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theonlyqualitytrash · 3 months ago

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Memento Mori - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Do not forget that you will surely die someday, and as such, that is the more reason to live now. Fyodor returns to St. Petersburg, where a compassionate ballet teacher’s acceptance of life and mortality quietly transforms his jaded soul.

Warnings: fem!reader used, heavy themes of existential dread, mortality and religion, some russian words used, spoiler to Fyodor's ability (even though everyone and their mom is probably up to date with the manga)

A/N: I always found it weird for an immortal being to be religious, so I wanted to imagine a reason for Fyodor's faith. Anyway, this was a good outlet for all my existential thoughts, and I hope I did the character justice

Words: 3,900

Our existence is quite fascinating: we are born from death and return to death once we are finished stealing breaths from the world. Our existence has two parts—the physical and the bodiless. The first represents your autonomy, your biology, while the latter represents the mind, the consciousness.

19th century, Russian Empire

It was not uncommon for Fyodor to return home every five to ten years. Not out of homesickness, but there was something about the cold climate that always brought him back to St. Petersburg. He often found himself revisiting the same cathedrals and dark alleyways.

Over the decades, places had changed, yet he remained the same. And circling around him were the same filthy, grotesque people—sinners with empty human souls, their hearts filled with religion and vodka. Religion to keep them fearful, and vodka to keep them compliant.

Religion was a coping mechanism to manage the fear of death. And it was necessary because it thrived on fear. And what, he would ask, is the most primitive emotion in our brain? Fear. Fear is indeed primordial, clinging to us since the moment we are born.

As humans, when we take our first breath, our first instinct is to cry and cling to our birth-giver. Why? Because we feel fear.

The pavement was wet with snow that had fallen a few days prior and still plagued the stones. The sound of distant bells tolled in the background, marking the passage of time, but to Fyodor, time seemed irrelevant, like a vague murmur beneath the weight of his thoughts. The cold seeped into his bones, but it barely registered—his ushanka perched comfortably on his head, his coat keeping him mostly warm. Besides, he had a specific place he wanted to visit this time around. He had always enjoyed the fine arts, and ballet was no different.

So there he stood, in front of the Mariinsky Theatre—a grand green-washed building. The architecture, coupled with the color of the opera house, reminded Fyodor of mildew. He entered and had someone take his dark coat, doffing his beloved hat politely before walking to his seat in the mezzanine. The seat loomed over the ground floor, giving him a perfect view of the performance as well as the people attending.

He took a moment to observe and take in everything. The paintings on the ceiling were slightly more discolored than the last time he’d visited, and the people were the same cookie-cutter elites he saw every time. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they, too, didn’t age and that the same people came to the opera house each time. Everything was quite boring and dull, and he was tired of it all, but he still wanted to see the show. Giselle was one piece he had seen before but kept returning to. Why?

It was probably the tragic story that began with Giselle’s all-consuming love that lead her to madness and death. Her transformation—from grief and heartbreak to forgiveness and redemption as she forgives Albrecht—it all leads Giselle to spiritual liberation, demonstrating the healing power of selfless love and the importance of moving beyond bitterness.

He didn’t understand that.

Giselle, in his eyes, was a naïve fool. The man didn’t deserve her forgiveness or pity. If a woman’s heart is moved to pity, it becomes more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to save him, to bring him to his senses, to lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness. And yet, such dreams were futile. Fyodor knew all too well how far that kind of idealism could lead.

As the orchestra swelled, the soft, lively melody of the second act began, pulling him from his thoughts. The dancers took their positions, and he settled back into his seat, his gaze fixed on the stage. The performance resumed, the air thick with the delicate balance of art and emotion.

He remembered everything that was supposed to happen, from the slight movements of each ballerina to the clicking of the wooden pointe shoes on stage. So it struck him when the lead—a fairly average-looking woman—came out in the second act with a violin. His usual disinterested gaze followed the ballerina.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about her; she moved with the same elegance as any other ballerina, wore the same costume he’d memorized. But the fact that she decided to depart from tradition and bring an instrument on stage while also dancing made him almost reevaluate his opinion of her. On one hand, it was a pleasant surprise to see something different, opposed to the harsh rules of Russian ballet; on the other, why would she feel the need to defy tradition?

With a few simple inquiries, he soon found out that the woman was a teacher at the Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet. It was expected—being the only relevant ballet school in St. Petersburg, many ballerinas who graduated from this academy went on to perform at the opera house.

The academy had the same sickly yellow walls he had grown accustomed to; almost everything in this city was like this. From the faces of the people walking the streets to the wood holding up and supporting the buildings, the color of decay that seemed to seep into every corner of St. Petersburg.

The woman’s name was (Y/N) Agafonovna. As stated, she was a teacher at this academy.

The porter let him in without fuss, seeing the polite, respectable man as someone who belonged there, and he oh-so-politely nudged him toward the room where you held your dance lessons. The door was open, almost inviting him to glance inside.

You stood in the middle of the grand dance room, your eyes soft yet stern, focusing on the girls before you, helping and correcting them. You didn’t notice the eyes that were on you the whole time. He quietly observed everything—the way you stood and walked, the way you spoke to the young women so gently, as if afraid to break their hearts and confidence.

As Fyodor observed the class, a peculiar thought flitted through his mind. How can such a gentle creature, such as herself, be stuck in such an unclean, unrighteous world? His gaze lingered on your soft yet commanding presence as you guided the young dancers. There was a part of him that expected you to break—to succumb to the world’s nature or fall in line like everyone else. But there was something in the way you held yourself, something almost fragile but resolute. He couldn’t look away. And so he stayed—silent, watching, unable to understand why someone like you seemed immune to the harshness of your surroundings.

Not long after, the class ended, and you let the girls stretch and leave. What caught your eye was the stranger standing outside the doorway. He could have been mistaken for a statue, as he stood so still and stoic. You took a step forward and gestured for him to come in. Without hesitation, he approached, his steps quiet, like a cat’s. When he stood at arm’s length, you offered him your hand. He stared at it for a few moments, contemplating, before slowly, and surprisingly gently, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles before releasing it.

What he saw surprised him further—the subtle or not-so-subtle marks around your nail beds. Probably signs of stress and overthinking. He pondered the question: How can I relate to this woman? He believed he was nothing like you; you held a strange humanity about you, while he hadn’t felt human in a long time. He couldn’t relate to your gentle nature or soft gaze. Of course, he wouldn’t voice any of this.

“Privyetstvuyu, Miss Agafonovna, my name is Fyodor Dostoevsky. Apologies for intruding during your lesson,” he spoke, his voice low and almost quiet, as if sharing a secret.

“Dobroye den, Mister Dostoevsky. It is quite all right; my lesson wasn’t disturbed, so there’s no need to worry. May I ask what business you have?” you said, your voice quiet and warm, as if still speaking to the girls. It filled the room in a soft echo. A quiet part of Fyodor admired your bluntness and need to get to the point, but this forwardness clashed with your way of speech. Your honeyed voice was calming, while your words were stern. It was obvious that you had a sharp mind, but your quiet, almost lamb-like demeanor contrasted with it.

Fyodor cleared his throat softly before speaking again. “I had the pleasure of being at your last performance, so if you have time, I’d appreciate it if you would answer some questions about it.”

You observed him for a moment, unsure of his intentions. Checking the ticking clock on the wall, you saw that it was late—past noon, with no more classes to teach. Perhaps you would indulge his curiosity.

“I happen to have the time. Yes, we may speak in my office.”

Fyodor hummed in acknowledgment before quietly following you. You entered the room and gestured for him to sit. After he took a seat, you soon followed, facing him. “May I offer you some tea?”

“No, thank you,” he replied, his tone polite but detached.

There was a moment of pause between you two. The man you came to know as Fyodor struck you as rather odd. His thin frame made him look as if he were swimming in his long black coat. His eyes, often described as windows to the soul, betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking or feeling at that moment. He looked pale and almost sick, faint bruises under his eyes likely from lack of sleep. He had an overwhelming air of fatigue, and yet he still looked elegant and put together.

“You came to speak to me about my last performance, da?” you asked.

“Da,” he replied slowly, his voice calm and measured, taking one more moment to choose his words carefully. His dark eyes held an intensity that could make any stone wall crumble. “I haven’t seen anyone perform Giselle’s part in the second act as you did.”

For a moment, the thought flashed through your mind: Was he a critic here to berate me for choosing to go against the traditional interpretation? No—perhaps you were jumping to conclusions. He would speak, and you would discover his intentions. “Ah, you mean where Giselle enters the world of Wilis, where I played the violin?”

“Da.” That was all he said, though something about his tone invited you to continue.

“I took some creative liberty with that part, as it was my last performance,” you explained, pausing to consider whether you should delve deeper. “It may sound silly, but I often think about death—not because I wish to die, but because I know we are temporary. My small act of rebellion was a way for me to exercise the free will given to me by our Lord.”

This intrigued Fyodor. The woman before him hadn’t made her choice for attention or acclaim. It was more humble and personal, a way to come to terms with her mortality. This was a new perspective to him. As a man who had lived many lifetimes, he had grown desensitized to death and the fleeting nature of those around him.

“That is an interesting perspective,” he finally said, though his tone didn’t convey approval. “You think about your own fragility and thus want to escape it by exercising your free will?”

“You are partially correct, sir. I don’t wish to escape it; I want to come to terms with it. I know my death will come at one point, and I am not afraid of it. But perhaps...” There was a short pause, your eyebrows furrowing as you searched for the right words. “...perhaps, I don’t wish for my consciousness to be erased, to lose who I once was.”

Sometimes, Fyodor wished his consciousness could be erased. The weight of his own memories—the unrelenting flood of time—pressed down on him, crushing his bones. He envied those who lived in blissful ignorance, their minds free of the burden of awareness. But perhaps that was the nature of existence, he mused. We all find our peace with it in different ways.

Quiet eyes flickered as you watched him, your gaze momentarily distant. You, too, had once wished for a simpler life, one where you could close your eyes and not feel the weight of the years pressing in on you. Your body had once moved with the grace of a child, unburdened. But now, as time wore on, you saw your own fragility—your inevitable decline.

He offered a small, contemplative nod. It was not in his nature to find kinship with another person, yet you stirred a faint echo of familiarity—a kindred desire for understanding amidst the ephemerality of existence.

"So, you wish to accept death, but not to be forgotten?" Fyodor asked, his voice carrying a tone both curious and heavy—perhaps judgment, perhaps something else, something deeper, impossible to name. “You believe we can make peace with it, despite knowing it will come?”

You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his question. A quiet hum of approval escaped your lips before you replied, your tone calm yet resolute. "Da, death is something unchanging, constant. Something that will come either way. And a part of me finds comfort in the fact that something is predestined to happen in this chaotic world."

As you spoke, there was a moment when your eyes met his, and in that fleeting instant, neither spoke, yet something passed between you, an unspoken recognition—neither pity nor empathy, but an understanding that was both intimate and alien. Two souls, caught in the same current, yet separated by different shores. Before either could name it, the moment was gone, leaving only the quiet air between you.

After a few more quiet inquiries about religion and philosophy, you parted ways—but not for long. Fyodor was left perplexed; he sensed that you were something rare, something he hadn’t encountered before.

“You cannot age,” you murmured quietly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between you.

Fyodor had anticipated this moment. He’d chosen to stay by your side through the years, knowing that eventually, you would notice—the ageless stranger who never changed while you did. He placed his teacup gently on the table, meeting your gaze as he prepared to respond.

“That is correct. I wondered when you would bring it up.”

The silence returned, heavier now, pressing down on you both. You stared down, your hands fidgeting under the table, unconsciously picking at the skin around your nails, almost trembling. Your mind seemed to whirl with questions—how many years, how many lifetimes had he endured? Decades, centuries, millennia? You could only imagine the pain he must have felt, watching the world around him age and fade while he remained unchanged. After a moment, you looked up, your gaze softer, almost pained.

“Fyodor,” you whispered, “aren’t you tired?”

Another pause, this one stretching unbearably. Fyodor could feel your empathy radiating across the table—a kindness he had never allowed himself to indulge. He’d always regarded empathy as a weakness, an opening that could be easily exploited. And yet, something about your simple, compassionate question stirred something long-buried within him, something vulnerable he instinctively wanted to bury again.

“Da, ya ustal,” he admitted softly, letting the words slip out like an exhale, as though he were surrendering a truth to the night.

At this, a single tear slipped down your cheek, glistening in the low light. Your sorrow made him shift uncomfortably; he’d always hated tears, a visible testament to human frailty. But this time, he hated it for a different reason. This tear was for him. It unsettled him because you were weeping for him. It made him feel bare, more vulnerable. He almost wanted to pull away, to get up and leave, and never speak another word to you again, but he didn’t.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice suddenly low and tense, “there’s no need for that.” His hand almost rose, hovering just above the small round table, as if he might wipe the tear away. But he stopped, uncertain. You raised your head, meeting his gaze again, your kind eyes searching his.

“Pozhaluysta,” you said, your voice almost pleading. “I want to know. I need to understand.”

And that you did. He spoke more words about himself at that table than he had in all his years of living. His silver tongue felt rusted, each word pulled up with effort, forcing him to pause often as he searched for the right ones. It was uncharacteristic of him, and yet it made you somehow happy that he was willing to share the burden.

Speaking of burdens: his gift, he explained, had been a cruel joke. He remembered the first time he’d been killed—how young he was, how his lips coughed out their last breath, how cold his body felt when his soul was leaving. And yet, moments later, he was drawn back again, but into a different form, his chest still throbbing from the wound that should have ended him. He had gasped for air like a newborn, his body wracked with pain and confusion, holding his own lifeless body in his hands as he shivered and wept. He’d only been a child.

Your face remained soft, solemn, though quiet tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable. Your cold tea sat forgotten on the table as you listened, your heart aching. Only a child, you thought. He was only a child. Children, the purest part of humanity—the ones who needed to be protected and cherished. How could anyone harm a child?

When he finished, another silence fell over you, but this one felt different—lighter, calmer, as if a weight had lifted from his heart. You felt an urge to comfort him but knew he wouldn’t accept words or gestures. Instead, you rose quietly from the table and crossed to a narrow yellow wood cabinet. You opened it and drew out a silver cross necklace, holding it close to your heart before you returned to sit across from him, holding it out for him to take.

“I know you don’t accept faith, but perhaps... wear this as a reminder. If you can, bring fortune to the world, Fyodor, maybe even a blessing for the children who will follow.”

But he did not accept. He politely declined the cross from you. “Perhaps there is a divine being out there, something out of this world that we cannot see. But faith left me long ago, so I cannot accept this,” he had said. What soon followed was a quiet apology for his heresy, a glance away as he spoke. You did not blame him and hadn’t pressed him further, only nodded as though you’d expected it, though a glimmer of sadness flickered in your eyes.

What he thought would be a short visit to his homeland stretched from a few days to a few weeks, then to a few months, until it bloomed into decades. At first, he assumed this was a fleeting curiosity, one that would fade in a matter of days. But as years passed and he still couldn’t get his fill of your company, he began to wonder: Perhaps I misjudged the situation. Perhaps I was crass and too quick to dismiss her.

He had found someone who brought him a rare peace and understanding, despite your clashing mentalities—a connection he never grew tired of. Every time you met, you found some new topic to discuss, and each time he left feeling more alive.

As we have come to realize, life is fleeting, and time is a cruel mistress who waits for no one. Each second slips away, unnoticed and irretrievable, like sand through open fingers. We may comfort ourselves with the thought that existence after death is peaceful—just as existence before life was peaceful—as though one could simply slip away into sleep. And as all things, good and beautiful, must come to an end, so too did your life.

You had held the cross out to him once before, fingers delicate, your gaze full of quiet insistence. Now, in the emptiness you had left behind, he found himself holding the small cross in his palm, its edges warm from your touch alone. He slipped the chain over his head, feeling its slight weight rest against his chest. He didn’t know if he could fully embrace your faith, but he wanted to feel a part of your presence linger. And maybe, in this quiet act, he was allowing your wish to come true, as your memory lived on in him.

Fyodor stood in the dimly lit church, his eyes resting on the flickering candles. He had never understood this before—the way the simple act of remembering someone could tether them to the world long after they were gone. But now, as his thoughts drifted to you, he realized that you—your soft gaze, your gentle words—had become the anchor to his humanity. The strange pull he had felt toward religion, the gradual acceptance of mortality, it was all for you. Your belief, your grace in the face of death, had become his guide. He wasn’t just remembering you now; you had become a part of him. And in some way, by carrying your memory, he was keeping you alive.

Rising slowly from his seat, Fyodor moved toward the coffin, his steps heavy. His cold, detached gaze softened at the sight of you, lying there in stillness, your expression almost peaceful. Was that the shadow of a smile on your lips? Reaching out, he clasped your hand—soft, motionless, yet warmer, somehow, than his own.

He lingered in silence, his breath catching. How strange, he thought, that even here, in death, you still have the power to warm me. A sharp ache bloomed in his chest. For years he had watched you, a steady presence that grew unexpectedly precious, but had he ever told you? Had you known? The question hung there, unanswered, filling the quiet with the weight of all he’d never said.

The cold silver lay heavy on his heart, like a whisper. ‘Remember me,’ it seemed to say, and in his silent acceptance, in the quiet solitude he vowed that he would. Fyodor closed his eyes.

You wanted to be remembered, he thought.

And I will remember you, dearest. But more than that, I will live by the lessons you taught me.

Credit for dividers: saradika-graphics

#bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs #fyodor bsd #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #qt.exp.fyo

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jaylver · 1 year ago

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CINDY LOU WHO — P.SH

synopsis: christmas came early with a heartbreak as your present when you found out your boyfriend had fallen out of love with you. the boy that you loved is now in love with someone else, a new girl who managed to make him believe in love the way cindy-lou made grinch believe in christmas.

pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader

genre: lovers to exes, break up au, angst

warning(s): underlying hints of cheating/unfaithfulness

wc: 731

a/n: when i said i was planning a depressive december ... i was not lying. hoping everyone is enjoying the festive season! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Festive season hasn't been feeling the same ever since your boyfriend returned from his trip.

Sunghoon had been off somewhere in the desert with his friends as a getaway before Christmas. At first, you thought it was funny that he was going somewhere with the opposite season compared to where you were now. But the moment you noticed a change in him once he returned home, you figured things weren't about to be the same.

It shouldn’t be this hard to communicate and interact with him, but why was he acting like a stranger to you now? You had to bug him for ages to let him see pictures he took from the trip, that alone was enough to tell you something had shifted in the air. On the couch that night, it was probably only you that was enjoying your time as you swiped through the pictures, many were with his usual guy friends you already knew.

However, there was one that specifically caught your eyes. There in one of his pictures was a girl laughing.

A girl amongst the group, odd wasn’t it? She was sitting closely next to your boyfriend. Repeat, your boyfriend. You couldn’t recognise who she was, nor could you recall meeting her in the past. Sunghoon must’ve noticed you staring too long and pausing on that specific picture, so he tried to explain despite your heart breaking into pieces, saying it was a girl they met on the trip and there was nothing more.

To him, he claimed it was just ‘a girl’, but you knew there was more to that, and you weren’t trying to be a paranoid crazy girlfriend. You couldn’t sleep that night, sitting wide awake in your living room couch, the same exact spot where you had seen the pictures earlier. Was she the reason he’s been acting off around you? Had she casted a spell on him while he was there? Why him?

Maybe he met her somewhere in the desert. He was soul searching and found someone better. Did she make him happy like you couldn’t do? Or even worse, would she be the one with his ring on her finger? There’s red and green everywhere, but God, you were so blue.

“Let’s break up.”

The timing was just perfect. Two weeks before Christmas day, and right before your annual trip back to his family’s house to celebrate Christmas with his family. He was cruel, a little too cruel for breaking your heart at this time. ‘Tis the season, you guess.

Of course he would fall in love with her, you understood that almost at once when you saw her posts on social media. With her hair so long, lips so red, she was a dream anyone would wish to have. She was also the total opposite of you, that was what you noted as you scrolled five years back in her profile. You felt like a joke.

Just thinking about the fact that she’d be doing the exact same thing you did the past five years this festive season has you crumbling inside out. You bet she’d wake up in his old bed at his family’s house, ready to celebrate Christmas, while you sat in your home all alone wondering what went wrong.

The snow’s going to fall and the tree’s going to glisten. Everywhere around you was in a high, happy atmosphere, but you couldn’t seem to feel the same. All you knew was you’d puke at the thought of her kissing the boy who you once loved, the one who was in love with someone else.

Even after breaking the news to all your friends, they said it couldn’t be true, and you thought it was funny, that they were much more in denial than you were. They tried to console you by putting on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, huddling together under a large blanket with snacks on the side, but you could only think of how she reminded you of Cindy-Lou.

Cindy-lou showed the Grinch the real meaning of Christmas just as she had shown Sunghoon true love. Maybe all along he had never wanted to commit to you, and he had found something more in her. You should be happy now that your friends were around, but you were feeling the exact opposite. Everything reminded you of him and her both.

Cindy-lou, who?

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @shinrjj @kgneptun @ilovegyuvin @hyunniesvlog

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vizishereig · 6 months ago

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Could I get 19 (Vulnerable) for Chreon? :3

Okay, so, uhm. It’s a Chreon Beauty and the Beast AU that’s been floating in my brain. So yep. :D

19. Vulnerable

It’s snowing, Leon realizes, looking out one of the ornate windows of the castle. He had been idly leafing through one of the many books in the library for a while, finally deciding to put the book down and stretch. Chris had been leaving him alone for the most part, recently, despite the urging of Carlos and Jill.

He’s around, of course. Leon will sometimes catch sight of fur disappearing around corner or hear a huffed breath. But he’s been leaving him be after the mess that was dinner the other night.

Not that Leon blames him.

Despite Leon’s trespassing, Chris has been nothing but hospitable. Even after explaining that Leon would be unable to leave (some sort of curse? Leon still isn’t sure of the specifics, but nobody wants to talk to him about it) he tried his best to be as friendly as possible. Leon, on the other hand, had been freaked out. Which is a valid reaction to a person who looks more wolf than human and talking pieces of furniture.

Still, Leon’s been undoubtedly prickly, meeting every one of Chris’s attempts to befriend him with a sharp tongue and harsh words. He doesn’t want to let his guard down, especially not around anything here.

Now, though, he just feels like a dick.

He had… freaked out, at the dinner, to say the least. And Chris, in turn, had snapped at him before storming off. It had been a long time coming, and Leon was surprised it took this long. Something in his chest had felt vindicated, felt like something had been proven with the pissed off growling that Chris had directed at him before he left.

See? It had whispered at him. You can’t even get along with monsters. What does that make you?

He shakes his head, brushing the memory off. He hates this castle.

He feels vulnerable, flayed open whenever he has to interact with any of its residents. He feels warm when he’s around Chris, warm in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Those brown eyes make him want to let down his guard, and he just can’t do that. He hasn’t been able to do that in years.

He huffs, tossing a glance at the book one more time, before standing up and exiting the library, making his way to the front door of the castle.

He’s not at all dressed to deal with the cold, but he won’t be out there long. Just long enough to feel the bite of the cold on his cheeks and maybe catch some snowflakes in his hands. Anything to stop the whispers in his head and the trapped feeling that mounts each day.

He’s out the door soon enough, making his way towards a bench by the door and settling, feeling the wind cut through the much too thin fabric of his button up. He breathes in deeply and holds it, letting the tension drain from his body for the first time in a while. Snow falls peacefully, the world quiet aside from the soft sound of branches creaking in the wind.

The door is still open behind him, which is why he doesn’t hear Chris approaching until there’s a soft crunching sound of footsteps in the snow. He sighs softly, debating getting back up to go inside (he’s already shivering, he didn’t really think he’d get cold this quickly) when a heavy cloak is draped over his shoulders. Chris settles next to him on the bench soon after.

Leon blinks at the warm fabric, almost melting into it as he brings it tighter around himself. He recognizes it as one of Chris’s cloaks, which brings a flush to his face. The… man (?) in question was sitting quietly, golden-brown eyes looking at one of the many barren rosebushes around.

“Thank you,” Leon says, because it’s only polite. He should probably be saying more, apologizing, but something in the back of his head is still screaming danger at him, even if there is none. It’s not nearly as loud as it used to be, though.

Gold-brown eyes drift to look at him, and Chris nods, “Of course. Can’t have you freezing to death.”

Leon shrugs, looking away from Chris’s eyes. Snow is falling faster now, he finds, covering the slush that coated the ground before.

“We should probably head back inside,” Leon says after a bit, the wind now able to worm under the warmth of the cloak. Chris makes a small sound of agreement, standing.

They split up after they reenter the castle, Leon making his way back to his room and Chris going… wherever he goes. It takes Leon a while to remember that he still has Chris’s cloak draped over him and he finds himself unwilling to part with it.

It gets shoved in his closet, towards the back. If Chris asks, he could say he lost it.

There’s something knowing in Carlos’s eyes (well, as close to eyes as a candelabra can get) when he makes his way back to the library. He ignores it.

#chreon #resident evil #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #one word prompts #there you go!!!#sorry this took a while #but i think it came out nice :)

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glassofspoiledmilk · 10 months ago

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omg I was trying to send in a request but I'm not sure if it went through cuz my internet cut off😭😭 hope you're doing well though！

originally was asking for a Yuri Plisetsky x Reader🥲 s/o that's really enamored by him, blushes n gushes over him！would love to cling onto him all the time, but refrains from dumping too much physical affection :p sorry if the first one went through but I couldn't tell 😭

First kiss

“If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?”

WC: 0.9k

Synopsis: You and Yuri have been dating for a while, while you love physical affection…he seems to be a little hesitant. This refrained you from kissing him, but he decides to change that.

“Hey Yuri, would you wanna go out tonight?” I ask as I wipe the snow off my blade, a smile plastered on my face.

“Sure, I’ll have to check with Lilia though, you know how much of a bitch she can be” He scoffs as he unties his laces.

“Awe cmon you know it’s just cause she cares!” I say as I ruffles his hair lightly.

His faces blushes a sweet shade of pink.

“Yea I guess..” He says, averting my gaze.

I let out a slight laugh.

Yuri had never been too big on physical affection. He always gets incredibly embarrassed at the smallest things, like if I hold his hand or move a piece of hair out of his face.

However, this has stopped me from doing anything more than just hand holding, specifically kissing. I’ve always wanted to kiss him, but judging by the way he gets embarrassed, and the numerous amounts of time he’s told me about his dislike for physical affection, I’ve refrained from doing so.

“Where would you wanna go? I think there’s a new Italian place nearby, but I’ll have to check” I add as I throw my skates into my bag.

“Sure, sounds nice” he replies, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks.

“Wear something cute ok?~” I wink as I get up to leave.

“Yea yea…” he says, looking away with a much redder blush than before.

“Love you, bye!” I add as I start on my way out the door.

“Love you too..” he grumbles, trying hard to fight off a smile.

I walk down the surprisingly warm streets of St. Petersburg. Spring was setting in, and days were getting longer, the perfect date night setting might I add.

I push open the door to my house and walk up to my bedroom.

I tiredly plop down on my bed and change out of my sweaty practice clothes.

After throwing on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, I looked in my closet for something nice.

Even if he wasn’t able to go out tonight, I still wanted to be prepared.

I decided on a white and blue floral dress to match the spring aesthetic, along with a cute pair of white heels. As I lay the outfit out on my bed I get a notification from my phone.

I quickly pull it out of my pocket, and see a text from Yuri.

“Hey, Lilia’s ok with me going out, what time were you thinking?” It read.

“Maybe 5:00?” I replied.

“See you then” he responds.

I shut off my phone and smile to myself excitedly.

Before it know it, it’s 4:00.

I hop into the shower and quickly wash my hair before stepping into the dress I picked out earlier. I carefully applied my makeup and curled my hair before placing on my heels and walking out the door.

“Bye mom, I love you!” I yell as I step outside.

The walk to the restaurant was a short one, only a bit further than the ice rink.

The time was 5:01, and as I approached the restaurant I saw Yuri standing outside in a white button down, and black dress pants.

“Well don’t you look gorgeous!” I say, greeting him.

He smiles slightly.

“Could say the same for you” he says blushing, a slight nervous tone in his voice.

We step inside and are greeted by the hostess.

“Table for two please” I say with a smile.

She brings us to a table in the corner of the restaurant, next to a big window.

“Did you have to convince Lilia to let you come?” I ask as I sit down.

“Only a little, but I promised to do extra conditioning tomorrow so she let me go” he replies.

“She’s really that strict with you?” I laugh.

“Yea, she acts like she’s my mom” he rolls his eyes.

The waiter comes over and we order our drinks, I got soda, he got apple juice.

“Apple juice, how classy” I chuckle.

“And soda’s more appropriate?” He laughs.

“Touché” I smile.

There’s a beat of silence before Yuri speaks.

“You know, you look very…nice tonight” he says averting my gaze.

“Awe, thanks. You look exceptionally handsome tonight yourself” I smile, slightly shocked.

It wasn’t often Yuri gave sweet compliments like that, but when he does, he means it.

“Thanks..” he smiles, the familiar blush plastered on his face.

“You don’t usually say stuff like that, what’s up?” I ask with a smile.

“I-I don’t know…I guess I’m just happy to be with you…that’s all” he says genuinely.

I smile and brush a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

“I’m happy to be with you too Yuri~” I smile, still leaning forward.

There was a comforting silence, one where we could just look into each others eyes and understand what the other was saying without any words.

I felt his hand move hesitantly on the table, and then up to my face.

Before I knew it, he had pulled me in and kissed me.

I was caught off guard, but when I realized what was happening, I happily returned the action.

It was sweet and warm, and god I didn’t want it to end.

When he pulled away, I looked at him.

His eyes were wide, cheeks a fiery shade of red, and a lovesick look all over his face.

“Thank you..” I smile gently.

“No problem…” he replies with a slight smile.

And even though Yuri doesn’t show his emotions up front, you could tell he was happy.

A/N: I’m back! (Hopefully 😭) thank you anon for requesting 💞. I might start writing some criminal minds stuff so if any of you guys have any requests let me know! But other than that, happy reading!

#GUESS WHOS BACK 🔥🔥🔥#x reader #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #figure skating #oneshots #fluff imagine #yurio plisetsky #grand prix #italian #dinner date

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sparkles-and-trash · 1 year ago

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Pro Hero Hawks who, every day on his standard patrol route, passes by this little bakery with the most beautiful cakes and pastries in the window, and the most amazing smell sneaking it’s way out trough the door.

However, the hero never gets the chance to indulge, because every time he passed the small shop it was packed with people.

Like; a line out the door packed.

It didn’t help that due to the route he took, he usually passed the shop around lunchtime.

Still, every day Hawks found himself taking the time to stop and admire the displays in the window.

Every day there was a different theme, sometimes it was specific fruits and berries, and others it was colors, tastes, or even fictional characters.

So far Hawks’ favorite was the strawberry days.

So when he found himself in that part of town, without actually being on patrol after he just left a meeting with Eraser about his lil’ intern, he simply had to go check it out.

Embarrasingly, his heart did a little leap when he realized there was no line AND it was strawberry day.

This had to be his lucky day!

When Hawks gently pushed on the white painted door and entered the bakery the smell he had been spending so much time sneaking whiffs off hit him full force in the face, and for a second he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

The blond took a deep breath, and took a proper look around the room.

It wasn’t a big space, barley enough seating for four people in total; two by a small table in the far corner, and two on a bench looking out the window.

There’s nobody behind the counter, but the bell that chimed when he entered would probably change that pretty soon.

While he waited, Hawks got a good look at what he wanted, and just as he had landed on a strawberry scone and a piece of strawberry cheesecake, he heard the sound of someone walking out from the back.

«Sorry for the wait, we usually don’t get a lot of traffic at this time of day.»

Hawks smiled and looked up to answer, but sadly he never got that far.

Considering how much time he had spent thinking about the bakery itself, he had spent little to no time thinking about who might be running it.

He should have known.

Yeah, he should have known that a place like this had to be owned by a literal angel.

The man behind the counter was probably around Hawks’ own age, but a bit taller than him, with extremly fair, perfect porcelain skin.

Well, he did actually have some pretty severe scarring on what Hawks could see of his arms and neck under the t-shirt and apron, looked like old burn scars, but they only made him that more beautiful to Hawks.

His eyes were a striking turquoise/blue combination, and his messy, fluffy hair was white as snow.

When he spotted some tattoo’s and facial piercings Hawks thought he might actually die.

Just then he realized he’d been staring without answering for way too long, and fuck, shit, god, what the hell was he supposed to-

«Are you alright man?»

The sound of the raspy, dreamy voice broke Hawks out of the chaos in his mind, and he tried to turn on that old hero charm.

«Yeah, yes, it just, wow, it smells great? You know, in here? Probably the cakestries!»

…so it turned out that charm button didn’t work when he was face to face with the most beautiful man on the planet.

Good to know.

Said beautiful man looked at him for a few second, before a small smile tugged on his lips, and Hawks felt his face go impossibly hotter.

«Well, thank you for… that,» he said with a badly hidden chuckle.

«Did you happen to want one? A… caketry, that is?»

Hawks felt a self-councios smile tug at his lips, and he shrugged with a chuckle.

«Actually, yeah,» he said as calmly as he could, while he stuffed his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket

«Uhm, I figured maybe a scone? And a piece of the cheesecake?»

The baker looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

«If you’re sure?»

Hawks chuckled again and ran a hand trough his hair quickly.

Too quickly, as it got stuck in a tangle he didn’t know was there, and he had to yank it out.

«Yeah, I’m sure,» he said, and the man nodded with a smile and got started.

It was at that moment Hawks, with all his keen hero senses, first noticed that the man was wearing a nametag.

When the baker handed Keigo the two paper bags and told him his total, Hawks fumbled for his wallet and card, snd thankfully it went without a hitch.

«Thank you, Touya,» Hawks said with a smile and a nod to the nametag, and Touya smiled back.

«You’re welcome, Hawks,» he said with a wink, and Hawks tripped a little over his own feet as he moved to take the bags.

Hawks chuckled.

«Maybe I’ll even ask you eat here next time,» Touya winked, and Hawks barley managed to stop himself from letting a giggle escape.

In stead he clutched his precious paper bags and gave to most charming smile he could.

«Maybe I’ll say yes.»

#dabihawks #dabihawks au #Dabi #Hawks #toukei #Dabi x Hawks #Hawks x Dabi #Keigo takami #touya todoroki #Touya x Keigo #Keigo x Touya #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia

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tes-trash-blog · 11 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering for a while and decided to ask the expert: How do you think Auri-El worship and understanding of him differed between Altmer, Falmer and Ayleids? What little surviving imagery of Falmer's version of him doesn't seem to have any bird imagery unlike the other two races, instead depicting him as a full elf, so I'm wondering what your take on it is.

Excellent question anon! So excellent I spent a few days mulling it over, looking through notes, and even made a few headcanons along the way. The main points are in bold:

The only Falmeric depictions of Auri-El in the canon are in Skyrim and, to an extent, ESO. The Skyrim depiction is the Elven statue with the vaguely dragonbone-looking robes, whereas the Font of Auri-El has this lovely codex:

[I/D: A yellowed piece of paper headlined with "Ugron gro-Thumog", an Antiquarian in Solitude, reads: "Auri-El, by the looks of it. Seems a little abstract, honestly. Elves make a point of including Elven likenesses in their shrines to reinforce their familiar connections to the Divines. This probably rested near a statue of the Chief Divine himself."]

The font in ESO is a giant wayshrine-like structure with the symbol of Auri-El, a sun with eight curved flares, glowing gently in the center. This symbol is also seen in Skyrim, atop the wayshrines along the Chantry.

Notably, there are no statues of Auri-El, Elvish or otherwise, near these wayshrines in the Chantry. Which is the place made specifically for Auri-El worship. It's entirely possible that the sun was the default, with animal aspects taking on a more specific or diplomatic connotation; I can see the Falmer using the Eagle or even the Dragon to explain their faith to Atmorans.

My headcanon is that Elvish depictions of the Divines were based on the current Prince of that Divine. The Elf you see in the Chantry is, in my interpretation, a depiction of the Snow Prince who reigned when the Chantry was being built. Given that he's bald, it's possible that he was newly anointed as Prince.

Building on the previous bullet point, one of my longest held headcanons about the Falmer is that they were the most spiritual of the Elvish races, which is reflected in their iconography. Instead of conflating their visage with actual gods, they opted for abstractions and symbols as the gods simply do not take a mortal form. A mortal form is made from material, and that means material wants and material burdens; they shed all that! That's how they ascended in the first place!

Some exceptions exist. The Demigod Mara sacrificed her divinity to remain on Nirn, and so she was often depicted as either a mortal or a wolf.

This... differs quite a bit from the Altermic and Ayeild depictions of Auri-El, with the Altmer leaning heavily towards "Elven DILF" and the Ayleids using both Elven and animal aspects, sometimes at the same time.

The Ayeildoon statue of Auri-El is at Garlas Malatar, which is notably where Meridian champion Umaril the Unfeathered made his lair. I may or may not have extensive headcanons on the implications.

The Auri-El statue in the Forgotten Vale and the one in Alinor's Temple of the Divines look eerily alike. I am chalking this up to asset recycling.

#look what rolled in the trash bin #thank you for the lovely ask anon #it was nice to go through my notes and compile them #i'm always on my snow elf bullshit #the elder scrolls #skyrim #eso #auri-el

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rallamajoop · 2 years ago

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Resident Evil Village: A needlessly detailed hour-by-hour timeline

Say what you like about Ethan Winters, that man can get a heck of a lot done in a day. Roughly the complete events of Resident Evil Village, just for a start – the timeline’s actually pretty clear on that front. Ethan stumbles into the village just before dawn on February 9, and fights his final boss battle with Miranda at just about the same time on February 10, the following day.

Look, he’s got a daughter to rescue, okay, he’ll sleep when he’s dead (almost literally, in fact – that period just before dawn after Miranda rips his heart out is all the shut-eye he gets).

Exactly what time everything happens within that day is a little less obvious – so naturally, it’s only after I’ve already posted a whole fic that kind of hinges on building a semi-complete timeline of every memorable injury Ethan receives that I went back to the game and realised, oh shit, there actually are specific times of day spelled out all over the place! There are clocks in some buildings, diary entries complete with date and time – and it (mostly) all stacks up!

I mean, up to a point – somewhere in Donna’s house, things get weird. But I don’t think that part will really surprise anyone.

And since I’ve already spent way too long piecing together disparate clues for my timeline posts about the ages of the four lords and when the Mia/Miranda switcheroo happened in the days leading up to the game, what the hell – let’s take it one level finer, and look at the hour-to-hour events of the game itself.

Our first major source is the in-game diary, which you can access via the maps page. I wouldn't take this thing too literally – I really doubt Ethan’s actually sitting down every so often to write about his day and sketch detailed pictures of whatever shit he’s just seen – it’s more here just to summarise recent events for any player who accidentally skipped some cutscenes or wants a quick refresher.

Times in the diary aren’t very precise, just ‘dawn’, ‘early morning’, etc, but they map out a rough series of events.

Dawn (or probably some time before dawn): Ethan wakes up after the truck crash in the forest Early Morning: Ethan reaches the village, encounters the old hag, etc Morning: Ethan reaches Luiza’s house, is put on trial by Miranda, escapes and reaches the castle Noon: Ethan escapes the castle and the Duke sends him on his quest Afternoon: Ethan defeats Donna and Moreau, and battles through the stronghold. Evening: Ethan sets off for Heisenberg’s factory, meets Chris, battles Heisenberg, etc Dawn: Final battle with Miranda

I’d have called it the middle of the night by the time Ethan finally battles Heisenberg, but the slight timeskip to dawn does make sense, since Ethan spends some time dead in the gap there. Also, damn, that was one busy afternoon! (Especially if you’re me, and squeezing all the optional bosses and side-areas into your schedule.) But maybe we can take it that not much actual time passes in Donna’s house – who knows how long hallucinations take in real time?

Anyway, those are the broad strokes, let’s get to finer detail: clocks!

The first clocks you’ll see in the game show up in the Winters’ home, both putting the time of day at 7:34 PM. Time for dinner, and to put the baby to bed.

There are no clocks available when Ethan wakes up in the snow in the dark, but the sun rises while he’s in the first hut you encounter just outside the village. The Internet would lead me to believe that sunrise in Romania in February is around 7:15 AM, so nearly 12 hours have gone by since our opening scene. So either that was a very long drive, or Ethan spent a lot of hours wandering in the woods in the dark, or he was "unconscious" for a long while after the truck rolled over (but then, I already got to share a few of my own theories about that one in that fic I mentioned above, so I get to feel validated there. *g*)

Note that Miranda also holds her ceremony to divide Rose into four crystalline pieces at dawn. The lycan attack on the village seems to have started before dawn even breaks (and I can only assume it's over by the time Eugen staggers home, presumably in too much of a funk to even notice, because there's no mention of it in his diary. But shhh, don't think too hard about that one).

As Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village and sees his first view of the castle, an attentive gamer will hear a clock strike 8 times, so it's 8AM. Given the sun's just peaking over the mountains, that would about fit too.

There are no clocks that I’ve found in the village proper, probably so the devs don’t have to worry about updating them as the day progresses (though the light and position of the sun certainly changes through the day). But once you make it into the castle, there are clocks everywhere.

Most are either the large grandfather model…

…or the small, mantelpiece model.

There are also a couple of really small ones of a third model, which you can find in castle saferooms.

And they all tell roughly the same time, which is… er, 10:00? 10:05? 10:30?

Seriously, look at these things: the minute hands are pointing to the 5 (or 12 on the mantlepiece model, suggesting someone hasn’t synchronised their clocks perfectly), but the hour hands are consistently stuck midway between 10 and 11, which suggests it should be 10:30. But maybe this is just the devs' way of hedging their bets about the fact time passes while Ethan's in the castle. Or maybe this is just what happens when you eat the guy who comes in to do clock repairs before he’s even finished.

Still, let’s take this basically at face value: Ethan enters the castle around 10AM, and is out again by around noon (as per the diary).

Our next time-of-day indicator isn’t a clock, but the diary left by Chris’ team on the computer that shows up in the church.

So, sounds like the team legitimately arrived while Ethan was in the castle, around 11:35 AM. Presumably, Ethan isn’t supposed to be able to find the computer until after 1:10 PM (time of the latest entry). And while I'm here, I just have to point to that "Found evidence of EW" line ‒ found what evidence? A bunch of broken crates and dead lycans? A wallet dropped while frantically reloading his gun? Two severed fingers? We'll never know.

Also, for those keeping track: it is 100% canon that in the time Ethan needs to take out both Donna and Moreau, clear out the stronghold, battle his way through the factory, and defeat Sturm, all Chris has managed to do is futz around the factory for a bit, mess around with an old tank, and not-quite-finish planting explosives. Pff, loser. (Okay, I tell a lie ‒ he also shows up in the reservoir, so maybe he just procrastinated and hung out with his friends for a few hours instead of actually getting to the one job he promised everyone he was actually going to do. C'mon, we've all done it.)

Moving on, there are more clocks waiting for us in Donna’s domain, but here’s where things get… weird.

To begin with, the first clock you can find (ticking loudly by the stairs) thinks it’s 6 o’clock. Whether this is AM or PM, neither makes any sense here. But the fact it’s ticking suggests it’s working, and the time doesn’t change after Donna is dead and her hallucination-flowers are all wilted, so… I don’t know, maybe Donna and Angie just don’t live in the same mental time zone as the rest of us. Or maybe the devs just didn’t bother changing clock.asset from its default setting.

Downstairs, in the basement, you can find another clock in the workroom, and it’s not 6:00 down here, but 9:21. Again, the time doesn’t change as events progress.

More interesting is a smaller clock you might spot on a table in the hall on your way down, next to a lantern and a bowl of rotten fruit, which shows yet another different time.

What makes this little elaborate-portico-model clock interesting, though, is that it’s an asset from RE7 – cap below comes from the Baker house.

And like every clock in RE7, the one in Donna's house shows 10:15. The attentive player may even remember this, since in RE7 that time was part of a puzzle.

It’s not the only call-back you’ll find to RE7 down here – the ringing phone is other one I caught, very reminiscent of Zoe’s calls from RE7. The phone's actually not a reused asset, though – the RE8 version has an old-fashioned rotary dial, where the RE7 phones had buttons, making them substantially more modern.

I was thinking there were more RE7 assets down in this section – the torn floral wallpaper in a run-down corridor definitely has RE7-vibes, and the horror potential of sending Ethan back through a literal scene from his nightmares goes without saying. But I couldn’t find anything specific that was reused. Even the fuse-box puzzles use completely different assets.

Which all begs the question, are we supposed to notice that clock as an intentional callback on Ethan’s Hallucinatory Journey? Or is it just a casually reused asset without greater meaning?

In all honesty, I would not have noticed the portico-clock came from RE7 if I hadn’t seen it pointed out in a Reddit thread somewhere – and if we are supposed to notice it, it’s not the model I’d have chosen. The large grandfather clocks from RE7 are far more memorable (and, impressively, distinct from both the large-grandfather-clock models found in RE8). The portico clock is used in a couple of different places, but isn't super-memorable, and is easily missed.

You can find it there in the Daughter’s DLC as well (prequel set before the events of the game), though there it and all other clocks have been dutifully adjusted to show a different time (7:22PM).

What's much stranger is that there are actually two of these clocks in Ethan’s home back at the start of the game. And they read 10:15 there too, even though the main wall clocks read 7:34.

Heck, I even found this damn thing down in the Umbrella facility in the remake of RE2, still reading 10:15.

So… yeah, I’m gonna have to go with ‘clumsily reused asset’ for all appearances of this clock in RE8. And having now spent way too long down the mad rabbit-hole that is the clocks of House Beneviento, I'm forced to conclude: nothing means anything, everything is just here to fuck with me, and for all I know Ethan stumbles out of this place before he ever went in, IDEK.

It doesn't help that post-House Beneviento, I found no clocks anywhere, nor any more documents citing time-of-day. None in Moreau’s Reservoir, none in Heisenberg’s Factory (which doesn’t mean there aren’t any I didn’t catch, but I was definitely looking for them).

The sun’s pretty clearly setting by the time Ethan reaches the factory, and it’s set by the time you fight Heisenberg. What time of night it is while Chris is doing his mad run through the village is anyone’s guess, but presumably a bunch of hours go by somewhere, since the whole night has passed before our showdown. But then, as already established, Chris is a guy who can canonically burn most of his afternoon lost in one factory (granted, the place is one hell of a maze), so maybe he does the same down in the village.

The important thing is that the Duke’s here to get Ethan to his appointment with Miranda at dawn ‒ cue ending sequence and credits.

So, for those keeping track, here's the 'complete' hour-by-hour timeline for Resident Evil Village, as close as we can track it.

February 8 7:34 PM: Opening scene. Chris burst into the Winters' home, kills "Mia" and kidnaps Ethan and Rose.

February 9 Pre-dawn: Ethan wakes up next to the crashed truck. Lycan attack on the village begins. Dawn (around 7:15 AM): Miranda holds her ceremony to crystalise Rose and divide her into four pieces

8:00 AM: Ethan reaches the outskirts of the village, explores, encounters the the lycans and the old hag, etc Morning: Ethan reaches Luiza’s house, is put on trial by Miranda, escapes and reaches the castle 10:00 AM (approx): Ethan reaches the castle 11:35 AM: Chris' team arrives on site 12:10 PM: Chris' team infiltrates the village Noon (approx): Ethan defeats Dimitrescu and escapes the castle, and the Duke sends him on his quest 01:10 PM: Chris' team establish their base in the church and split up to investigate separately Afternoon: Ethan defeats Donna and Moreau, and battles through the stronghold Evening: Ethan sets off for Heisenberg’s factory, meets Chris, battles Heisenberg, etc Night: Chris fights his way through the village and discovers Mia in Miranda's lab

February 10 Pre-dawn: Ethan wakes up in the Duke's wagon Dawn (around 7:15 AM): Final battle with Miranda

So... yeah. Up to early afternoon on the 9th, the timeline here is surprisingly detailed. And considering what a chaotic fairy-tale mind-fuck of a game this thing is, that's actually pretty impressive. But beyond Donna's House of Extreme Mindfuckery, Ethan has lost all track of what's going on in his life, and I think we can all forgive him for that.

And now I will never be able to walk past a clock in an RE game without getting the urge to take a screenshot again.

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #Resident Evil timeline #meta #Ethan Winters

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acaplaya-musings · 1 month ago

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12 Days of Christmas - Day 11

Title: Party Of Your Yuletide Day 11 – Christmas party/ball Fandom: VoicePlay (part of my Fantasy AU, and the last part of #The Dragon’s Winter narrative) Warnings: N/A Word Count: 5,170 (longest chapter I've written of any fic I'm pretty sure!)

(story below cut!)

“Mmm, good morning, Kath,” said Geoff as he was gently awoken by his fiancée.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” said Kathy, moving closer to kiss him. “And happy Yuletide!”

“Happy Yuletide to you too,” said Geoff, kissing her on the cheek. “Cesar should be bursting down the door any second now to make sure we haven’t forgotten!”

Kathy giggled. “Oh don’t worry about that,” she replied, “I actually had a talk with the others, asking them to keep it down in and around the bedrooms this morning, and not to expect us downstairs for breakfast – I was thinking we could have it brought to us instead?”

Geoff’s face brightened with interest. “Breakfast in bed? Really?” he asked. “It must be a special day!”

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

A little later, when Geoff and Kathy had just begun heading downstairs to join the others, they were quite surprised to see that it was snowing inside the castle. Except… Wait… It wasn’t quite like regular snow, and when Geoff held out his hand, a piece of ‘snow’ faded into thin air as it touched his palm, a mere illusion.

“What do you think?” said Eli, coming over to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve just been practising and trying out some spells for the party tonight!”

“Very impressive!” Geoff replied as he and Kathy descended down to him. “And happy Yuletide!”

“There you both are! Finally!” said Cesar, appearing from the dining room with Layne. He ran up and threw his arms around Geoff and Kathy in a quick hug. “Happy Yuletide!” He stepped back. “Also, Geoff, while I remember, uh, I’ve got an idea for your solo performance!”

“Yeah? What sort of idea?”

Cesar looked away. “Uh, well, so you’re doing ‘Winter Wonderland’, right? Yeah so obviously it’s your performance, your big moment and all that, but I was thinking, uh, if maybe we could take one of the verses? Like Layne, Eli, and me, I mean. Just one verse! Specifically the second snowman verse, like the whole ‘in the meadow we can build a snowman’, like the second one of that, um, yeah.”

Geoff shrugged. “Sure, go ahead, so long as you can follow along with the piano melody,” he replied. “Do you wanna practice it when we do some final rehearsals this afternoon?”

“I think we’ll be good, don’t worry,” said Cesar. “I kinda wanna keep it as a surprise.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘surprise’?” he asked. “What exactly are you planning, and how ‘surprising’ am I going to find it?”

Kathy squeezed his hand. “It’s alright, Cesar told me about the idea the other day,” she said. “It’s truly nothing to be concerned about – just a bit of entertaining fun in the spirit of Yuletide!”

“Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it, then!” said Geoff.

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

In Voludera, lunch was the main meal on the day of Yuletide (for those attending the party at night, anyway), and both Geoff and Layne were more than willing to volunteer to help begin meal preparations, while the others went to get the dining room ready and set the table.

For a little while, Geoff and Layne worked together in comfortable quiet, with Layne preparing pastry for the mince pies, while Geoff got ingredients ready for the roast meats. Then Layne spoke up.

“I’ve always wanted to perform at the Yuletide party, you know,” said Layne, in a soft tone of voice, as if admitting a secret.

“Yeah?” said Geoff. “Did you never get a chance to before or something?”

Layne shrugged. “More like I just never really bothered to pursue the idea,” he replied. “I mean like, even if I did get an opportunity, there’d be of course the matter of what would I perform, and how would I do it, and what if it went badly? It was always just easier to just leave it as a vague dream.” By this point both he and Geoff had paused what they were doing and were leaning up against one of the kitchen worktables as they talked.

“What about Cesar?” asked Geoff. “He’s friends with Omar, right? And he definitely seems to have a love for performing – hasn’t he ever tried to get involved in Yuletide stuff?”

Layne shook his head. “You’d have to talk to Cesar to ask about his exact mindset, but like, you know what we’ve said about the party having the same people do the same stuff for multiple years! What reason did we have to think that we could possibly bring something new to it?” Layne looked down, but then smiled as he looked back up at Geoff. “But then you came along.”

Geoff couldn’t help but give a snort of laughter. “Oh please, Cesar was the one with the idea, not me!”

“Yeah, but you almost definitely helped plant that idea in his brain!”

“What, because of the performance thing for Athelmar?”

“Well, yeah! But also…” Layne hesitated and looked away, as if lacking the ability to finish his sentence out loud. “Well, uh, anyway, we better keep going with the food preparation stuff.”

“Of course,” Geoff replied, smiling at Layne in a way to indicate that he understood the gist of the words left unspoken. “We better not leave the others waiting on us for too long!”

A few minutes later, Geoff and Layne returned to the dining room, after leaving the actual cooking and serving tasks to the hands of the kitchen staff. While the group waited on lunch, it was time for the exchanging of gifts. Geoff got a new winter coat from Cesar, and a few new books filled with wintery tales from Layne. From Eli, Geoff received a small glass sphere mounted on a brightly painted stand. If one were to gently shake the sphere, it would send up a flurry of what looked like tiny flecks of snow, which would then slowly drift down towards a miniature castle, sitting atop a blanket of white. And from Kathy, Geoff was given a framed drawing, one which Geoff immediately recognized as Kathy’s own creation. The drawing was of Geoff himself, but twice over: on the left side, his dragon form, and on the right side his human form, facing each other as if one was a mirror reflection of the other.

“These are all amazing gifts, thank you all so much!” said Geoff. He decided to wear the new coat to the Yuletide Party, and he was already planning on finding space on his bedside table for both the snow globe and the artwork. Finding a spot in the library for the new books might be a bit more of a challenge, but that would have to wait for another time, because now, lunch was just about to be served.

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

The guys didn’t spend too long resting their full stomachs after they finished eating, as they quickly headed up to the Music Room for final group rehearsals. Then everyone got changed into their nicest winter clothing for a quick dress rehearsal, before Eli, Layne, and Cesar had to leave to help with the party set-up in the village.

“Come down around sunset! Or when you see the village start to light up!” Cesar said to Geoff and Kathy as he left with Layne and Eli.

“Then come find one of us when you do – we’ll probably be hanging around the main square!”

“We’ll be with you before you know it!” Geoff replied.

“See you in a little bit!”

“Bye!”

“Well, I might as well go do some final rehearsals of my own solo thing,” said Geoff once it was just him and Kathy left in the castle. “I don’t suppose you can give me any hints about this ‘surprise’ Cesar is planning for during my song, maybe?”

Kathy gestured for Geoff to bend down as if she was going to whisper in his ear, but when Geoff did so, he received a kiss on the cheek instead.

“Sorry,” said Kathy with a small giggle, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!” Geoff chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess I’ll just try not to think about it for the time being, then,” he said.

“Probably for the best,” Kathy replied, smiling.

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

Once Geoff was as satisfied as he could be with his song rendition, he and Kathy went outside and found a bench within the castle grounds to sit down on, where they could cuddle up and watch as the sun sank down to the horizon and beyond, leaving pastel hues of pink, purple, and blue as it went.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to start walking down,” said Geoff once the village was glowing as brightly as he remembered from his glimpse of it many winters ago.

“Yes, I do believe this is our cue,” Kathy replied, noticing a line of small golden lights, floating in the air and forming a trail up the roadway, stopping at the castle gates.

Geoff chuckled when he saw what Kathy was referring to. “They certainly spare no effort!” He stood up and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

Kathy took Geoff’s hand and stood up as well. “We shall.”

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

Geoff and Kathy first found Layne, who was down one of the village side-streets, while engaged in conversation with a blonde-haired woman. Geoff was about to go over to him, but Kathy held up a hand.

“Just hang on a minute,” she said quietly, looking over at Layne with a knowing smile on her face.

“Huh?” said Geoff. “What do you mean? …Oh.”

Geoff had witnessed Layne talking to other Voluderians on many an occasion, whether in his role as a Royal Knight, or simply as someone looking to buy things and/or strike up a casual conversation. This, however, appeared to be a scenario of a somewhat different kind.

Geoff chuckled quietly. “Well, whaddya know?”

After another moment or two, Layne looked over and noticed Geoff and Kathy standing off to the side.

“Maybe I’ll see you later tonight?” said Layne to the woman.

“Well I’ll certainly be seeing you later tonight, by the sounds of it!” the woman replied with a friendly grin. “I’ll be cheering you on!” Then, with a wave farewell, she turned and headed up the side-street, disappearing amongst the gathering crowd further into the village. Layne waved back as he watched her leave, his cheeks tinted an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

“Making new friends, are we?” Geoff asked with a teasing smirk as he strolled over to his friend.

Layne rolled his eyes. “Hilarious,” he replied flatly. “I’m just engaging with the community, helping to spread festive cheer, that sort of thing!”

“Oh yes, you looked very engaged!” Geoff remarked, casually resting his elbow on Layne’s shoulder. “Are you gonna ask her to dance at some point tonight?”

“I’m not really a dancer,” Layne replied, removing Geoff’s arm from his shoulder, “and plus there’s a lot of people here, I dunno, it probably won’t happen.”

“We can keep an eye out for her if you’d like!” said Geoff, and Kathy nodded in agreement. “And don’t worry about the dancing – just fake it till you make it! Copy other people, and act like you know what you’re doing, you’ll be fine!”

Layne gave a small shrug and looked away. “Yeah, whatever, let’s just go find Eli and Cesar,” he said, turning and heading in the direction of the main square. Geoff and Kathy exchanged small, knowing smiles between each other, before following behind him.

Layne, Geoff, and Kathy found Eli and Cesar in the main square, talking with a man whom Geoff assumed to be Omar.

“Hey, does he look a little familiar to you?” Geoff said to Kathy.

“Wasn’t he the guy that hosted the… y’know, the event that neither of us were expected to be attending?”

“I do believe he is,” Kathy replied. “Cesar did say he was involved in many village events, after all.”

Omar lit up as he saw Geoff and Kathy approaching.

“Hey, you must be Geoff! It’s so great to finally meet you properly!” he said, shaking Geoff’s hand. “And Lady Kathryn, I presume? A pleasure to meet you as well!” He did a short bow. “I was just talking with Eli and Cesar here about how the show is gonna work! So I’ve slotted you guys in as the third performance of the night; that’ll give people enough time to settle in and get into the party spirit before you go on, and then you’ll have plenty of time left in the rest of the night to enjoy the party for yourselves!”

Geoff nodded. “Okay, will you be calling us up to introduce us first? We haven’t actually come up with a group name or anything like that,” he said.

“Nah don’t worry,” replied Omar, “not all group acts have one, and we usually skip the introductions for the Yuletide party anyway. Though with that being said, you’ll be going up after The Five Tonics – your friends know who I’m talking about.” Layne, Eli, and Cesar all nodded. “Come to the side of the stage when they’re about midway or so through their set – they’ll be doing 5 songs – and I’ll explain more to you guys then. But for now, I need to go and get this night started!” And then with a casual salute, Omar turned and made his way over to the stage set up at one end of the square.

“Man, I can’t believe we’re going right after The Five Tonics!” said Cesar. “Like gosh, no pressure or anything!”

“Are they professionals?” Geoff asked with genuine curiosity.

“Objectively, yes,” replied Layne, with a nonchalant shrug.

“They’re fairly popular at The Palace, but Yuletide is what they’re really known for,” added Cesar.

“Eh, I always thought they were lacking just a little something,” said Layne. But before Geoff could ask any more questions, Omar’s voice rang out across the square.

“Good evening Voludera!” Omar called out. The people mingling about went quiet, and some people gathered closer to the stage where Omar was standing. “I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Day Of Yuletide, and now it’s time to finish it off the best way we know how: with Voludera’s annual Yuletide Party!” There were a few whoops and cheers from the crowd. “If you’ve been to one of these before, we’ve got the same great lineup of performances for you as previous years, but if you stay close by for now, then very soon you’re gonna see some newcomers to the stage, with a few extra songs thrown into the mix!”

“Does that count as an introduction?” asked Geoff quietly.

“Might as well spark some interest in the crowd!” Kathy replied.

Omar kept talking. “…But for now, grab some food, grab some friends and loved ones, and get ready for an awesome night!”

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

Geoff, Kathy, Eli, Layne, and Cesar returned to the main square after following Omar’s suggestion of grabbing some food (“you shouldn’t perform on an empty stomach!” Layne had said). The first act, a band which had played some Yuletide-themed instrumental tunes, was just packing up their things, and Geoff looked over to the side of the stage where the next act was waiting, a group consisting of four men and one woman.

“Are they The Five Tonics?” Geoff asked Cesar.

Cesar nodded. “They sure are!” he replied. “They’re not even from Voludera, actually, but they show up every year here to perform!”

“Do they not have their own Yuletide equivalent in their kingdom?”

“They do, but their main winter event is on a different day to ours, I think.”

The Five Tonics walked up onto the now-cleared stage and were met with a fair degree of cheering.

“Oh the weather outside is frightful, But the fire is so delightful, And since we’ve no place to go, Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

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

When The Five Tonics began the third song of their set, Geoff and the others walked over to the side of the stage where Omar was waiting for them.

“So you guys are doing Sleigh Ride followed by Jingle Bell Rock, correct?” asked Omar. The group nodded. “Well, I’m happy to provide a bit of backing instrumentals if you need it!” He patted the top of the harpsichord he was standing next to.

“That would be perfect, thanks!” said Cesar.

“Yeah, but don’t start playing immediately,” said Layne, “you’ll know the right cue, I’m sure.”

“Duly noted!” said Omar. “Oh, and Geoff, I heard that you were in need of a piano for your solo performance afterwards?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I didn’t think about bringing mine down,” Geoff replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Omar laughed. “Don’t worry, there’s one waiting for you behind the stage. We managed to find one in The Palace, and it’s been properly tuned and ready to go for you!”

“Thanks, Omar,” Geoff replied, “but let’s deal with that some more after these first two songs.”

“Are you nervous at all?” Kathy asked Geoff.

“I dunno, maybe a little?” Geoff replied. “I can definitely feel my heart beating harder and quicker than usual.”

“It’s okay to be nervous!” said Cesar. “It just means that you’re getting fully prepared for your big moment!”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that really makes sense or not.”

Cesar shrugged. “Eh, it’s just what I’ve heard a couple of times at The Palace, and I thought it sounded good,” he replied.

There was much cheering and applause from the crowd as The Five Tonics finished their last song for the night. They really had been quite impressive; their performance looked like it had been practiced a million times over, and even their bows and their walk off the stage looked rehearsed.

“Good luck, all of you!” said Kathy. “I’m sure you’re all gonna be amazing!”

Geoff bent down for a quick good-luck kiss from Kathy, and then helped Omar and Layne carry the harpsichord up on stage. There was some intrigued whispering and murmuring from the crowd as Geoff, Layne, Cesar, and Eli took their starting positions at the back of the stage, while Omar sat down at the harpsichord.

The four of them waited until the crowd had become quieter, and then, with a collective nod, Eli stepped forward, now illuminated by light, and began singing a slowed-down rendition of the first song.

“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring, ting, tingling too…”

Some of the crowd looked around in mild confusion as they heard the sound of sleigh bells, but couldn’t place where they were coming from, and Geoff couldn’t help but grin in amusement, knowing that the true source was currently standing right next to him.

Cesar stepped forward and took the next line.

“Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with youuuu…”

Then it was Layne’s turn.

“Outside the snow is falling, and friends are calling to you…”

Then finally, Geoff stepped forward for his part.

“Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with youuuu…”

There had been some discussion during early rehearsals about Geoff using his ‘Dragon Voice’ so early on into the performance, with Geoff being the main voice of uncertainty. He had been unsure whether or not it would even fit well into the song at that point, but Layne had argued that it would be a strong attention-grabber if nothing else.

And indeed, there were small gasps of shock and awe from the crowd as Geoff rumbled out the last part of the line.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Cesar gave the cue.

“A-one-two-three-four-five!”

Omar didn’t miss a beat as the performance suddenly doubled in energy.

“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too! Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you! Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling to you! Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!”

As Geoff bopped along to the song and jumped from lead vocals to backing vocals and harmonies and back again, he had a split-second realization that he wasn’t nervous now; he was actually quite enjoying himself. And when the first song came to an end, the audience were already clapping and cheering, even though they had another group song left to go.

For the second song, Geoff and his friends began side-by-side at the front of the stage, beginning the song with a group chorus of ‘ooo’s, except for Layne, who did his sleigh bells impression again, resulting in a ripple of surprise and wonderment from the crowd.

“…That’s the jingle bell!” “That’s the jingle bell!” “That’s the jingle bell rooooock!” “Jingle bell rock!”

The audience clapped and cheered in absolute delight as the four singers onstage took their bows, each of them giddy with happiness from such a resounding success. But Geoff couldn’t quite yet go and enjoy himself with the rest of the partygoers, for now it was time for his solo performance.

Geoff helped carry the harpsichord off the stage, and then Cesar helped provide an extra set of hands for carrying up the piano; him, Omar, and Layne on one side, and Geoff on the other.

There was more murmuring and whispering from the crowd as Geoff sat down at the piano, and Geoff could feel his heart pounding in his chest again. But he just took a deep breath in, smiled over at Kathy and his friends, and then focused on the keys in front of him, before he started to sing.

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, Walking in a winter wonderland.”

Geoff had decided to not lean too heavily on his Dragon Voice for his performance. He wanted his singing to be appreciated on its own merit; to be appraised the way any regular human singer would be. And besides, he had found that he could sing quite sweetly when he went a little higher, or so Kathy said, anyway.

“Gone away is the bluebird, Here to stay is a new bird. He sings a love song, as we go along, Walking in a winter wonderland.”

…But with that being said, he still couldn’t help but slip in just a couple or so Dragon Voice moments into the song, for his own amusement as much as for anyone else’s.

“In the meadow we can build a snowman, Then pretend that he is Parson Brown He'll say, ‘Are you married?’ We'll say, ‘not yet!’”

A few people chuckled, and Geoff flashed a cheeky grin over at Kathy. “…But you can do the job when you're in town!

Later on, we'll conspire, As we dream by the fire To face unafraid, The plans that we've made, Walking in a winter wonderland.”

Geoff relaxed a little as he took the song to a brief piano-only section. He spared a glance at Layne, Eli, and Cesar, all still standing with Kathy at the side of the stage. He hadn’t forgotten about Cesar’s ‘request’, but he couldn’t see anything that gave him any idea of what his friends were planning to do. And so, Geoff just kept on playing, and did his best to maintain focus on the keys when Layne walked onstage and began to sing, but the words certainly weren’t what Geoff had seen in the songbook.

“In the forest you may find a dragon…”

Eli walked up in time to take the next part.

“…but lacking any claws or horns or wings.”

Then Cesar came on.

“You should get to know this friendly dragon…”

Geoff was thankful to be able to at least partially rely on muscle memory for that section, as Kathy then walked up onstage to finish the verse.

“…and if you’re lucky you may even hear him sing!”

There were some brief cheers from the crowd, and Geoff had to summon a great deal of willpower to very quickly regain some composure, knowing that the song was yet to be completed.

“When it snows, ain't it thrilling? Though your nose gets a chilling.”

With a few quick looks and specifically-directed head movements, Geoff silently beckoned for Kathy to come sit next to him on the piano stool, and for Layne, Eli, and Cesar to stay up on the stage as well.

“We'll frolic and play, the Voludera way, Walking in a winter wonderland.”

Layne, Eli, and Cesar joined in to harmonise on the repeat of the last line, following Geoff’s silent directions.

“Walking in a winter wonderland. Walking… in a winter… won-der-laaaaand!”

As Geoff played the very final notes of the song, there was a single second of quiet, before the audience erupted into applause, with cheers, whoops, and whistles. Geoff stood up for another round of bows, and found that his legs were a little shaky. Then he followed Kathy and his friends off of the stage, hoping that whoever had brought the piano down from The Palace to the village could also help take it away.

The group of five found a spot off to the side, a little away from the main gathering area, and no sooner had they stopped walking than Cesar gathered everyone into a tight group hug.

“Guys! That was the best thing ever! You all did incredible!” he said. He released his embrace and looked at Geoff with a thoroughly-pleased grin. “Did you like the surprise?”

“I certainly didn’t know what to expect, that’s for sure!” Geoff replied, exhilaration still coursing through his body. “But I loved it, I really did. How did you come up with it? When…? Who…?”

Layne raised a hand modestly. “It wasn’t really intended to be anything at first,” he said. “I was just singing it to myself one day, coming up with alternate lyrics, just for my own amusement, that’s all, but then Cesar heard some of it.”

“I thought it was really cute and sweet!” said Cesar. “So I encouraged Layne to keep going with it, and I knew you’d really like it too if you heard it!”

Geoff threw an arm around Cesar’s shoulders affectionately. “You don’t do anything by half, do you?” he said with a laugh. “What if I had said no to your ‘request’, out of curiosity?”

Cesar shrugged. “Probably would’ve just sung it to you during final rehearsals, maybe,” he said. “But I’m so glad you said yes!”

Geoff then turned his attention to Kathy. “And how exactly did you get involved, not that I’m complaining?” he asked.

Kathy smiled. “Simple, Cesar asked me, and how could I refuse?” she replied.

Geoff moved over to kiss the top of her head. “Well I absolutely loved it, thank you, all of you,” he said.

Then Omar came rushing over to them.

“Oh. My. Gods! You guys were fantastic! You absolutely killed it up there!” he cried delightedly. “Like I was sure you were all gonna be good, but you were totally amazing! Honestly if you’re not careful, I might ask you guys to come and be part of the Yuletide Party setlist next year too!”

“Well, you sometimes help organise other events and festivals and such in town as well, don’t you?” asked Geoff. “I’m not gonna confirm anything for certain, but perhaps you could keep us in mind for that sort of thing as well?” Eli, Layne, and Cesar all nodded in keen agreement.

Omar grinned. “I definitely will!” he replied. “But c'mon! There's still plenty of night left! Go and enjoy yourselves! You've earned it!”

Some of the partygoers in the square were beginning to pair up as the current act began their next song.

“The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing, But I can weather the storm! What do I care, how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm!”

Geoff bowed towards Kathy and offered his hand with a flourish.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked, putting on a regal tone of voice.

Kathy giggled, and took Geoff's hand. “Why of course, my good sir!” she replied.

“I can't remember the worst December, Just watch those icicles form! What do I care, if icicles form? I've got my love to keep me warm!”

Geoff looked around at the other Voluderians in the square, and caught sight of Layne, who was dancing with the woman he had been talking to earlier. He didn't appear to be the most coordinated or confident of dancers, but he and the woman both appeared to be having a good time together.

Geoff would tease Layne about it later, of course, but for now, he was just happy to see Layne enjoying himself.

“Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves, Who needs an overcoat? I'm burning with love!”

Geoff turned his focus back to Kathy, gazing at her with great fondness as the two of them bobbed and swayed to the music.

“Anything on your mind?” Kathy asked, noticing the look in Geoff's eyes.

Geoff briefly removed his hand from Kathy's back to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he replied, just loud enough for only Kathy to hear.

Kathy smiled at him lovingly, and then looked up as shimmering snowflakes began to float down over the crowd, ones which sparkled and left no feelings of coldness at all.

“My heart's on fire, and the flame grows higher, So I will weather the storm! What do I care how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm!”

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

“Well, guess it’s time that we all start heading back home,” said Eli as the last song of the night played and the party was winding down.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Geoff replied, admittedly feeling rather tired, though ultimately pleased after such a joyous party. He cast his eyes around at the village, taking in its warm glow one final time, but then he realized that there were lights coming from somewhere else as well. Indeed, there in the distance was Sunlight Castle, currently looking like a golden glowing beacon overlooking the town. “Eli, did you-?”

Eli grinned. “Just a final little surprise for the night,” he replied. “And besides, why should the village get to have all the fun?”

Perhaps he could attribute it to his growing weariness, but Geoff’s eyes were fogging up by a few tears of happiness, and he had to swallow back a small lump in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, but all he ended up saying was, “Yeah, come on, let’s go home.”

Home. Sunlight Castle really was a home now, wasn’t it? Somewhere warm and inviting, with other people to spend his time with. Geoff had spent so many years being in more-or-less solitude, but now he would never have to worry about being alone ever again.

Kathy squeezed his hand and smiled. “Happy Yuletide, Geoff.”

#*JUST* got this posted in time!#Ignore the italics inconsistencies Tumblr is annoying #voiceplay #The dragon in the castle #Sunlight Castle Stories #The Dragon's Winter #12daysofchristmas2024 #12 days of christmas writing prompts

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noratilney · 1 month ago

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For the Fanfic Writer Wrapped 2024!! ^_^ #1, 2, 6, 8, 12, 23, 26, 27, 39, 40 annddd 41! Enjoy.

(I'm giving you a lot, because this one's more a celebratory game than generic asks lol)

Thank you so much, Day! 💙

1. What fic did you work on the most this year?

I'm not entirely sure; I unfortunately did not spend as much time as I'd like dedicated to fic writing; but I think it's probably either the Vaella au, my Glee ficlet, or my untitled Tortall fic.

2. Did you have any fic writing goals? Did you meet them?

I didn't set any resolution-type goals this year. The only thing I wanted to try and get done was one fic update before Christmas which I have not yet done although I guess there's still time. Realistically, I would still be happy if I managed one before the end of the year.

6. Do you have a favourite fic you wrote?

Like a favorite fic ever? Uhh, I think this one, Lies and Precious Things. It comes in at a little under 600 words and I think it packs a lot of emotion into that while not drowning in exposition. Idk, I just like it.

8. Favourite line of dialogue this year?

From the Glee ficlet:

“I’m Puck.” Noah says. “It’s on account of my last name.” And from then on he is Puck everywhere to everyone but Mom and Sadie and the Garcia Sandovals and the occasional stickler teacher.

Moreso for the way I found to explain how Puck ended up being called that instead of his first name than the literal dialogue itself.

12. Did you receive any advice that resonated to you this year?

It wasn't given to me specifically but it's a piece of advice the author Maggie Stiefvater shared that had been given to her about managing how much you can do on a given day.

23. Were there any ideas you wanted to work on this year but you didn’t?

Absolutely yeah! So many. I get ideas in excess of both my time and ability to sit down and work on them. Particularly, I would say I would have liked to have gotten to work on some of my Bonnie Bennett-centric fic ideas. There's always next year.

26. Do you have a goal for next year? If so, what is it?

I think I want to try tracking how many words I'm writing! I'm hoping to either surprise myself with how much I'm writing or motivate myself to write more.

27. What are your hopes and/or desires for yourself and for other fic writers in the next year?

Other than well wishes for other fic writers, hoping you feel really inspired and have tons of time to write, I don't really feel like it's my place to dictate what other people do with their time? I mean yes there are totally fics by others I would love to see continue but 🤷🏻‍♀️.

I hope I'm really productive next year! Basic, I know.

39. What fics or authors would you recommend for others to discover and read in the next year?

Oh, that's a great question. I have scattered fic recommendations across this blog and my main and this year, I've begun attempting to do not every Friday but consistently a #fic back friday fic recommendation. I think I would like to try for next year to manage at least one fic recommendation a month (not necessarily an older fic), which I think is quite doable and would finish the year out with 12.

Of course it depends on what one looks for in a fic and what fandoms but I love pretty much everything devilinthedetails and deweydecibelsystem have written across various fandoms; nasimwrites is great for thoughtful and worldbuilding Narnia work, especially centered around Aravis/Calormen; I love rain-sleet-snow's Tortall twelfth night au series; peterbeale also writes across a number of fandoms, I especially like their Teen Wolf and TVDU works; and PanBoleyn is great for ASoIaF and The Magicians.

40. What advice would you have for people who might want to try writing or sharing their writing next year?

For writing&sharing fic for the first time, I think you have to be really passionate about both the fandom and the fic you're writing. I've never been good at outlining myself but that's probably useful.

I think you also need to be ready to not get any reception to your fic. I know that sucks to hear and I do think there's an audience for every fic out there but that doesn't mean it'll happen right away.

Don't forget to proofread/spellcheck and tell people you wrote a fic! Include a link!

41. Any regrets?

Hmmm, this is not unique to this year or fic writing but I do have a bad habit of coming across a resource or advice or something of that sort, saying to myself oh that sounds like a good advice, and then essentially filing it away and not doing anything with it.

I'm not sure if there's writing advice out there that works for me but since I'm not writing as much as I would like, I feel it'd be worthwhile to try some out.

#asked and answered #darknightfrombeyond #writing #thanks for these!

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usmsgutterson · 1 year ago

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idk if the prompt lists in your pinned still apply to requests or how specific you want prompts/reqs to be but I love the "I hate everyone but you" dynamic, can I request alina x reader where the reader is kind of snarky and cynical but opens up to alina? (kind of also black cat/golden retriever vibes if that makes sense)

Work of Art- Alina Starkov x gn! reader

Hi anon! Thank you so much for sending this in--I love writing for Alina but never get any ideas for fics so this was definitely a treat for me.

For the record, the prompt lists pinned to my profile apply all year round! They don't need to be super specific or anything like that, so you're good!

Fic type- fluff!!

Warnings- mentions of the war, alina is probably ooc

Alina first hears about you during her time in the Spinning Wheel. She hears about you from Mal, who advises that she stay away from you and proclaims the despise he feels for you from day one.

A couple of days pass and Genya reaffirms as much--you're quiet, aloof. She tells Alina about your tendencies towards snarkiness and cynicism, and again says that you might not be worth Alinas time.

She listens to Genya and Mals warnings, but every time you see each other, even in passing, she can't help but notice you.

Sometimes, in that first little while, she feels like she's walking into a museum every time she enters a room with you it. She feels like there are dozens of other people to talk to, dozens upon dozens of other paintings to admire, but you are the only work of art she ever wants to witness.

She takes a shine to walks whenever she doesn't have to do anything--an excuse, she knows, to familiarize herself with the layout and pay Baghra a visit, but still. Walks were good because they gave her time to think, except for when she zoned out and thinking almost went out the window in the monotony of it.

So, that's how she finds herself startled when she realizes that its you she's looking at as she stands on a snowy balcony somewhere outside the dining hall.

She steps toward the railing, notices that you're holding a mug of tea while you lean against it and watch the snow fall.

"Alina?" You asked. "Have I finally been graced with the presence of the honorable sun summoner?"

"You have indeed," she said. "And she's a thirsty sun summoner who might find herself willing to steal a sip of your tea."

"It's gone cold," you said.

Alina shrugged, taking the mug from your hands. "Cold tea is still good."

"I've never been much of a tea person, so I guess you have a point," you offered her a grin, and Alina found herself reflecting on the person you'd been described as by her peers.

To everyone else, you were stoic. You were snarky and cynical and it seemed like you hated everyone you came across.

To Alina, she'd stepped into the museum and was looking at a piece of art that had been defined all wrong by everyone else.

"You fancy coffee better?" She asked. "I'm sure we've got some somewhere--I'll pull a couple of strings."

"You don't need to do that," you said. "Thank you for offering, but you don't. I don't hate the taste of cinnamon tea--it's good with rum, which we seem to have in somewhat of a surplus here."

Alina shrugged. "I'm going to try, at least. With Nikolai, there's no guarantee. Coffee will also help the troops stay awake when the jurda runs out."

You laughed. Genuinely, truly, laughed. Alina felt her heart set itself alight, ready to be carried away from her body at any given moment.

"You really don't need to do that for me," you said. "I can't return the favor and you doing that for me would feel like a debt in need of repayment. I don't like owing people very much."

Alina only shrugged, knowing full well she planned to do it anyway, have Nikolai claim a caffeine dependency and thus remove herself from the equation, remove the obligations you would've felt attached to every sip.

Alina took another sip of your tea, and the two of you settled into silence. It was, however, a contented silence, and one that Alina didn't find herself disdainful for.

A few weeks passed. You let Alina in, opening up to her bit by bit, and by the time you were back in the Little Palace, seeing you without Alina at your side or Alina without you at hers was a rare occurrence.

Mal had slowly begun to find you tolerable, but still gave an incredulous huff every time he saw you together, you with a mug of coffee tucked into one hand, the other having been tucked into Alinas the moment she found you in the library and whisked you back to the real world, where meetings and responsibilities and a war in need of fighting awaited you both.

"Night and day," he would say with a laugh. "Night and fucking day. Morning to you both."

"Morning," Alina would say, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you rested it against her shoulder, still tired from meetings that'd lasted well into the previous night and the lack of sleep they caused.

"Oretsev," you would greet with a nod. He'd nod back at you, and Alina would press another kiss to the top of your head, and then the three of you would proceed to whatever meeting you had to attend.

Genya would offer you a smile and you'd smile in return as you and Alina took your seats at the meeting table.

She'd developed the habit of watching you and Alina when she grew a tad bored in the meetings, keeping her ears open to register the words, but observing how the two of you interacted because the pairing mystified her to what sometimes felt like no end.

You watched Alina like she was the most interesting thing in the room. You looked at her like she was the calm of the storm and you'd been standing in the eyewall for days on end. Genya had doubted it somewhat, and though the love you felt had come up within only a matter of months, it was clear as day to her that it was genuine.

And then Alina would look at you and Genya would feel any of the coldness in her heart melt away.

Alina Starkov looked at you like you were the best thing that could've happened to her.

She looked at you like you were the earth around which she, the moon, revolved, like you were the very reason for the existence of the universe, like losing you would result in her losing herself. Alina Starkov loved you wholly and well and truly, and that was clear as day to anyone with eyes.

Genya noticed it constantly, however, because Alina had become one of her best friends. In the time since their friendship had begun, Genya had seen various looks of love and adoration on Alinas face--the excitement whenever Genya brought by pastries or sweet rolls, the joy she felt when she stepped outside and found herself directly under the glow of the sun.

Genya noticed, however, that the look Alina gave you was all of that combined. It was complete and utter adoration, and while Genya had not known you nearly as long as she'd known Alina, she liked to think that a look of complete and utter adoration, a look of unwaivering loyalty and love and sheer happiness all rolled into one, was easy to spot. In your case, it was.

No matter how cynical you were, you loved Alina Starkov. Even if you felt hatred for everyone else, you loved her.

In Genya Safins books, that made you the best person she'd ever met.

#alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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