#I’m perpetually lost and confused
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incognito-cactus · 2 months ago
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The fact that all my irl Star Wars friends are PT + Legends fans is crazy cuz what the hell are you guys talking about
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cuteniaarts · 1 month ago
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What a shame… you always had such beautiful hair
#my art#artists on tumblr#the legend of korra#seeds of the red lotus#original character#sotrl haya#found this about 90% finished in one of my Procreate folders and decided to finish it off#apparently we’re on a RL siblings roll lately#oh Haya. Haya Haya Haya…#what can I even say about her?#she’s very high on the list of the worst OCs we have ever created. she’s truly a vile human being with 0 redeeming qualities#and yet.. here she’s just fourteen. lost and confused and grieving#a little brother on her hands and no one to turn to. to lean on. no one to take care of her#she’s a child. she isn’t supposed to have to be the adult because there’s no one else to take up the mantle#she’s a victim of awful circumstances who nevertheless had the CHOICE not to perpetuate them. but she did#and that’s why what she did is unforgivable#but that’s a talk for future Haya. how about we focus on this Haya for now?#I imagine this takes place at some point not long after her parents die#she looks more like Siamak than Afarin but she did inherit Afarin’s hair. it reminds her of her every time she looks in the mirror#and after a while she can’t take it any longer#so she stumbles into the kitchen late at night. pulls scissors out of the drawer and goes wild#but it doesn’t bring any relief. she looks at her curls scattered all over the floor and she just feels worse#the scissors fall out of her hand and it takes everything in her not to cry because Ghazan might wake up and hear her#so she just stands there in the dark kitchen. feeling utterly alone in the world#and she truly. truly is. isn’t she? she’s alone. an orphaned girl no one will ever care about again. how awfully sad is that?#anyway. moving in before I start crying. you know what I just noticed?#the way I drew this implies the scissors fell out of her left hand. meaning likely she was using her left hand. meaning she’s left handed#just like Suiren is. does that mean Suiren inherited that FROM Haya? that it’s yet another similarity they share? well it wasn’t intentional#but now that I’ve though of it… yes. yes that is exactly the case. and I’m close to biting into a wall because of it#did I ever mention that Suiren is left handed before? I can’t remember. but I decided she was +- five years ago. so it’s always been canon
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suguann · 8 months ago
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OH, DARLING—ASTARION
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✎. he’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you. | wc. 1.3K+
tags. fem!reader, established relationship, jealousy, slight dirty talk, pet names [18+ only]
masterlist
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Eighteen days. That’s how long it takes between the Shadowlands and reaching Wyrm’s Crossing. Longer still since you’ve interacted with anyone other than bandits, lost refugees, cult-crazed lunatics, and your merry band of weirdos (Gale’s words, not yours). 
For once, you’re not picking berries off bushes to offset hunger until you make camp or plucking bramble from your pants when the occasional trail turns out to be safer than the King’s Road. You can finally sit at a bartop and order wine instead of choking down the contents of an ancient bottle of Ithbank you snatched from a cellar in some decrepit village.
That was at least the most tolerable thing you experienced outside the gates, as far as roughing it in the wilds goes.
And it might be your newfound appreciation for city life, of finding an escape from what’s become your current normal—sneaking past goblin-infested camps, waterlogged boots, and haystacks for beds (an upgrade from sleeping on the cold, hard dirt, you suppose)—that lures the Drow twins over to your party walking down from the top floor of the Sharess’ Caress.
“You must be curious after keeping such…” Nym glances over Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, hovering behind you, threatening with blood stains on their clothes and out of place in an establishment full of nobles and wealthy ministers. “Interesting company.”
It’s safe to say you’re uninterested in the twins, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity from piquing when Nym demonstrates her talents with a peach she snatches from a fruit bowl off the nearest table. By the end of it—an obscene display that catches the eye of a few patrons walking by and sends your imagination reeling—you wonder how often she does this to gain clientele. If it’s always so…hands-on.
“So what do you think?” 
You don’t know what to think, oddly confused like that first time Astarion had to spell out for you that he wanted to have sex—you’re going to be so fun to break, pet—a girl who’s every bit the product and trappings of a sheltered fool. 
“Are you interested?”
The mutilated peach in Nym’s hand drips clear fruit juice down her wrist in thin rivulets, collecting at her elbow. You start to shake your head—
Astarion scoffs. “She already has her hands full without your sticky fingers and whatever the hells you’re doing to that innocent peach.” 
Nym’s mouth curls up into a coy smile before her gaze sweeps over to Astarion. “Her lover, I presume?”
“As in, I already tasted said peach while you’re still trying to get your mouth on it; well then, yes. Very much so.”
You slap his chest, your face somehow getting hotter. “Astarion!”
“Darling, we’re in a whorehouse. I assure you they’ve heard worse.”
Nym makes a wordless, amused sound. “Well, if you ever find yourself curious or—” she gives Astarion one last scrutinizing once over and looks at you again “—unsatisfied, you know where to find me and my brother.”
Before you can politely decline, Astarion chips in on your behalf, “Trust me, she’s not.”
He steers you toward the door—I’m never going to look at a silly piece of fruit the same after this—and you don’t miss how he sends the twins a withering stare right before he joins you on the street.
He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky. 
You stare at the back of his head as he walks in front of you, bulky pack slung over his shoulder with the books and scrolls you bought earlier, deciding whether you should join him or leave him to his thoughts.
Karlach nudges your shoulder. “Trouble in paradise, soldier?”
“Not really.” You bite your lip. “Should there be?”
Her gaze follows yours to Astarion, and she hums in understanding.
“If you stare at his back any longer, you might burn a hole through it." Heat crawls up your neck, and you try to give her a shove when Astarion looks at both of you over his shoulder, but she doesn't move an inch and laughs instead. "He’s probably upset over finding another pebble in his boot again. Don’t sweat it.”
An unreasonable suggestion, for you know it’s more than another pebble.
He doesn’t say anything once you all reach camp, nor does he give you even the slightest acknowledgment when you walk by his tent on your way to bed or look up from his book—no hello, my sweet readily waiting on his tongue—when you slip a little note under his nose. 
It’s starting to give you the sneaking suspicion he’s upset with you—though you hardly have the faintest idea why.
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You’re pulled awake by the quiet, careful shifting of your blanket as someone slips into your bedroll behind you. You stare blearily at the barn's wall, trying to blink away the disorienting feeling still clinging to you like dew on a humid summer day. 
It’s the first brush of sharp incisors against your throat that erases the last vestiges of sleep altogether.
Ah, so he read your note.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you whisper, aware enough to remember the other two people sleeping in the barn with you.
“Have I?”
“You know what I mean.” You tighten your grip on your blanket. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”
He kisses the tender spot below your ear. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”
“But you’re unhappy.”
Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. 
“Yes, I’m unhappy.”
“Was it because of what that drow said?”
“Hm, be more specific.”
“When she—with the peach.” You squirm a little, a mouse blessedly caught by the tail. “You know.”
His chuckle is soft, faintly mocking.
“Oh, darling. You think I’m jealous?” He runs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in your neck. “How cute.” 
And right before he applies the smallest amount of pressure—
“Well, you would be correct.”
When Astarion works at the laces of your pants, loosening them just enough to slip his hand underneath, you jump at the first cool brush of his fingers tracing across your heated skin. Your muscles jump, jump, jump under his touch, goosebumps prickling along your arms when his hand fits suddenly between your legs. Two soft pats that make you gasp.
“Drippy,” he murmurs. You don’t think your face can get any hotter.
Then he’s hooking two—fuck, three—fingers into you, splitting you open, curling up toward your belly; you can’t bite back the moan that breaks free.
“Hush, pet.”
Nipping at your neck, he scissors his fingers, smiling at your choked, stuttered gasp.
“Do you think I’d let anyone see how you fall apart with a few quick strokes of the fingers? How you sound? How you taste?” 
The questions are followed by his thumb pressing into the achy spot at the apex between your legs, and you don’t mention that he’s doing this with two other people sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. 
“This—” his fingers curl inside you, pressing until he finds soft flesh that makes your legs jerk. “This is all for me—mine—wouldn’t you agree?”
You nod slowly, hand clamped over your mouth to trap the sounds that keep escaping.
“Good, so we understand each other then.”
Your thighs tremble around his wrist. His fangs drag across the thin, breakable column throat, almost like a warning, catching at two identical scars that haven’t fully healed since you’ve let a feral, lost little vampire into your camp before he gives in and bites.
Digging in—messy—you imagine the dribble of red down his pale chin, how he sometimes leaves it there to savor later.
You’re limp and floating in a matter of seconds, your mind blissfully quiet for the first time in days.
“Remember that, darling, the next time someone starts giving you ideas.” After a moment, he whispers: "But I'm also happy you said no."
And he slips out of your bedroll without so much of a creak in the floorboards and out of the barn as if he was never there.
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pretzel-box · 3 months ago
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Of course! I’m talking about the Swap Au, Where Sebastian is Human while we, the reader, are the monster <3
Sea Mother Anon
And thank you dearly for the compliment!
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Tags: Easily annoyed & Rarely Annoyed trope, established relationship, reversed au, Berry is just a random dude that will show up for the sake of the plot.
Words: 1k
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It had been a while since Sebastian first set foot into this miserable facility. He had quickly learned that there was no rushing through it on his search for the crystal—no surviving without the proper preparation. And on his search for supplies, he learned that his only true ally would be you.
You were the funny, laid-back shopkeeper who somehow always had the right tools and gadgets he needed to keep himself alive. Sebastian still remembers his first trade with you when you’d taken the jacket off your back in exchange for a simple smile and some assets. Then, there was the time you saved his life from that rogue Pandemonium encounter that had snuck up behind him while he was examining a shelf. He had been grateful then, but now, after so many more interactions, you two had started dating. It had been unexpected, something of a surprise for both of you, but it seemed to work, despite all the bizarre situations you found yourselves in down here.
Today was just another day in the shop. You were leaning against a table with that usual, easygoing smile on your face. Sebastian stood beside you, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his eyes always on the lookout for any potential threats—or annoyances.
The little bell above the shop door that you found a while ago, jingled, and in stumbled Berry, one of the many expandables who often found their way to your shop. Berry was a peculiar fellow, clumsy and confused most of the time, with a permanent dazed expression on his face. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and he seemed to be perpetually dirty, as if he hadn’t washed in weeks. Sebastian immediately tensed. Of all the people who could walk through the door, it had to be Berry.
“Is 100 much?” Berry asked, blinking up at you with wide, innocent eyes. He was holding a handful of broken flashlight parts, and he looked genuinely bewildered.
Sebastian sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. Berry was one of those customers who just got under his skin. Confused, clumsy, and somehow miraculously still alive. Sebastian often wondered how someone like Berry had managed to survive in this place. The guy was as clueless as they came.
You, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed by Berry's presence. You were used to dealing with his type. With a delighted blink, you smiled at him. “100 deaths are” you said in a cheerful tone. Berry’s face scrunched up in confusion, his eyes darting between you and the pile of flashlight parts. “100 deaths?” he repeated, looking more confused than ever.
You nodded, your smile never faltering. “Yep! You’ve got about 100 deaths' worth of useless junk there, my friend.”
Sebastian couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer. “Buy something or get lost,” he groaned at Berry, his tone exasperated. He crossed his arms tighter, his posture stiffening with irritation. It was always like this with Berry—he would come in, waste everyone’s time with his inane questions, and then leave without buying anything.
Berry, oblivious as ever, blinked a few more times before finally seeming to understand what Sebastian had said. “Oh, um, right. I guess I’ll…just look around then,” he mumbled, shuffling away to browse through a stack of dented cans on a nearby shelf.
You chuckled softly, casting a sideways glance at Sebastian. “You know, you could be a little nicer,” you teased, your tone light and playful.
Sebastian snorted, rolling his eyes. “Why? He’s an idiot. He’s been in here a dozen times and still doesn’t know how this place works.”
“Not everyone is as sharp as you,” you replied, reaching over to give Sebastian’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Besides, it’s kind of endearing. In a weird way.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes again, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You have a weird definition of ‘endearing,’ you know that?”
You grinned. “I have to, dating you.”
Berry’s clumsy fumbling brought their attention back to him. He had somehow managed to knock over an entire shelf of items, sending cans and trinkets clattering to the floor. He looked up, eyes wide with panic, as if he’d just set off a bomb.
“Oops…” Berry muttered, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the rust on the metal shelves.
Sebastian groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Great. Just great.”
You laughed, patting Sebastian’s arm. “It’s fine, really. I’ll handle it.” You moved around the table and began helping Berry pick up the fallen items, your demeanor calm and patient. “Don’t worry about it, Berry,” you said soothingly. “These things happen.”
Berry’s face lit up with a grateful smile. “Thanks. You’re always so nice.”
Sebastian watched the scene unfold, his annoyance slowly fading away. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but admire the way you handled things. No matter how chaotic or frustrating things got, you always managed to stay calm and collected. It was one of the things he loved most about you.
After the mess was cleaned up, Berry finally decided on a couple of items and paid for them, waving awkwardly as he stumbled back out of the shop. As soon as the door closed behind him, Sebastian let out a long sigh of relief.
“Thank god,” he muttered. “I thought he’d never leave.”
You chuckled, leaning back against the table beside him. “He’s harmless,” you said, nudging him playfully. “You don’t always have to be so grumpy, you know.”
Sebastian gave you a sideways glance, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
He reached out and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Despite his gruff exterior, Sebastian had a soft spot for you—a side he rarely showed to anyone else.
“Thanks for putting up with me,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You smiled, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his embrace. “Always,” you replied softly. “After all, someone has to keep you in check.”
Sebastian chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “Guess I’m lucky to have you, then.”
“Damn right,” you teased, poking his side playfully.
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hyperfixat · 11 months ago
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MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! here’s the first chapter to a new multi part series i’m working on! it’s an isekai of honkai star rail. (sahsrau, sort of…?) ANYWAY!! enjoy,,, updates will be. idk maybe once a month so i don’t get stressed about pumping out chapters… this baby has been baking for a few months in the drafts already LMAO. likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3 and my reqs are perpetually open! 4.1K words.
next >
** Written PRE 1.4 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcannons.
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Your dailys are finished and there’s no new content, so you decide to look for some hidden quests throughout the map. You’re sure you’ve collected all the chests on the Herta Space Station, but you use a teleport waypoint there anyway. Caelus (although that is not what you have named them,) sprints under your control, running against the invisible wall separating available land from unavailable land.
You click aimlessly, your character summoning their weapon of choice, a bat in this case, and attacking the blank divider. They hit it a few times, the animation sparking as they attacked the blank. It’s not like you’re expecting something to happen, although a person can hope, but then something does happen.
The office around you, where you’re playing on your PC blurs. You attempt to clear your vision with a few harsh blinks, but your vision only gets worse. It’s golden tunnel vision to your computer screen, the Trailblazer isn’t there, oddly enough, but that doesn’t quite matter at the moment, as you feel the world around you warp. Your body and soul, something you weren't even aware of, are pulled, nay sucked, into your screen. The screen, something that should be impermeable, gives way like nothing, like air.
Something as large as the human body should not be able to fit through your screen, but you do. Somehow you do.
It’s warm and hot and cold and freeing as it is oppressive.
You’re disoriented and confused, and for some reason you know you’re no longer alone and in your office.
Tentatively you allow yourself to move and lift your head. Instead of being seated on your desk chair, you’ve fallen into a heap in… is this one of the rooms in the Supply Zone? That.. that cannot be right. That’s in a video game and this is real life.
…Right?
What are you thinking about?! Of course this is real life, just a dream, yes, a dream. What are they called, lucid dreams? That makes sense, you’re lucid dreaming, even if you’ve never had one before, you’re lucid dreaming.
Well if you’re lucid dreaming, maybe you can have some fun? What do you do?
Fuck, you aren’t prepared for this.
Before you can think of something good someone moseys into the modern-style storage room you're in. Oh, hey, it’s the main character of Honkai: Star Rail, the game you were playing before falling into this lucid state. You want to greet them; you should greet them.
Wait, do you call them Caelus or the name you put into the game? Ah, wait, can you pause this?
“Huh? What are you doing in here?” Their voice sounds… well just like it does in game.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer because you don’t know what you’re doing here. They wait for a reply, head tilting cutely as you think of a comprehensible answer.
“I’m… not sure.” You draw out the sentence as if by prolonging the words a better answer would appear.
Caelus walks closer to you, moving from the doorway to stand only a foot away holding out their hand to help you up.
“Are you lost? What part of the base are you stationed at? I know this place really well, I can help you find where you belong.” The confidence in their voice wanes, “Well, by your clothes…” their brow creases “are you from here?”
“Uh, I don’t, I don't know.”
They purse their lips, head tilting as they think. “Well, I don’t know who I should bring you to. You’re not a threat, at least not yet. Herta would be my first guess, but I don’t like her, and she might not even care or respond.” Another moment as they ponder, “let’s go find Mr Yang. He might be able to help jog your memory, or find out where you’re supposed to be.”
“Okay.” The walk through the station feels like a fever dream, though this is a dream, so that makes sense.
Caelus pulls open the heavy metal door to the Astral Express and holds out a hand to help you climb up inside. They don’t let go of your hand as you enter the passenger cabin.
“Mr Yang?” They call out, fingers readjusting over your own. Their hand is cool and comforting, realistic for a dream.
Welt Yang, sitting on the red curving couch looks up, setting down his book. His eyebrows raise when he sees that Caelus is not alone and is towing along a strange person dressed in even stranger clothes.
“Yes, Caelus? What do you need?” His eyes flicker between your faces before settling on Caelus’.
“This person, ah what’s your name?” They flush a pretty pink and turn to you, fingers flexing nervously around yours. When you give it to them, they repeat it aloud to Welt. “Is lost. How do we help them?”
Welt Yang frowns, a crease denting his forehead and he adjusts his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he gives a low, thoughtful hum.
“What did Madam Herta say? You found them on her vessel.” Caleus rubs the back of their neck, a pink falling over his cheeks and tinting his ears.
“Well, I was hoping to avoid taking them to her…”
Welt doesn’t react, as if already knowing the answer. “Well,” his amber eyes meet yours. “What do you say to staying on the Astral Express for the time being? Of course, we’ll have to check with the conductor to make sure that’s okay.”
Caelus nods, their eyes narrowing as they think. “Do you think Ms Himeko might have an idea of how to jog their memory?” Their body shifts towards you as do their eyes, “in any case, we should find Pompom first, that’s the conductor.”
You want to say you know exactly who Pompom is, but that would sound odd from what should be a stranger, wouldn’t it?
Speak of the devil, Pompom comes waddling their body over to your gaggle. They aren’t as small as the game made them seem, maybe four feet of smooth fluff, and a content face.
“Hi Trailblazer, hi Welt, hi… Hi.” They pause and look up into your face, their features contorting, before they accuse you. “You aren’t a passenger!”
“Oh.” You don’t really know how to respond to that. Aside from acknowledging the obvious, they haven’t given you anything worthwhile to say. Before the silence can become too suffocating Caelus comes to the rescue, saving you from the critical look of the conductor.
“About that!” They give the creature a charming smile, putting their body between yours and theirs. “I was hoping my new friend could stay on the express until they can remember where their home is.”
So that’s why you’re staying, well staying til you wake, maybe wake. Fuck, you need a minute, well maybe once it settles in and you realize that you can’t escape, and don’t know how or why you’re here. Oh, you hope this is just a sleep deprived, very immersive deep sleep.
“Hmm,” Pompom shoves past Caelus’ legs to size you up. Their large, animal eyes make you melt, and you offer them a shy, nervous smile. “We’re out of rooms, but,” they turn back to Caelus, “if you or another passenger are willing to share, Pompom guesses they can stay.”
“Thank you, Pompom,” your smile widens a bit more. “But, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to say that. I don’t know if anyone would want to share a room with me.” A breathy, panicky laugh leaves you, “I am a stranger here, after all.”
Pompom gives you one last, long look before shuffling away back to their rounds of the train.
“Hm, well, I understand where you’re coming from. But,” Caelus frowns and their eyes darken, going downcast, nervously. “I feel oddly connected to you. There’s more than one reason I didn’t take you to Madam Herta. I was hoping you might be able to stay on the Express, at least for a bit. So I could get to know you, a bit.” As your expression remains impassive, they’re quick to continue, taking hold of both of your hands. Their hands are large and warm, engulfing yours earnestly. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am trying to help you, however I can. Which is why I want to extend an invitation for you to stay with me, in my room.”
“Thank you, Caelus.” Warmth fills both your heart and face, both from the words and their touch alike. “I know you’re trying to help me, I truly appreciate it.”
They’re being so genuine, it makes you want to cry. How can you tell them this is all a dream, your dream at that. They aren’t even real, for crying out loud! The way they treat you makes you never want to wake up, stay so they can care for you, spend time with you. Would it be selfish to want to stay, to never leave, what would happen to your life if you never woke up, never left this dream (game, whatever it is now)?
You have the sudden urge to harm yourself, just for the sake of proving if this reality is just a dream or if some spatial temporal nonsense happened for you to get sucked into your PC’s game, turned real world.
The time you spend worrying cuts short when March 7th’s cheerful voice calls into the express. You hadn’t even noticed the metal screaming of the door as it was pried open.
“Caelus~ Help me convince Dan Heng to let us go back to the Xianzhou Luofu for some Berrypheasant Skewers and Immortal’s Delight- oh!” She’s spotted you. Her face lights up, an odd reaction, you think, upon seeing a stranger in what is essentially her home. “Hi there!”
“Hi,” you greet meekly, not used to being around someone so high energy. Not that you don’t like it, on the contrary she’s a very gregarious person, and the energy she brings makes you feel content.
“Caelus didn’t tell me they brought a guest!” March giggles. “It’s nice to see you, have we met before? I’d hate to think I’d forgotten your face.”
“No, you haven’t met me before.” It’s not a lie, you craft your words carefully. You know her though, very well, at that.
“Oh, well you can call me March 7th! What’s your name?” She fully enters the compartment now, the heavy train door slamming loudly behind her. She’s really pretty and cute in person, you wish that your mind could come up with any better words to describe her, but your mouth feels more than a little dry as she gets closer to you. You tell her, words sounding like mush, but she smiles and repeats it back to you, giving it a compliment.
She makes your heart stutter, and you smile at her, a little dumbly. Luckily Caelus seems sympathetic to your plight (going dumb at the sight of a pretty girl) and takes over explaining why you’re here.
“Memory loss, huh?” March pulls a sympathetic face. “I can relate. Well, you seem like a lovely person, and a friend of Caelus is a friend of mine, so my door is always open if you need to talk.”
Your deceit feels harsh, because you don’t have memory loss. Now March might try to bond over this perceived shared trauma, one that you don’t have…
March pats your shoulder in an attempt to soothe, a rush of her scent (solidifying this is more than a dream) fills your nose, fresh, clean, and sweet.
“Thank you, March, I appreciate it.”
“Anything for a friend!” March turns to Caelus, who lets your hands go as March engages them in a conversation. “Now, Caelus, help me convince Dan Heng to vote for Xianzhou Luofu on this week’s stop! I really want some of the local food.” She exaggerates the ‘really’ dramatically, making her eyes wider; the epitome of puppy dog style begging.
“Ah,” Caelus turns their head away, squeezing their eyes shut. “I already was planning on voting for Jarilo VI, and I’m pretty sure Dan Heng is dead set on his vote for another week at the space station.”
March sighs in disappointment, eyeing Welt as her next target before, “Wait! You’re officially a passenger now!” She is talking to you, “won’t you please vote for the Xianzhou Luofu as this week’s destination?”
The Xianzhou Luofu, you think about it. They don’t know that you know the place like the back of your hand, but it’s not like you have anything against the place. In fact, you’d rather not face the harsh cold of Jarilo VI so new to this world.
Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that right now, the fact you’re stuck here for who knows how long, and you’re passively deceiving everyone you meet. Your knees feel a bit weak, but you manage to force an agreeable response to March.
“I’m feeling a bit tired, Caelus,” you grab their forearm to steady, “could I have a moment to lay down?”
“Oh shit,” they steady you, leading you to the couch, and helping you lay diagonally. Your eyes slip closed. Not caring about what you make yourself look like, you turn your face into the back cushion, tightening the harshness of how tight your eyes are closed.
Are you really stuck here? Is this more than a dream? Without fully realizing it, you drag your blunt nails over the length of your forearm. A soft, trembling gasp disguises the hiss of pain you make. Not a dream.
Fuck, not a dream.
You push your face deeper into the cushion, inhaling the scent of dust and fabric. The sensory input makes you even more certain this isn’t a dream. How do you go back to your world? Are you a missing person yet? What harm will come if you stay here, both to this world and your world? Do you tell them the truth?
How earth-shattering would it be to find out that your whole life is nothing but code? You are but a character built to entertain millions, any sense of individuality and personhood would surely fade. You can’t do that to them, can you?
But maybe it would help you get back to where you belong…
It hits you then, Welt Yang. Well, he doesn’t hit you. He’s still reading his book on the couch opposite to you. You’re no lore expert on any Honkai game except Star Rail, but he’s from like, another world as well, or something like that, right? Sure that world is another video game, probably, but alternate dimensions are alternate dimensions, right?
How would that conversation start? Hey Mr Yang, you’re a video game character and I’m from a different world, teehee can you help me figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? Would he even believe you? Would you even believe you?
A warm hand rubs over your upper back, along your shoulder blades and vertebrae. Caelus, your heart stutters, a funny thing, at how you already know how much you’ll miss them.
“Do you want to use one of my Life Transmitters or a Healing Spray?” They offer their voice, kind and calm. “Or would something like Comfort Food be more to your taste right now?”
You move your face out of the cushion, “thank you, Caelus, you’re too kind. I’ll be okay, just… thinking.” Thinking of how this shouldn’t be real, how you’re too good to be real.
“Of course, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, no matter how small.”
Caelus eventually left with March to pester Dan Heng, leaving you to revel in your confusing thoughts. After a few more minutes of lying on the couch, you steel yourself to face Welt Yang.
Thinking of his face is enough to make your hands clam up. Will he send you away and dismiss it as insane ramblings of nervous breakdown from one of Miss Herta’s overworked employees? He’ll believe you, won’t he? Surely a man of his caliber and experience can spot when someone is telling the truth, no matter how fantastical?
Pushing yourself up, you fight the tired and nerves that cling to you, and stand on unsteady legs. Welt looks up as you approach, folding the ear of the page he’s on and snapping the book shut.
“Uhm, Mr Yang, could we maybe talk in private?” Your voice sounds warbled, but if it’s more than a trick of your ears Mr Yang doesn’t let you know, instead offering you a reassuring smile and nodding.
“I will lead you to my room. No one will disrupt us there.” You’re glad he hasn’t questioned your intentions. Does he suspect you already and was unwilling to call you out openly?
Welt leads you down the sleeping cart aisle, maintaining a respectful distance from you the whole while.
He uses the handle of his cane to tap on his door handle, a jolt of pink-red magic and a click of the door’s locking mechanism and you are presented with your chance to talk to Welt Yang privately.
Welt’s eyes meet yours expectantly. You gulp.
“So. On a scale of one to one hundred how well would you react to me telling you this is a video game?” Yeah, and if this goes poorly you can pretend this was all a joke–!
Welt's previously curious harden into something more serious. “What?”
Ah fuck, nope, nevermind. “Hahaha.” It’s fake and painfully obvious to you both. “Sorry to bother you Mr Yang, I will see myself out.”
“No.” Welt positions himself between you and the exit. “Tell me.”
It’s hard not to spill the beans when those dark amber eyes bore into your very soul. And, you do.
You tell him how you got sucked through your PC and woke up in what should be simply pixels on your monitor. You tell him how you don’t know what to do and how he’s one of the only characters, well, you correct yourself, people, you thought might know how to help you.
Welt’s face is stoic and you purse your lips as your nerve filled ramble comes to an end. “How… odd.”
You’re sure it must be. Especially for him, learning he’s a game franchise’s tool, everything he’s done was all written out and predetermined by forces he has no hope to control.
Welt sits on the edge of his bed, cane used to steady himself. “I need a moment, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, I’m the interloper here.” You kneel in front of him, trying to comfort the man in any way you can. After a brief hesitation you cover his hand with your own. Perhaps physical contact will bring some sense of consolation.
His brows are furrowed, but your touch lesses it minutely.
“Do you… want to go back?”
It’s a fair question, but you aren’t sure of the answer yourself. Because on one hand, being in this fantasy world with characters you like that treat you nicely is quite literally a dream come true, but on the other hand you have a life. Not anything important, you’re just a person. A person with friends and family and a job that all needs you.
You cannot be sure of how much time will pass before you can leave this world, universe, whatever. Is this even your real body? Is there an empty vessel sitting in your desk chair that will wither and decay while you explore the wide world of Honkai Star Rail? You are led to believe this is your real body due to the sensations that an artificial vessel wouldn’t feel.
But.
There are your favorite characters and they’re so so nice. So far.
Your inner turmoil must be showing on your face because Welt squeezes your hand, running his thumb over the back of your palm.
“I suppose a better question might be: are you comfortable staying in this world for a prolonged period of time?”
This time the answer comes easier, “yes.”
“That certainly makes things easier,” Welt relents.
“Do we tell anyone?” The question brings on another bout of quiet. You wet your lips, nerves still simmering from the confession you made.
“I think it would be best to keep it among the, how shall I phrase it, main characters?” Welt winces. “Who would they be? Me, if you know enough to confide in me, and who else?”
“Well, I don’t think you, the Express, like all the main characters, but,” you sigh, beginning to count off who you can think of. “Caelus, March, Dan Heng, you, Himeko, Sampo, Gepard, Serval, Bronya, Seele, Natasha, Luka, Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Herta; maybe, Asta, Arlan, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, Jinglui, Loucha… There might be more, but they seem to be the most lore relevant and repetitive so far.”
“Yes, I imagine some conflict might crop up with that roster…” Welt thinks. The way his brow furrows and his legs spread (manspreading�� drool) is subtly attractive.
Ah, the Stellaron Hunters. You can and will admit you want to see Blade and Kafka badly, but if it could result in… tension, would it be worth it in the long run? Just to satiate your thirst? They’re so imposing in the best way possible.
“Hm. Do you want to tell them?” Welt interrupts your little Kafka slash Blade slash you fantasy.
After a moment of mentally debating, you decide that, “yes, I do. All of them.”
“Very well.” Welt gives a reassuring smile, “I will support you in any path you may choose to take.” And if that didn’t make butterflies flutter all the way from the pit of your tummy up to your throat.
“If they were to ask; how am I going to prove myself? Is there something that can show I’m not from this world?” Sudden anxiety seizes you, will your favorite characters mock you? You’d die.
“There’s nothing to say they won’t believe you. You’ve convinced me after all.” It helps you stay calm, and you nod seriously. There’s another gap where neither of you speak.
“Who will we see first, do you know?”
“How about the whole Express has a meeting and we can decide from there, sound good?” Ah, that smile. A shot to the heart it is.
“Yes, thank you, Mr Yang.” Your face is hot when you say it, suddenly desperate to leave the room and cool yourself.
Oblivious to your sudden burst of attraction, Welt continues on. “Of course, always feel free to stop by my room. I’d like to extend an invitation as the others have, if you want to rest in my room, you’re welcome to.”
Rounding up the entire Astral Express doesn’t take as long as you expected it to. Himeko was in her room; and March, Caelus, and Dan Heng weren’t far from the loading deck; and Pompom is always on the Express.
“So.” You start, folding your hands together and looking at everyone around the table. They’re all watching you, and it’s really sort of scary, but you need to be brave. “I’m not from… here.”
Honestly they take the news well. Sure there were some questions, some you knew the answer to, others you are unsure of yourself.
“Is that why,” Caelus cuts themself off. “I feel drawn to you.”
“Drawn to me?” Your head tilts curiously, “could you expand on that?”
“I feel it too,” Dan Heng murmurs, eyeing Caelus. At this you lean back, furrowing your brows in thought.
“Oh?” March leans into Dan Heng’s seat. “I think I know what they’re talking about.”
“Something, emotionally, maybe, makes me want to be close with you,” Himeko speaks to you directly for the first time. “It’s like a tugging in my chest telling me to care about you.”
Ignoring the blatant rush of heat to your cheeks, Caelus expands on Himeko’s words. “Exactly. I can’t explain how or why, but I feel that you’re important, at least to me.”
Fuck, they’re going to make leaving so hard, won’t they? They can’t just say things like that.
“Oh.” Processing those words is hard.
Noting the way you’ve halted and your body language, March hovers a hand over your forearm, debating whether to touch you.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” She asks, already sounding let down.
“No! No, not at all. It’s just.” You laugh, not out of humor or joy, but something nervous. “If you guys say things like that I’m not going to want to leave.”
“What if we don’t want you to leave?”
“I think that’s a conversation for another day, Caelus.” Welt steers the conversation back on track; what you really came to ask: “Where are we stopping first?”
next >
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strawburry01 · 2 months ago
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We'll Meet Again
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Ford Pines x Fem! Reader
Summary: Just a lot of mushy gushy stuff
Word Count 1.5 k
Part 1
Part 2
Part 2.5
Part 3
It was the middle of your game. You had just bet 600 trunkels on red when suddenly you started feeling light headed. If you were about to faint right now you’d never forgive yourself.
“Feeling okay, bold one?” the dealer hissed in its native language.
“Keep rolling,” you snapped back, trying to bury the dizzy feeling deep within you. You’d been doing good in this dimension and somehow had become a bit of a pseudo-millionaire, but nothing filled the gnawing void in your heart, so many times you’d end up betting more and more outrageous wagers just to try and feel something from losing it all. But you never lost it all. Something about this damn dimension meant your luck was infallible. 
It only irritated you more.
Your knees buckled and you nearly collapsed onto the ground before you grabbed the edge of the counter and swore under your breath. Something was happening to you, why was your body just giving out like this? You could see the dealer saying something to you but it felt like all you could hear was the grating buzz of static. You saw it reach out a tentacle for you but all you could do was go limp.
You watched the world around you rise, but you never hit the floor. You melted right through it all. You kept seeing it shrink into oblivion until it was just a small pinprick of light in the darkness. 
In the past whenever you had switched dimensions you were in control. And it wasn’t this unpleasant a process. Had you accidentally touched a button on your portal ray? Had you somehow triggered this jump? You couldn’t theorize for too long until you felt your body go through another nauseating flux. Ragdolling through space you were flung back until you unexpectedly slammed your back against a hard surface, concussing your head in the process of it all. 
For a second everything was a bright white light and through gritted teeth you forced your eyes open, trying to shield them with your hands so you could assess where the hell you were. Head splitting from pain, the room was a wreck. But you’d recognize it anywhere. 
“Oh my god who is that?!” a young voice shouted nearby.
“Holy sh-” was all you could hear in response before your eyes rolled back in pain and your subconscious took over. 
You dreamed the same scene you often did. Over the 30 years, if you’d been keeping track correctly, you still had it at least once a month or so. It was you sitting on the dock of the lake. The lake in Gravity Falls. The pine filled wonderland in the pacific northwest. It was in a perpetual sunset, the sky a faint mix of orange and pink smears. You could always hear someone walking up the dock behind you, but you never were able to see who it was. Except this time. You looked over your shoulder and saw Ford. The version you’d met in college. The young, awkward, nerdy, unsure version of him. Hell he looked as confused as you felt. 
“What am I doing here?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” you responded, looking back at the water. He continued, and took a seat beside you.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so?” You answered back, not knowing, “this is farther than I usually get in these dreams,”. 
“Hm,” he hummed, accepting it. 
“Do you recognize me?” you asked. You felt his eyes on you.
“I’ll always recognize you dear,”.
Your eyes lurched open. Fuck that was weird. You were in your room. Your room back in the cabin. A wave of nausea swept over you again at recognizing the room. 30 fucking years hurtling through endless dimensions. It felt naive to trust your eyes. With a grunt, you pushed onto your elbows to look around. It seemed to be mid-day outside. Someone had thrown a blanket on you and left a glass of water on the floor. Still wary, you took a sip. It didn’t kill you.
There was a squeal from the doorway and your head snapped in that direction. There was a girl in a pink sweater giddily jumping and covering her mouth, but continuing to squeal.
“You’re awake!” she shouted, “Gruncle Stan! She’s awake!”. You rubbed your temples as you tried to formulate words.
“Wh-Who are you?” you mumbled out. Suddenly she was right beside the bed staring up at you with the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.
“I’m Mabel Pines! I’m your niece!” she said happily before scrunching her face to think, “I think…”
Niece? Before you could question it any further, there was someone in the doorway. He was in a disheveled suit with a red fez precariously perched on his head. When the two of you locked eyes the air seemed to freeze. 
“Stanley?” you croaked out. It was Ford, but it wasn’t all at the same time. Was this his estranged twin brother?
“Oh come on, did everyone know that except for Dipper and I?” Mabel whined as Stan laughed and turned her out of the room.
“There’s a lot of things you and Dipper don’t know, kid. Now give us some space,” he said, as she sighed and walked out of the room. Stan awkwardly shifted in place besides you and finally coughed to break the silence.
“How’re you doing?” he asked, “the portal shot you out across the room like a damn cannon,”. You rubbed the back of your head. Just a headache, but nothing worse it seemed.
“Just sore I think. I’m still not sure what all happened honestly,” you said. 
“Yeah that’s for sure. You were out for almost a whole day. Really got Ford riled up like you wouldn’t believe,” Stan said with a small smile to himself.
“Ford’s here?” you whispered, not being able to believe what he’d just told you. 
“Unfortunately. Didn’t even thank me or nothing for bringing him back. And hell- bringing his wife back too for fucks sake,” he swore. You tried to move out of the bed but your ribs and back protested. You weren’t as young as you used to be and that was becoming painfully obvious.
“Where’s Ford? I need to see Ford,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself out of the bed. Stan tried to help you, but also didn’t want to offend you by offering help. 
“Slow down y’animal. He’s in the kitchen,” he said, “I can get him-”
“No, I need to see him now,” you grunted as you inhaled sharply and stood up a little straighter.
Keeping a hand on the wall you walked through the house you and he had built. It was the same, but also time had done its work on the walls and carpets. You could hear someone gently clanging around pans in the kitchen. Anxiety crept into your head. It’d been 30 years since you’d gotten zapped into the hellish dimension-scape. You knew Ford had been there too. Being humans, you both stuck out like sore thumbs, but most frustratingly you never ran into each other. Statistically, it made sense. Across millions of unique dimensions and planets, it was unlikely. You hated statistics. 
You heard a gentle swear around the corner and the clatter of a spatula. It was Ford. 30 years across endless dimensions and planes of existence and you couldn’t turn the damn corner to see him. Your husband. It was stupid to tear up over it but you could feel the pricks at the corner of your eyes. You took a sharp inhale and turned.
“Ford I-” you began, but didn’t get the chance to finish before he pulled you into an embrace. 
Both of you were crying now at least. He continued to apologize under his breath as he ran his hand along the back of your head. You just pressed further into his red sweater trying to save every second in case you woke up and it was all a dream. 
“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here now,” you hiccuped through the tears as you looked up at him. His once brown hair had turned silver over the years and his face had evidence of all the years and adventures he’d gone through. 
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, cupping your face and looking into your eyes.
“You’d like that,” you tried to joke but you only broke down crying again as you wrapped your arms around him again. You could feel his chest as he gently laughed.
“I like the tattoo,” he chuckled into your hair. 
You felt your face go red. In an alcohol-addled stupor you’d been convinced to get a small face tattoo under your eye. It was a small black broken heart, that you really had always meant to get lasered off. “Hey I have some too now,” he added with a small kiss on your forehead.
“My scientist? Tattoos? Never!” you smiled as you quickly kissed him on the lips. 
This was it. This was all you hoped for over the past 30 years.
The two of you stood side by side as Ford remembered his cooking. He kept his arm firmly wrapped around your waist, as you laid a hand on his chest and listened to him starting to ramble about everything you’d been out for. The portal, Bill, the house, Stanley, the kids, no- your niece and nephew. 
“Our Graunt is so badass,” Mabel whispered to her brother as she quickly peeked around the corner.
AN: Thanks all! Let me know if you want a little Weirdmagedon action bit because this feels like it's too sweet to end on personally- BUT I got one last tasty treat in the drafts right now :)
Taglist wooooo:
@valinbean
@sunniskyies
@fries11
@fluffymarshmalllows
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sarahreesbrennan · 1 month ago
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Another Interesting Spoilery Evil Question
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To directly answer the question before I start rambling, the Cobra’s body’s physical age is 24.
(You can stop reading here if you like. This gets very long!)
When Marius meets the Cobra (chapter 18 epigraph from Time of Iron) he correctly identifies him as Marius’s own age at the time - 18.
At the time of the book all the physical bodies’ ages are as follows.
Marius - 24
The Cobra - 24
Rahela - 24
Octavian - 24
(Pio and Nemeth, Octavian’s advisers, are in their early 40s and late 50s respectively - they’re Octavian’s dad’s people and that is part of why they are so stressed. Their king died young, Octavian became king in his teens and it has been an uneasy court ever since.)
Emer - 23
Key - 20
Lia - 19
Rae and Eric in our world were both 4 years younger than their bodies in this world (so they would both be 20 if the story hadn’t happened to them). For the moment we’ll leave aside Key, who had another life too, in a different way. (He was a little kid, but old enough to walk after his father, in the epigraph from Time of Iron in chapter 15.)
I do age shenanigans for two reasons.
—One is that age in fiction and reality is weird, and I wanted to portray that. If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when I was 7, is that okay? If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when aged 41, is that okay? Mr Darcy’s always in his late twenties: Elizabeth Bennet will never be older than 21, but she seemed so glamorous and all-knowing to me when I was a kid.
And if you walk into a story, when in their character development do you find them? Would we like Darcy when he’s sneering at Elizabeth at a ball? Who is it that we love and when?
Plenty of adult women fancied Edward Cullen, perpetually a teen (or was he? Fantasy and horror also open up the possibility of immortality - but in a way, all fictional characters are immortal. Holden Caulfield isn’t growing up any more than Edward Cullen is. And like fictional characters and immortals, the dead aren’t getting any older either—I think often of Anne Rice, author of the Vampire Chronicles, who wrote the doomed child vampire Claudia after losing her own daughter Michele as a child. Death, immortality, fiction and the overlap!) When I read or watched stories in which characters were in different/changed bodies they usually seemed younger - often their younger selves, or a younger/cuter body (Peggy Sue Got Married, Scarlet Heart). (Exceptions exist of course, e.g. Howl’s Moving Castle.) And I like magic losing something, costing you something, plus I’m a contrarian. So I wanted them older.
—The other is that LONG LIVE EVIL is a story about trauma, which often arrests your age in your mind. The period in which you were enduring the horrors is a blank in which you couldn’t develop normally, or in which you had plenty of experiences but few of them match with your peers’.
Cancer did it to me, which wasn’t horrendous as I was in my early 30s and that’s still adult, just meant a bit of ‘oh no I’m not this child’s mother, I’m too young - actually I’m a bit old to be this child’s mother now I think about it, but anyway I don’t claim her’ and the like. But I’ve seen it do the same for people with cancer I befriended or whom I mentor, and it’s a very different proposition if the lost years are 17-21.
It’s not just cancer, I’ve seen bereavement work that way on people, and apparently celebrity works on the mind like trauma and arrests you at the age you became famous in a lot of ways. It’s being taken out of the run of ordinary life, walking through your portal into strangeness.
But in the end most of us wind up with years that feel lost, I think, and playing catch-up is the only way forward.
And allegory remains allegory: if I’m writing a werewolf I’m taking about rage and body horror, sure, but I’m also talking about werewolves.
I was actually confused by this ask at first as I’d written a whole section where Eric says he’s going to die of a heart attack at 20 and Marius is exasperated as Eric is a little young to start lying about his age! But it must have fallen victim to my many cuts - stories transform! - and I can see why, because I don’t think Eric exactly thinks of himself as 20 anymore.
I had some struggles with the age stuff, it’s another layer of complication in a complicated story and there were worries raised that it was unnecessary and might make some characters less appealing but in the end I decided it was necessary to me and let the characters be unappealing, then.
I also enjoy the twisting, fluid ages because they cause conflict, and conflict is story.
Rae uses her new age (and thus doesn’t need to think of her absolutely horrible self worth) to count herself out as a romantic option in Key’s eyes.
She also thinks of the Emperor as in his mid-20s, as he is - after a time skip that happens in the original Time of Iron, years in which Key and Emer were Lia’s servants. She knows about those years, but she doesn’t put it together.
At Eric and Marius’s first meeting 6 years before the events of LONG LIVE EVIL, Eric also hasn’t been in the book that long. He was in a horrifically traumatic survival situation for a large part of the time he was inside, when he approached Marius to blackmail him. That is objectively a deranged thing to do, but Eric is thinking like a terrified 14 year old and also like a Huge Fan of Marius. aka the quintessential white knight, the Last Hope who is reserved and dignified and crucially, 24-28.
That would be the Marius Eric at the time knows when he approaches Marius in the flesh, Marius at 18 and coming off family trauma, friend trauma and quasi-romantic trauma himself. Marius actually DOES go into dissociative states and kill people, Eric was taking a huge risk with his own life that not a single person in the country would have taken. Marius is a Valerius, and they are killers. (The whole court, Marius included, thought Lady Katalin ((Rahela’s mother)) was being very daring by like, touching Marius’s hand when he was 17.)
Eric is acting wild partly because a) he is wild, b) he’s desperate but also crucially c) he’s thinking of Marius as someone that Marius isn’t yet and d) he’s not thinking of things from Marius’s POV, and doesn’t until the events of LONG LIVE EVIL. Their quasi friendship/quasi hostage situation (that the hostage had firmly decided was happening) couldn’t have happened without a perfect storm of weirdness, risks and lack of understanding what the hell was going on.
Marius would not have seen a 14 year old Eric (not a child to him exactly, but squire age rather than knight age) as a criminal threat in the same way as he saw the Cobra, his own age (18, which was definitely very adult, Marius thought at the time). Eric wouldn’t have failed to consider consequences or failed to consider Marius as person rather than character, if he’d actually been 18. But by the time anyone knew better, a status quo was established, and habit is second nature and a stronger nature than the first.
Eric’s plight is horrific initially. But at the same time, Eric is extremely intelligent (both intellectually and emotionally) and able to both cover and play catch-up to this new life, and he can advise Rae with the benefit of his experience - but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t screw up massively when he first came into the book, or that he doesn’t still have many things to work through.
Similarly, Emer is used to Rahela who is quasi older sister and quasi mistress, while Rae is now acting younger. And all of them are dealing with a gross system in which men are seen as in their youthful prime when women the same age are getting long in the tooth and can be traded in for teenagers - so even two people who are the same age aren’t treated as if they’re the same age, if they’re different genders. Age stuff is crunchy!
Also, while Emer thinks of Lia as having all the power due to class, Lia looks on someone who was her glamorous older stepsister’s age mate and went off to the big city years ago rather differently. But then, are adulthood and childhood different worlds? Is being in different social classes being in different worlds?
Can we reach the different universes of other people is something I’m always asking, I think.
THIS IS SO LONG. I AM SO SORRY.
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spindashes · 20 days ago
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I’m not going to show any of it, because it’s perpetuated by whiny Twitter gamers, but some of the crying about some of the slight changes to the Sonic Generations portion of Sonic X Shadow Generations is embarrassing.
There are genuinely people whining about this and saying they won’t buy the game because of it. Because Rouge doesn’t have visible cleavage anymore. I’m not kidding.
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It’s such a NOTHING change, I can’t understand what there is to whine about even for the most misogyny-poisoned gamerbro. Like, I’ll be real, Rouge’s boobs looked silly in the original. They come off as a childish attempt at sex appeal and do nothing but objectify the character and make her stick out like a sore thumb against character designs with simpler anatomy. What is lost by changing this? You don’t get to be aroused by a character that shows up in 3 cutscenes in an E10+ Sonic the Hedgehog game?
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Equally confusing is people complaining about the changes to this scene with Amy. Like, yeah, I think this is a really good change! Her trying to grab at Sonic and him needing to literally hold her off comes off as ridiculously flanderizing, it reduces her to her crush on Sonic and makes her act on it to an incredibly uncomfortable extent. It’s why I don’t see a Sonic Heroes remaster happening anytime soon, because that characterization of Amy is incredibly uncomfy and mildly misogynistic.
Should I be surprised? Eh, not really. Gamerbros on Twitter are giant misogynistic babies who will throw a tantrum over things they don’t like and decry as “woke”, but it’s still baffling to see regardless. These are miniscule changes made to better represent characters with who they’re meant to be in the current context of the franchise, and to treat them with more respect as a whole. Anyone complaining about this should genuinely reconsider their priorities.
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simply-ivanka · 1 month ago
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Why Do the Young Vote Left?
Socialist teachers lead them to think of government as a free-money tree.
It’s the gifts. The progressive vibe is that big government will take care of you. It knows what’s best for you. It will redistribute money how it pleases. You need to put a smile on your face while it takes away your laurels, guns and money. “We believe in the collective,” Ms. Harris declared, much like Hillary Clinton’s “it takes a village.” Equity in Schenectady. Handouts for all.
You want proof? Ms. Harris’s Senate voting record is leftward of socialist Bernie Sanders. Vice-presidential candidate Tim Walz fawns over China, saying “everyone is the same and everyone shares.” Viva la revolución and Che Guevara T-shirts for all.
This is antifreedom. Too many of today’s youth fall in line with progressives because they’re undereducated and overindoctrinated with someone else’s agenda. I watched in horror as local high-school biology classes spent weeks on the science of recycling centers and only a short afternoon on mitochondria and mitosis. Profit is a bad word. It’s gimme, gimme, whether it’s student loan forgiveness, free healthcare or tax credits.
Who’s to blame? Misguided capitalism-hating social-studies teachers to start, with Tim Walzian thinking: “One person’s socialism is another person’s neighborliness.” Who is he, Mr. Rogers? Add like-minded college professors. Work ethic and ambition are evaporating.
Worse, Pew Research notes almost a third of currently childless 18- to 34-year-olds aren’t sure if they ever want children. Why? The Harris campaign’s “climate engagement director,” Camila Thorndike, is among the hesitant, telling the Washington Post, “I want to protect them from suffering.” Perpetually pessimistic progressive prognostications induce fear. No wonder U.S. fertility rates are at historic lows.
OK, I know I’m asking for trouble. Every time I write about youth, I get a chorus of comments and tweets telling me I’m an old man screaming, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn.” Yeah, yeah. Very clever. I’m not that old. But in the Kamala collective—as California attempted—private “ornamental” lawns are out, and drought-resistant vegetation is in. Progressives literally want you off your own lawn.
My conversations with young folks who do exhibit some actual drive show their confusion: “I want to do a startup.” Great! To do what? “A sustainable something or other. To save the planet.” OK, is it productive? “What’s that?” Does it scale? “Huh?” Will it do more with less? “Not really, it needs lots of money to keep going and save more of the world.” Sounds like a nonprofit. (That usually invokes a smile.) Actually, wealth comes from delivering ever-cheaper stuff to millions of people, not handouts. “I don’t care about money.”
OK, I say, but progress and societal wealth happen when you delight customers and postpone consumption to reinvest profits into better products. The looks on their faces are as if I’m describing Chinese arithmetic.
Our youth aren’t lazy but lost. Progressives have strong opinions about society but no viable solution beyond handing out other people’s money—taken from the few who actually are productive, drive progress and generate wealth by fulfilling customer needs. It’s a downward spiral: When progressives tax—screaming “fair share!”—they cripple the productive few who actually create the real non-burger-flipping, get-out-of-your-parent’s-basement jobs.
To aggressive progressives, government is simply a magic money tree. Vote left and dollars appear. The gross incompetence of government—think billions for eight electric vehicle chargers—destroyed healthcare (thank you, ObamaCare) and education (assisted by Randi Weingarten’s teachers union) and is close to destroying energy (net zero), even while the Biden-Harris administration works hard to destroy Big Tech—one of the few productive industries. And I’ll never forgive progressive Hollywood for turning “Star Wars” into unwatchable wokey Wookiee drivel.
What industries will be left standing? Who cares, because the dreamy types think generative artificial intelligence will kill all jobs and government will provide universal basic income so they can Zyn, TikTok and play College Football 25 videogames all day. A naive youthful triumphalism.
This is a false endgame. There is so much more to be invented: drugs, immunotherapy, fusion, self-folding clothes, humanoid robotics, flying cars. Hard brain work plus quality recharging leisure time is the goal, not a nation of welfare queens.
I feel sorry for the youth that do care, do work hard, are productive and help push the boulder of progress up that steep slope, while essentially carrying all the others on their backs. It’s you against the collective, the village, which is always about being supported, pampered, living off someone else’s hard work and then complaining that the handouts aren’t big enough. So, yeah, get off my lawn, while lawns are still allowed.
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cece693 · 2 months ago
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Nothing Can Bring Me Back (Hannibal/Lucas x M! Reader)
If you're confused, this work deals with both Hannibal (from the TV show) and Lucas (from the movie The Hunt).
Summary: Hannibal was indeed a person suit, but also a safety net to a man who'd lost everything: his child, his lover...his future.
tags: open-ended, Lucas is Hannibal, Hannibal is still Hannibal, you're dead, but also a voice of reason, trying to humanize an inhuman character such as Hannibal, mentions of Will and Hannibal
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Hannibal awoke with a start, his body drenched in cold sweat, his breath ragged. The façade of Hannibal Lecter, a man who meticulously curated control over his every move, was shattered in these moments of nightmarish recall. He felt himself slipping—no, Lucas was slipping. And in that slippage, the walls of his mind’s fortress trembled.
He shut his eyes, willing the pain away, and entered his memory palace. The labyrinthine halls were a refuge, a place where he could momentarily shed the weight of the Hannibal persona. There, he found you waiting, as you always were. At the edge of a serene stream, the water shimmered in the golden light of a sun that never set, a perpetual twilight that reminded him of peace—a peace that was forever out of reach.
This was the place Lucas had first laid eyes on you, and it remained untouched by the darkness of his mind. Here, Hannibal, or what remained of Lucas beneath that mask, broke. Tears streamed down his face, and he collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving with silent sobs. You were beside him in an instant, pulling him gently onto your lap, cradling his head like a child’s. His arms clung to you, grasping for the solace that seemed to constantly slip away.
“Please.” you whispered softly, your fingers threading through his hair, disheveling its carefully maintained part. “Stop this. Stop creating this…this person suit. Lucas wouldn’t have wanted this.”
His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of his true name. “Lucas is dead.” he murmured, his voice fragile, almost broken. “He died with you. What remained—what remains—is something else. Someone else. A man who will never be as weak as Lucas was.”
“You weren’t weak.” you countered, your voice tender but firm. “You were human. You loved. You lost. But this—this man you’ve become, he doesn’t know how to love, Lucas. You built Hannibal to shield yourself, to keep the world at a distance. But now, you’re trapped inside him.”
“Hannibal is necessary.” he insisted, a spark of the old defiance flaring in his eyes. “You saw what they did to us—what they did to you. Their lies, their accusations. I lost you because I trusted, because I believed in the goodness of others. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“But is it better to be alone, behind these walls?” you asked, your hands moving to cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Is it better to live like this, constantly at war with yourself, instead of risking a chance at being Lucas again?”
He flinched, a tremor passing through him. “Alone…is safe.” he admitted to himself. “Hannibal is safety. Power. No one can touch me now. No one can take anything away from me ever again.”
“Hannibal is a prison.” you argued, your voice breaking with the weight of your words. “And it’s one you built yourself, brick by brick. I died, Lucas—I died, and you turned yourself into a monster to cope with it. But I’m gone. No matter how much control you try to wrestle from the world, it won’t bring me back.”
A silence settled between you, heavy with shared grief and regret. You reached into the folds of your memory, pulling out his old glasses which he'd destroyed so long ago. Gently, you placed them on his face, the familiar weight bringing a fleeting comfort.
“Look at me, Lucas.” you whispered. “Really look at me.”
His breath hitched, and his gaze met yours, the clarity of his eyes muddled by the distortion of his tears. For a moment, he was Lucas again—a man, broken but still human, staring at the love he lost.
“Why do you continue this?” you pressed softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Why keep wearing this mask, hurting yourself more than anyone else?”
He took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as they clung to you. “Because without Hannibal, I am lost. I have nothing left. I’ve seen what love does—what it did to me. It opens you up to betrayal, to pain, to loss. But Hannibal…Hannibal cannot be betrayed. He cannot be broken.”
“But it wasn’t just love that broke you.” you reminded him. “It was the belief that you could control everything. And now, you’ve found someone you care about—Will Graham. Why can’t you let yourself feel again?”
“Hannibal does not love.” he replied, his voice a low growl, but there was a tremor underneath—a crack in the armor. “I do not love. Will is…he’s a puzzle. A challenge. A chance to prevent another from treading the path that led me to this.”
“Or maybe.” you whispered, “He’s a chance for Lucas to come back. To find a way out of this darkness. He reminds you of our old life, doesn’t he? The simplicity, the peace of it. The woods, the flannels, the quiet of country living…”
Hannibal’s—no, Lucas’s—breath hitched again. His eyes closed tightly, as if shutting out the possibility. But he couldn’t deny the truth that trembled in your words, the truth that made his carefully constructed world feel like it was on the brink of collapsing.
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sinsinsininning · 9 months ago
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First time sending a request😭 could I get a post time skip strawhat crews reaction to a reader who’s late to reunite with them, and turns out they were in Impel down but escaped?
Like they’re wondering where they are and Nami busts in showing an article in the newspaper about reader escaping?
Srry if this is confusing💀
Ay yo! My first request, Tumblr deleted my first draft of this so it’s a little rushed now sorry. I wrote this as more platonic but tbh it could be viewed as romantic with some characters if you really want to. I also wrote this with a gender neutral reader in mind and they/them pronouns. I made the reader kind of an explosion person just to justify some parts of the story.
This is very different from what I normally write so it was a great exercise! I hope you enjoy! ✨✨✨
~~~~
You were late.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary, just like Zoro was guaranteed to get lost and Luffy to eat all the food in sight, you were the perpetually late straw hat. It was basically your title at this point.
This was different though, the crew was gathering after being separated for 2 years and with the marines and enemy pirates closing in, it wasn’t the day for you to be behind schedule. Still the crew awaited you until the last moment, as they set off the allies they’d made while training came through to clear a path.
And you still weren’t here.
“Where are they?” Nami glared at the horizen, willing you to appear, the anger in her tone barely hid her worry.
“I’m not surprised, they’re always showing up last minute.” Ussop groused, folding his arms haughtily. “This time it’s gonna bite them in the ass and they’ll be left behind!”
“Don’t say that!” Chopper cried, trying to pull on Ussop’s arms to uncross them. As if that’d make you magically appear. “They’ll be here! They’re always here when it counts!” His tears fluster the sniper who turned away from him to hide it.
Nami and Chopper started arguing, slowly dividing the crew into two teams. Team ‘They’ll be here, have Faith’ and Team ‘They’ll get left out, get over it’. Sanji sided with Ussop and Nami because of course he’d side with her. While Brook and Franky sided with the optimistic Chopper, certain you’d arrive.
It was loud and a little annoying, but it kept the crew occupied for a while. At least enough to stop them from over hearing their Captain and First Mate.
“Captain.” Zoro said lowly, watching the others argue about your absence. “We have to keep going. We can’t wait much longer.” Luffy had a serious face for once, odd for Zoro to see.
“I’m not waiting, they’ll get here. I have no doubts they’ll be back.” He said with finality, his voice had gotten much deeper over the 2 year break. Zoro frowned, his faith in you not as solid as his Captain’s.
Robin approached her leaders, holding some papers out for Zoro to read.
“I only just had a moment to read these,” She said. “Shaky and Rayleigh gave them to me as we departed. I’m afraid our friend may be out of luck.”
Zoro gasped as he read, Luffy snatched the papers away to scan them quickly. The startled cry he let out was stifled by one of Robin’s many hands, appearing at the right time. The top page was your mugshot, grinning wildly at the camera while holding your inmate card. Other pages contain your latest bounty, some newspaper clippings of your crimes and capture, as well as some convoluted court documents. Zoro snatched the papers back, trying to make sense of everything.
“They’re in Impel Down? When?” He hissed.
“I’m not sure, it looks like they’ve been there nearly the entire 2 years we’ve been gone.”
“I was there though!” Luffy stretches his mouth from behind Robin’s hand. “I could’ve helped them!”
“It’s a large prison, Luffy. Plus who knows they may have been arrested after your jail break.” Robin tried to comfort him. “I’m sorry, but we can’t turn back now. The way back is blocked by the marines, we should go forward and figure out a plan when we arrive in the New World.” Luffy shook his head with a glare.
“No way, we can’t leave them for a second longer!” His shouting catches the crew’s attention, Robin and Zoro sigh before the green haired man tosses them the papers. “I’ve escaped the Impel Down once and I’ll do it again.”
As the crew root through the papers, crying out in worry at the contents. Luffy turns back towards Saboady, tips his hat back slightly to evaluate the scene behind him. The shouting of his crew and Zoro’s begs for practicality become background noise as he focuses on the carnage they’ll be returning to.
A glimmer on the horizen catches his eye, it’s an explosion. But unlike the others raging on, it seems to glow. He watches it for a moment, distracted by the unusual colors, it reminds him of what you usually wear, the same hue and intensity. He points to the spot, just as it fades another one just like it replaces it, only closer.
“Hey look.” He laughs, Zoro growls and whaps him on the head.
“Hey were you even listening?”
“Nah.” Luffy is at least honest, but his pointing has caught Robin’s attention as well.
“That’s strange, who could be causing that?” She asks and the rest of the crew gather as the dazzling explosions grow closer and closer. Like condensed fireworks.
“I bet it’s them!” Chopper cries out, gripping Robin’s skirt to dry his tears.
“No way, they’re in the worst prison ever! Even Luffy needed help escaping it and he has devil fruit powers!” Ussop argued, but his grip on the railing tightened.
“Whatever it is, it’s coming straight for us!” Sanji warns, shoving himself in front of Nami and Robin.
“He’s right!” Robin shouts as the explosions get closer, becoming larger and more deafening. “Everyone brace for a hit!”
As the crew tense for a strike, Zoro drawing 2 of his swords, Sanji preparing to jump, Chopper growing in size. The spectacular colors sail over them in a chaotic arc.
“Did…did it miss?” Zoro asked, stunned at the blooming display of colors and glitter fallout.
Just as he spoke, the crackling ball of hues lands on the lion head of the Sunny. Several crew members leap forward to strike the intruder, but as the illuminations die away, you stand up.
“You’re here!” Chopper cries again, rushing forward to hug you tightly. Franky and Nami rush to join him.
“Aw don’t tell me y’all were worried!” You grin.
You get passed around from crewmate to crewmate as everyone gets their greeting in. Nami holds your face to her chest as she exclaims her relief. Franky tries to show off his new hair before you’re yanked away. Sanji holds you to his chest as he tells you not to creep on his Nami-Swan. Brook cries out tears -somehow?- and begins strumming his guitar for you. Robin gently cradles your red face as she expresses her gratitude for your arrival. Ussop shakes you vigorously for scaring him both by your lateness and your latest -loudest- entrance. Chopper holds tightly to your back the entire time.
Finally you get deposited in front of Zoro and Luffy, who both grin down at you. Chopper is pulled off your back by Robin, finally. You leap up and hold onto both men’s necks as you cheer.
“Did you miss me?”
Luffy hugs you back even tighter and Zoro doesn’t struggle out of your affection for once.
“What the hell happened for you to end up at Impel Down?” Zoro asked as you let go of him to hold a sniffling Chopper once more.
“The warlord guy sent me to a small jail somewhere off the coast of Thriller Bark. I escaped and attempted to return to Saboady, but along the way I got captured by some human traffickers.” You began, rocking Chopper gently now as the crew gathered around you to listen. “On the boat in my cell I managed to make some bombs and break free.”
“Of course you did, you could make bombs outta toothpaste and sunflower seeds.” Ussop interrupted, a little jealous at your longstanding demolition prowess.
“Anyways, me and the other prisons staged a mutiny of the ship, but the captain intentionally crashed it so that we’d be trapped. The idiot didn’t realize it was on the shores of the worlds securest prison. So I got arrested with them since they recognized me and knew I had a bounty.” You laughed despite how horrified your crew seemed.
“When were you there?” Luffy asked, eyes intense as he watched you.
“Sorry Cap’.” You grin. “I was there a few weeks after you’d already escaped. Wish we could’ve busted out together, it would’ve been cool as hell.” He relaxed a bit, feeling less guilty about your imprisonment.
“Why didn’t you escape then?” Nami asked.
“It’s not so simple, honestly it takes a lot of luck and teamwork to manage that. After Luffy broke out, security increased a lot, at least from what I was told. I tried to stage an escape, but I’m not as charming as our captain so I didn’t get a lot of traction.” You continued.
“Heh sorry bout that.” Luffy grinned sheepishly.
“Not your fault, I guess I’m not a people person.”
“I could’ve told you that.” Ussop threw a loose screw at you, until Nami smacked his head with a scowl.
“Leave them alone!”
“So how did you manage to escape?” Robin asked. “And how were you able to fly in those explosions?”
“After my failed escape attempts, I got sent lower and lower in the jail until I was in level 5. Then I met up with Bentham!” You shouted.
“What?”
“Really?”
“That guy was in Impel Down?”
You basked in their reactions for moment until you glanced at your captain.
“He’s alive?” Luffy asked.
“Yup, told me to tell you hi.” You smirked, Luffy looked so relieved. “I’d gotten your message by then and was desperate to get stronger. He took me in as my mentor and trained with me. As for my escape, it’s a long story, but let’s just say I managed to make friends with the Jailer Beasts.”
“Woah! Really?!” Luffy was shocked, he’d never thought to try.
“Yup they and Bentham helped me escape. He stayed behind since he’s the new Queen after Ivan left, but he certainly helped me learn how to make a grand entrance.” You posed goofily, while your crew laughed.
“And the flying in sparkles?” Sanji asked.
“Technically not flying,” You said as you unbuckled your belt and thigh harness. There were several pouches there that were filled with sparkling little orbs, the same color as your explosions. “These are something I made by accident, I call them Star Tracers! If you crack the outer coating it creates a large explosion, but in the center it becomes very dense almost like a small stepping stone before it disintegrates completely. So I crack one, then throw it and jump into the cloud of sparkles and land on the step before repeating the process.”
“Wooooooah,” Ussop’s eyes sparkled at your invention. “How’d you manage that?”
“Not sure honestly, I think it’s a chemical reaction to the materials I use, but they’re all pretty common so it was easy to make a bunch. The steps are only tangible for a few moments, so I had to improve my speed, that’s why it looks like I’m flying.” You shrug and let Ussop look over the marbles as the crew starts excitedly speaking.
As the day starts to end and you’re sitting on the head of the Sunny, watching the water around you. Luffy slowly walks up to join you, sitting practically on top of you. The two of you sit for a while in silence, comforting silence after such a crazy day.
“Thanks for waiting for me.” You say sincerely, smiling as he starts to protest, then quiets himself.
“How’d you know I did?” Luffy asked, he’d tried to be subtle, but his worry for you had made him slow their escape.
“Come on, like you’d leave me behind.” You give him a side hug, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “Plus I remember when you literally launched us out to sea once, you were waaaaaay to slow making your escape today. It was obvious.”
You both laugh as the water grows dark around you, ready for the next day.
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thedevilundercover · 9 months ago
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my perpetual state of being is going: hey, that piece of media + this fanfic + another headcanon + a bajillion other stuff would make the perfect fic
totally unrelated to that, I have another fic idea
Timbuktu but he’s a shady medic. He’s also aged up bc why not
He’s lost his parents, he’s lost his fortune, he’s now living in crime alley. Great, stellar, it’s whatever, then he finds a whole ass child bleeding out in an alley
Because Timber has, like, a saviour complex, he’s like ok I’m going to carry this random child into my shitty apartment. When he finishes patching the child he passes out and the next day the child is gone.
Timmy’s like great, he’s gone, idgaf. But no, Timberly, you made a mistake. Bc the child told *other children* about him. Now he was running an under ground medic for homeless children, he’s totally fine, the compartmentalisation skills are coming in hand.
The first kid he saved, Jason, disappeared one day, Tim’s confused and worried (he doesn’t care for him, no sir, why would you say that?) then he’s like ohhhh new Robin = Jason
Then Robin dies, and he’s… *more hurt than he had thought he would be*
After a while he’s still sad, but it’s better, he’s still taking care of the children. Bc it’s what Jason would have wanted, but the fucking red hood gang captures him.
He’s like ohhhhh fuck, this is the end besties. But for some reason this goon named Gary ruined it all. Gary was a little dumb and he ruined the entire terrorising part of the kidnapping.
Jason apparently wanted to kill him because he forgot him? Bullshit? He was depressed?
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devine-fem · 7 months ago
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Damian lovers (and by extension of this ask,damijon lovers) don't explore the fact that Damian was extremely cultured for the majority of his life before coming to live with Bruce. Like that 10 yr old is experiencing culture shock!! Ofc he's gonna act out and disobey authority figures he doesn't even know
Yes he had rules and obligations as an Al ghul,but he traveled and saw so much of the world that most,if none of the robins never got a chance to see at their ages... Then he's expected to be by his Father's side in order to learn and grow.. NOT TO SAY HE HASN'T!!! but to be stuck in such a gloomy place like Gotham when he grew up in such a beautiful island surrounded by the very flora and flauna that the Al Ghuls strive to protect...
The damijon part is where Damian shows Jon how other parts other than the Western world work,showing him all the wonderful cultures and history he's seen throughout his life before him,before his father. How integral this is to his identity as an Al Ghul and now he wants his closest person to be able to experience it with him... Jon showed him how to adapt to western culture when they were kids and now Damian shows him what the world has always looked like to him,how hard it was to let go of his cultured past when coming to America
I don’t talk about the culture shock because I admit to not knowing a whole lot of how culture shock works to be honest. Like I know if I took me as I am now and dropped me into China I’d be extremely confused and lost as to how things functioned around me but to survive I’d have to pick up on it and Damian’s a smart kid I think it wouldn’t be too bad for him…?
I think Damian functions entirely differently from a normal person no matter where he is, lol, like what Damian al ghul has experienced and isn’t common for any child… ever… so is it culture shock as much as it is… constantly perpetual states of shock?
His whole character is him relearning everything. Or maybe, I am misinterpreting it? Is culture shock a bad thing? or is it just an interesting concept?
Is it a trauma?
I’ll take it as an interesting concept for now and just discuss the damijon part of it because that’s what I’m good at.
Do you realize that Jon has grown up on a farm his whole childhood? LOL. Do you realize that Jon Kent would be fascinated by an ice dispenser??
Could you imagine the awe and ooing he’d do going to Nanda Parbat? The Himalay? He’d be so out of it LMAO. Oh, that would make for such a cute interaction of Damian showing him around his culture and him knowing nothing, it’d also be so damn romantic.
Even then the aesthetic would be gorgeous, that’s why I love Damian Al ghul, imagine Damian Al Ghul taking his superman to his beautiful private chambers to indulge in romantics for a while? just so cute.
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sashketter · 6 months ago
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Dancing The Blues Away
Summary: Padmé Amidala convinces Riyo Chuchi to go out dancing. They bump into a few men from the 501st, including Captain Rex and ARC trooper Echo. Padmé leaves Riyo with the clones. Years later, Rex, Echo, and Riyo reminisce about that night.
Word count: 2.3K
Warnings: Mentions of Anidala. Hints of Echiyo and Rexiyo.
Notes: This starts during the Clone Wars and jumps ahead immediately after season 3 episode 15 of The Bad Batch, “The Calvary Has Arrived.” I can’t get over Echo’s throwaway line about Riyo sheltering clones on Pantora (THE QUEEN THE ABSOLUTE LEGEND THAT SHE IS). I figured that can’t be the only time she’s surrounded by our boys.
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Growl, growl, growl, growl.
Riyo Chuchi looks up from the packet on her desk. She stares in disbelief at the clock on the wall. She had missed dinner, and her stomach was protesting. She starts to remember her guards offering to fetch her food hours ago, but she had dismissed and ordered them to fetch their own meals instead. She reaches for her comlink when soft knocks land on her door.
“Come in.” Riyo’s voice cracks from disuse, so long had she been poring over papers in silence. She stands to greet her visitor. “Senator Amidala!”
“Good evening, Senator Chuchi.” Padmé opens and stands next to the door, her hand still on the knob. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. Please come in.” Riyo gestures towards the two seats in front of her desk. As Padmé crosses the floor, a gloved hand from the hall reaches for the doorknob and closes the door quietly. “I’ve almost finished reading the revised refugee bill. Did you have something to add?”
“No, I think we’ve covered everything.” Padmé sits and takes in Riyo’s desk, bare of trimmings except a simple, gold lamp on the corner. “It’s a shame it’s taken so long for the Republic to provide aid to those displaced on the Outer Rim. I’m glad you decided to co-sponsor it.”
“Of course.” Riyo sits back down. “Naboo has been an inspiration to those like myself and a few in our moon’s Assembly who wish to take Pantora in a more active and humanitarian direction.”
Padmé nods and smiles at the compliment, but immediately changes direction. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t come to discuss legislation or diplomacy. Are you busy tonight?”
Riyo blushes. “Oh! Um, well, I had hoped to study the bill further in case the opposing—”
“We have the votes, Riyo,” Padmé soothes. “There’s not much the opposition can do.”
Riyo looks down at the packet and searches for another strategy. She doesn’t want to turn down the senator, but her body is screaming for sleep and sustenance.
Padmé senses Riyo’s hesitation and tries again. “It’s just we’ve been stuck in the Senate district for days, ironing out this bill, and I think we both deserve a break.”
“I agree,” Riyo concurs a little too quickly. “But I’m afraid I skipped dinner, and I don’t think I’ll make good company before—”
“Then it’s settled! Dinner it is.” Padmé is up and at the door in the blink of an eye. “I’ll meet you at your quarters in an hour.” She turns the door knob before whirling back around to clarify, “Oh, and don’t wear anything too fancy.”
Riyo blinks in confusion. “Why?”
~~~
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Padmé.” Riyo tugs at the hem of her dress as they cross the busy street. They land on an even busier sidewalk.
“Nonsense. A little music and some dancing won’t hurt.” Padmé manages to outpace Riyo’s guards who are losing their breaths trying to keep the two senators in sight. “Think of it as a treat after all our hard work.”
Riyo lost count of the number of levels they’d descended searching for whatever destination Padmé had in mind. She had simply said, “Trust me,” after dinner before grabbing Riyo by the wrist and venturing into Coruscant’s perpetual darkness. Each turn around a blind corner seems to reveal a new shade of neon lights, a deeper depth of dampness clinging to the walls, a more pungent smell of different species packed tight.
After what feels like a full rotation to Riyo, Padmé stops in front of a nondescript building. No signs, no crowds. Blue neon light bathes the alley from above the sole door. If not for the low thrum of the music within, Riyo would’ve thought these durasteel walls were empty.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Riyo looks at her guards who start to station themselves.
Padmé looks around until she spies some graffiti. “Yes. Senator Mothma said to look for that.” She points to an imperceptible rendering of a lotus blossom to the right of the door frame. It glows a faint blue. Riyo admires the simplicity of the blacklight above. “She used to come here as a junior senator, said it was safe and out of the way.”
Inside is only marginally brighter than outside, though with significantly more people per square meter. Padmé spots the bar at a distance and starts towards it. Riyo follows close behind, looking around the crowded floor before colliding into the senator’s back. She peers around her at the unmistakable armor of a trooper.
“Captain Rex?” The clone turns at the sound of his name and faces Padmé. His eyebrows shoot up in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Senator!” He starts to stand at attention until he spies Riyo. “Uh, senators.” He plants his feet and points his thumb behind him. “Uh, some of the boys thought 79s was getting old and stuffy.”
“No, I mean what are you doing here on Coruscant?” Nearby patrons start to recognize Padmé’s voice. Elbows jab and eyes turn for quick glances; Rex’s peripheral vision serves him well. “I thought the 501st was on a mission to Saleucami.”
“Yes, we were. But you know General Skywalker, he—” Rex stops abruptly, eyes bulging, and blushes impossibly red. Padmé smirks and steps in to save the captain’s decorum.
“Let me guess: he saved the day and cut your stay short.” She shakes her head in amusement.
Rex clears his throat but finds himself coughing. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
“How long will you be on Coruscant?” Padmé somehow stretches the question several syllables longer.
“Just for tonight. We received orders as soon as we landed to support General Gallia in the Mid Rim. We leave at 0900.” Rex doesn’t miss the senator’s surprise.
“I see. Excuse me,” Padmé plans her escape, “have you met Senator Chuchi?”
Rex and Riyo exchange nods. “We’ve met. Senator.”
“Captain. Padmé, what—” A small hand and a passing group shove Riyo into Rex’s chest. His hands fly up to her arms to reestablish a respectable distance between them.
“I’m so sorry, Riyo,” Padmé starts to back away towards the exit, “but I need to— um—”
“Prepare for a briefing?” Rex raises an eyebrow and employs her and the general’s code word.
“Y-yes. My apologies, Riyo, really. I-I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Padmé disappears into the anonymous crowd. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Riyo stares in shock at being abandoned in the lower levels. She turns around and finds Rex pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Are you alright, captain?”
“Uh, yes, ma’a—uh, senator.”
“You don’t have to entertain me if—” She stops and squints at Rex. “How long have they roped you into their dates?”
Once again, Rex is caught off-guard to the amusement of the senator in front of him. “I, uh, I-I’m not sure what you—”
“Never mind.” Riyo doesn’t want to torture the man. “It’s none of my business.”
“Hey, Rex!” The captain looks over his shoulder as it’s enveloped by the hand of another trooper. The clone takes in Riyo with interest. “Hello there, sweetheart. Listen, if the captain here’s not showing you a good time, I—”
“Stow it, Hardcase,” Rex sneers. “The senator doesn’t want to hear your sithspit.”
Before Riyo can ease the tension, a voice from behind her chirps, “Senator Chuchi?”
Riyo turns around to a wall of white and blue armor. She recognizes the ARC trooper designation of the clone’s double pauldrons. “Yes?”
A second ARC trooper elbows the first. “Aiming a little high there, Echo.”
“What? No, I just—” Echo starts to double back. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t, but—” He lurches forward when the second ARC trooper slaps his back with a dull thud.
“Gentlemen, please.” Riyo is surrounded. She spies Rex start to laugh at her own befuddlement.
“Stand down, men.” The captain steps in. “Let the senator gain her bearings.” He puts a gentle hand on her back and leads her towards the bar. As they gain some distance, Riyo catches the sound of plastoid meeting plastoid before Echo growls, “You’re a karking sack of bantha fodder, Fives!”
Rex deposits Riyo on a stool before taking the seat to her left. “Sorry about that, senator. We don’t get a lot of opportunities to,” he searches for a less provocative word, “decompress.”
“No need to apologize, captain.”
The bartender ambles up to them. “The usual, Rex?”
“Yeah, thanks, Slice.”
Riyo recognizes the bottle as Slice pours a generous amount. “I’ll have the same.”
“Really?” Rex takes his glass and watches the bartender fill another. “I wouldn’t have thought you liked brandy.”
Twin glasses in hand, the captain and the senator toast and take big swigs. “Pantoran distilleries aren’t as famous as Corellia’s,” Riyo raises her glass to the light, “but we still make a good bottle.” She blinks at Rex above the rim of her glass and takes another mouthful. She suddenly remembers that she had had two glasses of wine at dinner with Padmé. She regrets the show of bravado and hopes her stomach won’t betray her.
They turn to face the crowd in time to see the second ARC trooper from before march up to the bar. A playful smirk wrinkles his eyes as he makes a beeline for the senator. He bows before her ceremoniously, his head nearly level with her lap, and raises his right hand to her. She puts her hand in his and turns to send a confused look at Rex who’s already shaking his head. The ARC trooper’s fingers curl around hers, and he looks up. “Care for a dance, senator?”
Riyo smiles wide. “What’s your name, trooper?”
“CT-5555, but they call me—”
“A real pain in my ass,” Rex bellows. The bar erupts in laughter.
Riyo’s sympathy starts to flare until Fives aims a finger gun with his free hand at Rex and winks. “Only to the best ass in the GAR, brother.”
The bar roars even louder. Rex rolls his eyes and turns to the bartender for another drink, blocking fists to his back and shoulders.
The force of Riyo’s laugh almost knocks her off her stool, her outstretched hand already disrupting her balance, but Fives straightens up and takes her other hand in his, steadying her.
“Don’t fall for me yet, senator.” Fives steps closer to balance her forearm on his.
Riyo laughs. “I suppose I can stand to—”
“Not sure you can stand at all, ma’am.” A new clone flanks her from the right. Riyo recognizes the medic by the insignia on his spaulder.
“I-I’ll be fine, trooper, thank you.” She looks up at Fives. “Unless you’ve gotten cold feet.”
Fives smiles broadly and swings her around to the dance floor. Riyo’s head spins, but the ARC trooper gives her all the support she needs. The rest of the night is a blur of flashing lights and reassuring baritones and white armor. She dances with Echo who keeps his kit to himself. She dances with Rex who keeps a hand on hers and twirls her around. She even dances with Hardcase whom Rex and Fives have to peel off her shoulders when his fifth shot of tihaar hits him hard. Between the warm treatment of the troopers and the lingering effects of the wine and brandy, Riyo floats. Her skin fizzes, and her mind empties of the galaxy, replaced by the simple desire to remain in the company of the clones.
~~~
Riyo sits on a crate and waits for the caf to finish brewing on the busy table next to her. From a distance, she watches her guards distribute food and water to the prisoners scattered in groups of twos and threes across the small airfield. Rex and Echo make their way to each group. At the edge of the Remora’s platform, the female clone speaks to Howzer whose face flickers between horror and curiosity.
Sunset drapes over Pantora. Pink and purple meet in the sky while the city past the airfield is cloaked in silhouette. The air starts to chill, but the atmosphere is filled with warm relief. Tantiss is destroyed, its prisoners freed, and a glimmer of hope spreads with Emerie’s arrival and intel. Riyo looks on with pride.
Rex and Echo start towards the caf table. Riyo stands as they reach her. “Good work, you two.” She’s always eager to comfort them.
“It’s a start.” The clones nod at each other, a shared thought voiced by Echo.
Without warning, music warbles out of the airfield’s PA system. The three turn towards the communications tower where they see Gregor wave and give a thumbs up. He bends to speak into a microphone. “It’s a party tonight, boys! You’re free men! Woohoo!”
Cheers and laughter drift through the airfield. In the distance, Riyo spies the city’s lights come on, a blessing on their festivities.
“Not exactly Lotus, is it?” Rex smirks down at Riyo. On her other side, Echo is simply stunned.
Riyo looks up at Rex. A hazy memory from a lifetime ago starts to sharpen. She remembers him escorting her to a waiting taxi away from the club, her guards securing the sidewalk. She thought they were alone and had left the other clones back inside until a chorus of jeers and laughter erupted behind them. Hardcase and the ARC troopers had run to catch up. “That was a fun night,” she recalls, surprised at the details coming back to her.
“The boys never let me live it down.” Rex crosses his arms. “For awhile, my kit was covered in blue lipstick every time I got out of the fresher.”
Riyo smiles fondly at the image of Fives and Hardcase pressing blue-painted lips to Rex’s armor. She looks between Rex and Echo and at the clones celebrating and marvels at how far they’ve all come since that night.
“It should’ve been purple,” Echo interjects, “but I could only find blue.”
Rex chokes on a curse, and Riyo bursts into laughter. She doubles over, clutching her sides and gasping for breath, while Echo blocks Rex’s punches over her head. For awhile, Rex finds a single stain of purple lips on his helmet every time he debriefs the senator.
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badboydevotee · 13 days ago
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Shattered Armor
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The sun had long disappeared behind the horizon, casting the city into a shroud of darkness. The night was alive with the cacophony of distant sirens and the hum of neon lights reflecting off rain-slicked streets. Samatoki, the formidable leader of the yakuza, was out on the town, taking his frustrations out on the only solace he could find: the bottom of a bottle. It wasn’t often that Samatoki drank, but tonight he sought the numbing embrace of alcohol like an old friend.
His resistance to drunkenness was unbeatable, yet tonight was different. The weight of his duties, the perpetual tension of his world, and the raw ache of his past had conspired to wear him down. He held his liquor well, but even the strongest of walls had their cracks. As he staggered through the dimly lit streets back to his residence, the swirling effects of alcohol began to take their toll, though he tried desperately to maintain his composure.
The grand entrance to his residence loomed before him, a fortress of steel and stone, but to him it was a beacon of familiarity and, most importantly, the place where you were waiting. A flicker of warmth crossed his mind, a fleeting hope that his return would be met with the comfort of your embrace. However, as he stumbled inside, the house was eerily quiet.
His thoughts, now muddled and fuzzy, propelled him toward the bedroom with a sense of urgency. The distance between the front door and the sanctuary of your shared bed seemed to stretch interminably. He pushed through the door and, with a sinking feeling, saw the empty bed. A pang of confusion and a strange sense of abandonment struck him. His heart raced, pounding not just from the alcohol but from the sudden surge of anxiety that he was alone.
“Where the fuck is she?” he muttered, his voice a rough whisper against the silence. His steps faltered as he fumbled through the dimly lit rooms, stumbling over the furniture and muttering curses under his breath. The quiet was oppressive, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of your presence. 
Desperation gnawed at him as he fished out his phone, dialing your number with trembling fingers. The ringing echoed ominously through the house, and as it did, he caught the faintest trace of your ringtone in the background. His heart leapt in his chest. It wasn’t possible—could it be that you were just hiding somewhere, waiting for him?
The sound of your voice on the other end of the line was like a balm to his wounded soul. “Samatoki?” you asked, your voice a soothing melody amidst his chaotic thoughts.
“I-I don’t know where you are!” he blurted out, trying to keep his voice steady. “I came home, and the bed—”
“I'm here,” you interrupted softly. “I’m on the couch.”
The relief that surged through him was almost overwhelming. He followed the sound of your voice, his heart racing as he made his way to the living room. There you were, seated on the couch, bathed in the soft glow of the lamp. You looked up at him, your expression a mixture of concern and confusion.
Samatoki’s resolve crumbled as he finally saw you. He staggered over, collapsing into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The tears that he’d tried so hard to suppress finally broke free, mingling with his words. “I—Fuck, I thought I lost you. I can't—” He was incoherent, his voice breaking as he choked out his fears and regrets.
You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, trying to comfort him as he sobbed against you. “Samatoki, you haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”
He gripped you tightly, as if he could anchor himself to you and stop the room from spinning. His tears fell freely now, the façade of the indomitable yakuza leader shattering in the face of his vulnerability. “I’ve lost so much, so many people,” he whispered brokenly. “I can’t lose you too. Please.”
His words were a desperate plea, a raw outpouring of emotions that he rarely let show. The weight of his past, his fierce protectiveness, and the fear of losing the one person who mattered most to him collided in that moment. The room seemed to spin around him, but you were his anchor, the one constant he could hold on to.
You stroked his hair gently, your voice soft and soothing. “You won’t lose me, Samatoki. I’m here for you, no matter what. I promise.”
The reassurance in your voice was a lifeline, and slowly, the storm within him began to calm. Samatoki’s tears subsided, and as he held you close, the room’s spinning eased. For now, the tumultuous world outside was forgotten, and all that mattered was the unspoken promise between you two, a vow of unwavering support and love amidst the chaos of life.
As the night wore on, Samatoki’s breaths evened out, his body relaxed in the comfort of your embrace. The battles of the day and the weight of his burdens momentarily lifted, replaced by the gentle warmth of your presence. In the stillness of the night, with you by his side, Samatoki found a rare moment of peace, a fragile serenity that he cherished more than anything in his tumultuous world.
And as the dawn began to break, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold, Samatoki clung to you, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that with you, he would never be truly alone.
huge shoutout to my co-writer: @iris564 !! mwa~
Ao3 vers.
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canarycolemine · 1 year ago
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Vignettes of Paradise
Vignette III
Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x Original Female Character
Summary: Copia gazed up at his official portrait, how lonely it looks without his love. His love, however, is in quite the sour mood. Even if she doesn’t see it, his love for her is always visible.
Warning: slightly suggestive material
AO3 Link!
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Copia had treasured watching the sunset from his luxurious office. A far cry from the cramped office from his Cardinal days. Designed to his humble preferences, with small luxuries - dark, oak wood and rich brown leather couches, chairs, and royal blue curtains, pillows and accents throughout the room. Over the beautiful dark fireplace, his portrait commanded the room.
He objected to his portrait being in his office, something about seeing himself constantly, watching over his actions felt like vanity and generally unnerving. However, the upper clergy reminded him that, indeed, vanity is a sin. In case he forgot what sort of church he was leading.
As he gazed at the portrait, he longed for the day when the painting came down and updated.
How beautiful the portrait would be once his Evie joined him. Could the artist capture the way the sun shined in her eyes - showing the complexities of her eyes? Would it catch the perpetual flush to her cheeks? Oh how he hoped they would.
One day, he would not be worried about his visage watching his work; his lover would watch over him.
Lost in thought at the portrait, Evie stormed into the room, immediately alerting Copia that something was wrong. How sweet she normally was, now utterly grumpy!
Her nose scrunched as she planted herself on Copia’s couch. Copia had learned better than to comment on how adorable she looked when she was mad. Still, though, her sour mood worried him.
“My love, what’s wrong?” He asked, sitting next to her.
“Oh!! I’m so mad!” She started. “And no advice right now, I just need to be heard.”
“You have my word, tell Papa what’s wrong.”
“All day long! People have been staring at me! At the infirmary people would not look me in the eyes, but they wouldn’t stop staring at me! It was infuriating. And when I talked to Diana, she did it too.” She began, already raising her voice.
“I asked her, ‘what, do I have something on my face?’ And she was like, ‘nope, not at all, Evie.’ And then she laughed. I was just so busy, I had no time to think, but every time I spoke to someone or walked past someone, they would just stare at me. Then they would start giggling and someone said, ‘hey Evie, how’s old Papa doing?’ What does that have to do with my face!”
“Evie…” Copia began to interject.
“No, I’m not done.” She said, smiling only a flash, reassuring him that she was certainly not frustrated with the aforementioned Papa! “And I love you so very much, obviously, but I would hate to think that people think I get everything I want here just because we’re, you know, boyfriendgirlfriend.”
“Oh amore! That is not true!”
“How do I know that, I can’t ever tell what people are thinking. And why do they see my face and immediately think of you!”
“Perhaps, ah sorry, are you ready for the advice?” Copia hesistated.
“Maybe, but what could you say that would help me understand what people are thinking?”
“Eh, maybe I could show you?”
Copia grabbed her hand, hoisting her up, as they headed to their shared bedroom. Evie had a confused expression at the sudden change of scenery.
“Copia, why are we going over to the bedroom?” Evie became even more confused, convinced that fucking would not really help her mood.
“No more words, amore. Just follow me.”
He led her to the en-suite bathroom, guiding her, holding her hand.
Before they stepped much further into the bathroom, he paused, turning to her.
“I know why the siblings were staring at you all day. And it’s not because of your radiant beauty, although it stops me dead in my tracks. It is not because we are involved, and certainly, you are not given any advantages simply because of that. You work very hard, Evie, do not discredit yourself.”
A pout grew on her face, as her eyes began to well. He gently guided her into the room, turning her towards the mirror. Evie half expected a lesson in self-love. But as she began to take in her reflection, she saw the two of them. She was still dining her habit and veil, but she took in her face.
Her eyes immediately followed to her forehead.
“Oh.” She quietly said. Her expression changed suddenly.
Squarely on her forehead, a prominent black kiss mark was unmissable.
“Oh.” She repeated.
She recalled Copia kissing her forehead this morning; she was running late and left just as Copia was finishing his paints for the day.
Copia was sure that Evie would eventually wipe away the mark. But alas, here it remained, a half a day later. In pristine condition. She didn’t even notice it.
“Oh, I am not very smart, copia.”
“Ah, of course you are, my Evie! You have said it before, you have book smarts and maybe less of the street smarts.”
Evie giggled for the first time in hours.
“Perhaps when we make our clergy portrait, you can have a little kissy mark on your forehead, then, too, heh?”
“Oh you wouldn’t dare!” She teased back.
That evening, Copia ensured that she had plenty of matching kiss marks all over her body.
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