling like I need a shower, with my skin a little bit trying to crawl off my body, and then he picks up Rong Xuan’s memorial tablet and pours an entire stream of alcohol out of the pitcher all over it, and I say, out loud, to the screen, “Oh my god, they just had him figuratively piss on that tablet.” Only, no, they didn’t, because there was no need to have him do it figuratively because then, he literally whips it out of his pants and takes a piss on the tablet, complete with sound effects, and I’m open-mouthed, thinking “Is this really happening?” As some background, I grew up in mainstream U.S. culture where ancestor veneration isn’t formally practiced - although it isn’t an entirely absent part of our cultural mythos, it’s just that now when I when I offer cultus to the Patres Patriae, it’s deliberate and intentional – but I’ve been doing ancestor work in my particular flavor of polytheism for long enough, and intensely enough, that I had a visceral reaction of disgust and horror to this. Hand literally clapped over my mouth in shock, even after watching all of his ranting at his dead brothers and spitting at his dead shifu and just generally being a disrespectful asshole with delusions of grandeur building up to it. So, yes, show, you have indeed convinced me that Awful Yifu is the worst, even in an episode that also devoted that much screentime to Prince Jin.

Fortunately, the other “Is this really happening?” moment was at the other end of the spectrum, somewhere in the face of how married Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing are, which I cannot believe passed censorship. I know I keep saying that, but every time I think I’ve adjusted to how far they’re going to go, the show laughs gay-ly as it pushes the envelope another mile down the road. Truly, this show is the gift that keeps on giving where these two are concerned, and not just because of Zhang Zhehan’s face. I realize I had to spend 50 episodes deciphering Lan Wangji’s smallest microexpression (not that I’m complaining), but I can’t believe how expressive both Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun are in these roles, with Gong Jun’s little sadness eyebrows when WKX wants ZZS to humor him, and how soft Zhang Zhehan’s face gets when ZZS looks at WKX, and how great they both are at making all this look like a pair of adults who are in an established relationship and confident of each other. I’d be as weak as Wen Kexing if Zhou Zishu pouted at me the way he does when he tells Chengling that he can’t do anything to help decorate the Manor except observe and direct because he’s oh, so injured and frail, poor him. Wen Kexing can laugh at Zhou Zishu when ZZS pokes at him by saying the papercrafter was such a beauty! (Compare this to his reaction back in the day, when ZZS deftly manipulated him out of bringing A-Xiang along on their honeymoon adventures by calling her a beauty and implying she might draw attention away from WKX!) Wen Kexing waves kitchen knives at Zhou Zishu in (somewhat fond) exasperation! Zhou Zishu now accepts Wen Kexing piling his plate with food at the table as perfectly normal! There’s no crying in Spring Festival! They send their kid outside to watch the fireworks so they can have sex some alone time! (Merciless killers. How the fuck so adorable?) Someone must have backed up an entire truckful of money to the house of someone very important to get this aired, because what is the heterosexual explanation for … any of this?

Other thoughts:

We continue to get small things that maintain the parallels between Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining, including the mirrored theme of finding a home with a welcoming family, shown through family dinner, and expressed through WKX’s description of his former self as a “lonely ghost,” echoing A-Xiang’s self-description (to Shen Shen in an earlier ep) the same way.

HAN YING! Listen, I am stupidly attached to this bit player, and not just because he’s a familiar face (because half of Wen Xu’s screentime in The Untamed was just a disembodied head hanging at the entrance to the Unclean Realm, so it’s not like there was time to get … attached). And I say stupidly attached because ever since we first saw the way he looked at ZZS with big puppy heart-eyes, I knew he was going to be a goner. I just know they’re gonna fridge him for the next step in ZZS’s journey, because something has to pry ZZS out of Four Seasons Manor, as much as I, personally, would like nothing better than to see 8 more episodes of wedded bliss for two gay dads and their son. (OK, one thing I would like better would be if their daughter and son-in-law came to live with them, too.) At least it looks like Han Ying will get to die taking a figurative bullet for ZZS, which will make him happy and might prevent him from finding out the Glazed Armor he’s so proud of bringing is actually pointless, because don’t think that didn’t hurt to know while I watched him being so proud of managing to get his hands on it. But I’d prefer he didn’t die at all, show. Also, why on earth are there only two (completed) stories under the ZZS/Han Ying label on AO3? Because yes, I have looked. I have the search open in another tab right now. Why haven’t more people taken advantage of this guy’s utter devotion for ZZS? How are people looking at the way Han Ying reverently brushes his fingers over the single white blossom on the wall mural in ZZS’s rooms back in Prince Jin’s palace and not falling all over that?

Xie’er, oh, Xie’er. You’re killing me, here. I need someone to rescue you, you desperate affection-starved little sociopath. So, to recap, last time we met, your Awful Yifu finally let it slip that he was never ever going to acknowledge your existence in public. So now, you’re being a very clever boy, setting up a scheme to manipulate him into having to publicly acknowledge you if he’s going to claim credit for your successes (because I’m sure you can’t even contemplate failure) in service to Prince Jin. So clever, but I hate to tell you, you’re clever at everything except learning from your mistakes when it comes to your Awful Yifu. You really learned nothing from Beauty Ghost, did you? Ugh, your sad little face as you watch your hot mess of an Awful Yifu while you wait for the maids to make tea – it hurts me. Please tell me you’re playing some kind of long game, and you’re just a really great actor. Because he’s sloppy drunk, and right now, watching your face journey, I think maybe you think that makes what he’s saying true – that he’s not guarding his words, and he means it when he tells you that of course he loves you and would never leave you. “Are you still angry with me?” Awful Yifu literally asks. “Alright, I’ll apologize. I was just mad. It didn’t mean anything. We’re together in this. I’ll always stand by you.” Xie’er, you have got to stop believing gaslighting abusive men who shovel that BS. This is what they call the honeymoon period in the cycle of abuse. Seriously. This is textbook. Please stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe think about the fact that your Awful Yifu is, single-handedly, the reason the Department of the Unfaithful actually exists in the first place. He is THAT AWFUL. I would like to think actually seeing his serial killer trophy room will make a difference, now that you have some confirmation of what Tragicomic Ghost told you and not the ability to wave it off as part of some he-said, she-said situation where how could we ever possibly know the truth, despite the fact that Zhao Jing has shown he’ll stab anyone in the back in his quest for power? But, then, I also thought maybe learning last ep that he never planned to publicly acknowledge you would make some kind of difference. Are you going to roll the dice again, gambler? Because I’ll tell you right now, the house always wins. (Not that you’d listen to me anymore than you listened to Beauty Ghost.)

(Also, wait wait waitwaitwait. Waitaminit. This is pure speculation and probably way too out there to be true (oh, but, someone’s going to write this AU for me, right?) Hot-mess drunk yifu tells Xie’er that they’ve been depending on each other “ever since I picked you up and brought you back home.” I can’t remember if we know anything about Xie Wang’s background at this point, but it does sound like Zhao Jing might have literally yoinked him off the street to raise him. He … he doesn’t think Xie’er is actually Yan’er, does he? Only he kidnapped the wrong orphaned urchin by mistake? I’m just sayin’, thinking back to Shen Shen’s reaction to finding out Zhen Yan was still alive, it would be exactly the kind of thing Zhao Jing would do, to keep this kid that his brother(s) wanted to find hidden right under their noses.)

Chengling and the chicken. I can’t, y’all. And Zhou Zishu’s face as soon as he realizes what Wen Kexing is telling Chengling to do – he knows this is going to be a show.

Prince Jin, you are almost as bad as Xie’r and his awful Yifu combined:

Prince Jin: Zhou Zishu, you mastermind, your super-secret spy network continues to spread everywhere, including into my very own palace. Oh, the things you must be plotting against me!

Zhou Zishu, chillin’ at Plum Blossom Manor, day-drinking, dressing up in pretty festive robes, taking advantage of his disciple’s unpaid labor so he doesn’t have to raise a finger for himself, and providing his husband with sex so incredible he is never required to actually cook: “OK, my gay husband and our son-with-two-dads, how about we just stay here together forever and be happy?”

Also Prince Jin: *Creeps on Zhou Zishu like a gaslighting m’fker*

Anyway, if Prince Jin always knew what Han Ying was up to all along, is the letter about ZZS’s father a plant, with false info? It was just kind of suspiciously hanging out in the open on Prince Jin’s desk.

#zhao jing #xie wang #zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #cao weining #zhang chengling #han ying #prince jin #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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wellhalesbells · 4 years

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✨✨ TOP FIVES FOR 2020 ✨✨

2020 was, i think we can all agree, a massively chaotic year but i have never consumed as much media before in my life, so i thought others might benefit from my slothery uh, connoisseur.... ship? yes, that. below are the books, comics, shows, and movies that got me through!

B O O K S .

the starless sea, by erin morgenstern - i loooove this book because it loves me back. it says: ‘oh, you’re a reader, well i have just the thing for you.’ it luxuriates in language and story and riddles and fairy tales and it feels like an entire library in a single tome.

they never learn, by layne fargo - oh fuuuuuck, this was satisfying. i thought it might feel a little exploitative as it is very aware of the zeitgeist and likely would not exist without the #metoo movement but it never ever did. this was a fucking ROMP, period. reading about a woman getting away with murdering skeezy guy after rapey guy after shitty human just made me happier and happier.

moonflower murders, by anthony horowitz - this is the second in the susan ryeland series (and the first was hardcore good fun too) and really feels very classic mystery with the artful twist of catering to the literary community. mainly because: susan isn’t a detective, she’s an editor and she gets drafted in this time because the clue to what happened to a missing woman is in a book she edited, if she can find it. both of the books in this series have such an excellent coming together moment that is rare af to find.

the invisible life of addie larue, by v.e. schwab - the writing in this is just so good. it has that feel to me where i just want to drop the book and open up my own page and let my fingers fly. it’s that inspiring kind of writing that reminds you of all the things language can do.

crown of feathers/heart of flames, by nicki pau preto - aaahhh, this series is SO FREAKING GOOD! why is there not more of a fandom for it, why???? it is so many of my favorite tropes all resting perfectly together to the point where you almost forget they’re tropes because they just so naturally evolved there. ugh, it’s just.... it’s so heart-bursty good.

.... number 5, part 2? raybearer, by jordan ifueko - this was just so original and i was invested af. like, what a brilliant idea though and an even better execution?? i loved every character and am so looking forward to the next in the series so i can get to know them even better!!

honorable mentions (sh*t i still liked a whole heckuva lot): you/hidden bodies, by caroline kepnes // writers & lovers, by lily king // i’ll be gone in the dark, by michelle mcnamara // the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, by joseph fink & jeffrey cranor // girl, serpent, thorn, by melissa bashardoust // a little life, by hanya yanagihara // the guinevere deception, by kiersten white // obsidio (and the entire illuminae series), by amie kaufman & jay kristoff // the bone houses, by emily lloyd-jones // house of salt and sorrows, by erin a. craig // we hunt the flame, by hafsah faizal // savage legion, by matt wallace // blacktop wasteland, by s.a. cosby // crier’s war, by nina varela // the empress of salt and fortune/when the tiger came down the mountain, by nghi vo // upright women wanted, by sarah gailey // the monster of elendhaven, by jennifer giesbrecht // a deadly education, by naomi novik // you let me in, by camilla bruce // when you ask me where i’m going, by jasmin kaur // the lights go out in lychford/last stand in lychford (and the entire lychford series), by paul cornell // the devil and the dark water, by stuart turton // serpent & dove, by shelby mahurin // one by one, by ruth ware // ruthless gods (this was SUCH an upshot from the first book - it’s worth sticking with if you’re on the fence), by emily a. duncan // cemetery boys, by aiden thomas // the inheritance games, by jennifer lynn barnes // the fortunate ones (2021 release), by ed tarkington

C O M I C S .

cosmoknights, by hannah templer - the art was gorgeous, the gayness was glorious, and just.... hot HOOOOOOOOT lady knights in space?! a princess winning her own hand? find something not to love in there, i dare you.

don’t go without me, by rosemary valero-o’connell - wow. wow wow wow wow wow. the writing was stunning, so lyrical and atmospheric and deep, and rosemary has to be one of my favorite artists but even that managed to come as a beautiful surprise because it was just so freaking bold.

through the woods, by emily carroll - i loooove emily carroll, the convergence of spine-tingling horror and art that feeds into it, that is both visually and aesthetically pleasing, is hard to beat! p.s. i also read beneath the dead oak tree from her this year and it was also a BANGER.

the impending blindness of billie scott, by zoe thorogood - zoe is someone that i just want to follow. she’s just starting and i want to be there for every single step. i love her art style and her ability to tell a story with it.

above the clouds, by melissa pagluica - this was so unique, and such a baller concept, as nearly half the entire book is conveyed only through the art and yet you’re never once lost, never once confused as to what any character is thinking or feeling. it’s a story within a story and only one of those gets words though they both are chock full of emotion!

um.... number 5, part 2? crowded, by christopher sebela - everything about this series is fun af. crowd-funded assassination and a hirable bodyguard who’s rated like an uber driver??? and the chemistry between the two mains is so great and gay!!

honorable mentions: monster and the beast, by renji // long exposure, by kam ‘mars’ heyward // fence, by c.s. pacat // invisible kingdom, by g. willow wilson // ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson // heathen, by natasha alterici // not drunk enough, by tess stone // giant days, by john allison // die, by kieron gillen // be prepared, by vera brosgol // ascender (sequel to descender, which is also great), by jeff lemire // the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north // bang! bang! boom!, by melanie schoen // gideon falls, by jeff lemire // life of melody, by mari costa // cry wolf girl, by ariel slamet ries // the tea dragon society, by katie o’neill // ptsd, by guillaume singelin // heartstopper, by alice oseman // solutions and other problems, by allie brosh // finding home, by hari conner // the magic fish, by trung le nguyen // something is killing the children, by james tynion iv // the weight of them, by noelle stevenson // spill zone, by scott westerfeld // skyward, by joe henderson // miles morales, by saladin ahmed

F I L M S.

parasite, dir. bong joon ho - oh it was satisfying, oh it was suspenseful, oh i had to watch some of it through my fingers but i loooooooved it. such a good story and so well made.

knives out, dir. rian johnson - okay, everything about this movie was amazing. every single character was fun as hell and i could’ve watched an entire movie about each of them. what a great fucking mystery!

blindspotting, dir. carlos lopez estrada - this made my heart hurt so damn much. what glorious writing, acting, and story!

portrait of a lady on fire, dir. celine sciamma - gooooorgeous cinematography, amazing chemistry, and such a soft, atmospheric film.

the farewell, dir. lulu wang - i cried and my heart felt so full and i love it so so much.

um.... number 5, part 2? someone great, dir. jennifer kaytin robinson - no part of me expected to love a netflix movie this much but it’s a love story that doesn’t get told that often?? the end of a relationship and the true love of friendship and i love these girls and i love jenny and nate’s broken relationship.

honorable mentions: eighth grade, dir. bo burnham // booksmart, dir. olivia wilde // midsommar, dir. ari aster // the curse of la llorona, dir. michael chaves // the secret life of pets 2, dirs. chris renaud & jonathan del val // jojo rabbit, dir. taika waititi // the invisible man, dir. leigh whannell // the favourite, dir. yorgos lanthimos // can you ever forgive me?, dir. marielle heller // troop zero, dirs. bert & bertie // ready or not, dirs. matt bettinelli-olpin & tyler gillett // brave, dirs. mark andrews & brenda chapman & steve purcell // the half of it, dir. alice wu // palm springs, dir. max barbakow // doctor sleep, dir. mike flanaghan // uncut gems, dirs. benny sadfie & josh sadfie // birds of prey, dir. cathy van // bloodshot, dir. dave wilson // the old guard, dir. gina prince-bythewood // enola holmes, dir. harry bradbeer // hocus pocus, dir. kenny ortega // always be my maybe, dir. nahnatchka khan // finding dory, dirs. andrew stanton & angus maclane // die hard, dir. john mctiernan

S H O W S .

black sails (2014) - this show, this shooooooooow. i cannot, it just makes me want to cry with how good it is. the characters, the EMOTIONS, the story, the plaaaaaan. like, the creators clearly had a plan for every single step of this show and it was a gOOD, GOOD PLAN.

the untamed (2019) - truly, cheesy good fun with one of the best gay romances ever. i love these characters and their relationships to each other and the way it glories in its own ridiculousness.

the righteous gemstones (2019) - one of the things that bothered me about my next choice (the ratio of female to male nudity) was so much more realistic in this one (i mean, we’ve all gotten five thousand dick pics and i know like three people? so the fact that there is so rarely male nudity in shows when there are tits everywhere..... no, how does that even make a tiny bit of sense?). this show was such great, wonderful, awful fun. they’re not great people and the show is under no delusion about that and it’s GLORIOUS!

the witcher (2019) - this was just hella fun, i loved the characters and the fantasy elements. i’m excited for the next season, it’s just entertaining swashbuckling through and through!

fargo (2014) - all of this was really very enjoyable with the through line being somebody fucks shit up and gets involved in something they really shouldn’t be involved in that’s going to swallow them whole. season one and season three were my stand-out favorites but they were all so violent, clever, and vicious!

um.... number 5, part 2? central park (2020) - um..... so many of the hamilton actors in a muscial cartoon drawn and written by the bob’s burgers team? WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESN’T SOUND AMAZING?! it was such a joy to hear daveed diggs and leslie odom jr.’s voices again!!

honorable mentions: schitt’s creek // the mandalorian // mr. robot // broadchurch // mindhunter // jack ryan // the good place // the end of the f***ing world // big little lies // elite // kidding // servant // letterkenny // curb your enthusiasm // i am not okay with this // ozark // buzzfeed unsolved: true crime/supernatural // you // runaways // dear white people // dickinson // brooklyn nine-nine // will & grace // 9-1-1 // dead to me // solar opposites // never have i ever // killing eve // what we do in the shadows // grace and frankie // avenue 5 // roswell, new mexico // the bold type // evil // tuca & bertie // impulse // the umbrella academy // watchmen // infinity train // corporate // search party // on becoming a god in central florida // a.p. bio // criminal: uk // the morning show // mythic quest // last week tonight // prodigal son // the great

#the starless sea #the invisible life of addie larue #the untamed #knives out #2020 favorites list!!#i tried to stick to shows i both started and finished in 2020 otherwise like schitt's creek and the good place would be in top five #same for comics #uh oh i've found the keyboard again

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write-a-bad-romance · 4 years

Text

Only If You Hurry (Comte/Leo)

Pairing: Leonardo x Comte, with hints of Vlad x Comte

Rating: T

Word Count: 1738

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort, Leo and family matters, modern AU

Ao3 Link: Here

Note: I'll be referring to Comte as "Saint-Germain" throughout this fic because I don't want to spoil his first name. Also, his views about same-sex relationships do not reflect the author's actual opinion.

Vanilla-scented smoke trailed behind Leonardo as he located the door to Saint-Germain's apartment and knocked furiously. The sound of a violin was abruptly cut and replaced by footsteps approaching the door.

Leonardo didn't need to announce who he was. The man inside already knew.

Or maybe not. Saint-Germain still needed to look through the peephole to make sure. Leo heard the sound of unlatching as he stared at the tip of his scuffed leather shoes, a stark contrast against the grimy maroon carpet.

All the money in the world and still he refused to move someplace newer, fancier. But then, the entire building is HIS anyway.

The door opened with a heavy creak as Saint-Germain's worried face came into view.

"I wasn't expecting a guest. At least not tonight." The blond man sighed, "But at this point, this is your house as much as it's mine, isn't it?"

Saint-Germain backed away to allow Leonardo some space. The moment he stepped into the room, he noticed an ornate decanter of wine and matching glasses on the coffee table.

"I thought you weren't expecting company," Leonardo smacked his lips. The living room was bathed in a warm golden glow, just like everything Saint-Germain.

"I had a feeling knew you'd come."

The larger man decided to let further comments die on his tongue. He marched towards the burgundy velvet armchair and sunk against the cushioning. Other men of his size would complain about how cramped it was, but Leonardo welcomed the snug comfort it offered.

He loved sitting at this very chair and let himself soak in the familiarity of his surroundings. Even more so when the master of the house was around and he would—

Leonardo batted his thoughts away as Saint-Germain probed him. "Is this about that date you mentioned a few days ago?"

"Jeez, how did you know?"

"Just a guess. To be honest, I can't tell you if you just came back from your lab or a fancy restaurant on a hotel rooftop." Saint-Germain gestured towards Leo's desultory choice of clothes. "You're not even trying anymore."

"Yeah, well. She’s a friend of my cousin, my only good cousin. How was I supposed to refuse?"

"Family matters. I understand." Saint-Germain poured from his decanter and passed it onto the slouching man. "But you can't keep doing this if it means coming to me moaning about it."

"Grazie," Leonardo accepted his friend's offering, but not without almost dropping the glass and letting its content spill onto Saint-Germain's antique Persian rug. "And thank you for being such a good friend and taking in the burnt of my woes."

He wasn't far off from the truth. Despite his harsh words, Saint-Germain would always nod and listen with that almost-holy, serene visage. And without fail, the man would offer him little quips of advice, some soothing words here and there. Sometimes, outright spats were inevitable. But even then, it was Saint-Germain who stood his ground and made Leonardo spend the rest of the night reflecting and repenting.

The weary lecturer closed his eyes and sighed. The good, young doctor wasting all his attention on me? This can't be right.

"Was she really that...undesirable?" The occupant of Leo's thoughts picked his violin once again and pressed it against his collarbone. "How long did you, erm, last?"

"Dio. You make it sound so obscene," Leonardo scoffed. "She wasn't. It's just, well...."

Saint-Germain let out a wry chuckle and gave him a hearty smile. "I see. So it's your tastes that's currently leaning towards....men. Did I put that correctly?"

"Well, I guess you're not entirely wrong." Leonardo hoped he could blame the wine for the rosy tinge that swept across his cheeks.

"Understandable," Saint-Germain cradled the instrument on his arm, a faraway gaze to his eyes. "Once you're accustomed to the comforts of a man, it'll take you a while before you stop searching his image in other men."

Leonardo threw a pointed look at the oblivious man. That's not how it works.

Besides, aren't you just talking about yourself?

"Really," Saint-Germain ignored his indignant gaze and sat on the loveseat across Leonardo, his own filled glass in hand. "Even if you've dropped hints here and there, wouldn't it be better if you confront your family and tell them the truth?"

"Those were major hints I've been dropping," Leonardo raised his voice. "I had another cousin calling me just to ask about some guy in my Facebook photo from five years ago."

"And?" Saint-Germain licked his wine-tinted lips. Grazioso, Leonardo wanted to say. "What did you tell him?"

"I asked him what his point was. He hung up immediately after," Leo snickered. "Guy must have been scared shitless of me sounding so angry. I never showed that side to him before."

"See?" The blond man sighed, pouring himself a second glass. "Deflecting questions is not a confirmation. Neither is silence."

Leonardo watched intently as the other man rose from his seat to get his violin. His best friend looked enticing in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he had to admit. The ensemble would've been made perfect if Saint-Germain had on a black waistcoat—

Damn the alcohol for letting my mind run loose.

"Anyway, since you're here to drink your sorrows away," Saint-Germain lifted his violin. "Why don't I play something for you?"

Leo bit back a scoff. That's not the kind of comforting I need, but that's about the only thing I can get from this. More than this, and it’d be—

"Sure," He flashed a cheeky grin, "Are you taking requests? Wait, no classics. I don't want you to lull me to sleep."

Saint-Germain set his bow on top of his violin's strings, the instrument waiting in position. "Anything for you."

The pair laughed their worries off into the night, accompanied by Leonardo's off-key singing. It was tiring, the Italian thought.

But relaxing, in its own superficial way.

“Anyway,” Leonardo spoke much later as he began gathering his belongings. “How’s it going with your cara mia?”

Saint-Germain seemed taken aback by the sudden question. “Oh, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“No,” Leonardo paused, wondering if Saint-Germain noticed the awkwardness of his phrasing. Not that it mattered, going by the inanimate turn of his voice.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ah there it was, Saint-Germain’s signature stern look that appeared whenever Leonardo managed to land a crack on his defenses. “Now, look at you, fussing over someone else’s love life over your own.”

“I get it, I get it.” Leonardo waved a hand in defeat as he made a beeline towards the exit. “Besides, it won’t do if your girlfriend notices I’m going to your apartment all the time. She might get suspicious.”

“She already has,” The smaller man gently pushed Leo’s back as he ushered him out of his abode. “Now go home and get to bed. Don’t wander off into some bar for another drink. Or guy.”

“Santo Dio! No need to keep scolding me! Save your lectures for later!” Leonardo laughed, his face completely flushed. “Thanks anyway. See you when I see you?”

“Anytime for a dear friend.” Saint-Germain patted the padding of Leonardo’s jacket.

“Right. Ciao.”

Leonardo cursed in Italian as he slammed his fist on a nearby wall.

“Shit.” He ran a sweaty hand over his weary face. “What was I thinking? Wasting my time and whining to the very person I want."

Leonardo could never say he loved the man. He longed for him. He lost sleep over him. Crying for him might be a little too much, but still, it was the blonde hair and amber eyes that followed him to sleep and starred in his dreams.

And every time, Leonardo would wake up panicked, alone and panting.

And desiring.

He remembered carefully warning his 'wards' Salai and Melzi, "Never go for unavailable men. Don't give in to the delusion that you're somehow going to make it work, whatever it takes."

"Withdraw while there's still time. It's not worth it." He admonished severely.

Leonardo laughed at his hypocrisy, disgust welling in the pits of his stomach. Even if his frivolity hadn't corrupted Saint-Germain, the other man had enough poison in himself to get the job done. Time and time again, he would gaze into the man's golden orbs and find nothing there.

He would give so much of himself to others but never oblige anybody else to fulfill him. Would never allow anyone close to his heart.

Leonardo knew he couldn't handle him, Saint-Germain and his darkness. And neither could the man endure him. So why did he—

How did he fall in this deep?

Leonardo shook his head and carried on with a forceful stride. They were fools, both of them. But Leonardo was an absolute abject for letting his heart and brain to be wholly governed by the image of a man who clearly wouldn’t look his way.

Nor anywhere else.

Saint-Germain stared dumbly at the blinding screen of his phone. There was no delivery notification under his latest message.

She was still blocking him. He could only pray the email reached her inbox and didn't end up in the spam or whatever abyss she subjected him. He couldn't afford another postponement. If he was lucky, this weekend, they'd have one last dinner, and Saint-Germain would offer to end their meetings.

Leonardo and his colleagues would praise him for being the one in control, always the dominant one. They believed Comte could pull away gracefully and call off his relationships at the drop of a hat.

Oh, if only such was the case. Saint-Germain battled day and night to gain control over his erratic feelings, hidden under lock and key beneath his impassive facade.

The constant battles made him vulnerable. Weak people had no business supporting another, not when they could barely stand on their own two feet.

And he was so close to baring it all to the very person he'd laid his eyes on.

Leo can't keep seeing me like this. So prone and useless.

You're a strong man who deserves an even stronger man. It will never be me.

He recalled Leonardo murmuring to him over another round of wine on the balcony of some hotel a long time ago.

It should be easy, being with the one you love.

Love isn't supposed to hurt or tire you out. If it's running your heart rugged to the ground, then what's the point?

Right?

Saint-Germain twisted the silicone casing of his phone furiously. He didn't know. How could he answer?

What was love supposed to feel like?

Joyeux anniversaire, Comte! Sorry I’m offering nothing but angst on this jolly day! :’)))

This was actually a request from anon, but I decided to make a longer piece from the prompt. The original draft had Renaissance influences thrown in, but things got hectic and I couldn’t continue my research. So I decided to go with mu usual jam: Modern AU.

Also, I think I overdid the hurt and added too much angst. I hope it’s okay.

Thank you to @ashavazesa for helping me brainstorm ideas. I’m sorry things didn’t come out like we intended to, but your suggestion (namely, Comte playing the violin for Leonardo) stuck with me and it fit nicely. Thank you!

#ikevam comte #ikevam leonardo #leocomte #ikevam fanfic #leonardo x comte #riri tries ikevam

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bastardtetsu · 4 years

Text

{day 13} falling slowly | semi x reader

pairing: semi eita x gn!musician!reader

genre: angst, mutual pining or unrequited love depending on how you look at it

wc: 1.8k

warnings: a little swearing, reader who plays piano/sings, mention of a previous relationship, unresolved feelings, just a lot of pain

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

falling slowly eyes that know me and i can’t go back

—falling slowly; once (music & lyrics by glen hansard & marketa irglova, book by enda walsh)

“that song you just played— did you write that?”

you stood there, wide-eyed, staring him down as he turned to walk away from the spot where he had just been busking on the sidewalk. semi wanted to ignore you, but your resolute gaze already had a vice grip on him.

“yeah,” he grunted reluctantly.

“it’s very good.”

“thanks.”

despite his gruffness, you were still staring at him like your life depended on it. it was kinda unnerving.

“why’d you leave your guitar?” you questioned him with a sense of urgency, gesturing to the guitar semi had left in its case on the sidewalk. his expression hardened.

“i don’t want it anymore,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

“you should take it. those things are expensive, you know.”

“fine,” he grumbled, shooting you a glare as he stooped to grab the case by the handle, “i’ll sell it if it makes you feel better.”

“i know a shop!” you blurted out, “a music shop. where you can sell your guitar. i was just on my way there, actually!”

“…seriously?”

“it must be fate!”

those words made him cringe back then.

as the two of you entered the store, a cozy place packed with various instruments, you wasted no time making a beeline for the back of the store, dragging a confused semi along with you.

“where are we going? i thought we were here to sell my guitar,” he questioned.

“just follow me,” you insist. the determination in your voice told him there was no point in resisting.

you continued leading him through the shop, all the way to an old upright piano that sat towards the back. “the owner lets me play this whenever i come in,” you explained, your merciless gaze now fixed on the instrument, “it’s a beautiful piano. if i ever win the lottery, this is the first thing i’m buying.”

semi just watched you quietly as you stood there, marveling at it. he was able to appreciate the intensity of your stare more now that he wasn’t the subject of it - the way your eyes glimmered was actually kind of entrancing.

“so what would you like to hear?” you questioned, suddenly turning your gaze back on him as you sat yourself on the bench, “bach? mozart? something of my own?”

“oh, uh— whatever you want,” he muttered. there was clearly no use stopping you at this point, so he might as well comply.

you positioned yourself and began playing. it was a somber melody, gentle but distinctly melancholic. your concentration remained unbroken as your fingers danced gracefully across the keys, until the final mournful note echoed through the empty store.

“did you write that?” semi asked, a bit awestruck by your talent.

“no. felix mendelssohn did.”

“ah.”

“now you play me one,” you demand, eyes aglow.

“wh—no,” semi faltered.

“please,” you begged.

“no,” he stated firmly, his expression hardening again, “i just came here to get rid of my guitar.”

“what do you mean?” you protested, “your music is good, why are you giving up on it?” semi cringed at the sting of your question.

“there’s no point anymore,” he snapped, “it’s gotten me nowhere.”

“what, so you’re quitting ‘cause you’re not famous?”

“i’m not—“ he scoffed defensively, “you wanna play your songs for people who want to listen.”

“well i’m people,” you stated, your gaze on him more unyielding than ever, “and i want to listen. now play me a song.”

the rigidity of your stare was almost enough to convince him.

“no.”

however, just as semi turned to leave, as if by some sort of drama-induced miracle, a sheet of folded paper fell from his coat pocket, which you wasted no time snatching up before he could even grab at it.

“hey—“ he protested, “give it back, come on.”

“music is dead to you, right?” you taunted, “so isn’t this trash?”

“you know what,” he huffed, his patience at its limit, “fuck it—yeah, keep it. it was nice meeting you.”

“hey!” you barked right as he was turning to leave. his head spun around to find your eyes staring him down with the most intensity and desperation he’d seen from you all day. “you won’t die if you play this song with me,” you spoke to him sincerely, “please.”

he didn’t answer, but remained frozen where he stood, unwilling to break from your acute gaze as you lowered yourself onto the bench and placed your fingers on the keys.

you perused the slightly crumpled page while semi waited with nervous anticipation, reminding himself to breathe as you began to play the notes he had scrawled onto the staff.

as your fingers began to recreate the familiar motif with impressive precision, he gingerly picked up his guitar from its case by the piano, looping the strap over his head as he started to sing,

“i don’t know you but i want you all the more for that”

he sang tentatively at first, the words and notes like scratches upon an unhealed scab, until your voiced chimed in with a harmony,

“and words fall through me and always fool me and i can’t react”

semi began to strum at his guitar, more self-assured as the gentle tune continued, your voices and instruments moulding together as the music swelled into chorus after chorus. his reluctant voice became more and more powerful with each changing chord, each strum of his guitar more intentional as the sounds intermingled with yours, creating new discoveries within a painfully familiar refrain.

as the tempo slowed to a quiet halt, your eyes met with his again until you played the final chord in unison. you both stood there in silence for a moment, as if you were waiting for the final sound waves to finish reverberating, dissolving into the air.

“so where is she?” your question broke the silence.

“where’s who?”

“the girl in the song,” you clarified, “is she dead??”

“what—no, jesus,” semi sputtered, caught off guard for what must be the 75th time today.

“so where is she?” your gaze is on him again, adamant as ever.

“she left,” he uttered, his dejection covered by his brusque tone, “about six months ago. there was nothing else for her here, so—”

“so you still love her?”

semi’s face twitched, feeling his chest tighten at the question.

“no. we’re finished,” he stated shortly.

“no one who writes a song like that is finished,” you enunciated firmly, causing his breath to catch. “if you sing this to her, i bet she’ll take you back.”

“huh?” the ash blond’s face twisted into a confused scowl.

“i’m serious.” the gleam in your eye only affirmed your statement.

“no way,” he replied, “i’m not running after some woman who’s doing fine without me just so i can sing her some stupid—“

“it’s not stupid!” you nearly yelled at him before softening a bit, maintaining your resolute stare. “your songs are good,” you stated emphatically. semi felt his breath catch again, this time accompanied by a rush of warmth to his face. “do you have more??”

your heart nearly stops when you see it, breath catching in your throat as the sting of tears begins to prick your eyes.

the old upright piano you had spotted one day in a music store now sits in your living room, a large, bright red ribbon adorning its shiny wooden surface. there is no note, but you need no indication to know who it’s from.

he must be long gone now. he got a call from his ex practically begging him to come back, so of course he went. it doesn’t matter how many longing glances you caught as you helped him rehearse, or how much electricity you felt surge through your body every time you so much as brushed his hand while reaching for some sheet music.

he has unfinished business. you’ve both always known that, it’s why you tried so hard to keep your distance, even as you helped him produce a studio album, relentlessly encouraging him not only to keep pursuing music, but to keep pursuing her. it’s what he deserves. it’s not your place.

it doesn’t matter how much your heart wanted to leap out of your chest when his stern grey eyes stared into yours, uncharacteristically earnest, as he squeezed your hands in his and thanked you for changing his life. he was talking about the music. you’ve only ever talked about the music.

it doesn’t matter that no matter how hard you tried to maintain your distance - god, you really tried - his songs always pulled you back in. those songs aren’t about you. he wrote those for someone else, someone who he is destined to go back to.

it doesn’t matter that every time he played one he felt a shift, like discovering a new harmony, each lyric twisting into a different meaning. that somewhere along the way, he started singing them about you — you can’t think about that. it can’t be about that.

it doesn’t even matter that he said you were a part of his new life, starry-eyed and nearly breathless, imploring you with to run away with him and start a band together, make an album, just the two of you and all your beautiful music. it was just a silly fantasy. one can only entertain such a delusion for so long before you have to move on with your real life again.

as you lower yourself onto the piano bench, you imagine yourself back in the shop on that day, the ash-blonde musician you had just met scowling dubiously as you began to play the opening of one of his songs. you can almost hear the delicate strains of his guitar as he plucked the accompaniment on the strings, his voice growing stronger as he sang.

“and games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out”

you recall sitting with him at the top of a hill just outside of town one night, looking down at the warm lights of the city twinkling in the distant. he told you about the first time he ever felt scared. you told him you only saw him as a friend. could he tell you were lying?

“take this sinking boat and point it home we’ve still got time“

tears begin to well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you play. but you don’t even need to see the keys, because you know this song too well. it’s engraved in your muscle memory. no matter how hard you try, your body will remember.

“raise your hopeful voice you have a choice you’ve made it now”

“call your girl tonight,” you reminded him as you left the recording studio for the last time. he asked you to come over to his place later, but you’re not going. you know better than that.

“falling slowly sing your melody i’ll sing it loud”

the tears are falling freely now, wetting your hands and the keys, but you continue playing as if semi were right there singing along with you, creating sweet harmonies and stirring chords together, losing yourselves in the music.

you allow the song to engulf you, the melody washing over you like a wave of pure feeling as you bid goodbye to the man you fell unwillingly, irreparably in love with.

a/n: i’m not normally an angst person, or a huge semi simp really, but i still ended up hurting my own feelings with this lmao. i’d probably let semi ruin my life as much as he wants too, let’s be real. the songs linked at the top are definitely required listening for this one (the first link is them together in the music shop, the second one is the reprise at the end) and if you really wanna experience pain, find a bootleg of the show & watch the whole thing bc i truly struggled trying not to shove the entire musical into this one fic (once again if u need help finding it i may or may not have a link if u dm me)

taglist: @izagraceee @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

#haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu x reader #25 days of ficmas #.txt #e writes

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angelthefirst1 · 4 years

Text

The three missing weeks after Grady, Beth's funeral and Daryl's delusion all in 1018.

Okay so I've taken my time with posting any analysis of 1018, mainly because I was trying to figure out exactly what's being repeated (beyond the obvious Alone and Still repeats) and also understand the weirdness of the episode and how the loops will play out going forward. Since I first watched 1018, I realised they are showing us a representation of the three missing weeks after Grady, and Daryl's mindset (He goes a little cray cray) during his second search for Beth (her body anyway) This episode will have future and past fulfillment when/if we finally see the missing 17 days and the attempt at Beth's funeral-during which her body is going to go missing... Emily's song Omaha hotel holds clues about Beth's (attempted) funeral and the outcome. Go listen to the song if you haven't...

The group is going to take Beth to a church-most likely this one...

To give her a proper funeral-which as Daryl knows, Beth found it beautiful that someone dressed the walkers up (as dolls he says) to give them one. So...the group will want to do this for Beth.

She will be left in a car park (probably left in a car for a bit) to “watch the bugs fly around in the parking lot lights”. They will change her into a nice dress with flowers and make her all pretty, repeating what happened with the funeral home walkers-they get dressed up and even had makeup on. They could possibly put her in a coffin like Daryl was in the funeral home... As they go to dig the grave a massive storm will roll in (there has to be another storm, because it will be fulfillment of the music box "waking up" or playing again, and the storm from 510) During this storm walkers will come, taking the groups attention and Beth will "Step away for a minute" leaving before they can bury her. Daryl will try to track her, thinking she's a walker, but her footprints will be washed away in the storm, causing a repeat of this moment...

The map Daryl is using to find Rick will be repeated as Beth's "footprints" being washed away, causing him to scream and start to lose it. The rain and it pouring/flooding with water is symbolic of Beth's return representing Jesus the the living water. Daryl in 1018 is screaming one minute in the rain, and smiling the next.

Showing him both losing Beth in the rain and finding out she's alive on two different timeliness. Carol will most likely have played a role in going with Daryl to search for Beth after her "funeral", repeating their search from Consumed. The going fishing/fish symbolism in this episode is a play on the biblical concept of fishing for men (finding/saving the lost) As others have already mentioned, I also believe Leah to be either in part a hallucination or completely.

But Daryl did not have a romantic relationship with her.

Just as the 'oh' funeral home scene hinted at a potential romance, we never actually got to see it. Only a hint of it... They have repeated that here, and it's almost as if Daryl is on the outside looking in at his own past story. But this is Beth's story not Leah's and they haven't repeated almost every major Beth scene only to give it to Leah now... There is WAY to much weirdness in this episode for everything to just be as we see it, they are misdirecting us. 1018 heavily repeats both Daryl's search for Sofia and Rick losing Lori. This is about Daryl losing his future wife...Beth not Leah. Rick hallucinates Lori in this white dress next to some graves...

This will be inverted with Beth in her funeral dress, walking away from her grave, and just like Rick, Daryl can never quite reach her, even though she is alive. Rick started going crazy after losing Lori, when Maggie (Beth's sister) delivered or “birthed” baby Judith. Lori dies and Judith became Beth's...

Do you see the twist from this scene with Leah, talking about losing her son whom her sister gave birth to, or birthed? When Rick is outside the prison because he keeps seeing Lori he says to Hershel he has "Stuff and things to do" so he won't come back. Same as Daryl says to Carol when she tries to get him to stop looking for Rick, Daryl says "I've got stuff to do", once again hinting that this is some kind of mind trick, with Daryl seeing Leah not the real Beth...

Just like Rick was seeing-not the real Lori... The same episode Rick loses Lori, shows Maggie and Glenn in the watch tower messing around and Daryl crassly yells to them "Are you coming?"

They have actually used this with Daryl and Carol in the beginning of 1018, twisting it with Daryl saying "You want to come right?" And "I didn't say you could come".

Daryl even closes the one eye, because of the glare. Exactly the same in 304 and 1018.

Now don't freak out this will find fulfillment in the future with Beth and Daryl, and yes...most likely on a motorcycle. I don't usually get crass but that's what they are repeating and lining up for the future here, so I wanted to point it out. The previously on clip from 1018 shows Daryl say "We just got Maggie (and little Glenn) back"

Around the same time Rick loses Lori and he is having his breakdown, Maggie and Glenn get taken by the Governor and as soon as they get back, that's when Rick starts "seeing" Lori. Fulfilling the "We just got Maggie (and little Glenn) back line". In 304 Daryl jump starts his bike while Axel looks on saying it needs a tune up. Repeating the beginning of 1018 when he can't start the bike.

Another call back is when Daryl and Carol come across a dead deer in 1018, it's bitten in an almost identical way to a deer that is shown in the opening of 304 (The episode Lori dies)

Carol also gets lost in the tombs during this episode, and eventually gets an empty grave with cross allocated to her, even though she isn't dead. So Leah could well be symbolic of both missing Carol and Missing Beth combined. And the cabin crosses a reminder of them both...

The repeating themes from around the time Rick loses Lori are very obvious if you go re-watch that story line. One particular location that they visit on the way to rescue Maggie and Glenn from the Governor is a cabin, that very much reminded me of Leah's cabin...

It’s next to a river...

And has taxidermy fish on the walls, and pots and pans too.

But most significantly is a dead pet dog inside...

Before they see the dog, they smell him and Daryl says "What's that smell?, it's got to be a dead fox or what's left of one" Leah wears a dead fox around her neck and has a pet dog, so this repeating could actually point to Leah being a walker/hallucination...

I have been trying to remember any past fox symbolism in this show to explain Leah's fox fur, but couldn't think of any other instances, so this is a really interesting clue to the fact that Daryl mistakes a dead dog for a dead fox. The dead dog is on a blanket similar to the one Dog sits on when Leah has Daryl tied up. And it's collar looks to say Hunter!

The owner in this cabin also has a shotgun like Leah and points it at Rick and Daryl when they first enter.

He gets killed almost straight away because he keeps marking noise and drawing walkers. The very next scene shows Andrea standing in front of a painting with a boat, repeating the boat symbolism from 1018. And the clock just happens to say 10.10

Daryl is also seen collecting fire wood, just like in season three with Rick and Glenn...

When walkers come, Leah shoots some of them (Lori shoots some in season 3) and motions Daryl to follow her somewhere safe, repeating this moment with Beth and Hershel from the episode Rick loses Lori...

The scene where Daryl gets knocked down and his ears start to ring is pivotal because it's a repeat of Daryl's other great search-his search for Sofia.

During which he falls down into a river and starts hallucinating his brother Merle..

So while 1018 is showing him searching for and losing Beth's footprints in the rain and screaming in anger about it, the moment when he gets knocked down by a bolt of lightning and his ears start to ring, the story becomes a weird mix of Beth and Leah. This is a representation of Daryl passing out after falling and some kind of injury, just like he did when searching for Sofia. Repeating but inverting his search for Sofia, where he fell into a river bed, had a head injury/concussion, hallucinates about his brother and finds Sofia's doll not the real Sofia... So Leah could also be a representation of finding Sofia's doll. The doll represents a walker, just like Daryl said in the funeral home. Sofia was lost on a road/highway, goes into water in a river but disappeared and was then found dead coming out of a barn. Beth however is the opposite, in that after her funeral she will end up in a body of water/river because of heavy rain, then the barn in 510, she is represented as being alive coming out of it.

And lastly Daryl says to Beth in Alone "Go up out off the road, I'll meet you there". Which is where they could well meet again-on a road. (Saying meet you up the road, also indicates a lengthy time period) All this would in fact make Beth, Sofia 2.0 but with the opposite outcome. In 1018, once Daryl falls down and his ears ring, he is effectively passed out and dreaming from that point on. We see him then pick up his crossbow and smile in the rain, because what comes next indicates he finds Beth (Leah) When Daryl hallucinates Merle, he tells him that he is looking for a girl and Merle says "You got a thing for little girls now?" and "You going to die out here looking for her?" Merle gets mad that Daryl isn't looking for him. They have switched it in 1018, in that Daryl is looking for his brother Rick now by a river and hallucinates a version of Beth (Leah) who gets mad that Daryl keeps looking for Rick.

Merle, during the hallucination also mentions Daryl's Chupacabra (a mythical blood sucking dog) he apparently saw, which could be a representation of Leah as the dead fox/dog/walker or him seeing Beth and thinking Beth is a walker.

Merle questions whether Daryl really saw this Chupacabra because Daryl apparently ate some special mushrooms...

So I see these possibilities... Daryl is reliving his search for Beth in his mind because he is injured causing him to hallucinate Leah, as a less painful substitute. Like Rick hallucinates a dressed up version of Lori to cope with the pain. Daryl has been poisoned or eaten something/drank something (like the mushrooms) to make reality and fantasy mix, causing a repeat of the Merle/walker situation. Where Leah may be real but Beth memory's are mixed with reality. Just like Merle was not real but the walker was. Leah is a walker (dead fox/dog) who looks like Beth to Daryl, and while trying to put her down he is knocked out, starting a weird mixture of memory's. I will leave it here for now, there is always more I could go into but this is way long enough for now...

Beth is coming!!!

#team delusional #team defiance #bethyl #beth greene #beth is alive

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frozenartscapes · 4 years

Text

New Dawn - A World Without Gods (SS/Modern!AU)

I discovered this as a draft I had started months ago and realized with fit in nicely with this AU. So, let’s call this the first chapter of A World Without Gods.

-- -- --

Byleth had encountered many who begged in their final moments of life. The Ashen Demon had heard pleas, bargains, desperate cries for mercy. Sometimes she accepted if the offer was good. Most of the time, she ignored the words spoken to her. Sometimes, her victims had the honour in them to die with dignity, speaking not a word and merely holding her impassive gaze as she struck them down.

She had never heard anyone plead to take their life. Until now.

The Emperor’s breath came in harsh, agonized gasps. Blood oozed from her wounds, spilling on the marble floor around her. Her shoulders sagged, her body buckled, as she struggled to prop herself up with her sword. The immense weight of the world on her shoulders had finally crushed her.

Byleth met those violet eyes that were once so filled with fire and passion, that reflected the strength and courage of the woman she once called her student. But her heart clenched seeing those eyes now. They were dull, and fearful. The fire had gone out, instead just a smouldering pile of ash in the dark. Even the colour seemed weaker.

Seeing Edelgard like this stirred something in her silent chest.

“Claim...your victory,” Edelgard told her through heavy breaths, struggling even to speak. Their battle had been hard on both, but worse on her. “Strike me down. You must.”

Her voice trembled. Weakness. Sadness. Fear. Such things were all present in a voice that once had so much power and authority. Byleth finally could see past the horned crown, the monstrous axe, the royal regalia - Edelgard was so small.

“Even now, people are out there killing each other,” Edelgard continued, a new desperation creeping into her tone, “You must put an end to this.”

A flash of rage surged through Byleth, then. She thought about demanding whose fault that was, pointing out that the war never would have happened had it not been for the Emperor with a power complex. But then the rage subsided, and she was able to see it: guilt.

‘She thought she could win,’ she realized, ‘That it would all be worth it if she just...’

“Please...” Edelgard whispered, “My teacher...” Those violet eyes met hers again, and Byleth could see the tears forming in them. “Your path...lies across my grave.”

‘This must be done,’ a voice in her mind reminded her, ‘She’s not that little student anymore. She��s made peace with it. Do it now, before she changes her mind.’

Byleth tightened her grip on her sword, and took a step forward. Her feet felt heavy, dragging against the ground in protest. But she closed the distance, and lifted the Sword of the Creator high above her head, preparing to bring it down and extinguish the life of the Flame Emperor.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look, didn’t want to look. Never had she been forced to kill someone she so desperately didn’t want to kill.

But she didn’t have a choice.

“I wanted...” Edelgard’s voice came out so small, so helpless, so mournful. “I wanted to walk with you...”

Byleth’s eyes opened, just a crack, and she dared a glance down.

It wasn’t the Emperor who knelt before her. It was a girl, a mere child, beaten and broken by a life of darkness and war and loneliness. She had her eyes screwed shut, waiting, waiting for her miserable life to end.

Byleth let the Sword of the Creator fall to the floor with an unceremonious clatter.

Edelgard’s eyes opened at the sound, but before she knew what was happening, someone was down on their knees before her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Byleth heard her breath hitch. Edelgard had become a statue in her arms, frozen in shock and confusion. Byleth merely held on, and waited. She waited for the protests. She waited to be pushed away. She waited for the struggle against her. She waited for another fight, for that sword to surge toward her.

For a few, agonizing seconds, nothing happened.

“Why?”

If she wasn’t holding the Emperor so close, Byleth wouldn’t have heard that question.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard,” she uttered, feeling tears forming in her eyes for the first time since she had lost her father, “There must be another way...”

“No.” Edelgard’s response came too quickly, too harshly. “There is no other way. I must be destroyed. I...I deserve nothing better.”

“I don’t believe that,” Byleth told her softly.

“But...” Edelgard struggled against Byleth’s hold, and managed to push herself away just enough for Byleth to see her face. Lilac eyes filled with pain and sorrow met cool, ethereal green. “I can’t do this anymore,” Edelgard admitted quietly, breathlessly, “Please. End this. I...I’ve lost...”

Words went unsaid. Byleth didn’t know the whole story but she knew some of it. Edelgard had lost the war, she lost her Empire, she lost her armies and commanders, she lost her people, she lost the few who supported her - some of them to Byleth’s own blade. She grimaced: Hubert had put up an especially fierce fight.

Guilt surged through her. Edelgard was alone. Largely because of her.

“I don’t deserve it. To live. I...” Edelgard’s voice was so small, so helpless. “If you truly wish to grant me mercy, then you will end my suffering now. Please, my teacher. If no one else, let it be you.”

Byleth wished with all her heart that she still could use the Divine Pulse. Because she would have, in that moment, sent herself all the way back to the Holy Tomb, back to her decision that changed everything.

‘I would have chosen to protect you,’ she thought, ‘I should have chosen that.’

But maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Edelgard... I want to help you,” she said, taking the Emperor’s chin in her hand and tilting her head up, “My biggest regret is hesitating when you needed me. I...I didn’t know where my heart lay then, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize... But it’s not too late for you.”

A dry, humourless chuckle escaped Edelgard’s lips. “Have you always been so blindly optimistic?” she asked in a low voice, “It’s been far too late for me for some time now.” Their eyes met, and there was no life left in hers. “You and I both know that this isn’t how it really happened.”

Byleth felt her blood run cold as the realization struck her. The delusion began to fade, and the nightmare began to shift into a memory. A memory of what really happened.

A drop of blood slipped out from under her crown, right in the centre of her forehead. Then the crown itself split, as if it had been cleaved in two. More blood began to flow.

Byleth woke up before the grisly truth was revealed in full.

-- -- --

“Morning Professor!”

Byleth smiled as best as she could at the chipper security guard. His name was Alex, and despite the seemingly mundane nature of it, he loved his job working at the Imperial Palace. He was always there at the start of her day, when she would sign in to work. And his big smile and eager energy always helped get her through the day, especially after rough nights.

“You sure you’re sleeping ok?” Alex asked with concern, taking note of the dark bags under the Professor’s eyes, “No offence, but you look like a zombie.”

Byleth couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. “Just the usual stress keeping me up,” she lied, “There’s that new exhibit about art and the Empire opening soon and we’re not nearly ready, yet.”

“Well, don’t work too hard!” he said teasingly.

She swiped her keycard and gave a confirming nod. “I’ll try,” she said with a wave, “Oh, before I go: any news? I think Frank mentioned something about a new hire...”

Alex thought for a moment. “Nope. Nothing to report,” he stated confidently.

Byleth blinked, and for a brief second, she was back in the past. Eight hundred and fifty-five years. Talking to another cheerful guard with a similar dedication to his job.

“You...ok, Professor?” Alex asked with a tilt of his head, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I... Never mind. Just need some coffee,” Byleth replied, snapping out of her memories with a shake of her head.

She gave Alex a wave in parting, and headed off to her office.

The Imperial Palace was Enbarr’s most valued museums. Each day, thousands of tourists would flock into its elegant halls, taking in magnificent paintings, ancient weapons and tapestries, or wandering the extensive manicured grounds. Not long after the war, it fell to ruin. The Last Emperor was dead and buried, and the opulent grandeur of the marble palace seemed to spit in the face of every peasant in Enbarr. So it was ransacked. Priceless artifacts were stolen, banners and tapestries set ablaze, stone and metal smashed just to let out the anger at those selfish rulers.

Byleth saved what she could at the time. It would be centuries later that she would set foot in the palace again, this time as a generous donor of a large collection of historic artifacts and paintings to the new National Museum. Now the Palace was a gift back to the people of Adrestia, having been restored to its former glory and many of its treasures brought back through gifts and expensive purchases. It would be free to enter, operating by donation and a healthy sum of money granted by the government. And suddenly it was no longer a dark and gloomy ruin sitting on a hill, looming over Enbarr like its shadowy history. It became a point of pride, a place that showed off exactly how powerful Adrestia had once been, and how anyone could see it with ease.

The Old Empire was dead, but this new Palace represented the heart of the New.

The next couple centuries passed for Byleth in a blur. She lived all over Fodlan, each life bringing a new job, a new home, new friends. She had long gotten over the strangeness of immortality. Moving onto a new life was easy for her now, though some things still hurt her un-beating heart. She had friends, but was never truly close to anyone. The odd romance had sprung up from time to time, but they never lasted.

She couldn’t bear to weather another heartbreak like her first.

She would occasionally visit the Imperial Palace sometimes, once or twice in a lifetime. It became easier to do as the world modernized. Travel to such a large and important city like Enbarr had aways been prioritized. But she could never have fathomed to the extent.

The first time she took the train right into the heart of the city was exhilarating.

Enbarr was one of the first cities to install streetcars, making transit much more accessible for everyone.

Then came cars, making travel within the city even easier.

And then there were airplanes. To think, humanity could create something so big and so heavy but able to carry so many people and bags across the whole continent in a mere couple of hours! All without magic, at that.

She never thought she’d find herself living in Enbarr until it just...happened. A couple of years ago, she relocated to start anew once again, and like some kind of twist of fate, ended up as a tour guide for the museum. And she built herself such a stellar reputation as a well-researched academic of the place, she was promoted to curator in no time.

And she was happy, for the most part.

She got to her office and pulled out her laptop from her bag. She sat down at her desk, glancing briefly out at the beautiful view of the fountains sparkling in the sun, before getting to work.

Several hours later, and it was time to go home. But before she did, there was something she had to do, first.

It was the anniversary. A date no one celebrated, but also one only historians knew or cared about. It happened so, so long ago now, and though a pivotal moment in Fodlan’s history, it had so little impact on modern society that no one was ever really aware of it. To everyone else, it was just a date on a calendar.

To Byleth, it was the worst day of her life.

The Throne Room was one of the Palace’s most renowned locations. It had been largely kept preserved as it was, its massive grandeur shown off in its original glory. Obviously some things had been done - the tapestries and banners needed to be replaced, electric lighting had been installed to better illuminate the cavernous space, and the intricate marble floor needed constant restoration work.

But there was one thing that had been added to the space that never was there before. It was a strange thing, something so small and simple, sitting alone in the centre of the floor, before the throne.

A candle, burning with an enchanted flame that would never extinguish.

The museum was closed, so the hall was empty when Byleth arrived. And that solitary candle was alone in the vast, looming space.

Byleth stood before that candle. The floor under it was clean, reflecting the small flame in the multicoloured tiles. Eight hundred and fifty years ago, there was a pool of blood there instead. Eight hundred and fifty years ago, Byleth fell to her knees after pitching her bloody sword as far away from her as possible. Eight hundred and fifty years ago, she held onto the body of a woman she had once loved, still loved, until it had long gone cold and Byleth had cried until she physically couldn’t anymore. Eight hundred and fifty years ago, Byleth realized she had made a terrible mistake there was no going back on.

Eight hundred and fifty years ago, Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, last of her name and warmongering tyrant, was killed by the saviour of Fodlan, the Enlightened One.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth whispered to the candle, “I wish things had been different. I wish I could have saved you.”

Every year since she started working at the Palace, Byleth would visit the candle on this day and make the same wish. Sothis was long gone, having been merged with Byleth for centuries. And yet even with the divine power of the Goddess mixed with her blood, there was nothing Byleth could do to make that wish come true.

But then the lights flickered. Odd. There must have been a power surge somewhere...

They flickered again, then shut off completely, plunging the Throne Room into darkness. Only the minimal light from its ancient windows and that solitary candle chased away the darkest shadows.

And then all hell broke loose.

There’s a flash and the world seems to spin on its axis. The candle at her feet is blown out by a strong gust of wind. And as Byleth recovers from the initial shock, she practically falls over when something even more insane registers before her.

It’s the Emperor, on her knees, breathing heavy and body battle-worn. Just like she looked when…

Through her heavy breaths, Edelgard pants, “There you go, again…my teacher… Hesitating…”

She looks up, finally, to see a completely different Byleth standing before her. No Sword of the Creator, shorter, styled hair, strange-looking clothes. And completely dumbfounded.

“Professor… What’s going on?”

#fe three houses #fanfic #ss/modern!au #a world without gods

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athenril-of-kirkwall · 4 years

Note

“That’s how the story goes.” For Solavellan?

Solavellan, “The Halla Princess” (AO3)

“Finally, Fen’Harel bit off his own tail, and away he fled,” Rivka recited with all the theatricality the tale warranted, “And ever since, the Dread Wolf thinks twice about playing his tricks when dogs are on guard.”

The elven children in Haven laughed and clapped as she concluded her story. From where they were sitting around her on whichever boxes and barrels they could find, arranged in a circle around the hearth which Varric normally hung around, they began to disperse and head to the various odd jobs which they’d been assigned to around the Inquisition camp.

Rivka watched them leave with a smile on her face as she warmed her palms, before noticing someone in the corner of her vision descend the stairs on her left. It was her fellow elven mage Solas, using his staff in the manner of a hiking pole.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding,” he said, approaching the fire, “But I overheard the end of your tale, and I simply had some questions.”

Gesturing to one of the taller crates, Rivka said, “Ask away, although I’m now suspecting that you’re going to correct me on the details.”

“Not at all,” Solas said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It merely seemed to me that you were very comfortable telling those stories.”

Feeling herself blush a little, Rivka answered, “Well, that’s logical enough. Back when I was in training to be the First of my clan, one of the duties I had was to take care of those too young to help with tasks, or even those who were between their errands, and since one of my other duties was remembering all the tales I thought I’d substitute in for the hahrens.”

Nodding as he understood, he said. “Your practice does you credit, lethallan. That was a tale well-told.”

Glancing away from the fire to him, Rivka said glibly, “But not well-composed? Perhaps there was something in the Fade that you saw which…”

Laughing, he said, “You think too much and too little of me at once. That was a children’s story, was it not? Every tale needs a villain, after all. But tell me, do you know any that have Fen’harel using his cunning?”

Thinking for a while, Rivka said, “I think I do, but surely you’ve better things to do than sit by a dying fireside and listen to old stories, not when you could see them for yourself?”

“Humour me, Rivka,” Solas said. “Besides, there is scarce little for inconvenient apostate mages to do whilst we wait for Lady Nightingale’s little messengers to return. Unless you’d rather scrounge around for ores and prospective logging sites in today’s chill…?”

Reflexively shivering, Rivka said, “I guess not. Have you heard of the Tale of the Slow Arrow, Solas?”

“I might have, but I’d like to hear your take on it,” he answered.

She began her story, narrating how a great beast was terrorising a village, with its inhabitants begging Fen’Harel to intercede by slaying the beast. Rivka continued by explaining that Fen’Harel’s only answer was to loose an arrow into the sky, letting the beast kill and eat the elders, the men and the women, who cursed his name as they died, and concluded that the arrow fell from the sky, killing the beast in a single stroke, before it was able to eat the children, who despite their grave losses still gave him thanks and offerings.

Turning to her, Solas asked, “What do you think the moral of that story was?”

Rivka shook her head, saying, “I rarely told that one, mainly because the adults didn’t want me telling their children they could die so horribly, so I don’t really know. If Fen’harel’s arrow was so powerful why didn’t he shoot the beast on sight? If he knew the beast would be there why didn’t he tell the adults to hide when it came? We only have fragments of stories, and we’re supposed to make sense of them all.”

“Perhaps Fen’Harel’s arrow was powerful but not himself,” Solas thought aloud, “and perhaps the beast would not have been positioned where it was, were the beast to find the village empty. It might have been that Fen’Harel reckoned that there was to be a cost either way, and saved the children such that the village might have a future.”

“A future where they owed that great debt to the Dread Wolf, doubtless,” Rivka said. “Still, that’s hard to argue with, I suppose.”

“Have you any which have less grim endings, at any rate?” Solas asked. “Happy endings seem to be rare in our times.”

Rivka giggled, saying, “You’re like a child, Solas!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They never let me stop at just the one story, and they always wanted the ones with happy endings, too,” she answered. “But all right, Solas, I’ll tell you one of my favourite ones then.”

“I’m privileged,” he said. “Which one is it?”

Rivka looked into the flames, concentrating. “It’s the one called ‘The Halla Princess’.”

“This sounds good already. A Dalish princess?”

“Well, it’s said to be set in ancient Arlathan,” Rivka said, “Where the elves had their own kingdoms and their own great chiefs, and their sons and daughters would be betrothed to each other just like the humans and dwarves do these days.”

“That seems fair,” he said. “Ancient memories suggest—”

“With all due respect, Solas,” Rivka said, “Do you want to hear the story, or not?”

Raising his palms in surrender, he said, “Very well, I shan’t interrupt with historical context again.”

“Good,” she said, continuing,

“There was a princess born to a great noble house, whose birth was attended by all the creatures of land and sea save for the spider, who cursed the Princess Tasallan to turn into a halla the instant she came in contact with sunlight.

“Her parents were very ingenious in avoiding that very fate, all the way till she came of age and suitors were seeking out brides. Her painting was said to be so beautiful that a handsome prince broke off an engagement with another princess, Boranehn, the instant he saw it. Boranehn was absolutely furious, and sought out the help of the spider to punish him—even though she said he was free to make his choice, she was still offended.

“The opportunity came when she was on the way to his castle, where the spider, clinging on to Princess Tasallan’s carriage, called upon the powers of Forgotten Ones first to destroy her carriage with a mighty storm, then when she was exposed, to part the clouds instantly to expose her to the sun. It worked, and Princess Tasallan was transformed into a halla, running off into the woods whilst the Forgotten Ones made Boranehn look like Tasallan, and she proceeded to the wedding, the prince unawares.

“However, the spider and the Forgotten Ones had made a terrible mistake when they interceded on Boranehn’s behalf, for the sudden storm and sunlight had killed many inhabitants of the woodland, even if none of the elves had lost their lives, and Mythal was incensed. First, she dispelled the magic which Boranehn had used, and Boranehn fled when her deception was revealed to all, but not before spitefully boasting that the prince would never find Tasallan, and he would kill her long before he managed to lift her curse.

“The prince and all his men rode out of his castle, searching the lands of his realm high and low for Tasallan, but they never found her because she was in the form of a halla, one amongst hundreds that roamed his lands, and he eventually collapsed by a stream, utterly exhausted by his search for his bride-to-be. He slept fitfully, and eventually, Tasallan found him, and approached him as he rested under a tree.

“The spider had one last trick to play, clouding the prince’s vision such that it was not Tasallan, and not a halla which he saw when he woke up, but a massive wolf, its teeth bared, ready to pounce and strike down its prey. He readied his bow and loosed an arrow, and the spider laughed to himself as he witnessed the prince committing such an unforgivable transgression by not only killing his bride by accident, but also slaying a halla.

“But even as Ghilan'nain blocked the arrow which would have pierced Tasallan’s heart and reached out to smite the hapless prince for his error, Mythal stayed his hand, explaining that the prince had been led into delusion by the spider, whom she banished into the caves which saw no light. Their power, however, was insufficient to undo the curse which the Forgotten Ones had lain so many years ago, at least not in the daytime, so although the prince gratefully tended for the halla and kept it in his stables, he did not know that Tasallan woke up every night on the stable floor, nor did the stable hands bother to check at night.

“Mythal pleaded with Elgar’nan to intercede on Tasallan’s behalf, but he said he could not act unless the prince himself realised the halla’s true nature. To this end, Mythal clouded the mind of one of the stable boys, making him leave the door unlocked, and Tasallan, finding the gate open, went her way into the palace, where the prince’s guards attempted to chase her out until Elgar’nan stopped the moon in the sky to cover the sun, transforming it back into Tasallan before the prince’s eyes, and the two of them reunited.

“The two of them married and lived happily ever after, but where Boranehn and the spider fled, no one knows to this day, save that the spider’s offspring now lurks in caves, ready to prey on careless wanderers. And that’s how that tale ends.”

With that, Rivka expectantly turned to Solas to see what kind of reaction he’d have, be it bemusement or a barely-restrained correction of some minor point or other in her story. To her surprise, he expressed neither, simply staring out to the frozen lake outside Haven, eyes glistening in the brilliant shine coming off the snow which blanketed the scenery.

“Solas?”, Rivka asked, trying to rouse his attention.

Slowly realising she’d called his name, Solas turned to her, casually wiping his eyes dry. “Hm? Ah, yes. That was a wonderful tale, lethallan.”

“Really”, she retorted, crossing her arms. “It seems you hardly were paying attention right at the end there, if we’re being honest.”

Waving his hand in front of his face defensively, he said, “That is untrue. It…simply dredged up some emotions, old and very powerful, I had experienced of those closest to Mythal, and how they would have appreciated her love and care as your Princess Tasallan had. And Elgar’nan…”

Rivka leaned forward, unfolding her arms and setting them on her knees, asking interestedly, “What of him?”

Solas laughed sharply, saying, “Oh, nothing, really. I’m just astonished that old All-Father was so positively restrained there. Were it up to me I’d have smote the spider from all existence, myself.”

“Creators forbid, Solas,” Rivka said. “Where would we get all that silk otherwise?”

Shrugging, he conceded, “You may well have a point there. I suppose they were good for something after all. I don’t know about you, but I shall retire to my quarters. You’ve given me a great deal to think about with that tale, I must say.”

“Oh?”

“Old memories kept alive by the young…” he said, trailing off, before adding, “Imagine if they were still here to listen to what stories your ilk had to say about them these days. I imagine they’d be quite amused.”

“The way of our people is that we can only hope that they do somehow…somewhere,” Rivka concluded, hooding her eyes and glancing towards the unclouded sun hanging over them all, turning away to gather her things and leave for a warmer choice of locales along with him.

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