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lizacstuff · 3 years ago

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Sen Çal Kapımı / Edser ask from episode 43 (2x04)

AKA Serkan’s episode.

There is also speculation about episode 44 based on the fragmans and a few random asks

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous asked: Hey, Liza! How did you like the ep? I still get chills when watching the diary x video scene and the final one.. Finally the truth is out to both Serkan and Kiraz! And that fragman! 😍 but It seems like Aydan filing for custody will be the new drama, do you think it will last long? Because I highly doubt that they will give solely happy edser and Kiraz in remaining episodes..

My full episode thoughts are here, but I agree the diary and video scene was spectacular. It makes me teary every time.

I’m also psyched that the truth is out. Truthfully, I was one that wanted Serkan to find out at the end of the first episode, but now I concede that it was better to draw it out a bit to really build everything up to this episode and his journey to letting go of his fears. What a character arc they gave him. They really explored Serkan and what drives him this episode and it was a treat-- a painful treat-- to watch it all unfold and for him to finally admit what had driven him to push her away all those years ago and what was still holding him back in the present.

As for what’s next, that’s a great question. I agree that it’s unlikely we’re going to get happy Edser family from here on out, there has to be some obstacles and drama before we get to the end. The Aydan custody drama will clearly be the conflict in episode 5, but I don’t see it as any real barrier for Eda and Serkan. We see in the second fragman that Eda is already confronting Serkan about it, so if Aydan is doing something underhanded they can’t draw it out too long.

I assume that while the custody thing may cause a wee bit of miscommunication between Eda and Serkan, I think it mostly will serve as fodder for Aydan and Ayfer’s relationship dynamic and give the supporting characters something to run around and chase after while Eda, Serkan and Kiraz actually start forming their new family unit. If anything it might serve as a catalyst for Serkan. Picture it, Eda confronts Serkan about it and Serkan is like “I don’t know anything about that, I wouldn’t do something that would hurt you or Kiraz, but I do want her, I want us.” You know, serve to clarify things.

There are probably a few episodes of family drama in store for us as everyone, including Eda, Serkan and Kiraz adjust to this new reality. I assume once the euphoria of having her Baba back wears off for Kiraz, she might ask some questions that are hard for Eda and Serkan to answer. We shall see.

Anonymous asked: i don't think i've cried THIS much at an sck episode... in like ever lmao. i was full on silent sobbing at serkan watching kiraz's baby videos.. but the scene i really loved the most was the one where they have it out after that fancy dinner. it was EVERYTHING we needed to hear serkan's POV and i almost can't believe a lot of us got the "can't have kids" theory right. i have loved so much this season how edser have communicated, even when it's painful and hard.. it was sorely missing for them.

I know! The communication! I don’t think they’ve ever communicated like this. Of course their issues were not as deep and nuanced back in the first batch of episodes so going this in-depth wasn’t necessary, but they didn’t communicate like this when dealing with Babaanne or when it was really needed after the amnesia era.

Honestly, so pleased the “can’t have kids” theory was correct. It goes so far in explaining his actions and thought process when pushing her away, as distorted as that thought process was. It truly was selfless, because I’m sure all he wanted was to hold her tight and never let go, but it was also so unnecessary. Their love story has just been so tragic, but if you think about how many things were stacked against them, it’s also stunning that their love has persevered. They were so opposite and unlikely to fall in love to begin with and then you add in all the things that stood in their way, meddling mothers, family secrets, Serkan’s father being responsible for her parents death, evil, rich, powerful grandmother using everything in her considerable arsenal to keep them apart, psycho stalkers, kidnapping princes, crashing planes, amnesia, brainwashing and abusive exes, plotting “friends,” tumor, cancer, separation!

To come out of all of that and to see they are clearly still in love with one another... well they really don’t have any other choice. They should get married immediately with no pomp and circumstance just so they are legally tied together. So when the next tragic, catastrophic thing comes along it will be that much harder to pull them apart.

Anonymous asked: deniz and burak are the most harmless "3rd party" characters we've ever had in the show that it almost makes me laugh when ppl get so insecure about them.. especially with burak, knowing that he's gonna be melo's love interest, even if i don't want it. like, sure serkan is naturally gonna be jealous, maybe possessive, because of "buba" but it's all being shown right now as light comedic relief.. i've seen some people REALLY take it to heart when it really doesn't seem like it's that deep lol.

I know, it’s all so mild. They also aren’t actually even third party love interests, because there is absolutely zero interest from either side of the main pair. Both are there to a) serve plot purposes and b) show that neither Eda or Serkan is interested in anybody else. It’s nice, we get to see that while they both have had options, neither has been able to move on and both have chosen to remain alone.

As for driving the plot, Burak’s presence was necessary because they needed someone who Serkan thought was Kiraz’s father, and Deniz was necessary because they needed someone who would do whatever Serkan wanted when Serkan wanted to force proximity with Eda.

Looking at the fragman, the real “triangle” might be Buba - Kiraz - Baba but I also think that will mostly be played for laughs. A way to give us some “Drain the pool” and “Burn the flowers” type jealousy moments from Serkan, since that was a hallmark of Ayse’s early writing.

However, I can see why some folks were put-off by that vibe. Because, yes, if you’ve been standing in as a male-figure for the 5-year-old daughter of the woman you’re tying to woo (let’s not pretend that’s not why Burak takes such an interest in Kiraz) and the father that the 5-year-old has been wanting and pining for actually re-enters the picture, maybe you don’t need to force your way in and have “Buba day” the day after he returns. I’m not saying you can’t have it ever again, I’m saying you let the family have some alone time and figure things out. Anyone with any emotional intelligence would postpone such an outing. However, it looks like Serkan is not put off so easily and we know he doesn’t lose, so it will probably lead to humorous scenes.

The good thing about this is that it shows that Serkan won’t sit passively by. Here Burak is giving him an out, Serkan can have his day back, go to work, he can slide into fatherhood slowly, but looks like Serkan is going to have none of that and is going to crash their fishing outing. How’s that for someone who said he wasn’t ready for fatherhood a mere 24-48 hours earlier?

Also it’s worth noting that Kiraz doesn’t see Burak as a father-figure, if she did she probably would have joined Ayfer and tried to get her mom to marry him. Instead she’s been almost obsessed with her father, talking about him, dreaming about him, wanting him and was very quick to correct when someone mistook Baba and Buba. Also she wanted Buba to meet her father. So Kiraz wanting to spend time with him isn’t a slight, in her mind he’s a friend, an uncle and with all the upheaval keeping their plans might feel safe to her. We’ll see.

martha0206 asked: Hi! I love your pinned post. That moment was perfect. Also, I loved the sad and emotional scenes as well as the funny ones. The episode was amazing!!! ❤ Serkan made Kiraz dream come true and I've rewatched that scene and cried because it's too beautiful and touching 🥺 K: Dad? S: Happy Birthday, my daughter 🥺😭❤

Ahh... this post that was pinned. Thank you for the kind words, I also love that scene. I just love it because it’s such an EXTRA thing to do, putting on the astronaut costume and making an entrance like that, but both Serkan and Eda have always been so extra that it works for their little family.

I love that he made Kiraz’s dream come true in the most dramatic way possible. But beyond being dramatic, it was the perfect way to signal that no matter what fears or hang-ups Serkan had, he’s committed to getting over them and he’s ready to go all in on fatherhood. A perfect way to show not only Eda that he’s serious, but to show all their friends and family he’s serious. DO YOU HEAR THAT, AYFER? He’s back and he’s going to be her daddy, and there is nothing you can do about it!

Anonymous asked: do you think the writers goal is to make us hate Ayfer and Aydan? because its just a deeper and deeper hole for these two and I don't understand if they're supposed to be a happy family at the end. I actually realized going back that Ayfer never really developed into liking Serkan/Edser, she just accepted him one day and that was that but with Aydan, her character development was top tier up until episode 29 came along and she never recovered. Now I just want them gone.

LOL, I think this is a pretty popular sentiment among fans.

Personally, I need to see how badly Aydan is meddling in the next episode. If it’s fairly inept meddling that just causes some mild misunderstandings but also serves as a catalyst for an Edser conversation about the future, I probably won’t get too upset with her. However, if her meddling is more competent this time and she gets them into real trouble or causes real problems, then I’ll get annoyed with her. Although, I have to say if we need a few episodes of drama, I would rather this sort of controlled, family drama (meddling mamas causing a misunderstanding about custody) then, you know, other melodramatic things that certain other writing teams used to do... like kidnappings and obsessed stalkers.

As for Aydan, I can’t help it, even though I can never forgive her transgression in 29, I feel sorry that she lost out on so much of her granddaughter’s life. So if she wants to come in and cause headaches and drama for Ayfer (not Eda, Kiraz and Serkan... but Ayfer) then I have no problem with that. As far as I’m concerned those two can run around for the next few episodes playing cat and mouse while Eda/Serkan/Kiraz quietly form a family.

Honestly, I don’t think they want us to hate Aydan, because they give Aydan funny scenes and relationships outside of Serkan with Kemal and Seyfi and even Engin and Piril, but I have wondered if they want us to hate Ayfer. Because Ayfer doesn’t get any redeeming scenes. I mean we’re talking about a woman who managed to raise her orphaned niece and her niece never wanted for love and turned out to be a strong, smart, confidence, successful woman... sooooo she must be awesome, right!?! NOPE. I mean to take a character like that, who had to have been so instrumental in Eda not feeling lonely like Serkan did, but then make her so unlikeable... it has to be on purpose.

Anonymous asked: I loved this episode of sen cal kapimi. I wasn’t so mad at the pregnancy thing. I know lots of fans are but I really liked how they made Eda and Serkan emotional and we could understand them better. I just hate how all the people who don’t like the show anymore have turned into toxic haters. It’s so frustrating. If she show isnt working for you, then why do they keep watching? 🙁

This happens in every fandom where the show keeps going and takes turns that some fans don’t like. My best advice is to not expect others to change or to stop watching or stop hate tweeting/posting, but to take steps to change your own experience so they don’t ruin it for you. I can’t tell you how many people I currently have muted on twitter. Lots. I don’t want to see the cynical, nasty tweets day in and day out about this show, the writers etc. Twitter has always been hard to take because so many people post their knee-jerk responses there and often choose to word vomit their first emotional response which for some people is mostly negative. That is true for every fandom, and has been true for this fandom since I started looking at responses there.

So to protect yourself, seek out people who are enjoying the show and post content that you want to see and mute, unfollow or even block those who make your experience worse.

You’ll never regret curating your experience.

Also I don’t really consider this fandom toxic. Sure there’s negativity about the storyline and internal drama about a variety of things, but after you’ve been though shipwars that get hella toxic and include fans trying to destroy actor’s careers and who attempt to use social justice issues to bully their fanon ships into existence on a constant day-after-day basis for years, this is nothing. This fandom is a daisy-lined, sunlight walk in the park in comparison.

Anonymous asked: For the way they treat their child's SO, I prefer Aydan over Ayfer. Ofc Aydan has been selfish & rude to Eda but Aydan saw her as a respectable foe even when she didn't like Eda. Even now her ire has been directed more at Ayfer than Eda. Ayfer eventually accepted Serkan but never seemed to like him. I get why she thought he was bad for Eda but often her anger has been unwarranted. Ironic how mad she was at him for keeping a secret from Eda for 2 weeks. Even now we see how Ayfer's anger sways Eda

I also prefer Aydan over Ayfer, here’s my recent post on it.

The problem is not that Ayfer never liked Serkan, the problem is that Ayfer never care that Eda did like him. Ayfer can dislike him all she wants as long as she doesn’t interfere, but oh wait, she has interfered, time and time again. She’s used guilt and manipulation in attempts to control Eda at every turn, to the point, at times, of not caring that she was forcing Eda to sacrifice her career as well as her love.

It will be interesting to see Ayfer’s response when she realizes Eda is going to let Serkan into their lives. Will she double down on badmouthing Serkan and pressuring Eda not to get involved with him, or will she smarten up and back off? I think we know the answer to that.

Anonymous asked: Hii! I’m curious what they will come up with for the remaining episodes, I mean, drama-wise, cause no way will Ayse give us 7 episodes of Edser x Kiraz happy family time 🥺 but sure, that is also reasonable since Turks need drama to keep watching

You know, as I said above, I’m very curious about this. To be honest I didn’t really expect Eda and Serkan to be at this emotional place by the 4th episode. I mean they’re not totally ready to get back together, but they’ve both made it obvious that they still love one another, and that is kind of a big milestone in a romantic story.

Seriously, my assumption prior to the season was that we’d have these initial finding out episodes, and then Eda and Serkan would still be sort of outwardly pretending that they didn’t want to get back together, or still angry at one another, but then they’d be forced together by Kiraz. You know there’d be some parent trapping, and a handcuff episodes and then Kiraz would manipulate them into living together and we’d get all sorts of domestic sexual tension scenes. Now these things may still happen to some degree, but Edser is starting from a very different outward emotional place than I thought they would be. I assumed we’d get another 4-5 episodes of slow burn, forced proximity before they admitted things and got engaged. But now it feels like their feelings are out in the open and they could decide to get married at any moment.

So we’ll have to see how the writer’s decide to chart their emotional journey over the remaining episodes. One thing I’m sure of, there are some wonderful scenes coming our way.

Anonymous asked: I'm back and happy to say that Engin delivered!! THAT is how you use a side character. (Not whatever they were doing with Ayfer for what seemed like half the episode) This was a perfect scene for these two and had no business being as emotional as it was

Oh, yes, as I said here in my episode thoughts, the Engin/Serkan scene is the one that really started me crying on first watch. Anil was really fantastic in that scene and it made me realize how sorely I had missed Serkan/Engin as male best friends who actually talk about their emotions. Where was that guy when Serkan was being brainwashed and manipulated by Selin!?! Oh yeah he was in the hands of inept writers.

Glad the real Engin is back!

Anonymous asked: Serkan's vehemence against wanting kids, and his dislike of kids in general, make so much more sense with what was revealed.. we just had to be patient! I can't imagine wanting something so much, having it be your "dream" and being told it's impossible.. Serkan's method of dealing with it was trying to convince himself he never wanted it in the first place and trying to dislike the topic altogether. no wonder he was never close with Can either as an uncle... how heartbreaking!

Yes, I absolutely think that was part of it. He dealt with the fact that he couldn't have children by outwardly adopting the attitude that he never wanted it, even though he still knew deep down that it’s all he wanted with Eda.

Heartbreaking indeed.

Anonymous asked: i hate to think of more drama when it seems like we have such a fluff-filled episode next week.. but this week's conversations b/w edser have me thinking.. do you think a possibility of reoccurrence of his tumor, or just a scare could be coming as one of their "final" hurdles. except this time instead of making his mistakes from the past, he'll do it right this time. obviously everything will be resolved happily, but i was thinking of the possibility of this when serkan was discussing his health

While anything is possible, I don’t see a reoccurrence of his tumor happening because they had a scene where the doctor said he was in perfect health and that since it had been five years he now had the same chance of occurrence as an ordinary person. However, I suppose it’s not impossible that they give him some sort of scare so that he can prove he’s changed and that they won’t abandon his family if that sort of adversity comes again.

Honestly, if I was Eda, I would make him go to therapy as a condition of them getting back together. Make sure he develops some coping skills for the long haul.

Anonymous asked: the ending of the last episode was equivalent to ep 11 but kiraz version for me.. the whole build-up of serkan initially thinking he can't be her father - a good father - and his fears about leaving them both halfway culminating in him saying kiraz is a miracle, that she's perfect.. watching her home videos to showing up WHEN IT MATTERED!! for his daughter.. ugh i'm so glad there was that build-up, but also that it wasn't stretched out over multiple episodes.

Yes, I agree it was all really well done. It did feel like we had all the build up we needed to truly appreciate the moment and to appreciate Serkan’s extraordinary character arc.

He truly rose to the occasion at the right moment, and I love that his grand gesture not only made Kiraz’s dream come true, but it showed everyone his growth and acceptance of his role as her father.

Anonymous asked: can they just bring back Tahir - him and Melo had so much potential. let's just say he finally quit working for Babaanne and decided to come back to Istanbul to find Melo 😊

Yes, please! He really liked her! Though she never really liked him, lmao. She could have gotten there with time. Though, I guess if she really likes Burak I can get behind it. And by that I mean I won’t bitch about it too much. No promises. We shall see.

Anonymous asked: Anon here! Thank you so much for that explanation!!!! It seems really interesting, might just have to give it a chance now! Thank you kindly 😊😊

It’s a fun show and I do recommend it. Let me know if you start watching!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #edser #sck episode discussion #sck discussion #edser discussion #serkan bolat #sckask #asklizac #anonymous

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years ago

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After the Bombs Fall [Animorphs ficlet]

[Note: I seem to have lost the ask where someone requested my post-war headcanon for Alloran, but anyway here it is.]

Less than a month after the end of the war, Alloran applies for transfer off of Earth and back to the homeworld. When the first request gets cancelled due to a minor typo in a sub-section of a supplemental form, he curses himself and immediately applies again.

The second application lingers in the metaphorical z-space between agents for longer, nearly two Earth months, before it gets cancelled as well. The systems are overtaxed due to the sudden influx of Earth tourism, the form letter tells him this time, and they’re very sorry for their inability to accommodate his request.

The third time he applies, the form remains “under review” on the submission portal for half a year, even though the review process normally takes less than a day. So he applies a fourth time, a terrible suspicion taking hold by now. The Electorate automatically cancels both applications, and has the gall to send him a snippy comm message asking that he refrain from filing redundant claims from now on.

The fifth application gets reviewed and cancelled; the sixth one doesn’t even get that courtesy. It just stays there, “submitted” but not yet “under review,” unwanted and ignored.

Just like its author.

Alloran considers, then. For nearly a day he paces, watching the andalite computer and the primitive human device alike, and weighs the merits of stealing Visser Three’s Blade ship out of the impound lot. It wouldn’t be hard; the security system is coded to biometrics. No one but he or Tom Berenson could fly that ship now, and Tom Berenson is dead.

After another day, Alloran instead morphs human and walks to the nearest CVS.

He has to swallow an entire jumbo bag of marshmallows and three jars of tomato sauce for comfort before he can swallow his pride as well. But the comfort food does its trick, and at the end he pulls out the human cell phone still registered under one of Esplin 9466′s aliases and enters the fifth speed-dial option.

“Hey, you.” Eva answers immediately. “How’s it going?”

They don’t know each other, not really. And yet in every one of their three conversations, Eva has greeted him like an old friend. Her voice brings a reaction to Alloran’s human morph: tightness in his throat, the heat of tears behind his eyes.

“I apologize for troubling you,” Alloran says stiffly. “Please, if you are busy, disregard this request.”

Eva snorts a laugh. At least, Alloran thinks that that’s what the sound is. “I’m not busy, and I owe you a favor anyway. Shoot.”

Alloran glances around the room, but there are no weapons, so he decides to disregard that last. “I am truly sorry if it slipped my mind,” he says, “but what favor do you owe?”

“My kid is not in jail on some foreign planet right now, and I hear that’s all your fault. What’s the favor?”

“The War Council would not have imprisoned the Animorphs. That is, perhaps Aximili and Prince Jake may have been imprisoned, but doubtless the full Electorate court would have proven merciful—”

“Alloran. What’s the favor.”

He’s stalling, and she knows it. “It’s a bit of a complicated political matter, and I’m afraid I am not well equipped to explain it to a human, but enforcement of our travel policies is more subject to individual agents’ personal judgment than we ideally would have it be, and...”

“Hijo de puta. They’re not letting you go home, are they?”

Alloran fills his human lungs with more air than they technically need for speech. “It’s a complicated matter.” Nevertheless, his voice comes out small.

“You still camping at the Sharing Community Center?”

“Yes.” His voice is even smaller now.

“I’ll be there in half an hour, querido.” She hangs up.

While he waits, he goes outside to run, to graze, to stare up at the stars.

He didn’t lie; it is complicated. The Andalite Electorate is struggling to recover from a decades-long war, one that threatened the existence of their very soul as a people. Seerow’s mistakes — and Alloran’s own decision to publicize the failings of his prince — have ensured that the whole debacle was a massive embarrassment even before the defeat on the hork-bajir homeworld.

And then...

He’s heard the word, whispered and hissed and screamed and shouted.

Abomination.

His face is the public face of the Yeerk Empire. His voice is its voice. The morph he was just using — a bald, middle-aged human male — was constructed from the DNA of a dozen human-controllers. Everything he owns, from the black limousine parked at the curb to the press pass of a woman called Aria, was taken from the hands of murdered slaves.

Of course his people don’t want him back. Of course not. The quantum virus was one thing, but then he had the gall go to and get himself captured by the yeerks. And he’d added insult to injury when he’d challenged a captain on Aximili’s behalf.

He can see it. That’s what stings. He can stare up at the glittering point of his home star even as he runs across a field of dull foreign grass, and at this rate it’ll never be anything but a fixed point of light in an unfamiliar sky ever again.

Eva shows up then, before he can feel too sorry for himself.

She brings a human substance known as pinot noir.

**********

“And then...” Eva points a wavering finger at him. Her words have gotten blurrier over time. “And then, we just sneak it in, and bam!” She slaps the tabletop.

Alloran leans in across to her. “Bam,” he agrees.

“You needed a ride home?”

At the new voice, Alloran stands up sharply. Too sharply. He gets his two flimsy little legs tangled in the chair and almost pitches over.

Marco catches him. “You all right?” he asks.

“I,” Alloran intones, “am intoxicated. Tox. I. Cate. Ed. Wonderful word. Intock. Sick. Kate. Dd-d-d-d-d.”

“Yeeeaah, I was getting those vibes from the—” Marco leans around him in an impressive display of human balance. “Bottle of wine apiece you two’ve apparently emptied.”

Eva draws herself up. “I did not call and request a ride home, I called and requested a ride to the Netherlands!”

“You’re right, you did.” Marco rolls his eyes. “Which is why I made the decision to show up and bring you home instead.”

“No, no, the Netherlands.” Eva steps up next to Alloran. They both regard Marco carefully. “Not to worry, we’ve thought it through. You call your friend with the private plane, Bradley or Bradford or whomever his name is. We fly out to the Hague tonight.”

“Where is this going,” Marco mutters.

“Holland,” Alloran informs him. “It is-sssss in...”

“Yeah, I’ve been.”

“Anyway.” Eva gestures sharply, bringing attention back to her. “We shall have a perfectly ordinary canister of table salt with us, and we shall request to visit with Visser Three—”

“Oh Jesus. Mom.”

“The guards will not suspect a thing, for it is just an ordinary condiment. All we must then do is create a diversion, and...” Eva flings out both hands as if miming an explosion.

“Splat,” Alloran says. “Pllll-lat. Hissssss.”

“And this will accomplish what, exactly?” Marco asks.

“Making Alloran feel better,” Eva whispers to him. However, she seems to be whispering a great deal louder than she realizes. Humans are ill-equipped for private communication, with their sad reliance on verbal speech. “None of the andalites want him back.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Marco laughs. “Ten out of ten therapists recommend war crimes for a friend in need! And as a guy who’s been to at least ten therapists, I’d know.”

Alloran is not certain, but he believes that Marco might be employing the human verbal quirk known as “sarcasm.”

“No one will suspect a thing.” Eva pats him on the shoulder.

Marco sighs. “Security will just think it’s cocaine.”

“Cocaine?” Alloran asks. “Coke-cane? Co-c-c-c-c-c-c-aine?”

“Something you’re never going to try.” Marco levels a hard stare at him. “Given how well you handle your red wine.”

“Cooo-caaayyy-nnnee. Co-cane.”

“How did you get wrapped up in this dumbass heist, anyway?” Marco looks from one of them to the other.

“Alloran needed me,” Eva says.

“I have no friends,” Alloran announces. “And Arbron does not own a cell phone. Ell. Elffffff-own.”

Marco closes his main eyes for several seconds, massaging the bridge of his nose. An impressive feat of daring, for a creature with no stalk eyes who relies upon bipedalism. “Should’ve known you’d be a morose drunk,” he says.

“So, you’ll take us to the airfield, then?” Eva asks.

Lifting his head up, Marco opens his eyes. “In the words of my wise and estimable mother: if you want it that bad, you can have it when you’re sober.”

Eva opens her mouth halfway, squinting in what Alloran would guess is the effort of remembering when she would have said that. After a second, her expression clears. “I was right to say it, that floozy would have broken your heart in the morning, and this situation is entirely different!”

“That floozy’s name was Jake Gyllenhaal,” Marco mutters, “and I totally would’ve gone for it when I was sober, but I never got his number.”

Eva says something in Spanish, presumably about the loose morals of Jake Gyllenhaal. Marco’s expression would suggest that he only pretends not to understand her.

“Anyway. The point stands. I’m driving you home.” Marco jerks his chin at Eva. “And you,” he says, looking at Alloran, “are gonna morph and sober up before we go anywhere. I’m not having you nothlited on my conscience.”

“But,” Alloran says, “the salt—”

“We’ll revisit the salt in the morning,” Marco says firmly. “Demorph. Please.”

Alloran considers pointing out that he is a war-prince, he does not take orders from alien children, he has his pride... And then considers whether any of those statements is actually true.

He demorphs.

Instantly, he feels both better and worse. On the upside he’s more clear-headed now, but on the downside he’s more clear-headed.

“I’ll call you.” Marco gives him a long look while shepherding Eva out the door.

**********

Marco does not call, but he does send several written missives to Alloran’s cell phone. The Animorphs still have an illegal andalite communication device, it would appear, and Marco has put in requests to channels both official and not about the possibility of transport from Earth to the homeworld.

—Ax is on it, Marco’s latest text reads. —He’s calling an old friend. Might take some smuggling, but we’ve got an idea.

—Thank you, Alloran types carefully on the tiny keyboard. —Your assistance is greatly appreciated, and undeserved.

He’s debating whether to hit send when there’s a knock on the door.

Alloran’s in an abandoned building the Sharing used to use for housing human-controllers. There is very little chance that this is an incidental knock, or someone who wandered by accidentally.

The thought occurs to him that it’d be smarter to morph human and blend in before he answers. But the fear of facing the unknown in a half-blind, tailless morph wins out. He opens the door as is.

It proves to be the right decision. The andalite on the other side didn’t bother to morph either.

Estrid stares at him in silence for several seconds. Her expression is unreadable, all eyes ahead and carefully blank. Alloran doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but he lets her look.

«Estrid,» he says at last, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak first. He gestures with his tail blade, the downward sweep of greeting for an honored warrior.

«Father,» she says.

Her own sharp tail-turn puts the flat of her blade toward him. A greeting between equals. An insult. Both not formal enough for an aristh to acknowledge a war-prince, and too formal for greeting a family member.

But then, Alloran went for Estrid, didn’t he. Not Aristh Estrid-Corill-Darrath, not Estri-kala or my child.

They haven’t seen each other in over two years. They haven’t spoken in almost twenty.

Arguably, given how young she was when he was taken, they’ve never really spoken at all. Certainly Alloran knows little of the person his daughter has become as a young adult. As a groundbreaking aristh. As a brilliant researcher.

As a war criminal.

Humans have a saying, about apples that don’t fall far.

«How is Jahar?» Alloran says. It’s what he really wants to know, and he doesn’t know how to approach any of the other minefields that lie between them. «And Ajaht, how is he?»

Judging by Estrid’s expression, she takes this to be a standard small-talk opening instead of the deeply earnest inquiry it is. «Mother is well enough. I suppose you’ll have to apologize to her in person.» She doesn’t mention her brother.

Alloran feels his tail blade drop nearly to the floor without his permission. «Yes. Of course. Estrid...»

«I’m on a diplomatic mission to Earth,» she says briskly. «Prince Aximili and I have concluded discussions with several local leaders about access to morphing technology and tourism restrictions going forward. Therefore, I will be able to exit the planet and return home after being subject to nothing more rigorous than human security scans.» The dismissive little flick of her tail at this last is, all things considered, somewhat warranted. Humans have yet to devise a single effective way to detect morphers.

«Return home,» Alloran repeats.

Might take some smuggling, Marco said. It’s sinking in: Estrid is here to bring him home.

Home. To the wife he disgraced. The brother he got killed. The children who won’t even acknowledge him, a feverish pair of overachievers desperate to leave his legacy behind. Ajaht’s tail-fighting is so legendary that, even using human channels, Alloran has been able to find scraps of news. Estrid’s skill is not praised so publicly... but the yeerks got ahold of Arbat’s files, after their disastrous mission to Earth. Alloran knows more about her, he thinks, than he ever wanted to.

«We’re leaving now,» Estrid says. «My window for authorized exit ends in two-point-eight-six Earth hours, so we need to move.»

She must have been here for days if not weeks, to negotiate the way she’s describing. And yet she came to find him at the last possible second. Likely to minimize the time they’re forced to spend together.

Alloran doesn’t have the time or the energy to care. «What would you prefer me to morph?»

«Something small and Earth-based.» She barely finishes speaking before she starts to morph herself.

Alloran pauses in surprise, because Estrid morphs with shocking skill, melding from andalite to human in a mere forty-seven seconds, all without ever once losing her footing. She even wears a normative amount of clothing when she’s finished, a sundress and sneakers and a coat overtop.

She sighs, looking him over. «We don’t have all day, here.»

«You were wasted in Arbat’s lab,» Alloran says.

«You don’t have to tell me that,» Estrid snaps. «Tell me, dear father, what else was a girl and a second-born and the child of a disgraced bloodline meant to do?»

Alloran has no answer. Silently he morphs.

His options are limited — Visser Three overwhelmingly preferred large to small morphs, and Alloran hasn’t bothered acquiring much else — so he opts for snake, Lachesis muta according to a human-controller from the area. It’s still larger than most Earth reptiles, but by coiling in close he becomes small enough to drop into the oversized pocket of Estrid’s jacket.

Estrid doesn’t speak to him, and he doesn’t ask her to, the entire way back to her fighter. She’s under no obligation, and he won’t force the issue.

********

«We’re landing soon,» Estrid tells him, three Earth weeks and eighty-two light years later. She’s maintained that icy formality throughout the entire journey so far, responding to Alloran’s questions — about her research, about her brother, about her morphing — with flat non-answers.

Alloran steps to the viewport to look out over the rolling grasslands of home like a child on his first in-atmosphere flight. Is it home, really? It’s been thirty-nine years since he left home to quell the small skirmish on the hork-bajir homeworld, forty-seven since his first offworld assignment serving under Prince Seerow. He has seen a dozen planets, been a hundred species, since that time. This body belonged to Visser Three for nearly as long as it did to Alloran himself, decades of nonexistence until he all but forgot his own name.

«What will you do next?» Alloran asks Estrid, still desperate for conversation.

She flicks a dismissive hand at the air. «I have my work.»

«Even without Arbat?»

«I didn’t say it was easy.»

«And the quantum virus?»

She turns all four eyes on him. A small part of him wants to scold her for bad form, but a far larger part of him recognizes he’d be overstepping. «The quantum virus never happened,» she says sharply. «And if it did, I was never informed of its existence. This journey was my first visit to Earth, Arbat died in a lab accident, we were never involved in weapons development, and if you even think about saying differently the War Council will back my story, because all of the documentation —»

«Estrid.» He cuts her off as gently as he can. «I would never...»

He sees it, in the stiffening of her stalk eyes. Hears it in the catch of her breath. She doesn’t want a father. Or if she does, she doesn’t want him.

«I would never dishonor the memory of my brother by raising questions about his death,» Alloran says instead.

Estrid relaxes, and turns back to the controls.

He is weary of war, weary of being alone. The person he’d been when he first met Esplin 9466 would have been shouting by now, demanding to know what right Estrid has to consider herself any better than him. He only deployed a quantum virus, had no hand in its evil creation. Either she is a hypocrite... or she is just like the War Council officials who consider it a far worse crime to be enslaved by yeerks than to have murdered ten million hork-bajir.

It’s been a long war, and Alloran has missed her every moment of it. Let her be angry; she’s here.

There is one more delicate question Alloran needs to ask, however, before they disembark on their family’s land. «Jahar,» he says. «I assume... She has found someone else. To help raise you, and...» Dark Sun, but this is hard. «She deserves to be loved, of course.»

Eva’s mate remarried, after all. Together they’d cried about that, somewhere between the third and fourth glasses of wine.

«Who would date her?» Estrid asks. «Who would be seen speaking to her? No. There’s no one. There hasn’t been. There was me, and Ajaht, and that’s it.»

Alloran feels sadness and relief and disappointment and shame at his relief, all at once in a rush too complex to understand. «I see,» he says at last.

«So go to her.» Estrid yanks hard to unseal the fighter’s outer door; they’ve landed without his noticing. «Go to her and—» Another hard yank. «Kriffing thing!»

Alloran puts his hand next to hers, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t pull away. As one they move, and the door comes open at last.

She came to meet them. Alloran doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting that, and yet...

Jahar is older, lined around the eyes and stooped in her shoulders and dull-edged around her hooves. She’s radiant. Transcendent.

Alloran is frozen. Aware of all the knocks he’s taken, all the shine he’s lost. Aware that they’ve been apart for longer than they ever were together.

He blames that last for the way his knees lock. For the voice that freezes inside his mind, unable to form words. For the crack in his breath and the painful squeeze of his hearts as she becomes the one to step forward. As she raises a hand to his cheek, in the first gentle touch he’s felt in over twenty years.

[Note: I know that Aloth’s line in #38 about Estrid being Arbat’s niece — which would make her Alloran’s daughter — is probably not meant to be literal in context. But the straightforward interpretation is boring, so I went with the fun one.]

#animorphs #animorphs fic #long post #ficlet #alloran #alloran is my trash baby #animorphs spoilers #victim blaming #estrangement #alloran semitur corass #Estrid Corill Darrath #alloran is estrid's dad #actual dumpster fire alloran semitur hardass #star wars swear words #cold mountain... in space!

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pandas-pandemonium · 5 years ago

Text

Per Sempre Insieme

Pairing: Yandere!Team Buccellati x Fem!Stand User!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Yandere (in later chapters), Slow Burn, Angst

Setting: Post-Vento Aureo, Everyone Lives!AU, Post-PHF

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 , More to Come

Summary: Catching the eye of the new don of Passioné was the last thing a hitman like yourself wanted to do, but what's worse is that you capture the attention and hearts of five other men too. Along with trying to avenge your sister's death, as well as dealing with six lovesick men, how will you ever survive?

1.6k words

Chapter 1

June 2003, Naples, Italy

Summer, the time of the year Giorno both loved and hated at the same time. Summer was great, mainly because he had summer vacation, allowing him to focus on running Passione during the next three months. However, he couldn’t find the heat enjoyable in the slightest. With the burning sun out at 11 in the morning already, he was regretting his decision to personally visit his favourite restaurant to collect the protection money. Heck, Bruno himself offered to do so, and so did countless other members of the mafia. But for some reason, he denied their offers to perform the task and headed there himself. It wasn’t like there was much danger anyways, few people knew the new don of Passione's face. He did however, bring along Sheila E. as his bodyguard, just to give Bruno peace of mind. The older man just wouldn’t stop insisting he bring someone along for his protection.

He was about halfway to the restaurant when a blur of [H/C] flew right by him and into the alleyway the two happened to pass. Fortunately, the Don recovered quickly enough to see a girl, perhaps not much older than him, pull open a door from the wall and disappeared in a blink of an eye.

“A stand user?” He wondered to himself under his breath. His interest in the passing stand user did not go by Sheila’s eyes as she tilted her head and looked up at the taller male.

“Is there anything you would need me to do, D- Giorno?” she asked, catching herself from addressing her boss by his title just in time. Giorno’s blue eyes shifted to the smaller female, and smiled gently.

“Not at the moment Sheila…Perhaps after we finish what we came here for, then we can look into that…incident,” he said. The girl nodded and resumed walking towards the restaurant.

After an hour or so, the duo walked out of the restaurant, stomachs full from the early lunch they just had, and headed to the alleyway they last saw the [H/C] girl disappear in.

“Sheila, I would like you to use your stand here, so we can figure out who that stand user was, or at least, their motives. It’s been two years, but new stand users are always an asset,” the blonde said. Wordlessly, the bodyguard nodded her head and withdrew her stand, Voodoo Child. Immediately, the stand got to work, furiously punching the wall and ground hard enough that it began to crack open. After a few moments, lips formed from the cracks and began to speak.

“Damn it, when the hell is that darn geezer gonna bank in my pay?! I took out the guy just like he asked me to!”

“Ah man, setting up house here is the worst idea…It’s got the worst view ever! I can barely tell evening from day in the mansion.”

“Ugh! Some assholes decided to spit in front of my doorstep! I swear if I catch them, I’ll beat them to death for it.”

Giorno held up his hand, and Sheila stopped the voices.

“Well, I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to find out, but at the very least it doesn’t seem like the user has left. Perhaps if we stay out here long enough, she should come out again. I would like to see how her stand works, it could be useful for the transportations team,” he said. Giorno then clapped his hands together and headed to leave the dim alleyway, his bodyguard trailing behind.

Upon reaching the Passione base, Giorno immediately called two men to keep watch over that particular alleyway, and to bring the stand user to him directly. It wasn’t much, but he was glad he trusted his intuition to go out this afternoon. After all, if his men succeed in locating and retrieving the stand user, Passione could only benefit from it.

~~~~

It was past two in the morning when you finally finished your job; exterminating a mole in some big business you barely cared for. The CEO paid you big bucks for it, and that was what mattered. You found it amusing how willing the rich and powerful are to go to such dirty means to prevent their secrets from getting out. Now, you were on your way down a street of Naples, heading towards your temporary hideout. Sure, you could simply set up your house any where you want, but the alleyway you chose was near one of your favourite restaurants, which was convenient.

Just as you were approaching the dark alleyway, you froze. There, sitting on a wall, was a man clothed in black, almost unnoticeable for someone who wasn’t trained to see in the dark. You backed up, holding your hands up in a fighting position, ready to defend yourself if necessary.

“Who are you and who sent you?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice level, as to not betray your feelings. Truth be told, you were nervous. Were you really that careless? Who in the world could have sent someone to catch you? Aside from those who related to those who were killed by your hands, you doubt you made many enemies. You were a paid hitman, and you always made sure to cover your tracks so people don’t come after you. So far, no one has traced the assassinations back to you, so who?

The man spoke soon enough, “The Don of Passione wants to recruit you. Consider this a personal invitation into the mafia. Lucky you, you don’t even have to pass a test.” You raised an eyebrow.

The Don of Passione? The new one? Last you heard, Passione changed bosses and the one leading the gang currently was a young man who took over the position as Don when he was only a teenager.

“What the hell does a mafioso want with me? Does he even know who I am?” you asked. The man jumped down from his position and sighed.

“Who knows. What he does know however, is that you may have a pretty useful stand he could have use for. I’m just carrying out orders. If you refuse to come with me, I’m more than willing to use force,” he said, arms crossed. You swallowed. You really had been careless. You completely forgot that there were bound to be other stand users roaming streets of Napoli, and of all people to catch sight of you using your stand, it had to be freaking Passione’s don?

You laughed, “If he thinks I’m going to comply so easily, he mustn’t have very good judgment.” With that, you pulled out your gun. As if you were going to reveal your stand this easily. If the don was that serious about recruiting you, he better had sent one of his best.

“Oh, sweetie, you really think that gun is going to protect you. If you’re a stand user, make it a stand fight!” yelled the man. From the corner of your eye, you saw light grey humanoid-ish shape seep into the pavement below you. Hurriedly you jumped back, your eyes scanning your surroundings, watching out for any signs of attack.

“It’s useless, miss. Once Penny Lane’s taken over any object, there’s no way of avoiding it,” the man calmly spoke. Just then, the concrete under your feet began to warp, slowly melting into a liquid form. Panicking, you searched for higher ground. You had to get off the concrete fast, and uncover his stand’s secret. Internally, you cursed. Of course, an offensive stand type user is sent to get you. Tonight, really wasn’t your night. The ground was rapidly turning to liquid and so were other things around you. If you didn’t get out of the stand’s range fast, you’d be trapped in the concrete.

“Well? Will you draw out your stand or will you keep trying to run through liquid cement?” taunted the man. You cursed under your breath. Well, if the gang member had shown his, you might as well right? So, you turned around, as quickly as you could, as your pants were caked in cement, which was drying fast.

“If I show you my stand you’ll stop right?” you asked, holding up your hands in surrender. The man nodded and you took a deep breath, allowing the light golden spirit to appear beside you. Its eyes were a blank white, and it appeared to be wearing a butler’s suit.

“This is Soul’s Mansion. It’s not a fighting type stand, so don’t worry about me trying to attack you. Now, will you stop this?” you asked as you let your stand disappear. The man shrugged and recalled his stand back. Unfortunately for you, you had made an error in your request. You had asked him to turn the cement back into concrete but had forgotten that you would be stuck ankle deep in the pavement. Flushing an angry red, you panicked.

“W-wait! Turn it back into liquid, I need to get out of here!”

The man raised his eyebrow, “And let you escape? Of course not. You don’t have to worry though; my partner will get you out of there. I hope to see you back at the base,” he called out as he turned to leave, leaving you stuck in the concrete. Just as he left, a woman of significant height walked towards you from the other side of the road.

“It’s a shame it ended so quickly. I was really enjoying seeing your panicked expression. Anyways, as per the boss’s orders, let’s you take you back, shall we?” she said with a smile, her light blue eyes twinkling under the dark sky. You swallowed thickly as you stared up at the woman, a deep feeling of dread pooling in your stomach.

~~~~

A/N: I thought I'd just drop this lol. I was too impatient, and it'll be one thing less on my mind while I work on the other requests. Feedback and questions are greatly appreciated! So are likes and reblogs!

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (Ellen) (sfw)

This was a commission for someone who appears to have infinite patience, so thank you very much for hanging on in there for so many months. I’m sorry, and I hope you enjoy this at last… It’s been up on my Patreon on early release, and now it’s time to put it up here.

It's the 'prequel' to the story with Adan, the Argonian-inspired marine iguana, and which you can find on Tumblr here. I don't think you really need to have read it to enjoy this one, but it might help a bit.

You can catch up on all my Fae Realm related posts and stories here on Patreon, but again, you don't need to in order to enjoy this. I hope.

Jaerhin - Prince of the Court of Fire aesthetic and info

Inikeira - Princess of the Court of Air aesthetic and info

'Poster boy' for the Fae Realm doodle

Fae Courts - 'wiki' style info post

Ystlynn - younger son of the Court of Spring, aesthetic and info

Cirdan - Prince of the Court of Winter, drawing and Fae Realm info

Fae seer/priest aesthetic, ideas, and fae world concepts

Content: serious injury to male character towards the beginning but it’s brief and not described in too much detail. Fluff, a dose of angst, and some more fluff. Sfw, with the odd touch/kiss. Word count: 9,385

___

The tranquillity of the waves lapping the shore always soothed her on a level she couldn’t quite articulate. Moving away from the city in her early twenties, leaving it all behind for a quieter life atop the cliffs where she could gather herbs and tend to the folks who needed it had been rewarding, for sure, but the sharp ache of loneliness did still lance through her every now and again.

Perhaps if someone came along one day who caught her eye, then she might go along with it, but for now Ellen was content enough with her books and her herbs and her remedies. The small flock of chatty chickens, all too fond of the sound of their own clucking voices, and the near-silent stray black cat who had more recently adopted her, were enough company for the time being.

Gathering samphire in the wake of the retreating tide one early summer morning, just as the sun was starting to peek above the glass-perfect horizon, a splash from a rock pool up ahead caught her attention and she stood up straight from her task to see a figure slumped on his front over a rock in the shallows.

Her eyes widened and her heart leapt into her mouth at the sight of him, and she thought for an awful moment that he was dead. His skin was glacially pale, like finest marble, and his hair was long and dark, spilling down over his shoulders and back, sticking to his skin like seaweed. He was completely naked, but as she stared openly at him, shocked into a stupor by his beauty and his unexpected presence, she noticed the harpoon sticking out of his back and she covered her mouth with one hand.

The basket of freshly-gathered seaweed completely forgotten, she raced over to him, the toes of her bare feet digging into the wet sand as she flew to him. He tilted his face up a little at her arrival, his gaze vague and his irises so black that she almost couldn’t make out his pupils. The harpoon was lodged in his back, mercifully well clear of his spine, but it was obvious that he’d been shot from behind. It had missed everything important but was still lodged in the muscle of his back. The water had washed a lot of the blood away, but from the looks of him, he didn’t have much left in him.

“Easy,” she said, trying not to panic. “I’m going to help you, alright? I’m a physician. Stay put, and I’ll be right back.” With that, she didn’t linger long enough to hear if he made any response, and turned and ran at full tilt back towards the cliffs and the winding, switchback path that would lead to her wooden hut.

Her lungs burned as she scrabbled up the last stretch, her muscles searing and cramping from the sudden exertion, but she pushed herself on, only daring to catch her breath when she reached her front door and burst inside. Grabbing the necessary supplies from various cupboards and shelves and stuffing them into another basket, Ellen took a few steadying breaths before hurtling back down to the beach.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” she chanted over and over as she ran back to him.

He hadn’t moved and for a horrible moment she thought that he had slipped away, but when he gave a shuddering gasp, his fingertips just twitching slightly, relief washed through her.

It took a long time to tend to him, and in less than ideal conditions. The water and alcohol she used to clean the wound would have to be sufficient, and mercifully he passed out when she had only just begun to remove the harpoon’s barbed tip. It was a cruel weapon, made for latching into the flesh of dolphins and sharks which would then be hauled out of the water, and shipped off to where the nobility of the inland cities would consume them on laden tables, attended by servants and entertained by captive fae on iron chains. The sight of the weapon disgusted her but she hadn’t time to focus on that. He needed stitching up, and she was damned if she was going to let him die on her now.

It should have occurred to her that any ordinary human being would never have survived such injuries, but Ellen was so focused on the immediate task of saving his life that the thought never crossed her racing mind.

When she could do no more for him, she leaned back, exhausted, and glanced to her right and saw that the tide was creeping back in towards the wide, sandy cove.

“How the hell am I going to get you up the cliff?” she mused aloud, stroking his long hair back from his beautiful face; the long strands were encrusted here and there with salt and she picked them loose while she mulled it over. He looked tired and strained, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked more than a bit undernourished, but he was undeniably beautiful. Ellen removed her thick woollen cloak and laid it over his slender shoulders, spreading it down his back to try and keep him warm and give him a bit of dignity for the time being.

As if summoned back to consciousness by her touch, his eyelids fluttered, long lashes dancing like butterfly wings on his pale, bruised-looking skin. He looked up at her from where he was still slumped over the smooth rock beneath him and tried to move.

“Shh, steady,” she smiled, easing back a little so that he didn’t have to strain himself to look up at her. “That was quite the injury… Don’t move too much just yet.”

“Where am I?” he croaked, his rough voice like a handful of grit in his mouth. “You’re… You’re…” but whatever he was going to say, he cut himself off and looked around apprehensively, his eyes wide with obvious horror.

“Easy,” she said, trying to reassure the strange man. “I’ll need you to move in a minute because the tide is coming in. Do you think you can stand?”

He took an experimental draw of his lungs, winced, but then nodded.

“I’ll help you.��

It took… a long time.

Even with his light frame, he was unsteady on his legs to the point that a newborn deer might have fared better than he did. She clasped her cloak around his throat with a beautiful silver brooch - the only treasure she’d really kept from her life in the city before moving here - and slid her arm around his torso. Together they staggered and slipped up the path to the hut, and it was testament to her skills as a physician, trained in the city with the finest doctors and surgeons, that he didn’t rip his stitches open again. The wound was bleeding through the bandages, but when she inspected it briefly after taking the cloak off him, she found that it was just weeping after the exertion.

Ellen then laid the stranger down in her bed and he slid into sleep in a single, harsh exhale.

Exhaustion washed through her like a riptide and she staggered slightly, suddenly dizzy and weak after the frantic rush of racing to save his life and hauling him up the cliff path to her home. She parked herself in the chair beside the cold fireplace and took a moment to steady herself. The day was heating up now, and she had chores to attend to. Taking a deep breath, she rallied her strength and said, “Well, those chickens won’t take care of themselves…”

The stranger slept for the rest of the day, though she continued to check up on him in between her jobs. After retrieving her basket of samphire from the grasping foam of the incoming tide, she fed and greeted her slightly disgruntled chickens and collected their eggs. That done, she set about drawing some water from the well she’d had sunk when she’d first moved in by two very friendly minotaurs who lived only a mile or so away.

By the time Ellen had caught up on the day’s chores, the sun was sinking low behind the wind-blasted trees atop the cliffs, and she had just begun to grill some fish for their evening meal when she heard a grunt behind her in the one-roomed hut. She’d thought about asking the minotaurs to help her extend the small building, but it hardly seemed necessary. Maybe one day, but for now, this was enough.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, lifting the fish away from the heat, and the man blinked, staring around at the hut with wide, fearful eyes. “It’s alright,” she smiled. “My name is Ellen. You’re safe here.”

He gasped softly as she spoke her name, but other than that, he barely reacted. He still looked too surprised to find himself in someone else’s house. She supposed that was natural.

“Listen, do you want something to eat? You should try and start to recover your strength…”

He looked warily at the grilled fish and the small, charcoal cooking fire in the corner of the room, but unmistakable interest flared in his dark eyes and he licked his lips almost unconsciously.

She returned her attention to the meal, not wanting to overwhelm him. When she turned back to him, she found that he was sitting up and was making no attempt to cover himself whatsoever. He just sat there, gazing around at her home as if he’d never seen anything like it before.

“It’s not much,” she said, blushing. “And I wasn’t exactly expecting guests when I found you this morning.”

“It’s nice,” he murmured. “You saved my life,” he added, lightly touching the bandages around his ribcage that held the dressing in place on his back. His fingers were delicate and they trembled slightly as he moved them along the fabric. “You asked no price,” he whispered.

“You’re a tough one, for sure. Just having someone get better is reward enough for me,” Ellen said with a cheery note to her voice. The truth rang through her words, and it seemed to shock the young man.

“You know your craft,” he said. “You have no magic.” The way he spoke in short, softly-articulated sentences seemed odd, but she shrugged.

“Very few of us physicians actually have magic these days,” she said. “I know what I know, and I do what I can.”

He stared at her intently, and it was almost unnerving. “You’re very kind.”

Ellen had to bite her lips together as the blush crept up further her cheeks. “As I said, I do what I can. Now, are you hungry?”

He shook his head, but in the end she managed to convince him to cover up, and to eat something by saying he’d undo all her good work if he starved to death.

Shortly after finishing, he lay back on the bed and was asleep in minutes. She hadn’t even managed to ask him his name.

Deciding not to risk waking him by clattering around any more, she stepped outside into the balmy evening and closed up the chicken coop for the night. The cat slunk out of the shadows of the herb garden and trotted boldly over to her, his one white sock flashing in the dim remnants of the daylight. He butted his head against her calf and meowed a soft greeting, so of course, she stooped to give him a cuddle.

Ellen had no intention of sharing her tiny cot with the naked stranger, so she drew some spare blankets out of a cupboard and laid them down on the floor beside the empty fireplace. It was warm enough that she didn’t need much covering, so she used most of them as padding to lie on, dragged a cushion from a nearby chair, and drew a simple sheet up over her body to keep the chill of the middle of the night from her skin. Sleep was a long time coming, and for at least an hour, she lay staring up at the figure of the sleeping stranger in her bed. It felt so odd to have someone else in the cabin with her, but despite his quirky behaviour, she didn’t feel threatened by him.

As dawn crept through the small windows of her modest hut, Ellen woke with a soft sigh. Sleeping on the floor was hardly comfortable, but she’d got a good enough night’s sleep, and she stretched before turning her gaze up to her bed where the young man lay.

Except that in his place was not the young man she had remembered from the night before.

Lying under the blankets, though with its torso half exposed, was something from a fairytale or perhaps even a nightmare. The creature that lay there had blueish-green skin and delicately webbed hands, each finger ending in a talon the colour of lapis lazuli. Its face was still vaguely humanoid, but its eyes were almond shaped and huge, resting closed in sleep, and its nose was flat with slit nostrils, and thin, dark blue lips were drawn shut in a tight line. It had no hair, and its ears were marked by a three-pointed fin. Atop its head was another fin, like a crest, and each one glimmered softly like the scales of a fish, first seeming green, then blue, then silver as she stared in horror at it.

Larger scales glimmered down its turquoise neck and the skin on its chest was a dusky blue highlighted with paler green. It would have been beautiful to behold had she not been so terrified. “Fae,” she hissed, staggering to her feet and reeling backwards.

The creature’s eyes opened in a flash and when it registered the revulsion and fear on her face, it raised its hand and inspected what it found, flexing its fingers and spreading the webbing that stretched between them. Turning its eyes back on Ellen, it opened its mouth and she saw a row of savage, pointed teeth.

“Oh gods protect me,” she hissed, snatching up the iron fire poker from its hook beside the grate and brandishing it like a rapier between them. Not that she had the faintest idea how to use a rapier.

The creature’s fin-like ears drew back and it hissed like a cat at the sight of the iron. “Please,” it rasped, and she recognised the voice of the man from the day before in the guttural speech she heard now. “You saved me. I will not harm you. I just… I couldn’t hold this form…”

“You’re a… a fae, aren’t you?” she snarled. “Gods, I can’t believe I let you in here. I can’t believe I…” the colour drained from her cheeks as she realised that she’d told her true name to this creature. “Oh gods.”

“Please,” he said, shuffling and wincing as he tried to sit up. “I swear by the magic in my blood, by my connection to the Fae Realm, by the water that is my home, that I will not harm you.” His voice was strange, as though his tongue had difficulties with human speech around the razor sharp row of teeth in his mouth. “I will leave, but… I… I’m not sure I have the strength to shift again so soon.”

Ellen scowled, confused.

With a sigh, the fae lifted the blankets and revealed that his lower half was a powerful, muscular tail; all glimmering scales and soft, delicate looking fin, though she noticed on closer inspection that each fin was tipped with a barb that reminded her of lion fish. Beautiful but deadly like all Fae…

“Please, let me rest a little while longer,” he said, his voice cracking with obvious fatigue. “Then I will return to the sea, and I will attempt to find the fissure between the veil. I will never trouble you again.”

“I told you my name,” she hissed.

“A gift I will treasure,” he said, “And a trust I will never betray.”

“The only way it’d be fair is if you told me yours in return,” she snarled, still clutching the iron fire poker. “And what the hell are you doing here in the Mortal Realm in the first place?”

His shoulders slackened a little and he tipped his head back against her pillow. “That’s a rather longer story than I have the strength for at the moment. I will tell you though, if you’d truly like to know.”

Ellen just stood there, her breathing fast and shallow, her heart hammering in her ears. A Fae, here, in her cottage. In her bed.

The closest she’d come to one was in the bustling city market where there had been one in an iron cage, but that one had been the size of a skinny child and had had wings like a dragonfly and skin like hoarfrost on glass. There was an eerie kind of beauty to the Fae lying in her bed, with his inhuman eyes, vaguely reminiscent of the deep sea fish that sometimes got tangled up in the fishermen’s nets, and the iridescent blues and greens of his scales were almost mesmerising. She had to shake herself. Everyone knew the stories: Fae would trick you into giving up your soul and leave you nothing but a husk; Fae would steal your name and compel you to come back to their home realm where they would do unspeakable things to you…

And here she was with one in her bed who knew her true name. “Fool,” she whispered to herself.

“If I tell you my name,” he said, surprising her, “Will you trust me?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “But it’d be a start.”

“Kaerio,” he murmured. “My True Name is Kaerio. As a Fae, I cannot lie; you know it to be truth.”

And she did. She felt the truth of it hit her in the chest like a physical blow. “Kaerio,” she murmured, turning the sound of it over on her tongue. He shuddered violently under the covers and she looked at him. “What…?”

He chuffed a laugh, raw and devoid of humour. “I never thought I’d ever hear a human call my name…” he said. “We have stories about you too, to frighten our children…”

“Yeah, well, I never imagined I’d have a damned fae in my bed,” she snapped. “I should have known you weren’t human! No one would survive an injury like that if they weren’t… you know… How did you come to have a hunting harpoon in your back anyway?”

Kaerio sighed deeply and rolled carefully onto his side. His fluke flopped off the end of the bed, spreading its full width and somehow looking like hot-folded iridescent glass. It was stunning and fascinating, and she found herself staring openly at it.

When she looked up at him, his glassy eyes were fixed on her face. He had no white sclera - his large, almond-shaped eyes were like polished jet, and just as hard and cold as he gazed unblinkingly at her. She flushed unexpectedly under his scrutiny and he offered a soft, closed-lipped smile before speaking. “There was an attack on the Court of Water,” he said slowly, his gruff voice deep and sonorous as the high tide against the cliffs.

“The Court of Water?” she asked.

He hummed softly as he nodded. “There are twelve Courts in the Fae Realm, each ruled over by a prince or princess of the lesser Fae…” he tilted his head curiously at her. “You know nothing of this?”

“Why would I? We’re not exactly taught the political structure of the Fae Realm at school. We’re taught to be afraid of your kind from birth.”

His grin was lopsided and showed too many teeth. “Likewise,” he snorted. “Well, there’s always been animosity between certain Courts. I serve in the guard of the princess of the Court of Water, and I am also a messenger of sorts. I carry messages from the House of the Sea to court, and do my prince and princess’ bidding whenever a message needs to be taken elsewhere in the Realm. Providing it is reached by waterways, of course,” he added with a shrug.

“I… I don’t fully understand,” Ellen said, and instead she asked, “But… how did you end up here?”

Kaerio sighed. “I was bringing a message from our princess to the Prince of the Winter Court. He has some sway with the Court of Fire, and it was believed that the attack came from them. She hoped that Prince Círdan would be able to convince Prince Jaehrin to call off the attack… I have to go back,” he said, his head drooping despondently. “I never made it to the Court of Winter and… I don’t know what things are like there. The castle could still be under attack… My people…” His voice broke and he bit back a choked sob.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand the politics of what’s going on here, but none of that tells me how you ended up in the Mortal Realm…”

He swallowed his hurt for a moment and looked directly at her. “There were fire-charges and spells raining down from the ships as they bombarded our defences. I dove deep to avoid them and must have found one of the tears in the veil between our realms. They exist all over the place, but most of them are guarded by waystones or some kind of sentry. This was just… there. I’d swum through it before I knew what had happened, and I needed to surface. When I did, there was a fishing boat nearby, and the next thing I know there are spears and bolts hissing down around me.” He shifted his ribs a little and said, “I took one in the back and I must have shifted in panic. I’m not really sure. I rarely use this form.”

“Why not?”

“There’s very little need for legs in my line of work,” he said wryly.

“What will you do now then?” she asked, realising with a jolt that she had lowered her arm and her grip on the fire poker had relaxed to the point that she was almost about to drop it. Taking a deep breath and deciding that while he had his tail he couldn’t exactly leap at her and disembowel her with his claws from where he lay, she set it back down and sank into a chair at a safe distance from him.

“I need to heal,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long, but in the Mortal Realm I’m cut off from the Fae magic, so I don’t know… I… If I were strong enough to swim down to the gateway I could go home.”

“You want me to check the wound then?” she asked.

Kaerio was surprisingly sheepish as he nodded.

“Keep those claws to yourself,” Ellen growled as she pushed herself upright and crossed to him. On the way, she grabbed a pair of scissors from a side table and he went rigid at the sight of them.

He fell completely still as she laid her hands on him, but a second later a shiver ran the length of his body and he gasped.

Pausing, Ellen asked, “Did I hurt you?”

With a shake of his head, he fell still again, jaw set grimly, watching her while she brought the scissors to the bandages. It was only as she realised that these ones were iron and not steel, that she faltered. If she didn’t touch his skin with them, he’d be alright, so she continued, being doubly careful this time, and when he was unwrapped, she set them back on the table, out of sight.

The relief that washed through him was tangible. “Sorry about that,” she said and he gasped as she laid her fingertips on his ribcage, inspecting the wound.

“Your hands are cold,” he half-giggled and half-gasped.

“Sorry.”

“Cold hands, warm heart,” he grinned. “At least, that’s what they say at home. Not sure if you have that saying here. Do you? Have it here, I mean?”

Ellen frowned and snorted at the same time. “Are you nervous, Kaerio?” she purred playfully, overcome with a sudden rush of confidence. Perhaps it was his unexpected burst of nerves that egged her on.

“No,” he blurted, turning his face away, his fin-like ears tucking flat against his head.

“Well,” she said, poking carefully at the edges of the puncture wound with her fingertips. “You’ve healed miraculously overnight. It seems that your abilities have come with you from the Fae Realm. I wouldn’t recommend fighting a war just yet, but you should be able to swim at least.”

His muscles went slack with relief and he reached tentatively for her hand. When she didn’t immediately recoil, he took her fingers gently in his and ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you,” he said. “What can I offer you as repayment?”

“You healed,” she said, still not withdrawing her hand from his cool, polite grip. “I told you, that’s all I want from any patient. Especially from a Fae. I don’t want anything else from you.”

He nodded. “That… That is not… That would not normally be… enough…”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I can’t vouch for how well it’d hold up to you changing your form though. And I can’t carry you down to the beach.”

“One more day,” he said, sounding oddly reluctant. “May I trespass on your hospitality and patience for one more day?”

In fact, he ended up staying for two more days. As much as her wariness was still very present, her curiosity about his world surged to the forefront and she found herself sitting in a chair beside the bed while he told her as much as he was able to about the Fae Realm where he lived.

“There are twelve Courts, as I said,” he explained as he rested his weight on one arm, still lying on his side amongst her sheets and blankets. Every now and again his tail would twitch animatedly, his fluke lifting slightly in the manner of someone drumming their fingers on a tabletop while talking. “There are the four Elemental Courts of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air, and each of them have their own noble houses - such as the one I serve, the House of the Sea. There are the Seasonal Courts of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, and then there are the Solar Courts of Dawn, Day, Twilight and Night.”

Ellen nodded but remained quiet.

“The territory and influence of each court varies hugely. We are all ruled over by the Seelie and the Unseelie Fae, but they trouble us very little. So long as what we do poses no threat to the fabric of the Fae Realm itself, then they let our Courts squabble as we please. Someone is always pushing for more power, more control… it’s…” he waved a taloned hand, the tiny scales on his fingers sparkling in the summer light that poured in through the open doorway and window in an attempt to cool the room a little, “… tedious…” he finished.

There seemed to be something more than what he told her, but she didn’t push it. “And… forgive me, but I’ve only ever seen perhaps one fae other than you… What… What do your kind look like?”

“As varied as there are fish in the sea,” he laughed. “The lesser royalty - the princes and princesses of our Courts - tend to look mostly human… ish… Some have wings like butterflies or moths, while others have bone structure that’s definitely not quite the same as humans, but for the most part, the royal ones are not like me at any rate. Us lower Fae, the kelpies and shrikes, tritons and wraiths, have more monstrous forms. Of course, it’s said that our dear royalty also have ‘other’ forms which they choose not to take very often…”

“Other forms?”

“Monstrous forms, but they pride themselves on their exquisite beauty… No one wants to serve a creature who is anything less than the epitome of perfection after all…”

Ellen scowled at that, but who was she to judge the beauty standards of another culture, let alone an entirely different realm?

She asked Kaerio questions until his voice was hoarse and she eventually realised how long she’d been making him talk. Embarrassed and chagrined, she offered him water and food, both of which he took more readily this time.

As she sat on the edge of the bed to offer him the plate of hot, steamed fish, he gazed up at her, his features considerably softer now.

“What?” she asked, irritated by how unusually flustered she was.

“I’ve never met a human before,” he said. “You’re very beautiful.”

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that. “Oh.”

“Have I offended?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know you haven't. But I am wary of the kinds of stories we’re told about you…”

“Oh?” he asked, pushing himself upright and leaning against the wooden headboard behind him before taking the bowl of food from her. His claws scraped slightly on her fingers as she passed it to him and she fought off a little shiver.

“Yeah,” Ellen muttered, standing up and smoothing out her skirt unnecessarily. “It’s said you’ll charm us into falling in love with you.”

He snorted. “Why would we do that?”

The question took her by surprise. “I have no idea. But whenever someone goes missing, especially in rural communities, it’s always assumed that the Fae took them… More likely the cold or a wild cat or something if you ask me,” she added. “But then again, here you are.”

“And am I making you fall in love with me?” he asked dryly. “Is my unusual body so enticing?” There was a nasty bitterness in his voice that made her brows knit together in a frown.

Instead of scoffing at him the way he obviously assumed she would, she said quietly, “I think you’re very beautiful too.”

Kaerio nearly choked on a mouthful of his lunch.

Satisfied, and a little bit embarrassed, Ellen beat a hasty retreat with the excuse that she should have let the chickens out by now.

When she returned, Kaerio was asleep again, the empty plate resting in his slack hands, and she took the chance to look at him properly. Yes, he was beautiful.

By the time he had recovered enough to shift again, she watched him do it with the fascination of a scientist. His tail split and with a horrible cracking of bone, he twitched and jerked, the scales melting into his pale skin until the figure of the man she had first found lay before her, sweaty and breathing hard and clutching his ribs with one hand. His wound - which was beyond the reach of his fingers - was clearly still painful, even if it had almost completely healed. Winded, Kaerio looked up at her bashfully and wheezed, “Isn't this a more attractive form for you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to lie, you’re very pretty like this, but I think I almost prefer to see you as you are. Besides, you’ve got more colour when you’re a triton. You look like a corpse with all that pale skin…” she grinned.

He laughed weakly and sat up.

“Also you have absolutely no modesty when you’re a human,” she added quickly, chucking her cloak at him to cover up his privates.

He grinned but dutifully covered himself and said, “You’re a doctor. There’s no shame in a naked body…”

“No,” she said, “But you’re no longer in need of my help. It’s indecent.”

He stood carefully, swaying a little as he struggled to find his balance. “Perhaps I do need your help still,” he said quietly.

Ellen rolled her eyes at him but didn’t refuse him her arm as she led him down the path towards the beach.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” she said as she stood there at the tide line. Each stroke of the sea against the beach felt like claws reaching to drag him away and she couldn’t explain the lump she felt in her throat.

Kaerio read her expression clearly and stepped close. He brought his hand to her jaw and cupped her cheek, thumbing gently at her cheekbones as her eyes sparkled with unexpected tears. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased to see me gone…”

Ellen found herself shaking her head, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, tugged free by the stiff sea breeze. “I’ve… I’ve been alone here since I left the city…” she said. “I can’t believe I found…” Found what? Friendship? Companionship? “Found… whatever this has been… with one of the Fae…”

That seemed to surprise him. “I never asked you about your life,” he said, shame ringing through his words like a temple bell. “All I’ve done is talk about myself for two days…”

She smiled weakly. “I asked you, remember? I made you talk yourself hoarse with stories of your homeland…”

“I could try and come back,” he suggested and her heart leapt unbidden to her throat.

“It’s too dangerous, surely?” she said without conviction.

Kaerio’s dark eyes - seemingly human but with a strange depth to them that spoke of the fathomless depths of the sea - bore into her. “I think…” he said carefully, as if hardly daring to believe what he was saying, “I think it is you who has bewitched a Fae, human, and not the other way around. For you, I would risk returning. If you wish it of me.”

“Yes,” she breathed, trembling all over, and not from the wind.

“Then as soon as I have done my duty and delivered the message to Prince Círdan, I will return to you. I swear it. As my True Name is Kaerio, I swear to you that I will return to you.”

Something snapped in the air between the two of them and she gasped. The word of a Fae once given was a powerful thing. She nodded. “Be safe.”

He traced another arc across her cheek once more and unclasped her cloak. As he laid it across her outstretched arm, he bowed his head and kissed her hand.

Watching him walk into the waves wrenched strangely at her heart and she drew the cloak to her nose, inhaling the scent of him as he abandoned his human form, becoming little more than a ripple of green and blue amongst the shifting hues of the water. A second later his head cleared the surface again and he waved once at her before disappearing in a flash of sparkling light and a slap of his fluke.

Just when she’d begun to think he wouldn’t return, as she quilted a new blanket together by the light of the fire and in the middle of the worst summer storm she’d yet weathered in her little hut, barely protected by the twisted broom trees that clung to the edges of the cliff, someone pounded on her door.

Ellen leapt from the fireplace in alarm and flung open the door to a face full of rain and wind. Standing there, shivering and completely naked, was Kaerio.

She gasped his name and ushered him inside. “What the hell are you doing here in all this weather?” she chided him, steering him towards the fire and scrambling to fetch a towel to dry him off.

His teeth were chattering so badly he couldn’t respond immediately and she pressed a mug of hot tea into his frozen fingers a moment later. While he was simultaneously thawing out and drying off, she fished out a pair of old work trousers that she thought might fit him, even if they would be a little on the short side, and a linen shirt and round-necked, woollen pullover. Once he’d stuffed himself into them, and a pair of socks with which he seemed completely fascinated, he grinned up at her.

“Better?”

“Infinitely. How are you?”

“Apart from being startled out of my wits by the sudden re-appearance of a certain Fae in the middle of a ferocious storm? Fine,” she laughed, and was answered with a white-toothed smile.

“I’m glad,” he said, turning his attention to the steaming tea in his hands. “I thought of you often.”

“You’ve been gone two weeks,” she said. “I thought you weren’t coming back. What on earth possessed you to return tonight of all nights?”

“It’s the first chance I’ve had,” he shrugged. “And the weather wasn’t so bad on our side of the veil…” He looked up at her with his unnaturally dark eyes alight with concern. “Are the storms always this bad here?”

She shrugged and threw another log on the fire before drawing up a chair beside him. The firelight gilded his pale cheeks beautifully, and while he was hauntingly attractive in this form, she found she missed his even stranger triton form. “Some are. This isn’t unusual for this time of year. How did your wound heal, by the way?”

“Beautifully,” he said, rolling his shoulder and stretching out his previously-injured side as if to demonstrate. “It aches a bit sometimes, but it makes me think of you and your touch, so I don’t mind.” His paper-white cheeks flushed dark at that, and she laughed.

“I missed you too,” Ellen admitted.

They shared a bed that night, though he kept his touches chaste, limiting himself merely to holding her as the rain lashed the cabin.

When they woke in the morning, he had managed to remain in his human form and they walked along the beach together, picking up strange bits of debris that the storm had flung onto the sand. He found her a shell that she’d never seen before and told her that it was from the Fae Realm.

“When we get home I’ll drill a hole in it and hang it up,” she smiled, taking the clam-like lid of the shell from him and turning it in the light to make it glimmer like a pearl.

“They’re said to bring luck and love,” he commented.

She shot him a look and said, “Well, you came first but perhaps it’s a confirmation from the universe…”

Again, his cheeks flushed and he looked away.

“Am I wrong?”

His hands strayed to her hips and he made her halt, gazing at her with those deep eyes. “I shouldn’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Court you, fall for you… It’s… It’s madness. But… I cannot deny my feelings for you. You are a magnificent woman, Ellen. You’re smart and talented and I cherish the memories of our conversations, few as they may have been in number so far.”

Her heartbeat hammered against her ear drums and she licked her lips nervously. “So far?” she asked, staring up at him through her lashes.

Kaerio nodded. “I… I hope to return… The conflict at home has passed, much as the storm from last night has eased. The Court of Fire has agreed not to launch any more attacks on us, and in return we have agreed to allow them passage across the widest river in our kingdom. There’s a small finger of our land that extends along their territory, and they wish access to the river… Our princess agreed to let them use our ferries, but not to build the bridge they requested.”

“Is that going to be enough for them?” she asked apprehensively, very aware of his palms on her hips still.

“It’s… For now, it’s enough.” He tilted her chin up with a delicate touch of his curled fingers. “And if you will allow me, I would like to return to you more frequently.”

With a smile, she accepted.

By the end of the summer, as the autumn sea mists rolled in and choked the land in drenching fog that chilled her to the bone for days at a time, she had spent many an afternoon on the sands with him, both in his triton form and his human, though mostly in his triton to save him the effort and pain of shifting.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” he’d asked on one particular occasion as she lay in his arms while he trailed his claws through her hair.

She replied by pressing her hand flat against his stomach and stroking the smooth scales there with fascination and affection. “You’re beautiful. Why would I mind?”

He’d smiled and kissed her head, and had remained as he was.

The winter weather made their visits harder. Shivering and soaked, he would stagger up the path to the hilltop and she would welcome him inside, but it was impractical to say the least.

“Kaerio, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she said as snow fell thick outside and chunks of ice floated like scum in the wide bay beyond. This time he’d arrived with a bleeding scalp from a chunk of debris in the stormy water and had needed patching up. “It’s… It’s taking a toll on you…”

The triton had embraced her, his human arms encircling her and holding her tight to him. “I can’t… not come and see you. I need you…” he said. “I… I’m bound to you, Ellen. I’m yours.”

Her heart clenched and she clutched at him. “Unless you take me to the Fae Realm forever, I -”

He cut her off by jerking backwards, eyes wide. “Ellen,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Do you make such a suggestion in earnest?” his gaze darted frantically between her eyes, searching her face for any artifice or deceit. When he found neither, he whispered, “You… You would really do that? Offer… that?”

“I can’t see another way to be with you,” she said. “I have no real ties here. There are other healers in the area, and… well… you said that humans are treated exceptionally well in the Court of Water. I could be free if I came to live with you…”

“You would give up all this? For me?” he whimpered, his eyes glazing with tears.

“Yes.”

Kaerio was clearly stunned, and made her promise to think it over. “I would have to make arrangements anyway,” he said. “I have a small cabin on the edge of the sea, though I don’t use it very often. It could be made habitable - comfortable - for you.” Excitement blazed in his eyes, and over the next three visits, all he could talk about was the advances he had made in preparing it for her.

Ellen, meanwhile, sold her chickens to a young man a few farms across who promised to look after them and asked no questions about why she wanted to sell them. She prepared her few meagre belongings and packed a large sack full of the clothes and items she wished to bring along. Kaerio had promised that she would be provided for there, so she packed only the things that meant the most to her.

Her triton went through the plan for getting her through the veil, how the magic would feel as it encased her and protected her from the water and the pressure, and how she would need to take it easy as she adapted to the Fae Realm. Just as Fae who slipped through the places where the barriers were frail found themselves unable to use their magic, weaker and more vulnerable to iron and rowan wood, so humans often felt dizzy and almost feverish in their first few days in the Fae Realm as ambient magic coursed through them and the strange, rich foods settled into their bodies.

Dancing with excitement on the shore, bag in hand, she waited for Kaerio on the day he had promised.

She waited while the sun climbed higher and the seagulls wheeled around her. The weather was freezing but bright; the winter day clear and still. The waves lapped gently at the sand, and all was perfect for a journey across the barrier.

She waited, fear fizzing away inside her, as the sun passed its zenith and began to sink down.

Tears came and went as she paced the shore, terrified that something had happened to him.

Eventually, near the deepening chill of sunset, a movement in the water caught her eye and she darted forwards, her thick leather boots splashing in the shallows. “Kae?”

The triton powered through the water and she crouched beside him as he hauled himself out of the reach of the waves, sending water splashing.

Ellen searched his body for sign of injury, but he seemed alright. “What happened? Where were you? I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and at the sound of his voice she froze. His tone was cold. “You can’t come with me.”

She staggered, mind and body reeling. “What? But… we’ve been preparing for weeks… What’s changed?”

He shook his head and twitched his gaze back to the sea as if something might come boiling out of the waves after him like a kraken from the deep. “You can’t come with me, and…” he choked suddenly but forced himself to go on. “And I cannot come to see you again. You’ll be in danger if I do.”

Ellen’s whole world slid sideways and she crumpled softly onto her knees beside him, heedless of the water and the cold. “What?” she whispered. “No… No, Kae, I love you… We were going to… This… This can’t be happening.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words hollow. “You can’t come with me, and I don’t have long. I have to go.”

“No,” she cried, grasping for him. His skin was slippery from the water, like a landed fish straight from the ocean, and he rolled away from her, shuffling back into the water. “No! Kae, please! Tell me why! Please, just tell me… Tell me what I did wrong… You owe me that much.”

His fins were pinned back tightly against his body - a sure sign of his own distress - and he shook his head. “It isn’t you, Ellen,” he said. “I can’t explain it and I cannot lie, and I’m so sorry. It’s not worth the risk. I’m not worth the risk for you. I have to go. Do not try to follow,” he added when he caught the light in her eyes. “It’s too deep and you’ll die without my magic. Promise me…”

“I promise,” she repeated numbly. A larger wave washed up the beach and caressed her legs with its icy touch. She barely felt it.

“Ellen…” he crooned, pausing a little way off.

She didn’t hear him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the salt water that swirled around her.

Kaerio crawled back up to her and laid his hand on her thigh. She stared at the paper-thin webbing that stretched between his fingers and hissed, “The stories were right after all. You were going to break my heart all along, weren’t you?”

His talons pricked her skin through her soaked trousers as his fingers clenched suddenly. “I’m sorry,” he said again but she gritted her teeth.

“Go,” she sobbed. “Go if it’s so important to you. Thank you for at least coming to tell me.”

The triton backed away into the water but lingered a little longer as she stumbled to her feet and dragged the canvas sack back up the beach. It felt like the weight of the whole world as she hauled it back up the cliff path. At the top of the winding route she paused and looked back just in time to see his fluke flash in the last of the daylight before she turned away. “Should have known better than to trust a Fae,” she spat in a bitter whisper.

The hut was dark and empty, like a shell stripped of life, an empty hive with no bees.

She would rebuild. She would survive the winter and she would put her promises of love to the Fae behind her. Sour thoughts swirled in her head that he’d never intended to take her with him after all, that he’d only wanted his summer fun with her and now that it was winter, he had moved on. She told herself this over and over until she believed it.

Seasons passed and though she looked out at the sea when she gathered the samphire and sea cabbage from the rocks and the shore, she never hoped to see him again and he never came back. A pod of migrating orca spouted spray into the air one calm evening and she half dared to hope that the movement was Kaerio, checking in on her, but they passed on their way north and left the cove still and silent, with only the gentle hush of the sea itself.

Months became years, and while she wrote to her family in the city, she never went back. Her niece came to visit one spring, which brought a much needed rush of life to the old place. Ellen had taken the minotaurs’ advice and extended the hut a little bit over the years, and she turned the spare room into a bedroom in anticipation of the girl’s arrival.

Yes, her joints ached a little more and she had to squint to read things clearly, but she felt invigorated by her lively niece’s presence. It was all going so well until that filthy reptilian Fae had shown up in almost the same state as her Kaerio had done on so many nights, cold and sluggish from the water and in need of some tenderness.

Everything inside her had screamed to chase the Fae away, to stake him with iron and throw him back into the sea where he could never hurt another again, but the laughter in her niece’s eyes at his jokes, the way Adan pitched in to help without expecting anything in return - unusual to say the least for a Fae - made her hesitate.

Between the two of them they even convinced her over time that perhaps things had ended wrongly with Kaerio, that the growing shadow in their land could have made him afraid for her, that perhaps he had done the only thing he could think of to make her stay away. She would never fully forgive him for not just telling her the truth, but she let her hardened heart soften a little at the cocky young Fae’s assurances that he would at least look for Kaerio when he went home.

“Aunt Ellen?” her niece asked as they stood in the doorway after waving Adan off that final time. “Are you alright?”

The reptilian Fae had strode off with the confidence and swagger of a young knight on a quest, and she had to smile. Ellen closed the door and sighed. “No,” she said. “It’s been forty or so years since I last saw Kaerio…”

Her beautiful niece smiled, hearing her unvoiced fears, and stepped close. “He’ll still love you,” she said. “And if he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve your love in return.”

The fact that the girl had seen that Ellen had never stopped loving him moved her deeply. Perhaps she hadn’t even realised it herself until then. She smiled a watery smile and pulled the girl close and kissed her forehead. “You promise me you’ll be careful who you give your heart to, my darling?” she said, throat tight with emotion. “Even this Adan…”

She nodded and Ellen kissed her again before bustling about the hut, clearing up in the wake of their guest’s departure.

When her boots hit the sand that evening and she saw Adan standing there in the water with the figure of a human on his arm, her breath caught in her chest. His hair had turned silver-grey but it was still long - longer than ever now - and his eyes were still the same; still dark and still kind.

Ellen’s heart shattered.

Kaerio looked breathtakingly handsome. He had put on a bit of muscle and weight since she’d last seen him too, no longer the scrawny, half-starved young man he had been. His skin was also darker, as if he’d spent more time in the sun. There were scars on his cheek and neck, and as Adan fastened a cloak - which had been kept dry by magic, she supposed - about his shoulders her feet faltered and she just stood there, mute, afraid to go forward and afraid to go back. Kaerio brought a hand to cover his mouth and tears began to track down his cheeks at the sight of her.

With a gentle push at her back from the hand of her niece, she approached him.

Adan and her niece shared a look, but it was Kaerio who eventually broke the silence by chuckling, “I’m a bit shaky on my legs. It’s been decades since I’ve used them. Forgive me… Ellen…”

At the sound of her name, the spell broke and she fell forwards into his arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he caught her up in his embrace and kissed her.

“I’m so sorry,” he chanted against her lips, her cheeks, her neck. “I’m so sorry. I was so afraid for you and…”

“Shh,” she said, drawing back and stroking his own tears away with her thumbs. “Adan told me everything.” She knew about the shadow that had been growing in the Fae Realm, stealing souls and twisting them into vicious creatures that spread the darkness like a diseases. Humans, it seemed, were particularly vulnerable. “I know why you did it. Not that that makes it any easier, but… I understand now.”

“That little lizard,” Kaerio chuckled, shooting a look at the retreating backs of the other couple as they gave them some privacy for their reunion. “I nearly tore him to pieces when he came to my cabin babbling about some human woman…”

She managed a little laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” she said. “My niece is rather fond of him for some reason…”

Suddenly breathless, Kaerio gasped, “I want to stay here. I… I’ve left everything behind. Will you let me stay?”

“Yes,” she gasped, clinging to him. The sea was in his hair, in the smell and the taste of his skin, but he was hers.

“I should have done that before,” he said. “I never should have tried to take you away from your world, and I was wrong to leave you the way I did. I’m so sorry, Ellen.”

“Come up to the house,” she said. As she thumbed the new scars on his face, she added, “And you can tell me the full story behind these scars.”

As they made their way up the path, she helped him when he stumbled, his legs shaky with disuse, and he laughed, blushing furiously.

Inside the stillness of her home, he looked around and said, “It’s hardly changed…”

“I might have changed,” she laughed, eyeing the matching creases around his eyes too, “But no, this place hasn’t changed much.”

Kaerio went suddenly still, his eyes fixed on the beam above her bed. “You kept it,” he breathed and she didn’t need to turn and follow his gaze to know that he was staring at the shell they had found on the beach.

“For luck and love, huh?” she said, taking his hand and letting him squeeze her fingers tightly.

“Luck and love,” he murmured, turning to face her with a smile in his dark eyes.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

#exophilia #triton #fae #sea fae #merman #shape shifter #older characters #male monster x female character #3rd person #i hope you like it #sfw #sfw exophilia

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gamearamamegathons · 4 years ago

Text

Majin Tensei: Like Paper Mache, or Raditz

Circe here! So I'm getting started on Majin Tensei, an odd little SMT spinoff that differs from the main series quite substantially. Majin Tensei is a tactical RPG that takes strong cues from Fire Emblem, with your characters moving across a 2D grid and clashing with enemy units. The demon-summoning and recruiting mechanics from SMT are still here, but it quickly becomes clear that things are...off.

As before, we have a physically strong male protagonist and a magic-casting female protagonist. Both can summon demons this time, and demons both cost macca and drain magnetite when they are out, like before. However, something about the balancing seems to have gone badly wrong in Majin Tensei. Offensive magic seems largely useless, and demons tend to err on the side of being pretty weak, flipping the dynamic from Megami Tensei where your humans fell into supporting combat roles while your demons did the heavy lifting. In this game I largely avoid summoning demons and just plow through my enemies with my two human characters, especially the protagonist, who can easily one-shot most low to mid-tier enemies.

This produces an experience that's not really much like Fire Emblem at all, with the way that it requires strategically managing the arrangement of an army to overcome obstacles. Instead it's mostly just making sure your two humans' HP are topped up and letting the enemy army of weak demons uselessly smash themselves to bits against your blade. On top of demons being weak, I don't have a good fusion chart for this game, and experimenting with fusions hasn't been promising, so I've mostly just recruited demons here and there, and then not used them.

There are a few things that complicate matters. Certain demon types have healing spells, and although healers are extremely fragile, they will keep enemies alive longer and draw out the battle. There are also healing pools littered around most maps, and a unit that starts a turn on one will recover HP and MP. It will probably not shock you that the enemy AI doesn't tend to make great use of them, although there are occasional exceptions.

Now, sure, you might say. I didn't need demons at the start of Megami Tensei either. Surely the first boss will be the wakeup call that I need to take my demons more seriously. Weeeeell, no, not exactly. After going through a few fights, we face up against the Minotaur once again. After a big chase around the map, all the remaining units end up piled around a 2x2 grid of healing pools. This led to one of the more bizarre boss fights I've experienced in an RPG.

If left alone, the Minotaur does basically nothing, just casting a weak damaging spell forever and healing back any damage I do to him. Once I whittled down his army to nothing, I dealt with this by luring him away from the pools, summoning two demons to occupy the other pools, and then whaling on the minotaur while he's stuck away from a source of healing. I could've played this safe, but I got aggressive about it and one of my demons died. Turns out they're gone permanently if that happens, so, good to know. Ultimately, he did manage to park on one of the pools again, but I managed to kill him by just piling on attacks and weathering his pretty brutal counterattacks.

I feel fairly sure this wasn't how the developers intended the game to be played.

The fact that I don't have a good handle on the demon stuff makes me a bit concerned. But going back and grinding will be an option, even if it might be tedious. So, even if it takes a bit more trial and error, I'm sure I'll be able to stumble my way through eventually. At the very least, I appreciate having a break from a game that's...challenging...pretty much at all.

Oh yeah, as far as story goes, this game is just about as story-light as Megami Tensei. We find a demon-summoning program from a mysterious guy on the internet who tells us to download it and stop the coming demon invasion. So we do. I think we're also supposed to be in a post-apocalyptic Neo Tokyo, but we're not gonna have much context for that till we play through Shin Megami Tensei. So, you know, don't worry about it.

#circe #marathon #shin megami tensei #majin tensei

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unwilling-survivor · 4 years ago

Note

S, C, N for both muses!

Headcanon Game - A to Z (NSFW)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

(for Sam and Frank)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Sam: Sam has a lot of stamina, to be honest. She so rarely gets a chance to let out any kind of physical feelings, by the time she does she has a lot stored up to get out. And she likes to really push herself to the breaking point, she finds it cathartic to completely tire herself out. (She’s a fan of forced orgasms.) She also tends to snap back into it pretty quickly most of the time. The first time tends to be more like priming for whatever else comes next. Getting off once is fine, getting off several times is better. It does mean that she doesn’t ‘last’ particularly long for that first time, but since she’s pretty on board to keep going after, not sure that that counts.

Frank: His stamina has definitely increased since coming to the Entity’s realm. There was the Fuckening, of course; the first chunk of time after accepting the futility of leaving, where it became ‘oh hey, me and my gf are stuck here with nothing to do, might as well cross a bunch of curiosities off the list’ (as best they could, with what they had). He’ll last a while for the first, but that doesn’t mean he’s down and out. He can be, but even if he’s recovering he’s not about to let his partner get off that easily (or... not get off, as the case may be). He’s a sadist, but can be a caring one. If he’s still got hands, he can keep tormenting someone until they call mercy. (And maybe a little after that.)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Sam: She’s fascinated by the stuff, but kind of embarrassed for that fascination. It’s probably a mix of the possessive ideas behind it (using it to mark someone), a little of the humiliation aspect, and some about just the texture that makes her interested. Taste varies, but she’s more interested in texture. (She’s into spit, too, she’s just weird like that.)

Frank: It’s fine? He likes to cum inside, tbh, but he’s not picky. Wouldn’t be out of the question to make his partner clean it up, or to kinda get off on making them show before and after swallowing. Since his former gf wasn’t into swallowing, there’s maybe a sore spot about it. There’s a subconscious connection between swallowing/cumming inside and general ‘I accept and want you’ feelings, so that may have something to do with it. Partners that are quick to clean up he’s a little annoyed by. Like, what, they don’t want this proof that he’s into them? Just ignoring this thing they just had together? Smh.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sam: Sam’s more curious and more malleable than she lets on. She’s a lot more flexible with a partner she really likes, who explains what they want and/or why. But she still draws the line at anything post-digestive. She says she’s not into blood, but that’s not entirely true. She is super uncomfortable with period sex, but - like many things - a partner that’s super into it could still change her mind. She’s never tried anal, and it’s incredibly intimidating, but it’s on the soft limits side of things. Maybe one day. Turns offs include mommy/daddy titles, latex (or any kind of head-to-toe gear, really, and that includes ponyplay and puppyplay), some food play, medical play, watersports, raceplay/ageplay/forced feminization/bimbofication/dollification/etc. Super fetishy stuff.

Frank: He’s got to try a bit here and there, he’s open to a surprising amount of things, but he’s also come to realize he usually has to be the one in control. He’ll do a little switching, but it’s more as a treat for his partner than something he really would choose to do on his own. There are still plenty of things he never thought to try, though, and plenty of them would be turn-offs if he ever did come across them (and others would be turn-offs that eventually got in his head until he was too tempted not to try). Way too much toxic masculinity to be into male lingerie/cross dressing fetishes-- at least, when it comes to wearing them himself; he might be pleasantly surprised when it comes to a partner, who knows. Outright no’s include scat and vomit, medical stuff, needles (he can handle them for tattoos, even for piercings, can’t stand them otherwise), and having to bottom for any of the more power/humiliation based stuff (tbh he probably could piss on someone, would never want to get pissed on; same goes for spitting and degradation and boot worship etc etc a lot of things). He can be into pain, though, so he doesn’t mind the pain side of masochism, just not the humiliation side. Oh, and never anything like vore, even if he’s tasted blood on more than one occasion.

#anon #frank morrison #rated M for mori #nsft #samswers is a pun and i'm not proud of it #these are fun tbh #long answers for frank wow

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himsfuntime · 5 years ago

Text

Obsession

You can find this fanfiction on my Ao3

Expect a LOT more content for him, I really love him SOB

Roleswap Yeehaw Ramsey belongs to @spliinkles

also sorry if it is not the best, this is my first fanfic

I do not support or condone any yandere or obsessive behavior.

Warnings

character death

cursing

There were only two types of love, obsessive and pure.

And yours, was the latter. It was soothing to have such a loving and caring person that loved you. On your good days and on your bad days.

There was nothing more, nothing less. So when you saw your lover covered in solid gold and an envelope with a heart taping it shut, you thought you were seeing things. You rushed to their side as your mind tried to scramble for answers: Why would someone do this? Who would do something like this?

During your sobs you were caressing your lover’s cheek, and that's when you felt it, that engraving on their face. You wiped your eyes and looked closer, examining the carving, it was sloppy but the hand-writing looked all too familiar.

Ramsey Murdoch

“ Ramsey did this..? ”

You softly said aloud, it wasn’t meant to be a question, it was confirmation that what you were looking at was his doing. Of course you already knew who did it, his signature carved on your darling’s metal cheek. You should’ve known better.

You should’ve never tried to show kindness to such an evil man.

You remember when you met him. The infamous Ramsey Murdoch.

He came to your job, as if it were his own house. Like he owned it. You just thought he was a cosplayer that had a little more pride than he should have. You took the time to look at him. A poncho covered most of his upper body features. Under his poncho however was an open button shirt, but when you squinted, you noticed it didn't have buttons in the first place.

His pants held up with a gold buckle belt. The pants trailed from his hips to his ankles along with triangular tassels following the trails. His heeled boots clicked and jingled against the store floor.

He started to hum a soft tune as he examined the decor, drawing out the time before he got to your post.

Though his slow, long strides were more than intimidating. He must've known you were eyeballing him as he turned slightly and met your gaze, smirking as he strolled to the counter. He leaned forward and eyed you up and down, inhaling your scent. You raised a brow at the odd behavior but you asked him the essential question nonetheless.

“May I help you?”

You ask, giving him a smile. You promised your darling that you’d try to be nice for the week. This man was lucky not to get a snarl after the whole ‘walking slowly and then sniffing you’ ordeal.

He blinked a bit at your question. He wasn't expecting you to not be cowering in fear, you guessed. He was at a loss of words, he really wasn't expecting your kindness. You snorted a bit, your smile becoming more genuine than forced. Maybe this non-forced kindness might be a good thing.

Even after his little taken aback expression, he carried conversation with you well enough to get your name. He came back, every time earlier than the last. To the point almost everyday he was in your store, talking to you. He eventually told you who he was, you were open minded about it. Just like your significant other always said:

‘Everyone has a good side even if it is mixed with the bad.’

So you stuck with that, and eventually, you started seeing his small acts of kindness. Under that smirk was a man looking for someone to share his life with. You were ecstatic to tell your lover of how you’ve made a friend with a bad-person-who-might-still-have-a-chance-to-be-good but you couldn’t. Because when you came back they were fucking dead.

Oh how naive you were, thinking those visits and those conversations were just harmless interactions. You were feeding an insatiable hunger for love by a lonely rat faced man .

You ran a finger across the gold, slowly as if your touch would retract the harm that has already been done. They were so good to you, always the best for you despite you trying to push them away. They were always waiting with open arms, and you ran into them, you embraced them. Easily you fell for them, their kindness and eagerness to help clashed with yours. You took them for granted, they were taken from you, all because of-

“ The one and only! ”

A deep, sultry voice chirped from the darkness as it emerged to the light illuminating the room. His heels softly jingling and clicking onto the floor. His figure came into view, his poncho opening as his hands raised as he slowly bent down, crossing his foot over the other.

He was … bowing?

What in epithet’s name gave him any sense to do something like that? And peek his head up with a smile like he didn’t just murder the love of your life?! You clenched your fist, your aggression showing as your nails dug into your palm.

“ I’m guessin’ ya saw my present?---- ” His eyes motion to the body of your most likely deceased lover. You glare at him, parting your lips to speak only to say nothing as you were cut off as if he never paused in the first place.

“ ---Did ya read the letter, doll? ” His voice sounded like he was holding in excitement, as if this was normal to him. As if seeing the dead body of your lover was equivalent to being given a puppy for Valentine's Day. You never broke eye contact to grab the letter, so your hand scrambled to find it. When it did come in contact with paper, you snatched it up and opened it and pulled a folded note from the pocket. Your eyes skimmed the paper before sternly returning to him. He didn’t seem too pleased with this as his smirk faltered. He huffed, arms up in defeat, rolling them as he turned around.

“ Will ya read it now? ” He snorted, you finally tore your eyes off him to really read the letter.

God, did you regret that decision.

Before you could even read the first word, Ramsey was already sitting behind you, legs crossed with you in his lap. His whip on his thigh as a subtle reminder that you shouldn’t dare try anything. You immediately thrashed and kicked, trying to shove this monster off you. You didn't notice you were crying again until you opened your eyes, met with a bare chest. Soothing backrubs as a soft hum rumbled the chest you were leaning on. You almost succumbed to the comfort. Up until you noticed it was that that fucking monster cuddling you like he never did what he did. Like he didn't take the love of your life away from you and everyone else in their life.

You shoved away from him wanting nothing more than for him to leave you be. Let you at least recover from this ache in your heart. Since this caught him off guard, you sprinted out the door. Running and running while turning back to see if he was following you.

You darted towards a populated area so it was harder to find you. Bumping into others and yelling out your apologies to them as you dashed passed them. You saw your store and bolted for it, gripping the handle and yanking it in hope it would open to no avail. You pat yourself for your keys and fumble to get them out your pocket. Shaking from the fear and adrenaline of getting caught from him.

You quickly shut the door and lock it behind you, a soft jangle hitting the floor once you were darting for the counter and ducking behind there. You silently scrambled for a weapon, finding a wrench. You let in air that you didn't know you never inhaled. Your chest rising falling as you panicked, what if he found you? Fuck that, what was he going to do to you if he did?

Deciding it would be best to stop your overthinking before it gets you caught and you’ll have to live that nightmare, you try to distract yourself. Yet before that even is a possibility, you heard soft humming coming from outside your store. You cautiously peek over the counter, before you, outside your store doors people were encased in gold. All frozen in place, all staring at.. You?

Before you even had time to process what had been done somet--rather-- someone, fell from above. They were kneeling, their hum filled the place as they rose to their feet. That’s when the hopelessness set in, when your eyes met a signature gold eye. A frown etched on his features as he stalked towards your shop.

“ STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING MURDERER! ” You yell, vice grip on the wrench in your hand. Your eyes locked with the male who didn't say a word as each jingled step caused the ground beneath his sole to turn to gold. You were shaking, the only relief from the tension you got was when he grunted as he tried to open the unlocked door. He tried again, his gloved fist banged onto the glass as gold spread quickly. He removed his hand from the now golden surface, as he took in a few breaths. You must have been too scared before but under his hat his usually combed down hair was disheveled. As his breathing turned more rigid, he took his face into his palms and let out a yell.

“ FUCK! ”

He screamed, kicking and stomping down on golden pedestrians. You felt slight empathy for the man as he had his rage but it was short lived before he turned back towards you. This time you saw it in his eyes, the pain, the hurt, the madness and the.. love in his deadly gaze. He spit onto the ground, turning whatever the spit hit into gold. He squinted, walking back towards the store. Instinctively you raised your arm ready to either throw or clobber him with it. You thought he’d get more mad, but he wasn't even fazed. You hesitantly followed his gaze, seeing it lead to a door in the backroom.

“ Don’t you fucking dare.” You warned when he stared back with his intimidating eye contact, but before you could move, he was already gone and out of your view. You run to the backroom, pressing your body to the door to try and add weight to the door. You patted yourself for your keys, only to feel your heart drop when you remember in your hurried scramble you dropped the keys near the door of the shop.

While you were distracted, the door swung open and you were just lucky enough to get out the way just in time. You scramble to your feet but before you could even move, something wrapped around your waist tightly and painfully as you tried to fight against it. You were yanked into the embrace of a desperate, love rat named Ramsey Murdoch.

“Oh, sweetpea, you scared me so much.. I thought I'd never get you back in my arms!” He exclaimed, nuzzling into your shaken form.

“ If you even conjure another disgusting thought of leaving me, ” He started, his voice becoming flat as a soft growled accompanied the words.

“ I’ll take your pretty lil’ legs for so long you’ll forget how to walk. ” His grip was suffocating, and his tone was serious. You wanted to fight and shove him off but this dread you felt overwhelmed any fighting sense you had. He nuzzled into your hair, silently smelling your locks as your shoulders dropped. You’d succumb for now. Make him feel like his sick fantasy was real. You felt a finger guide your head up, your eyes locking with his gaze again. His smug grin and half lidded eyes may not have looked like much to others, but to you? That eye, it had a different sort of love for you. One you were not prepared for.

Obsession

#first fanfiction #swap ramsey #yandere swap Ramsey be hitting different #dont mind me just obsessing over a fictional character #yandere swap ramsey #yandere rat man #role swap ramsey

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ladyrevanhalin · 5 years ago

Text

TWISTED MORALITY (PART III of ONLY LIGHT CAN CAST SHADOW) CHAPTER THREE: SEEKING SHELTER FROM THE STORM (PREVIEW SECTION 8 OF 16)

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a preview section from an incomplete Chapter. You can read everything up to this point on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538378/chapters/52449547 )

><><><><><

CARTH ONASI

The Taris Upper City Cantina was a rather large and bustling place, yet with a certain amount of sophistication to it when compared to your average, every-day cantina. There were members clearly of the Tarisian noble class hanging about, and a private lounge just for patrons of this status. There was a high stakes pazaak table near the entrance that Carth and Gwen passed on their way to the central bar. The two took a seat and ordered.

It had been a bit unnerving coming there. After all, they’d passed several Sith Troopers patrolling the streets, and one had even been standing guard posted at the front entrance of the cantina. It would be impossible for them to avoid the Sith entirely on this planet. They would just have to try to do what they could to keep their low profile until they could find Bastila and secure passage off of this Sith-controlled planet.

Carth took a sip of the Tarisian ale he’d ordered when the bartender brought it to him. A wave of expressions streamed over his face upon the initial entry on the palate, and he finished his first sip gritting his teeth. It was far stronger than he’d expected. He’d not had time to try the stuff last time he was on Taris. After all, it was during the previous war, and the Republic forces had only just recaptured the planet from Mandalorian control. As he was fleet, he wasn’t ever groundside for very long. Most of that work had been led by the Jedi.

He shook his head and took another sip at that thought. It was ironic, really. Once upon a time, the Jedi Revan’s forces had taken back Taris from the Mandalorians and saved the planet. And now, the very Jedi who had aided them before had conquered the planet once more. Only this time, it was in the name of the Sith. And they hadn’t really ‘conquered,’ no…. The Tarisian upper class had never forgotten Revan’s aid in the Mandalorian Wars, and when Revan and Malak had returned to conquer the Republic, the nobles of Taris had submitted willingly. Now, it was quite clear from what he’d seen so far that the majority of Taris’ citizens didn’t agree with the decision, but the class system of Taris had created a society in which the few voices of the rich outweigh the voices of the masses.

He glanced over at Gwen, who was seated on the stool beside him at the bar with her head propped on her up by her hand with an elbow on the counter, while the fingers of her opposite hand tapped impatiently in sequence as she waited on her food. There was a glass of some sort of nectar in front of her. Carth had discouraged his companion from stronger beverages, given the fact that she was still recovering, and had eventually succeeded in having her agree despite her initial reluctance.

He was enjoying his ale and trying to block out the tapping when he suddenly heard Gwen’s voice. “So is now a better time to get to know a little more about you, Carth?”

He set his drink down and turned more directly toward her this time. Her finger tapping had stopped and her brows raised as she looked him dead in the eye with some degree of expectancy which told Carth she wasn’t going to let him ignore her request. He sighed a little before responding to her.

“Well, I've been a star-pilot for the Republic for years. I've seen more than my share of wars… I fought in the Mandalorian Wars before all this started. But with all that, I've never experienced anything like the slaughter these Sith animals can unleash. Not even the Mandalorians were that senseless.” Carth swallowed. He’d seen far too many images that haunted his mind still from his experiences in the war. Avoiding discussion let him push them back but that wasn’t really an option in the current situation. He couldn’t fault Gwen for wanting to know a little about him. After all, it was just the two of them stuck there until they could locate Bastila. This meant, however, that he’d need to tread his own memories with a degree of caution. He continued. “My home world was one of the first planets to fall to Malak's fleet. The Sith bombed it into submission, and there wasn't a damned thing our Republic forces could do to stop them!”

“Calm down. I was just asking. Geesh…”

He blinked a moment, then realized his hand was clenched into a fist so tightly that his knuckles had begun to go white. He relaxed his hand, flexing his fingers a little in retraction. “You're the one who wanted to know more about me,” he said, attempting to keep a cool air about him. “Well this is it, this is what I am. I'm just a soldier; I go where the fleet Admirals tell me to. I follow my orders and I do my duty.”

“Yeah, well you're talking like it's your fault about the war and your planet. Like you failed somehow….”

“It shouldn't be my fault. I did everything I could… I followed my orders and did my duty. That shouldn't mean I failed them! I didn't!” His voice was betraying him. It had grown more seeped with emotions. He could still see the glow of embers that charred the surface of Telos after the Sith attack. The dead and dying were all around, friends and loved ones among them. Innocents dying there in the streets. He could still hear their voices, their screams, their cries for help…

‘Someone get a medic over here now! Please! She’s still alive! A medic! It’s not too late to save her. It’s not too late…’

“Hey, why are you getting so mad at me? It's not like this was my fault!”

Gwen’s voice brought him back away from Telos’ surface and to that posh little Tarisian cantina where they were seated. Her good seemed to have arrived while he had been talking, but she’d not started eating yet. Instead, she was looking at him with what appeared to be concern.

“I know that,” I know that he said, hoping to dissuade any impressions he might have given of blaming her for what was, but shouldn’t have been, his own failure. “I'm not angry at you… don't think that. I…. I just…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “ I'm sorry. I'm not making much sense, am I?” He shook his head. “ Look, you probably mean well with your questions. I'm just not accustomed to talking about my past very much. At all, actually. I'm more used to taking action… keeping my mind focused on the business at hand. So let's just do that. If you have more questions, ask them later.”

“Right,” Gwen said, turning her attention instead to her meal. Carth picked up his mug again and took another sip of ale, desperately trying to push aside the memories that threatened to spring forth through his own emotional blocks. Now wasn’t the time to think of Telos. He had to focus on their mission to find Bastila so that the Sith could be stopped and an end could be brought to this war. Failure wasn’t an option this time. He had to go through with this, if it was the last thing he did….

“I'm sorry, Carth…”

He paused, but he did not look at his companion as she spoke. He was in no mood for such.

“....It must have been a very painful experience for you,” Gwen finished saying.

“Yeah, well, I’ve just made it a point to not let that sort of thing happen again,” Carth said. He debated, for a brief moment, chugging the rest of his ale, but decided against such. After all, if he finished too soon, he’d have nothing to do while his companion ate, and might get lassoed back into another conversation. Additionally, with how strong Tarisian ale was, he wasn’t certain it would be the smartest move for him to be able to remain at optimum functionality during their first outing on Taris. They needed information on those crashed escape pods still, and the cantina, even with the number of patrons it had seemed blissfully free of Sith presence inside of its doors. Here, it would likely be relatively safe for them to conduct their questioning of the locals on the matter.

Carth paced himself with the ale until he saw Gwen was close to finishing her meal, and then signaled the waiter to bring them their checks. Once they had paid, Carth rose from the barstool where he had been seated and stretched a little. “Well, I guess it’s back to business,” he said. “Feeling better now?” he asked.

Gwen nodded, rising also. “Much,” she replied. “Sorry if I came off a bit… ungrateful.”

Carth had to hold back a snort, but apparently his thoughts had still manifested themselves at least partially in his facial expressions, because his companion shot him a leer all the same. He coughed in an attempt to excuse himself, which only caused her to roll her eyes. “N-no,” Carth insisted with a chuckle, putting his hands up to indicate he meant no offense. “Not ungrateful… I suppose I’d be a bit grumpy first waking up out of a three-day near coma too…”

He looked at her, plastering on an uneasy smile, but her expression remained hard and relatively unchanging. She held his eyes, staring at him for a moment before her lips twisted into a suppressed smile and she snorted back a laugh of her own. While it did male Carth feel much more at ease, he couldn’t help but to wonder what was going on in that head of hers. He still wasn’t fully convinced of the physician Zelka’s assessment of her.

He contemplated commenting on her odd behavior before a commotion caught both of their attentions as a large number of patrons began flocking toward the viewscreens lining the walls of the cantina.

“Hurry!” they heard someone say. “The match is about to start.”

“What’s the point?” came another patron’s voice. “It’s only Gerlon and Duncan again.

Curiosity about the commotion for the upcoming ‘match’ drew both Carth and Gwen to join the other patrons watching the viewscreen in the cantina.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came an announcer’s voice. “I draw your attention to the dueling ring. Here, two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment. Now, I hope all your bets are down, because we're ready to roll! In this corner, I give you... Gerlon Two-Fingers! And over here, looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever persistent Deadeye Duncan!”

On the view screen, there were two men standing on opposite ends of a large circular arena. When the camera zoomed in on the combatants, the younger of the two appeared to be missing fingers on his right hand (Carth could only assume that this was ‘Gerlon Two-Fingers’) and the other a bit older, as his hair was greying. Reason would venture to assume that the older man was the one whom the announcer had referred to as ‘Deadeye Duncan.’ Both men were armed with blasters, hands at rest, waiting for the signal for the dual to begin.

A sound flared, signaling for the duel to begin. However, it came so suddenly that it seemed to startle ‘Deadeye’ enough that he dropped his blaster. As he reached down to pick it up, ‘Two-Fingers’ was already firing and hit him, causing Deadeye to fall. And just like that, as suddenly as the match had started, it was all over.

The announcer’s voice sounded again. “And, to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again. Don't worry, folks – he's just unconscious. As usual. Our medics will have him up and about in a bit. Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner... Gerlon Two-Fingers!”

People had already begun clearing from the viewscreen area before the announcer had even begun his concluding statements. It seemed from the crowd’s reactions that the outcome was already expected to turn out the way it had.

Carth reached to touch Gwen’s arm to indicate they should start their rounds of questioning, but stopped short. He recalled her reaction to when he’d done similar during their visit to the clinic, and thought perhaps he’d better not. Instead, he called her name. “Gwen? Gwen, we should get going. We have a lot to do still.”

Gwen, who had seemed to be wrapped up in watching the medics as they removed Deadeye Duncan from the arena, turned to look at him. “Hmm? Oh…. I guess you’re right. Where do you think we should start? Won’t it sound suspicious if we just go around asking anyone about the escape pods?”

She did make an excellent point. Sith presence or not, they would need to be cautious. After all, it would be foolish to assume that all Tarisian’s loyalies lied with the Republic. He’s learned that the hard way….

“We keep it casual,” Carth said decisively. “If anyone asks, we’re spacers who got stuck by the planetary quarantine after we stopped for supplies.”

Gwen nodded in affirmation and stepped away from the viewscreen, headed toward the music lounge. There were several people sitting and standing, listening to the Bith band play and watching the Twi’lek dancers. They were some of the few positions in the upper city where alien species were readily accepted. In this particular case, it was because of their species’ reputations in the performing arts. While they were acceptable as entertainers to the upper city citizens, it was understood by all parties that the respect for them ended there, sad as it was.

"Well, hello there!” the pair heard upon stepping through the entry to the music room. “I see from your exotic appearance that you are not from Taris originally. All me to introduce myself – my name is Jergan.” The man--Jergan--was seemingly directing his introduction toward Gwen.

The woman flashed a smile, moving forward, which admittedly confused Carth. He’d not known her for very long, but it seemed a bit out of character compared to what he had come to know of her. “Pleased to meet you. My name's Gwen.” Was she flirting with him? It hardly seemed like the time… though they did need information. Perhaps this was just the woman’s way of being ‘subtle’ with her questioning.

“What do you think of our local music?” Jergen asked. “The band is quite good, wouldn't you agree? They're on the verge of intergalactic stardom, you know.”

“It's different, but I like it,” Gwen said.

“Obviously you have an ear for music,” he continued in an approving tone. “Mark my words, they'll be famous soon enough. They were about to go on tour before this Sith quarantine stranded them here. Would you like to meet the band after the show? Maybe have a brief brush with fame before they become intergalactic superstars? I can arrange it, you know.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows as her expression shifted to one of mild surprise. “Oh really? And just how will you arrange that?”

“I have a sort of standing arrangement with one of the Rodian bodyguards backstage. For the small sum of twenty credits he'll let me set up a meeting with you and the band.”

Gwen snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Are you certain? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity – meet the legends before they were famous. All it will cost you is a small handful of credits.”

The woman folded her arms. “Sounds like you're running a scam to me.”

“You sting me with your words!” Jergen said, feigning hurt. “I merely thought I could offer you the rare opportunity to meet a celebrity before they were famous. But I see you're not interested. That's too bad. They really are charming fellows. Very well, then – I hope you enjoy the music. If you change your mind come speak with me again.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and began to walk away, at which point, Carth thought it might be better to try to continue the conversation himself. After all, they’d not really gotten any useful information from him as of yet, and this man might still know something useful to them.

“Excuse me,” Carth said attempting to address Jergen himself, but he didn’t get very far before the other man waved in a dismissive gesture.

“Look, no hard feelings, my good man, but I can't really talk with you right now,” Jergen said, lowering his voice, presumably so no one else in the music room would overhear. “It's difficult enough to draw the interest of the ladies in this establishment as it is. Surely you understand what I'm talking about. I'd guess you've experienced many lonely evenings... something I'm hoping to avoid tonight.” He gestured a bit with his head toward Gwen. “Good luck.”

Before Carth had the chance to protest the insinuation, Jergen had started moving. It seemed he had spotted his next prospect across the room. The pilot shook his head at the comments and went to go find Gwen again, who was already mid-conversation with another male patron.

“Someone sure makes fast friends,” he muttered under his breath as he moved to stand behind her.

“It's good to talk about this stuff – It gets pretty lonely up at the military base,” Carth overheard the man she was talking to say. “I have to get going soon – I've got a shift at the base... but some of us junior Sith officers are having a party tonight to blow off some steam. I'd really like to see you again. Why don't you drop by the party? It’s at the apartment complex next door to the base, apartment A-06.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Gwen said coyly. “Not sure I have anything suited to wear back on the ship. I wasn’t exactly planning on going to any parties during our supplies stop…”

“You know, just because I'm with the Sith doesn't mean I don't know how to have a good time. You'll enjoy yourself. I promise. Don't be late. We're starting right after our shifts end. And don’t worry. Most of us won't even be going back to the base to lock up our uniforms, so I’m sure you’ll look fine. I look forward to seeing you there.”

Carth cleared his throat once the man had left. “An off-duty Sith, Gwen? Really?”

“What? He seemed nice enough…” she replied dismissively.

“You can’t be serious. We’re trying to keep a low profile here. You start asking the Sith about the crashed escape pods and somebody is gonna start getting suspicious.”

“Well, I didn’t ask him about the escape pods once I knew he was Sith. I’m stupid, Carth…”

“Well then what’s this with a party now? We’re not on vacation…”

“I may have just found us a way into the Under City… or did you forget that the planet is under quarantine and the only people allowed to travel to the lower levels are the Sith? Just trust me on this.”

Carth scoffed at the notion.Trust coercing with an enemy junior officer on an enemy-controlled planet? ‘Brilliant,’ he thought sarcastically. “Well forgive me if I’m sceptical at believing that you partying with the enemy is going to help our situation any.”

“Then you’re welcome to stay back at the apartment,” she said flatly as she rolled her eyes. “Me? I’ve got plans for tonight…”

><><><><><

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themysteriouslou · 6 years ago

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👀 all of them for leslie?

The Basics

1. Give their full name, and describe them or post a picture! (Height, build, hair, eye, and skin color, etc.)

Full name's Elena Leslie Grünewald! Only a handful of people refer to her with her first name though. 5′4/5′5, lean and fit. Wavy, medium-dark chestnut hair; gray eyes, light skin that gradually tans, has a scar that runs across the right side of her jaw.

2. How old are they?

28!

3. Sexuality and gender?

Heteroflexible, cisgender female.

Pre-Game

1. How did they end up at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department? How long have they worked there?

Her father told her about the job just as she graduated from the police academy. He had been a colleague of Whitehorse’s when the two were young men in the office and following his transfer he kept in contact with him, so he must have mentioned her interests in a passing conversation. As for the second question, she has been working there for a year.

2. Relationship with Pratt, Hudson, and Whitehorse?

Pratt: he was the first to welcome her to the department—it took them some weeks but they grew close to each other during that time. He teased her a lot (because he was a little shit) but they got each other's back and genuinely care about the other's well-being.

Hudson: one of the first alongside Pratt to welcome her to the county, as well as the one who gave her some insight and help on how to work at the station. It took longer to befriend her than Pratt for the simple fact Danny’s death had been a recent thing and she was still blaming herself from it, but she eventually warmed up to Leslie.

Whitehorse: She has a soft spot for Whitehorse—she knew him since she was a child and had enough good memories of him to consider working alongside him a blessing. Likely sees him as a surrogate uncle figure due to the trust he extended to her as soon as she was given the duty of a cop.

3. Do they have an education?

Yup! Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice.

4. Where are they from? Did they speak a different language there?

She’s from Virginia! Aside from speaking Italian in her maternal family’s household, English has always been her main language.

5. Is there anyone outside the valley that might have come looking for them?

Her relatives and some of her friends back at home—she keeps in contact with them occasionally so I'd think they wouldn't make a big deal out of her going radio silent at first. However, they'd definitely start suspecting something's wrong if there hasn't been a call from her in months...

6. Did they have a religious background of any kind?

Quite — the Grünewalds aren’t attached to religious institutions but they’re Christian nonetheless. Leslie considers herself a believer, just more laid-back and chill about it.

Inside Hope County

1. What was going through their head when the helicopter went down and during the subsequent chase?

It was a mix of words: an increasing stream of "fucks" on loop coupled with an exasperated “are you fucking kidding me”. She was almost moving on autopilot—it was a terrifying experience for her but she knew she had to escape, she had to be fast or else, it was over.

2. Were they afraid of Joseph and Eden’s Gate? Angry?

Leaning towards afraid—she didn’t know what was going on and the only thought on her mind was to get to somewhere safe. Leslie had a few run-ins with Eden’s Gate before the attempted arrest and could understand why the locals were wary of them. Mainly, she was cautious.

3. Did they trust Dutch?

Let's put it this way: waking up cuffed to a post isn’t the best way to start trust between two people.

4. How did they feel about their team being taken by the cult, did they count them as lost, did they want them back, did they not care?

Les was worried sick—the memories from hours before started to return as she recovered, which meant she remembered trying to stop the cult from taking Joey, Staci's and Whitehorse's screams, and the Marshal’s protests as he was found by the peggies. More than anything, Leslie was determined to recover them—she was not going to leave them behind if she had anything to say about it.

5. How did they take to the idea of being part of, if not leading, the resistance?

It… didn’t dawn on her she was leading the Resistance at the beginning. She was just doing what she thought right—if she could help the people of the county, so be it. Then one day she was at the county jail, talking to several Resistance members and one of them said “you gave us hope to fight back”. It baffled her at first, but eventually she slotted right into the leader role.

6. Which companions did they recruit, and who did they travel with the most?

All of them! Nick’s a constant companion of hers, the second companion often varies depending on the region she is at.

7. Did they have time to find romance amidst the chaos? How did they do it?

It's... complicated, considering she fell in love with one of her enemies. Not even her knows how did it happen.

8. Feelings about Joseph?

Mixed. On one hand he's the man she was ordered to arrest and the accusations against him, the bad he inflicted onto the county's residents should've convinced her he should be taken down. On the other hand... Leslie can see his point. She gets what's he's trying to say and why he is doing all of this, she sees him treating her carefully and taking his time to make her understand (which in turn makes her feel more conflicted tbh). Reading the BOJ in an attempt to understand him only furthers these mixed feelings.

9. Feelings about the other Seeds?

Faith was the scariest Seed for her—she gets into your mind, her persuasion convinces you that you belong with the cult and her management of the Bliss is absolutely terrifying. Leslie feels like she was walking on thin ice around her, yet she didn't see the need to refuse to listen to her (likely because her story pulls her heartstrings and her instinctual need is to help others, even her enemies and people who wronged her).

As for John, Les can admit he doesn't put pretenses and is straightforward about his motives. He doesn't try to use pity or fear to get to her, rather he just tells her the reason he is the way he is. She appreciates honesty in people, so I think she'd be the same way with him. Snarks a lot at him through the radio, though, and probably enjoys messing with him way too much, but that's it.

Jacob... well, here's the complicated part—Leslie should fear him, shouldn't feel at ease in his presence, shouldn't feel safe when she's in his arms, yet she does. It was a matter of survival what made them grow closer and fond of each other and now they don't know how to deal with it. She wants to soothe his scars, both physically and psychologically, wants to be there for him. Wants to save him. For the most part she tried to pretend these obvious feelings weren't there, but as the war wages on, with every unplanned meeting... it's just more difficult.

10. How did they handle having to kill animals and other humans? Had they done it before?

Killing animals wasn’t hard—Les participated in past hunting trips with her male relatives and the county people before. As for killing humans… she tries to not do it when she has the chance. Killing Angels and peggies in self-defense still leaves a bad taste in her mouth though.

11. Which canon ending did they choose in-game, and would you have changed the ending at all?

She choose the Resist ending. Leslie is too stubborn to go back once she had made her choice. As for the second part of the question: boy would I have. I would have spared and arrested the Seeds. Having to kill them hurt me and made me wish we could've given them a chance at life.

Personal

Favorite weapon(s)?

Any type of rifles and explosives! Molotovs and pipes are a recurrent thing in her inventory too.

2. Stealth or firepower?

Most of the time she likes stealth. However, it’s not uncommon of her to go Rambo and punch everything on sight if she has no other choice.

3. How did they spend their time, when not fighting peggies?

Lots of time spent at Fall’s End and the 8-Bit Pizza Bar. You could also find her enjoying the regions' scenery, drawing, fishing or doing tasks for the locals—basically she spent her time on things that relaxed her or took her mind off the war.

4. Where did they live during the events of the game?

Les wandered A LOT. Her actual house is at the border of the Whitetail Mountains and Holland Valley region, but she has had few opportunities to go there after the Reaping. After, she mostly uses her secret log cabin and takes naps in abandoned cars and houses/bunkers.

5. Any other facts you want to share about your Deputy!

- can tie a cherry stem with her tongue.

- used to practice baseball when she was younger.

- doesn't know how to ice-skate for the life of her —her face practically belongs to the floor if someone manages to convince her to try it.

- will laugh at the dumbest of jokes.

- prefers calling to texting people but know she's a keysmasher.

#deputy leslie #sorry it took me too long to answer!#{ tangled ramblings of hope county }#foofygoldfish

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brightbeautifulthings · 6 years ago

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Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

"There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them, and let them hurt me."

Year Read: 2019

Rating: 3/5

Context: I took a contemporary American fiction class that loosely centered on 9/11 stories, including novels like Don DeLillo's Falling Man and Thomas Pynchon's Bleeding Edge. Since Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close wasn't on the list, I can only conclude that not only did my favorite professor not like Foer's novel (which I doubt informed his choice overly much; he had a tendency to spit whenever he talked about Jonathan Franzen, yet Freedom was still on the book list), he also didn't consider it important enough to teach. I find this both sad and hilarious. I gravitate toward 9/11 novels because it's one of those events that divides American culture clearly into Before and After. I'm new to Foer's fiction, but I probably wouldn't put it on my list either. Trigger warnings: death, death of a parent, death of a child, suicide, PTSD, trauma, anxiety, terrorism, falling, body horror, burns, graphic images, some snobby comparisons to DFW, and a total failure to condense my thoughts into < 1,500 words.

About: Nine-year-old Oskar Schell is devastated by his father's death in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. More than a year later, he discovers a key among his father's belongings that doesn't fit any lock in their apartment. It's in an envelope labeled Black. Estranged from his mother and unable to connect with other kids his age, Oskar devises a plan to meet every person named Black in New York City and ask them if they met his dad. He's determined to reconnect with his father any way he can and learn the truth of their last scavenger hunt, but Oskar is haunted by his father's last messages on the answering machine from inside the tower and, since his body was never recovered, that he will never know the full truth of how he died.

Thoughts: Interesting premise, shaky execution. My overall sense is that if Foer had spent more time on the story and less on the structure, it would have been a more effective novel. It's like a lot of these kinds of books in being slightly weirder than the actual world. Nothing that happens absolutely couldn't happen, but it's highly unlikely that it would all happen together. (What kind of parent lets their nine-year-old wander New York City by himself, especially following 9/11 when everyone was highkey paranoid?) I don't mind experimental novels done well, but ELIC is experimental-lite at best and not altogether ground-breaking. The text is supplemented by photographs, pages of writing on top of writing, single sentences on a page, and various other stylistic diversions. It's not so overwhelming that a novice to this kind of fiction would have trouble following the plot, but with one or two exceptions, these additions don't feel like a necessary part of the text; the story would have read just as well, and possibly better, without them.

My favorite exception is the chapter edited by a red pen, the only confirmation we have that Thomas Schell ever read his absent father's letters, and an ironic comment that he had the emotional distance to grammar-check them; he even circled the "I love you" in the complimentary closing like he would circle a correction. The other exception is a tougher pill to swallow, and it's hard to imagine why Foer thought it was a good idea to include actual photographs of the falling man in his book. If you didn't know what it was, you might not realize what you were looking at right away, but the images of people jumping to their deaths out the windows of the World Trade Center are a ubiquitous part of 9/11 history. (Is it ubiquitous because books like this brought attention to it? I was in middle school, so I don’t remember.) Like most things that are done for shock value, putting them in the book is in extremely poor taste.

I don't care that much for Foer's prose. The chapters cycle among Oskar, his grandmother, and his grandfather's perspectives. Oskar's chapters read exactly nothing like a nine-year-old kid's and seem mostly an excuse to include juvenile humor, random facts, and quirky observations (much more, in fact, like a 20-year-old male writer's perspective). His grandfather's are an onslaught of run-on sentences, comma splices, and spelling mistakes, and as a father who walked out on his wife and unborn child, he's possibly the least sympathetic character in the story. Much like real life, characters wander in and out of the narrative without any attempts at reason or closure. This is most noticeable with the Mr. Black who lives in Oskar's building, who randomly decides to remove himself from Oskar's search for no apparent reason and is never heard from again.

There are attempts to draw parallels among Oskar's experience with 9/11, his grandparents’ experiences with the bombing of Dresden, and, more loosely, the atomic bombings in Japan. Aside from the fact that they're all tragedies that leave dead and traumatized people in their wake, I have a hard time comparing 2,000 deaths to 20,000 deaths to a potential 200,000 deaths. (Once you start adding zeroes, is that not a whole different level of atrocity?) The book does better justice to 9/11 than any of the others, and it's an interesting look at how we struggle to make meaning after something so horrific and meaningless happens to us.

In that respect, the novel itself is an act of meaning-making as we struggle to piece together the various kinds of text and the different perspectives and timelines. Like most books of this kind, it puts a lot of responsibility on the reader to make it into a coherent story. Like most books of this kind that aren't done that well, it doesn't do enough work of its own to make a meaningful story. I wasn't expecting closure from a book like this (which is good because there is none to be had), but there's also no impression that Oskar is bringing his experiences together in a meaningful way--so there's no chance for the reader to do that either. The overall message seems to be that there IS no meaning to them. On one level, I might agree; it may be impossible to bring meaning to the death of a parent, particularly one who died in such tragic circumstances.

But the other stuff, the living part where Oskar met so many people and affected so many different lives, is open-ended to a frustrating degree. It's not quite as nihilistic as a lot of post-9/11 fiction; Oskar's search ultimately brings him back to the most important people in his life, which is a strong message, but it doesn't bring a whole lot of sense to anything leading up to that. Forcing readers to draw their own conclusions is a fine strategy, but I would have preferred to see Oskar's conclusions as well after I followed him through an entire book. In that respect, the film does a much better job in bringing Oskar's experiences together into something meaningful. We get to see how it was actually a bonding experience for him and his mother, and how touching all those lives brought something important to them and to him. This is the kind of thematic closure I was hoping for from the book, and the film just made it more obvious that it isn't there.

Notes on David Foster Wallace connections: I'm one of those terrible snobs who compares every contemporary literary fiction novel written by a white dude to Infinite Jest, and Foer doesn't seem at pains to hide the references. My favorite is a picture Oskar has of a tennis player on the ground, but he notes that from the expression on his face, we can't tell if he's won or lost. This is an A+ IJ reference, since it's rife with tennis players, sinister smiley faces, and confusion over whether people are laughing or crying. The others are more inscrutable. I have no idea what to make of Oskar playing Yorick in his school play, other than that his teachers are strangely morbid in dressing up a kid in a papier-mâché skull to play a dead guy. I'm sure that's not traumatizing at all. IJ is a loose Hamlet retelling, so Foer could have picked any other Shakespeare play to avoid the reference; I'm just not sure what it's saying. The last includes mild spoilers for both IJ and ELIC, so proceed with caution. In possibly the weirdest and most pointless detour of the book, Oskar and his grandfather dig up his father's empty casket and fill it with notebooks. Again, I have no idea what to make of this. While Oskar is very bothered by the fact that it's empty, we don't get the sense that he gains a lot of closure from this mad adventure. It's clearly a parallel to Hal and Gately digging up Himself's grave, except in IJ, they have good reason for doing so. Thoughts and theories from people who have read both? I'm interested to hear interpretations.

#book review #Jonathan Safran Foer #Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close #literary fiction #9/11 fiction #experimental fiction #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2019

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betweensceneswriter · 7 years ago

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Chemistry Test, part 3: King Among Men

Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange!

This is all your fault, @shadylainey!

Click Here: Previously on Chemistry Test part 2

Master Post here on Tumblr

Prompt #33 Modern AU: Claire auditions for a role opposite Jamie who has been cast as the male lead in a TV drama.

Sooooo NSFW. Maybe not safe for home, either. Yeah. You’re welcome…

“Well, that erection is long gone,” said Jamie to himself as he stood at the door. It took him three tries to get the card to work. He was slightly surprised Claire didn’t come to open the door for him. She’d been as horny for him as he was for her.

He didn’t understand. Until he stepped inside the room.

She hadn’t heard him.

She was on the balcony, gazing over the city. The sun was beginning to go down, ruddy and orange through the southern California haze. What he noticed first was the glowing halo around her, a silhouette of her shape backlit by golden light. She’d taken her hair out of the braids and bun, and the curls were tousled around her head, glinting with highlights of auburn and mahogany and maple.

He stared at her as she stood there, looking small and fragile and lovely. She still had her dress on, but she’d kicked off her shoes, which made her look that much tinier.

Jamie stealthily removed his boots and socks, pulled his shirt off, and walked out to join her. He stepped behind her, gathering her to him firmly, breathing in her scent. He grunted quietly at his body’s response to her. He was a young man still, but the thought had crossed his mind that he wouldn’t be able to get aroused again. His poor cock had been on a roller-coaster all afternoon and evening, and he had feared it would just go on strike or give out from exhaustion. He sighed gratefully; neither appeared to be the case.

“God, Claire,” he whispered into her hair, “With you in my arms, I feel like…” he grinned cheekily to himself, “the King of the World.” She was gorgeous, and he did feel something in the depths of his soul, some connection, some force drawing them together.

She turned to face him, her eyes lazily caressing his form from his long toes to his curly hair. “That’s my line, James Fraser,” she said gently, reaching her arms around his waist. She pulled him to her, and her lashes fluttered wide, blinking in astonishment at what she felt. She swore in a near whisper, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

Jamie laughed, gently cupping Claire’s chin to kiss her, “Well, I havena heard that one before. And aye, my desire for you exists,” he said. “But that’s neither here nor there. We can take all the time ye need.”

“It has been such a long day,” she voiced in a near-yawn. “I debated lying down while you were gone, but I would have been snoring in two minutes. What took so long?”

“Left my wallet on your table. Walked up the stairs as penance.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “Do ye think, Claire, that maybe the universe is trying to tell us something? Maybe we should save this chemistry for the show?”

“And waste this?” she said incredulously, glancing downward to where their bodies were sandwiched together. His erection twitched at being mentioned.

“I’m serious,” Jamie said. “I believe in something bigger—I dinna ken whether ye’d call it fate or providence or God or karma. But the condom… and then the wallet… maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“I think the only thing the universe is telling us is that you didn’t plan to have sex today and you forgot your wallet upstairs.” Claire said firmly.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jamie shook his head. “More that if we do this, it’s going to set off a series of events that we canna control.”

“You mean, that we’ll jinx the show?” Claire asked skeptically. “Have you read the script? It’s probably going to be terrible,” she said. “A television show based on a tragedy that was over within 24 hours? I know it’s about the Titanic, but they even titled it ‘Sinking’? Seriously, I have no false hope about a long-running career. It’s not based on some series of eight or nine well-beloved novels or anything.” She nodded again, certain. “Oh, it’s definitely going to suck.”

Jamie looked at her, eyes narrowed. “I dinna ken if I agree wi’ ye on that,” he said, shaking his head and cursing his stupid nervous tell. No, he was pretty sure it was going to suck, too.

“But this, Jamie,” she emphasized, looking into his eyes. “This? You and me? I have the distinct impression that this will not suck. At all. Though there might be some sucking involved…” her voice trailed off and she bit her bottom lip, her eyes going hungrily to his mouth.

He was looking at her lips, too, ripe and red and velvety. She looked delicious.

Claire reached her hands up to the nape of his neck, drawing her fingers back towards herself along the scruff of his jawline.

Fate be damned, thought Jamie, as he bent his mouth to hers and crushed her in a fervent embrace.

They were inside the room in seconds, sliding door shut to the city noises outside. Her hands at the fastener of his slacks, his fingers at her buttons.

She’d really fucking re-buttoned all those damn fucking buttons?

When his pants had dropped around his ankles, she knocked his hands out of her way and made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons on her dress herself. Jamie stepped back to watch her, filled with desire. She stopped when the dress was undone to her waist, not breaking eye contact with him as she slowly slipped the bodice off first one shoulder and then the other, revealing perfect globes of breasts with rose-hued nipples. The dress hung on her hips and she didn’t appear to be in any rush to remove it the rest of the way.

Jamie gazed at her nipples. He wanted to taste them. He didn’t want to lay down yet, but he was too damn tall, Jamie thought. Even though she was a wee thing in comparison to him, she knew exactly what she wanted. She pushed him backward to the bed, whipping the covers down, forcing him to sit and then stepping in between his legs, her arms resting on his shoulders.

He reached around her hips and pulled her closer to him. Christ, she had the roundest arse. He closed his eyes and groaned, kneading and massaging her with his sizeable hands.

She squeaked, an adorable little sound. When he opened his eyes again, her breasts were inches from his face. He grasped one with his hand, again relishing the weight and feel of her, the way her flesh cushioned his fingers, the way he could feel her nipple hardening under his palm. He licked his lips slightly, then took her other nipple into his mouth, gripping her breast with his lips and stroking her with his tongue.

She was gasping; her head dropped back, baring her neck. He left her nipple for a moment, sampling the skin over her collarbone, licking the hollow at the base of her neck, gripping her hair and pulling her head down to him so he could suck under her ear and nip her earlobe.

She pulled away for a moment to shimmy out of her dress and drop it to the floor. She was in the process of kneeling in front of him, but Jamie stopped her. “Ladies first,” he said huskily, standing, ushering her to the spot he’d been sitting.

He knelt between her legs as she lay back on the bed. He took charge, lifting first one and then the other leg to rest on his shoulders.

“If it’s no how ye like it, ye can direct me,” he said, turning his face to gently kiss her inner thighs. From the lack of orders and the increasing volume of Claire’s moans, he could tell what he was doing was just fine. He parted her folds, his tongue searching out that sensitive swelling, circling and stroking her.

His hands free, Jamie alternated between caressing her buttocks, stroking her legs and reaching for her breasts. Her squeals were getting faster and shriller, and she was clenching her muscles, her legs squeezing against him. Jamie smiled as she froze with one last cry and then collapsed, liquid and stunned on the bed.

By the time she’d recovered conscious thought, young master Fraser had gotten a little weary from such a busy day. Jamie stayed where he was, considering how best to proceed. He needn’t have worried about it.

“My turn,” Claire said, extending a hand to help him off the floor and return him to the spot where he had been sitting. He didn’t lie back at first. He liked watching, and she appeared to like to be watched, meeting his eyes as she licked his length. When she had his full attention, she sucked him into her mouth, an entirely new sensation for him.

“You’re huge,” she said, gasping and chuckling. She’d made a slightly strangled noise as she’d taken him in her mouth. She wasn’t lying. A little attention and his friend had returned to full working order.

“Are ye ready for me?” he asked, reaching for the condom he’d put on the bedside table. “God, I want ye so bad. May I?”

“Yes,” she sighed, as he helped her up, gently laid her back upon the bed, and with a groan on his part and a gasp on hers, he took her.

It was so good, so hellishly, fuckingly good. Jamie relished the warmth and tightness of her around him, the way she moved with him, raked her nails across his back, met his eyes with a hungry gaze, and grabbed his ass, pulling him even closer to her. When he finally came, it was the longest awaited orgasm he thought he’d ever had. Towards the end she had squeaked, her eyes wide as he engorged at the last, and she appeared stunned to have come a second time.

Finally they lay on their backs on the bed. Claire was flushed, her hair spilling around her on her pillow. She blinked her eyes several times. It took her several tries to find her voice. “You said, Jamie, that when I’m in your arms, you feel like the king of the world?” she asked.

“Aye,” he grunted, rolling on his side to admire her and stroke her velvet skin.

“I couldn’t say how you feel,” she said. “But I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’ve just been bedded by a king among men.”

The End. Finally. Truly. Really. :) You’re welcome. Now where’s my husband?

🎁🌆 🚢 👄🎢🦐👅🐱🐡🛌👌👌👌☺️🤴👨👨👨👨

Well, actually, decided to continue this thing!

On to Part 4 - Sexting

#soIwrotesomesmut #delayed gratification #claire x jamie #rose x jack #betweensceneswriter #betweensheetswriter #thathappened #the lallybroch library #OLPromptExchange #OLPrompt Exchange #Fan Fiction #Outlander #Prompt 33 #uh-oh

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callie-the-snarky-geek-blog · 6 years ago

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RvB16 Episode 4 Review: Sis and Tuc’s S**ellent Adventure

(Old Reblog Post. Also sorry for the censoring, I’m trying t be cautious right now.)

With a title like ‘Sis and Tuc’s S**cellent Adventure”, so I even need to write an introduction? That’s enough of a draw-in! So… yeah, lets just jump into it!

Overview

It’s been a day since the last episode and Tucker has recovered from the blow to his fragile male ego. He agrees to Sister’s plan on banging past people wanting a six-way with the Spice Girls. Sister points out that he’s setting himself too high and eventually it leads back to Tucker insisting that they banged. Sister expands on what she said last episode, about something happening that made them stop. I guess she thought about it more as she says that Tucker thought that someone was watching them and had stopped due to it. To get a clear answer, they decide to go back to Season 5 now that Sister has figured out how the portal gun works.

Back at The Battle of Broken Ridge, the… Red Army I guess? I assume it’s a Red vs Blue battle. Anyways, they’re all dead. Simmons tries to comfort Sarge after his failure to prevent their deaths… that he pretty much caused. And in the afterlife, Church is laughing cause now they are going through what he did. Sarge is upset and blames the failures… on his underlings idiocy. Of course. But is this going to deter Sarge from fixing the past? Hell no! He is going to create essentially a dream time like The Expendables… a movie I’ve never seen, but screw you Sarge! Harrison Ford makes everything better even if he isn’t necessary! Simmons is just left baffled and confused. You think he’d be used to this by now.

Back with Tucker and Sister, they make it back to Season 5 during the final fight with Wyoming. In order to not cause a paradox, they dodge behind rocks to not be seen… and wouldn’t you know it, Tucker finds a sniper rifle! I’m surprised he didn’t make a bigger deal over finally getting the thing (and… how did it get there? I need to rewatch Blood Gulch man). But with it, he spots he moment where past him was talking to Flowers… and I am still is confused on how he came back to life out of nowhere as I was when I watched Season 5. But we do get an explanation on how he died again. Remember the random bullet that show him down? Well turns out that Tucker’s finger was too close to the trigger and… well, you do the math. Seriously, Church must just be laughing his ass off int he afterlife right now. But Tucker knows when he fucks up and decides to stick to the sword.

We now check on Grif and Doc as Grif has figured out how the gun works now. Okay, so everyone knows how the things work, good. Grif, still wanting to avoid the plot, has sent them back to when he was in college and before he… got enlisted? Wait, I thought he was drafted… meh, maybe time has affected his memory or something. My proof? Well the restaurant is now a Calzone and Stormboli restaurant. Grif, confused, tries to ask some kids what the fuck is happening. Also it’s Halloween so that we can justify them wearing Halo armor despite being kids! Ah, you gotta love those kinds of things!

So… as it turns out… Grif and Doc ended up in a timeline where pizza does not exist. Let me repeat that: Pizza does NOT exist… WHAT KIND OF SICK TIMELINE IS THAT?! Grif yells at children before the fact sinks in and… he decides to grenade himself. Sheesh dude, I knwo that a world without pizza is just sick and wrong, but there’s other Italian dishes to consider! Luckily Doc knows the grenade away, saving Grif’s life for the second time… okay I forgive him for last season now. Cause someone needs to take care of Grif while Simmons isn’t there and Doc is fulfilling that, damn it! Doc is able to convince Grif to instead try and cause the invention of pizza to fix it… after trying to convinced him to use it for the greater good. Someone needs to one day explain to Doc what show he’s in, I don’t think he ever figured it out.

Back in Season 5, Sister now has the sniper rifle and they’re now waiting for the ship with Tex, Junior, and Andy to blow up. Tucker uses the time to ash Sister why she tagged along to begin with. Sister explains how, while the convention business has been going well, her personal life has gotten fucked up. TO put it simply, she got involved with a person working with her… who was married to the head of HR. So… yeah that’s a bit of a clusterfuck if there ever was one. She wishes that things could go back to being silly and fun like it used to be, a sentiment that Tucker can relate to. Back in Blood Gulch, it felt like that nothing really mattered and there weren’t really consequences. No? Wash got injured due to his poor leadership and he’s got a lawsuit on him for who knows how many child support payments. It’s… a rather nice, reflective heart-to-heart. We also learn that Tucker’s mother is dead… that’s a bummer.

So the ship explodes, everyone kind of went to do their own thing, and past!Tucker took past!Sister to the caves to shoe her ‘surprise’. Turns out that Blood Gulch has a lake in the canyon… didn’t know that. Past!Tucker is trying to, of course, initiate having hanky panky time with Sister (and I imagine past!Grif having a ‘I sense a disturbance in the Force’ moment) and… he is awkward and stammering as Hell. It’s kinda cute… I’m gonna laugh at him anyways! HAHAHA! Fortunately past!Sister is more than capable of taking the initiative and it looks like they were indeed going to have see. ALl as their future selves watch in secret. Sister, having a moment of weakness, asks if Tucker wants to go ahead and bang with Tucker… getting too excited and causing last him to hear him. They don’t get caught and cause a paradox thankfully, but it’s enough to cause past!Tucker to call hanky panky time off. So… Tucker totally cockblocked himself… twice… with the same girl… wooooow.

Sister is of course annoyed as they return to Valhalla as well as disappointed in herself for almost banging with Tucker. But hey, she gets a new idea… to go back and bang her past self! No! Sister, selfcest leads to bad things! She goes off and if they had animated this scene, I imagine that Tucker would be kicking himself right now. Literally. But hey, you came close buddy.

Review

This was a laugh riot, OMG. Before we get to the main event, lets talk about the other pairs.

There’s not a lot to say about Sarge and Simmons really. As expected, Sarge caused his own problem and fails to recognize it. IDK if him saying that he’s going to recruit others is going to go anywhere, but it was there. I did like how Simmons was concerned about Sarge’s state after and him continuing to be a dork with having a log (but… it was a science log here and last time it was a star log… does Simmons keep multiple logs?! NERD!) Him just being completely and utterly baffled at how Sarge could jump to the conclusion he made was also hilarious, especially him just weakly returning the ‘hoorahs’. IDK why the mental image of Gus recording that crack me up… but it cracks me up.

There’s a bit more to talk about with Grif and Doc. First, addressing the brief continuity error about Grif claiming to be enlisted. Now him dropping out of college? I can buy that. But in the Fan Guide and I’m fairly sure that Geoff himself said it before, Grif was drafted. Then again he did claim that he signed up willingly back int he very first episode, so… IDK. It’s not that big a deal and it can easily be hand-waved as him just saying that so Doc won’t question him about it or with pizza no longer existing, maybe he did enlist due to time screwing up and his memory adjusted accordingly. So ultimately, unless this is important later and IDT it will be, it’s not that big a deal.

So we continue to see Grif ignoring the problem and trying to get back to the pizza quest. To Doc’s credit, he is trying to get Grif to focus on it, but this being Doc he can’t really force it and IDT hes going to unleash O’Malley if he can help it. Grif yelling at children (and one I’m fairly sure is voiced by Lindsay? Or at least one sounded like Space Kid) about pizza’s existence also had me about ready to burst a guy. I imagine that Geoff blew his voice out after that, but his sacrifice is appreciate if that is the case. Plus hey, he NAILED it. Seriously, sidetracking, but the voice acting has been perfection so far. But yeah, I assume that something is going to happen to force Grif into facing the problem moreso than the others (I imagine whenever they discover Huggins… where is she BTW?) and I worry that since he’s kept Grif from getting killed twice now, something might happen to Doc… but we’ll see!

Okay, onto the main event! The entire S**cellent adventure was a laugh riot, OMG. Honestly just having Sister have some prominent screentime after so long was SO nice. I am loving how Joe is handling her this season. Her and Tucker’s banter was perfection. Them going form bickering to flirting is just hilarious and I am loving it. I wasn’t sure what to expect from them aside form flirting, and so far having the two most horny characters on the show together has been incredibly entertaining.

Their heart to heart was really nice as well. Sister definitely screwed up as far as her personal life is concerned, which makes her wanting to go back to before then understandable. Tucker being able to relate with what happened in S15 when his choices came back to bit him in the ass was also really nice. Especially as he reflects how back during Blood Gulch, it didn’t seem like he had to care. Regardless of what happened, there weren’t any long-term consequences. I’d have to rewatch Blood Gulch to see how much of that is true, but for the most part he’s correct. Back then you could be as stupid as you wanted and it would work out. Even death wasn’t a big deal. Now? Well… it is. It’s not like how it was back then, and seeing Tucker reflect on that was a really good moment for him.

What else can I say? Ugh… well it ended how I expected. The second I saw the title of this episode, I immideatly went ‘they’re gonna go back to find out about the sex thing and it end sup Tucker messed it up, aren’t they?” And I was right! Yay! I didn’t see Sister deciding to indulge in selfcest coming and tbh Tucker handled the revelation better than I thought he would, but still it went as i expected. But at least we have conformation: Tucker and Sister almost did sex, but Tucker thwarted himself. Ain’t that a bitch?

Final Thoughts

This one is definitely meant to be purely a comedic episode. Which is fine since it was hilarious. Tucker and Sister’s back and forths had me giggling and Grif’s mental breakdown at pizza no longer existing had me in stitches. It was good! My only real complaint is I’d have liked some more plot, but I guess it’s better to get the funny time travel antics out of the way first before going forward. Plus hey, it was still funny, so why complain? Overall, that was indeed a s**cellent adventure.

#rvb #rvb16 #rvb reviews

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