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brandonjohnbarnard · 2 months ago

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Production history around: Gacha’nce

This article goes into the production history around my film ‘Gacha’nce’, in terms of the events happening before, during, and after its creation.

I am going to talk about this film slightly differently to my other films: chronologically. I have a massive ‘To Do list’ (TDL) where I track a lot of my ins and outs of daily life. Really, its more a planner than a TDL, but the name has stuck.

Above is a redacted version of my TDL to help illustrate the timeline of this film. Redacted, as to not completely dox myself or others, and to make it more legible.

BEFORE PRODUCTION

On the 1st date (27th of Jan) — I attended to just watch. It was a lot of fun, and for the 2nd date (23rd of March) I brought along my own film ‘Broodiest Flunkey’ to screen.

Before the screening, there was a workshop where we had to use prompts in order to collect footage — for more details on this read my article about ‘circles’.

Fast forward to 6PM, the screening happens, and I get to show off my film. The entire process was a lot of fun.

So in that moment, after my film shows and the crowd applauds: I decide I want to make a new film for Cinaesthesia 3 on the 4th of May.

There was also something great about having a deadline. That I could not put it off if I wanted to be a part of the next event.

PRODUCTION

Five days after Cinaesthesia 2, my wife and I were on our way to Japan for our honeymoon. I had wanted to go there my whole life — it was my major ‘bucket list’ holiday, if I could go anywhere, it would be there.

Since we were going to Japan, I thought ‘why not think about gachapon and how they relate to chance’ since gachapon are very popular in the country (way more than I had expected actually). Chance was on my mind heavily because of my recent DADA reading, and due to some elements present in ‘Broodiest Flunkey’ (in particular the scrabble piece elements).

I was really interested in the idea that chance can be seen as some type of deity, or cosmic entity. That everything good that happens to us, and everything bad, is in one way or another linked to chance. That we are constantly immersed within a butterfly effect which is influenced by our own thrashing around in our lives. This connection between agency and chance too I thought was important. We can make decisions for sure, but we cannot choose.

I then started to think about the idea of how many choices you make within a day, and how much deviation one person has within said day. With so many of life’s most important results often relying on a small, in-the-moment, insignificant decision, I started to both think about how much pressure that could feel like, but also how could you maximise the possibility that your minor decisions have a large and worthwhile impact.

I then started looking at synonyms of ‘chance’ to try to prompt more thinking. I won’t share all of them, but some of them are nice.

I also started to notice the annoying connection between chance and capitalism.

When landing in Japan, I put a lot of the writing to the side, and started to capture as many instances of gachapon and related chance elements as I could. I ended up with 129 files which I thought were good enough to use.

I also made sure to collect many shots at different heights. Mainly, the movement from street level, to Tokyo Tower height, to Skytree. I wanted ‘the amount of decisions’ within the shot to increase each step, and for this to correlate with the ‘weight’ of decisions. This too, with the main character getting buried the higher up we go, I thought was a good contrast.

2 days after we had returned from our 2 week honeymoon, I started to think about the other scenes needed for the production.

I had the idea of having my head surrounded by gachapon, as I slowly started to sink into them. I made sure to keep every one I opened during my trip, which made packing a bit of a nightmare. Circles are not the most convenient shape for space efficiency.

I cannot for the life of me find the raw footage of this being made, so I will need to use my memory. I made a small box which only allowed my head to stick through. Isobel crouched on top of me in bed, while she covered me in balls. After every few seconds of being still, I sunk down more and more.

In Tokyo, I also found these gachapon props which I really wanted to use for something. Originally, I wanted to create a ‘god of chance’ that either used these gacha pieces in their outfit, or on a box which they were released from, or both.

Instead, I ended up using them as a way to symbolise the afterlife or death, that this was the final moment in one’s life and therefore did not have agency, and as such, have no coins left to play a game of chance.

The other scene I needed to film after Japan was opening a gachapon ball full of blood. Oh my god, this fake blood was so hard to get off of skin. Once you got it, you were stained for a very long time. This is one of two scenes I do not like in the piece. I really wish I had gacha balls underneath rather than cardboard. I think it would have looked more ‘in-place’ since cardboard does not appear anywhere else. It is too sterile. This was made right after ‘Broodiest Flunkey’, so I was still thinking in those terms in regards to production aesthetic.

(The other scene I don’t like is the chromakey on the trees. A bit too jarring.)

When editing the piece, I originally wanted to keep increasing the amount of gacha machines being shown on screen, but I worried that my PC would not be able to handle that, and also that I did not have enough scenes.

So, as a way to compromise not having enough footage, I decided to play around with some of the blocks and have that be a different shot playing across multiple squares.

In the end, I found that the film was already overstaying its welcome at 2m22s, so decided to not go this far with the idea. Also, because this was being made for Cinaesthesia, there was a 3 minute cap for film length.

When I was making the storyboard to ensure scene order made sense, I realised that I was not going to reach 3 mins anyway, so a lot of the editing was based on vibes, or ‘what felt right’ — very different from ‘Broodiest Flunkey’ prior.

In terms of a cool chance discovery while editing, I really like how the fish look when chromakey is applied to them. Because their colours are shifting as they swim, it means that their transparency flutters between different parts of the frame. Using their shiniest point as well as the chromakey means that you get a really clear transparency which only appears for brief moments.

CINAESTHESIA 3

The film premiered on the 4th of May at Cinaesthesia 3. It was a fun night, and really felt like a big exhale after a project that took up a lot of my mental energy. It is funny thinking of the cycle of ‘this film is now out there, time for the next one’, the idea that the release allows something new to take its place.

THOUGHTS SINCE

It is odd how new thoughts emerge from your pieces which you had not thought of prior. Now I cannot help but think that Gacha’nce has anti-capitalism messaging (which makes sense as I’m anti-capitalist), but there are lots of ties to money and decision making, that finances allow you to have more choices than other people. This was not on my mind when I made it (consciously at least), but I cannot help but see that now.

Also, it is funny. This film is cursed. Whenever it has appeared at a screening or gallery, the name has been spelt wrong. I thought it was clever. Gacha + Chance = Gacha’nce. Oh well.

This film also started my thinking of how film productions can be used as an opportunity for a photoshoot at the same time. If you are creating a cool scenario, why not take advantage in the moment and create other types of media in the process. Now whenever I do a cool shot, I think it’s a ‘gacha’nce moment’.

THE END

Thanks a bunch for reading. I would really like to hear about what you think after going through this piece. I hope some of it has been helpful to you and your practice, or has been interesting at least.

I am excited to catch up to my films in terms of articles, because then I will start writing about some of the specifics of creation, or specific themes. Being able to release an article alongside a film would be nice too, though I do worry about not being able to appreciate a process fully without some breath.

Have fun out there x

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jtenvs3000w24 · 11 months ago

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Blog Post #5: Citizen science in nature and demographics

While growing up, attending school and at time volunteering I had noticed a growing trend for environmental stewardship. Coincidentally my own interests also shifted in this direction towards the environment. I feel that the article Convergence between science and environmental education covers this perfectly. In today’s society there is a greater emphasis in environmental science and environmental education which unfortunately, was not as much of a concern in older curriculum. As stated in the article the three main focuses of environmental education today are; 1) developing thinking capacity to 2) make inform conditions and 3) act individually and together to benefit the environment (Wals, A., et al, 2014). These three principles tie together nicely as a natural thinking process with inevitable action. Despite the only recent growth and still growing concern, simply teaching children and youth alone in schools and through interpretation, would not be enough to create change and spread knowledge as far as possible. Aiming towards adults and elderly audiences as well will help.

Incorporating new ideas into education and interpretation are good examples of innovative solutions that will work to help foster more environmental stewards and at the very least more people who are informed of the current environmental issues. Incorporating edible gardens and more green spaces into schools to me sounds like a fun idea and something I feel I would have enjoyed (Stevenson, R., et al, 2013). It also works to teach basic skills like gardening and growing crops which are transferable skills that would work to increase the public interest of community gardens and individual gardens by passing on these skill and knowledge to parents. There may also be the added benefit of having more green spaces in schools as a comfortable aesthetic which works to distress students.

I had never really considered the importance of citizen science and the role it plays in research and informing the public. I knew of the term citizen science but had never really seen it in practice or read about it much. It’s interesting to think that there are whole niche communities that use citizen science as their primary research like in Trinidad and Tobago (Overdevest, C., et al, 2004). Its kind of like an indie science that delivers research results in a different manner that is more accessible and comprehensible for the public, made by citizens for the science word and other citizens.

In the article Evaluating Environmental Education, Citizen Science, and Stewardship through Naturalist Programs, it was interesting to see the different reaches of science within a specific field. Focusing on the areas where demographics of groups participating in citizen science and research as a whole were specific to a few demographics (Merenlender, A., et al, 2016). Whether it be naturally or by choice I thought it was an interesting observation to note. The fact that this article addresses it and therefore aims to work on closing this gap of data for science fields. In doing so, there will be a wider spread of knowledge and less misinformed or uniformed communities and individuals. This will work to increase the individual and community stewardship gaps by addressing interpretation bias on some level, even if its just through word of mouth from minority and misrepresented communities.

References

Wals, A. E., Brody, M., Dillon, J., & Stevenson, R. B. (2014). Convergence between science and environmental education. Science, 344(6184), 583-584.

Stevenson R. B., Brody M., Dillon J., Wals A. E. J., Eds., International Handbook of Research on Environmental Education (Routledge, New York, 2013).

Hargreaves L. G., Educ. Rev. 6, 69 (2008); www.developmenteducationreview.com/issue6-perspectives2.

Overdevest C, Orr CH, Stepenuck K. 2004. Volunteer stream monitoring and local participation in natural resource issues. Human Ecology Review 11: 177–185.

Merenlender, A. M., Crall, A. W., Drill, S., Prysby, M., & Ballard, H. (2016). Evaluating environmental education, citizen science, and stewardship through naturalist programs. Conservation Biology, 30(6), 1255-1265.

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adobe-outdesign · 2 years ago

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Thoughts on Grafaiai?

I’m really excited to have a new ‘art’ themed pokemon

(You guys know the drill! Special review today for the new 'mon. Requests will resume in the standard first-come-first-serve order after this.)

Anyone who's read enough of my blog knows that I am a big fan of gremlin and goblin Pokemon, so unsurprisingly I really like this terrible little gremlin (affectionate) a lot.

Conceptually, it's perfect. I was trying to parse together the design from what we knew from leaks, and I was assuming it sprayed fluid from its tail, like Smeargle, but I wasn't sure what that had to do with aye-ayes. But the actual concept is way cooler: the poison fluid is sprayed from their mouth, and they instead use their fingers to paint! The fluid in turn lures bug Pokemon in and causes paralysis. This is a brilliant spin on how actual aye-ayes hunt, not to mention the obvious finger painting reference.

(For anyone unaware, as this Pokemon has made me aware that there are a lot of people that apparently don't know what aye-ayes are: aye-ayes tap wood with one of their fingers as a form of ecolocation to find insects, then use their elongated fingers to dig the insect out. They're strange critters.)

And to make things even better, the face is designed to look like a painter's gas mask, and the trees it paints are a reference to the painted trees in Spains' Oma Forest. And on top of that, they use the fluid to mark their territory, and get into turf wars with each other by painting over markings to claim territory, like many graffiti taggers do! There are just so many levels to this concept, and I adore all of them.

I also appreciate the amount of thought that was put into it from a biological standpoint. Gen 7 did a good job with this as well, but Gen 8 was really lacking in the interesting semi-believable fantasy biology aspect. Between Grafaiai here and Koraidon, the writers have really been doing a bang-up job putting real thought behind their cool monsters.

Visually, it's also quite good. It captures the aye-ayes ugly cute look very well, and gives off a Stitch-like gremlin vibe, which is always a win in my book. The bright colors are a nice nod to its markings and really make the design pop, while the body is more subtle to avoid making it too garish or clashy. And the way it looks like it's wearing a hoodie with its hair poking out is perfect; noticeable enough to enhance the theme without being too on-the-nose about it.

My only real nitpicky complaint is that when I first saw it in the gameplay trailer, I was like, wait, the graffiti aye-aye is a robot like Miraidon? Something about the face is just very plastic-like, and it's the only part of the design that doesn't read like an animal to me.

First, why the random line down the face? It adds nothing and only serves to make it look less organic. Maybe it was meant to lean into the mask idea, but I don't think gas masks are well known for their forehead lines.

And secondly, the eyes look very fake and hard, like they're lenses or compound bug eyes. Don't get me wrong, I do love how they're pupil-less; they not only fit an aye-aye, but they give off strong gremlin energy and add to the mask idea. I think the problem is more how they're handled. Here's an assortment of Pokemon eyes that don't have pupils or corneas:

Notice how all the highlights in these eyes are rounded, and how they all have a darker area followed by a highlight at the bottom. With Grafaiai, the highlights are rectangular for some strange reason, and the eye is a completely flat gradient that has no shading at all. The result is that it looks very alien-like instead of organic.

And finally, minor thing, but why is the fur on top of the head cream when it could just be black or white? Aside from adding another unnecessary color, it also would make the face look less separate from the rest of the body if the color matched the rest of the fur.

With that said, though, that by no means ruin the design for me. Everything else about it is perfect in my book, and I'll likely have one on my team(s) if I end up getting S/V.

Side note: the mention of how the poison color changes depending on its diet makes me wish it had something where the colors on its fingertips would change if you fed it a berry during battle. It's little details like that can really make a Pokemon, but I doubt Gamefreak would ever bother implementing something like that, unfortunately.

Side side note: also, the nature documentary-style teaser introducing this thing was incredible, and I would kill a person to get an entire series of Pokemon shorts like that.

#grafaiai #pokemon #pokemon reviews #pokemon scarlet and violet

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glowingbadger · 3 years ago

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I loved the Ashe, Sylvain, and Hilda modern-day HCs. So….can I ask for….Marianne, Dima, and Claude now? They’re so so good.

Here's a quick list of the places I've touched on ModernAU stuff with these characters before, for anyone who's interested! General Modern HCs (Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Claude, Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Marianne) Soft HCs (Dimitri)

I'll try not to repeat myself too much, but the SFW portion might be a little sparse because I've written a good deal of my thoughts on that already :3

Marianne, Dimitri, Claude x GN Reader

Modern/College AU headcanons

SFW (not sfw under the cut)

Marianne:

- Definitely a veterinary student who has an incredible, intuitive way with animals. One of those "gets along with animals better than people" types. As a result, many others in her classes see her as aloof or difficult to talk to. Fortunately, when Hilda drags her to a party one night, you notice her keeping to herself and come to make casual conversation. It takes a bit for her to open up, but she's soon grateful for pleasant, relaxing company in the midst of the loud chaos.

- She needs a good amount of reassurance in a relationship, as she's so convinced you could do better. Marianne is totally the type to apologize for not being good enough for you, then apologize for bringing it up, then apologize for apologizing. But her love and admiration for you are so very clear. She'll shyly take your hand in hers, and just the way she looks at you, it's like you're every star and every sunset she's ever seen.

- Marianne spends some of her free time volunteering at a local animal shelter, and one of your earlier dates would involve her introducing you to some of the animals in her care. Here, it's like you see a completely different side of her- she's so much more confident and firm when she speaks to the animals, and she smiles so brightly and laughs adorably as she watches you attempt to make a good impression on them.

Dimitri:

- We've chatted about Modern! Dimitri a good deal so far- but I will double down here on the fact that, while he's outwardly extremely intimidating to your friends when you first start dating, you know (and they learn) that he's absolute Malewife material.

- He loves sitting on video calls with you and just staring at your adorable, lovely face. He's an excellent listener, and will gladly hear about your entire day from start to finish, even if you insist it was nothing special. He's just so soothed by your voice, and the chance to see you. While he's honestly not very good at social media in general, he does have a couple hundred pictures of you saved. Not to post anywhere, just to look back at with a goofy grin on his face.

Claude:

- Claude is the guy on campus that everyone likes, plenty of people want, but no one can really nail down. He seems to know everyone, but he's only actually close to a few good friends, and for the longest time, even they assume that he's the "doesn't believe in serious dating" type. It starts much the same with you- he figures you're interesting and cute as hell, so he may as well spend some time having fun and getting to know you. And then... the feels TM creep in.

- You'll be caught up in a sort of... friendly flirtation with him for a while. The kind where it would be easy to play off all of the corny innuendos and knowing glances as "just kidding around." Then, one night, after a long group study session or just lazing around with drinks and games with his friends, he offers to walk you back to your dorm. When you get caught in a sudden downpour and have to duck under the nearest building's awning for shelter, he gives you a strange lingering look that's so much heavier than any you've seen. And without a word, he leans down to kiss you. When you part, he's wearing a slanted smile, but he's fidgeting a bit when he says, "Hey, uh, Y/N. I wanna be with you- for real. So uh... how 'bout it?"

- Claude is just the most fun boyfriend ever. He's got an active and curious mind, so he's always game to try anything you're interested in, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas. He's the kind who gets okay grades, though nothing incredible, but his brilliance shines in how he latches on to new information, turning a topic around in his mind until he's seen it from every angle. It's especially charming when he asks to hear about your interests or areas of expertise- he asks all the right questions and the conversation becomes lively just about instantly.

NSFW 18 + v

Marianne:

- You're definitely her first sexual partner (she hasn't even dated seriously until you), and she's going to take a long time to get comfortable freely exploring the physical side of a relationship. She's a big cuddler, once you've assured her that you like it too- she finds it immensely soothing to rest her head on your shoulder or on your chest, just listening to your breathing and feeling you warm against her. But as for sexual affection, she'll start slow, testing things by letting her gentle hands tentatively wander just a little further than before, or deepening your kiss a little more than usual.

- Best practice with Marianne is to let her be the one to suggest or initiate things, but to respond enthusiastically when she does so she knows you're happy with it and you want her as much as she wants you. Your approval and encouragement fills her with warmth she's never felt before, and a sense of bold desire she hadn't even known she was capable of. There's plenty of communication with her- there has to be -but in a way, that becomes its own sort of eroticism. Soft murmurs of, "is this okay?", "does that feel good?", or "can you take more?" mix in with affirmative sighs and moans, turning the negotiation of comfort into a wonderful, slowly escalating path towards satisfaction.

- She's absolutely mortified by the idea of sexting or sending nudes, but if she sends you an outfit she's considering and reply with a coy "You look amazing- can't wait to take that off of you" (honestly the cheesier the better with the pickup lines- being too smooth would intimidate her)- she'll only respond with a single blushing emoji, but you bet she'll be wearing that outfit to your next date.

Dimitri:

- Everyone on campus, including your friends/roomates see Dimitri as such a pure cinnamon roll that you might be surprised to learn he has a rather healthy sex drive underneath all of that sweetness and affection. Granted, he's definitely most likely to desire you when he feels emotionally close to you- but that won't stop him from fucking you nice and deep until your bed creaks. The first time someone overhears you practically screaming out his name, rumors start spreading that your ever-devoted Malewife is actually legendary in bed. It's mostly a raunchy joke, but as far as you're concerned, they're not exactly wrong.

- He's too nervous to actually save any of the spicy pics you've sent him to his phone, but that doesn't stop him from regularly scrolling back through your message threads to find them. Masturbating to porn is fine and good, but when he can look at you biting your lip as you show off your body to him, he pumps his cock and bucks his hips against his hand until he cums far harder than he's used to. Dimitri especially gets a thrill out of the implied part of this- the fact that you wanted to flaunt yourself to him like this and made sure that he would linger on the sight of you.

- A very fun game is to comment or imply something about how good Dimitri fucks you while you're hanging out with his friends. He stammers and turns bright red when you mention how, "Oh don't you worry, Dimitri keeps me nice and satisfied, don't you babe?" with your eyebrows quirked playfully. His buddies nudge him and laugh, and as timid as he appears about it, he'll need you as soon as you're alone together, and he'll hold you extra close and pound into you a little harder than usual.

Claude:

- Alright. Claude is hot, and Claude knows he's hot, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. He'll absolutely send you gym selfies, or raunchy messages when he knows you're with friends or family. During minor disagreements or when you're pretending to be mad at him, he'll slip an arm around your waist and nibble at your ear, whispering, "C'mon babe, don't be like that..." before pulling you close and kissing you until you can't think straight.

- He absolutely doesn't care if people overhear you- in fact, he'll tease you about it, murmuring in your ear that you can't keep moaning for him like that or you'll be heard. But the fact that he's fucking into you harder and deeper as he says it tells you clearly that he wants you to cry out for him. In general, he's pretty shameless about your shared sex life if you allow him to be. He'll practically strut out of your room to clean up in just his boxers, not caring a bit if your roommates get an eyeful. He's handsy in public as well (again, depending on your comfort with it), and will absolutely grab a handful of your ass while you're on a date together, or trail his hand up your thigh during a movie.

- Claude is adventurous and open minded about sex in general, as I've mentioned a couple times. Hell, he'll even send you a porn clip or a bit of smut, along with a brief "we should try this ;)"- and he obviously loves when you do the same for him. He sees no reason to be shy with his partner about your mutual pleasure. Communicating your preferences will make sure you both enjoy yourselves, and the process of even talking about it can be pretty hot on its own.

#marianne von edmund #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #marianne x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem headcanons #modern au #fluff and smut #fire emblem x reader #x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 6 - ao3 -

As Lao Nie had predicted, Lan Qiren won the music competition.

This by itself would not excuse him from punishment – disobedience was disobedience, regardless of the result – but Lan Qiren’s brother, proud of the glory that had accrued to their sect under his leadership, decided that it mitigated it somewhat, and as a result the imposition of the appropriate penalty was postponed until they returned to the Cloud Recesses. There was a strong implication that any future misbehavior during the trip would be added in when determining the extent of the punishment, but Lan Qiren didn’t care about that: with his brother’s word, however careless, overriding his teacher’s, he was finally allowed to go out to look around the Nightless City.

Of course, by now all the other disciples had settled firmly into their groups, so he was still alone - he opted not to mention that to his brother. Given how cautious his brother was being to make sure that the conference went well and without interruption, he knew it would invariably result in his either being forced into someone else’s group or to not go out, and he didn’t want either of those. Anyway, he could take precautions by himself: since he knew he was traveling alone, he would be careful to stay in the areas that were indicated as safe, although he thought happily to himself that soon he would be old enough to go wherever he wanted without concern – not that he especially longed to go to the districts full of brothels or drug dens, of course.

It was reasonable to be cautious for now, though, given his unfamiliarity with cities. He was as dazzled by the massive night market – as boisterous as any of the daytime markets – as any country yokel, and the items available for purchase were as many and varied as the people who came to the Nightless City to sell them. It was almost a pity to have to return to the Sun Palace the next day for the remaining events of the discussion conferences, largely academic discussions and skill exchanges, or the day after, to spectate on the other competitions, both the minor ones for things like calligraphy and mathematics and, more importantly, the second main event, showcasing skill in riding.

Lan Qiren wasn’t competing, of course, but he obediently showed up to observe – or, rather, to daydream about something more interesting while keeping his face carefully oriented towards the competition stage – and the second he could, he slipped away into the depths of the Sun Palace once the competition itself was over. Actually leaving entirely would be rude, of course, even if it would have been his real preference to return to the wonders of the city. Still, he would much rather walk through the halls than endure the inevitable rounds of mutual congratulations that invariably occurred during the celebration held after the discussion conference’s main competition. All those sect leaders buttering each other up…

There were times, he reflected, when he was very happy to have been born a younger son.

Lan Qiren did his best to avoid any places where people were gathered, turning back at once if he saw the rooms were occupied. There was no formal banquet tonight, to his relief – they’d all eaten while waiting for the competition to finish – but the socializing had started in earnest, and it felt like there were people everywhere. It would go on late into the night, with sect leaders toasting each other from the endless jars of wine that could be found everywhere, and there would be a thousand and one boring retellings of the same old stories everyone always told at these things.

Better to avoid people.

Certainly better to avoid people like Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren thought, backing away from a room that appeared to be a small library, where the sect leader was standing and gazing out of the window, not far from a small table with two place settings already laid out. Its presence suggested a more private rendezvous was anticipated, and others more inclined to gossip than he might have chosen to stay and try to see if they could figure out who Wen Ruohan would be meeting – probably Lao Nie, if Lan Qiren had to guess, given the whole Hanhan situation – or possibly to try to form a further connection with the aloof and arrogant sect leader, but Lan Qiren kept his brother’s warnings in mind: Wen Ruohan was dangerous.

Anyway, he’d gotten into more than enough trouble for one trip.

After a little more searching, he found a small, secluded garden – quite possibly the very same one from a few days before, now that he thought about it, though he’d long lost any sense of direction he might have had – and settled down on the bench with a relieved sigh. The party was far too loud and too boisterous for his taste, with far too many people. He might long for adventure and new experiences, but it was the lonely road and quiet towns that called to him, and sometimes also the massive and faceless cities, not the full-of-themselves sect leaders, each one in love with their own voice, that seemed to pride themselves on talking at least once to everyone who attended.

At any rate, it wasn’t his problem. His brother had made clear that he didn’t want Lan Qiren to assist him in forming connections for the sect – assuming he even could, with his terrible social skills that mostly made his brother and most of his etiquette teachers want to forget he even existed – and that meant he was completely justified in hiding himself away here where no one would find him.

“I never got a chance to congratulate you on your victory,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Qiren started in sudden surprise, having not heard someone enter the room.

Though, he supposed as he rose to salute, he wouldn’t – the difference between his cultivation and Wen Ruohan’s was like night and day.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said respectfully, keeping his head down. His brother had been especially clear that he wasn’t to cause trouble for this man in particular. Not like last time, even though Lan Qiren still wasn’t entirely clear on what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong previously. He was starting to think he’d never figure it out.

Wen Ruohan walked into the room, his pace as slow and graceful as it had been three years ago – the glide of a very self-assured predator that knew itself to be the unquestioned master of its domain, not only fearless but also smug in its self-evident superiority. The aura of power, his cultivation at a level that could scarcely be dreamed of by most people, draped around him like a gaudy cloak, meant to excite envy and fear in equal measure.

Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan would sometimes use the sheer weight of his power to lock people into place, forcing them to their knees or backs on the floor in front of him, humiliating and tormenting them for his own amusement, but he didn’t feel anything like that. It was a display of power, yes, but no more so than the priceless spiritual gem that hung on Wen Ruohan’s forehead or the luxurious quality of his clothing, white and red flame, black belt and gauntlets, the finest fabrics and the best embroidery.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Or at least the hem of your robes – were you running away from me?”

Lan Qiren’s face suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not!”

That interpretation hadn’t even occurred to him. Had he really been rude? Should he have stopped to greet him properly? He hadn’t thought so, since he hadn’t even entered the room, but his instincts on such things had always been terrible…

And there was still his brother’s exhortation not to spend time with Wen Ruohan.

“Forgive my rudeness, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, dropping back down into a second low bow before rising again. “No slight was intended. I’m not supposed to be alone with other sect leaders.”

“No? And yet yesterday I recall seeing you sitting here with Sect Leader Nie.”

That was true.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Yes, but he’s nice’? ‘But I’ve known him for years’? ‘He’s one of our sect allies, you’re too dangerous’? ‘I was told to avoid you specifically’?

Lan Qiren might not be the best at social niceties, but even he knew he couldn’t say something like that.

His face must be demonstrating some degree of his panic, because Wen Ruohan chuckled.

“You can make it up by spending some time with me now, little Lan,” he said, waving a hand in forgiveness. “Come with me – the study is far more comfortable than this garden, especially at this time of year.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really have any knowledge of what the garden was like at this time as opposed to other times, being that this was his only visit so far to the Nightless City, but he had no reason to question Wen Ruohan’s judgment on the matter.

A quick mental review suggested that he had no choice but to comply. His brother had been emphatic that Lan Qiren wasn’t allowed to draw Wen Ruohan’s ire, even if it meant complying with his instructions as if Wen Ruohan were an elder of his own sect; moreover, refusing now would probably be impolitic, especially given the other man’s misinterpretation of his earlier avoidance. In short, despite his best efforts, Lan Qiren had clearly stumbled into a social trap of what he assumed must be his own making. It usually was, after all.

It’ll be another punishment for this, probably, he thought, resigned. He didn’t think that anyone was going to come get him out of this anytime soon, no matter what his brother had said, and he was bound to trip up and say something embarrassing sooner or later. At least there’s only this evening and then the closing ceremonies in the morning – the sooner we get home, the sooner discipline can be imposed and the entire fiasco put behind us.

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, and belatedly noticed that some of his resignation had seeped into his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will join you.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled again. “Most people would say that they were pleased to join me,” he remarked, turning and leading the way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you don’t lie, do you? It’s one of your rules.”

Lan Qiren felt helpless, following a few steps behind him like a small fishing boat caught in the wake of a warship. “It is one of our rules,” he agreed, since saying that he was happy to join Wen Ruohan would in fact be a lie. “I try to obey them whenever possible.”

“You’ve gotten wiser since we last met. I think I recall that last time, you said always obey the rules?”

“Wisdom comes with age.”

“Is that flattery?”

“Respect for one’s elders.” Lan Qiren paused. “Also a rule.”

“Of course,” Wen Ruohan opened the door to the study that he had been in earlier, the small library with its single table and two settings and window showing the outdoors, and swept inside. “Tell me, then, as the expert in your rules – what rule is it that allows the Lan sect to develop such skilled politicians? One would assume that lying was a prerequisite.”

He doesn’t actually care about the rules, Lan Qiren tried to remind himself, his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. And yet what else could he possibly talk about with Wen Ruohan? It was a question the other man had posed directly, and he was supposed to be obedient, or at least try to be…and he really, truly enjoyed talking about the rules.

“There’s some debate on that subject,” he temporized, but Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow and inclined his head in an invitation for him to continue. “Some posit that the rules regarding the obligations to honor one’s elders and protect one’s family require that the benefit of the sect take priority over other obligations. Others take the view that not lying is an obligation of general good conduct, which cannot be disregarded, but that it is mitigated by other rules – do not speak frivolous words, for instance.”

“I take it that you’re in the latter camp.”

Lan Qiren was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he should say so. After all, it was Wen Ruohan’s ancestor who had first raised up his family and started the tradition of the clan as the sect rather than schools as it had once been, and by all accounts the process of doing so had been a bloody one – what was that if not a belief that your family takes priority over the common good?

He couldn’t say that, though.

Speak meagerly, for excess words only bring harm.

“I am,” he finally said, since Wen Ruohan was still waiting for him to respond. “It is a matter of personal opinion.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from continuing to talk. There were at least fifteen other points of interest that had come to mind at once - the rule against lying was one of the more debated ones, and of course there were all sorts of writings on the subject of balancing worldly concerns with philosophical ideals more generally. And it was so rare for someone to actually express interest in it!

Speak meagerly, he reminded himself desperately. Meagerly! Haven’t you done enough harm already?

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said. “Come, sit.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on the sect leader’s time,” Lan Qiren protested automatically. “If you’re already expecting company…”

“Who says I am?”

Lan Qiren looked helplessly at the table. There were two place settings, as he’d briefly glimpsed earlier, and a few snacks laid out already, mostly grilled vegetables – it was perfect place for a private meeting to talk business with another sect leader, which Lan Qiren wasn’t, or else to sit and converse with an old friend, which Lan Qiren definitely wasn’t.

“The servants make it up that way preemptively,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twitched as he realized that the other man had come up behind him, standing a little too close. “They do it in all the rooms, in the event someone wishes to use it. There’s no one coming.”

For some reason, that sounded almost ominous.

Presumably just Lan Qiren’s bad social sense again. Such a display was likely nothing more than the Wen sect showing off yet again, this time in terms of their wealth and the number of servants.

And, well, if the table really had just been set out to be used, surely it would be wrong not to use it? There were rules about avoiding waste, too.

“In that case, I thank Sect Leader Wen for the honor of the invitation,” he said, and sat down properly, sweeping his sleeves back and arranging himself. That it got him a little further away from Wen Ruohan was not as much of a secondary consideration as it probably should have been. “Would you like me to serve tea?”

“I was thinking something stronger,” Wen Ruohan said, sitting down as well, and reaching for the jar already there. “Why not a toast to your family’s victory? A double victory, no less, with you taking first in music and your brother the same in riding. Most impressive.”

Lan Qiren hesitated. That was a very appropriate toast, complimentary – exactly within the boundaries of what an elder ought to say to a junior, really. And yet, at the same time…

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said uncomfortably as Wen Ruohan poured out a double helping in each bowl. It was clear liquor, not wine. “This one apologizes, but…I am not accustomed to drinking.”

“No?” Wen Ruohan was smiling, but when Lan Qiren obediently met his eyes, there seemed almost to be something dangerous about his expression.

“It’s not that I question the quality,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “It’s only – you see – alcohol is prohibited –”

It was one of the rules. Unfortunately, it was one of the more controversial ones: it was generally waived outside of the Cloud Recesses, given how often hospitality required some form of drinking, and there were still elders in the Lan sect who simply refused to obey it at all, citing its uncertain lineage.

They were not in the Cloud Recesses now.

Wen Ruohan started laughing. “Little Lan,” he said. “Are you saying you’ve never had wine before? Aren’t you sixteen already?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders involuntarily rose to his ears. “I’ve had wine!”

But only peach blossom wine, or rose wine, served at weddings as a toast for good fortune – but he couldn’t admit to that, since that was all kid’s stuff, barely classified as alcohol. He’d never even tried Emperor’s Smile, for which Gusu was famed.

Wen Ruohan’s smirk suggested that he’d guessed the truth anyway.

“It’s only a toast,” he said instead of calling him out on it, picking up his own bowl. “Surely you wouldn’t reject my good faith?”

When it was put like that, of course, there was nothing to be done for it.

Do not draw his ire, his brother had counseled him. If he approaches you, respond gracefully and comply with his wishes until someone comes to recover you.

After all, Wen Ruohan was well known for being moody and unpredictable, for having all sorts of strange whims and no inclination to refrain from indulging himself in them. Lan Qiren had no idea why he might suddenly be inclined to desire Lan Qiren’s company, of all people, nor as to why he would insist on him drinking a toast – at most, he could only speculate that it amused Wen Ruohan to force him to do things with which he was visibly uncomfortable.

And yet, as the saying went, it was unwise to refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Wen Ruohan, as the host, as the elder, as the powerful, could very easily press the issue even more than he already was, escalating from an interpersonal discussion to an intersect issue.

And how could Lan Qiren explain that to his brother?

“Of course not,” Lan Qiren said, giving in and lifting the bowl. “Thank you for your toast, Sect Leader Wen.”

He put the bowl to his lips and drank.

The liquor tasted sharp in a way with which he was unfamiliar, he observed, curious despite himself at the new experience, and it burned his throat when he swallowed. The sensation was almost distinctly unpleasant, actually, and he had to force his gag reflex not to activate, tears coming to his eyes.

He wondered, briefly, why people inflicted such a thing on themselves.

And then, just as he was thinking that, the alcohol hit him all at once like a tidal wave, descending in an overwhelming crash that obliterated all his senses.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

#exophilia #fae #faerie #fae boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #Fae lover

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years ago

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 9

A/N: oh look another scott pov :) where nothing will go wrong :)

Warnings: violence, mild description of seizure-like symptoms, falling, injury, blood mention, near death experiences, self-blame, corruption, passing out

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott lost track of time as he flew around aimlessly. Eventually, he decided that he couldn’t avoid his responsibilities or the other empires any longer, and flew back home. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but the sun was slowly sinking in the sky as he arrived back in Rivendell. Usually Scott loved to watch the sun get lower and lower in the sky and cast his empire in gold- but the ache in his heart paired with the sight that greeted him in Rivendell made the view far less enjoyable. Pillagers, witches, and ravagers had infested his empire, terrifying his villagers, infiltrating his enchanting tower, and trampling his fields. Not only that, but Scott could spot pressure plates and tripwires that he most certainly had not put up.

“Nice parting gift from Fwhip and Sausage,” Scott muttered as he drew his bow. He started by picking off the pillagers in the village. From a perch on the roof, he was able to take most of them out. The evoker that was there gave Scott some trouble with the vexes he sent towards him, forcing Scott to switch to his sword and cut them down. After that, dealing with the evoker was easy enough, seeing as his fang attacks couldn’t reach Scott on the roof. Then came disarming the traps in the village by carefully removing pressure plates and trip wires, then removing the TNT that they were supposed to rig. Fwhip being angry at him was one thing, but Scott’s blood boiled at the nerve of Fwhip to try and hurt his villagers. Next he made sure that any injured villagers got the treatment they needed, and Scott made a mental note to fortify the walls of the village.

Next was the ravagers in his fields. There wasn’t really anywhere for Scott to perch so he could shoot at the ravagers, minus the steep cliffsides that surrounded the field. But trying to defeat the ravagers head-on wasn’t the best plan either. At least Scott couldn’t see any potential traps in the fields. He just had to be sure his aim was good- which it was, in his humble opinion. And keep his balance on a rocky cliffside as well. No problem… right? The first shot he fired went wide, completely missing the ravager he was intending to hit. With a frustrated mutter under his breath, Scott readied his bow again, taking aim. This time, it was a hit, right in the gap of the ravager’s tough skin at its neck. A few more precise shots from his bow took care of the rest of the herd in no time at all. Replanting the crops they had destroyed, however, would take a bit longer.

With the ravagers taken care of, that left maybe the most difficult problem: the witches. They were all scattered around the mountain his enchanting tower was on, and they were a bit cleverer than the pillagers and ravagers were. They were hiding in the foliage around the tower, as well as the nether plants that were leaking out from the portal- and Scott could have sworn there was more of the strange red substance growing on the mountain than the last time he had seen it. But he couldn’t deal with that now- he had witches to deal with. He picked off a couple that were outside his tower as he circled around it- and then noticed that some of them were actually inside, looking far too intrigued by the crystal that powered his enchanting table.

“Oh no you don’t,” Scott huffed, quickly scanning for any more traps near the enchanting tower before flying in to deal with the witches. He caught one by surprise and sliced right through her, the witch crumbling to ash instantly. Three more remained inside the tower, and each one of them hurled potions at Scott once they noticed their fallen companion. He managed to evade the first two- poison, if he remembered his potion particles correctly, but the harming potion the last witch threw hit him right in the chest. His muscles seized and a pained shout made its way past gritted teeth, but Scott managed to stay upright. One witch lunged at him, and he barely managed to swing his sword at her, only managing to cut her arm. But even that didn't do much good- she had a healing potion at the ready. The other two witches were getting ready to throw more potions at Scott- and with how he was still reeling from the first round of potions, he highly doubted he could deal with more in this state. The witches were closing in on him, and he had no choice but to scramble back out of the tower. However they were all focused on him now, and no longer had any interest in the crystal. The way Scott was feeling, between the harming potion still causing his body to seize with pain every so often and the residual heartbroken and lonely mood he was still shaking off, they could have just kept it for all he cared.

Scott shook himself slightly. What on earth was he thinking? Yes, he was hurting both physically and emotionally- but Rivendell was his empire, his home. He wasn’t going to let Fwhip and Sausage’s horde of witches tarnish it, no matter how desolate he felt. He tightened his grip on his sword and despite the aching muscles, spread his wings as far as he could, glaring the witches down. It had the desired effect, the witches shrinking back a bit in fear. One witch was foolish enough to try and attack, and Scott was able to cut her down this time around. With a sudden burst of determination after defeating the one witch, Scott was able to take down the two remaining witches from the tower. But there were still witches below him- ones who had noticed the scuffle outside the tower and were beginning to climb up the mountain to him.

Switching to his bow, Scott took to the skies to try and pick off the witches as they tried to come up to him. But the harming potion’s effects were still lingering, and another tremor of pain took hold of Scott while he was in the air. His wings seized, and suddenly Scott was plummeting. He tried to extend his wings out and glide down, but he couldn’t quite get his limbs to respond in time. He crashed at the nether portal cave entrance, crying out as something cut his arm as he fell. He weakly pushed himself up from the crumpled heap he had become, dimly registering the witches inching closer as he gently stretched his wings, checking to make sure they hadn’t broken in the fall. Fortunately, his wings seemed to be responding normally now, and Scott pushed himself up to stand on slightly wobbly feet. He couldn’t give up now, not when there were five- no six- maybe it was five?- he couldn’t quite tell, his vision was blurring something awful- witches still approaching him. Frankly, Scott wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get out of this one. Maybe he deserved it, for what he did to Jimmy, Katherine, and by extension the entire House Blossom Alliance.

Scott looked to the mountains where his village and home were, wanting to see its beauty one last time- and happened to focus his gaze on the statue of Aeor. All at once, Scott didn’t feel quite so weary. He still ached, and his arm was stinging from the cut, but he got a sudden burst of energy as he looked upon the statue. The deer god had been relatively silent for as long as Scott could remember… was this sudden energy a gift from Aeor? Regardless of where the energy came from, Scott wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. He drew his bow and shot down two of the witches in quick succession, clearly surprising the remaining three. They scrambled to throw potions at him, but he took to the skies again before they could land at his feet, and shot down the remaining three witches.

The burst of energy Scott had gotten was sapped as soon as the last witch crumbled into dust. He was able to glide over to the door to his home, and nearly fell flat on his face after he pushed the door open. But he somehow managed to stay upright, and stumbled over to his chests. It didn’t take him too long to find a healing potion, and breathed a sigh of relief after drinking it. The effects of the harming potion finally dissipated, and the minor scrapes from his fall healed- but the larger cut on his arm was still stinging. And then he finally got a good look at it.

The bleeding had more or less stopped thanks to the healing potion, but it was still a glaring, sickening red. But that wasn’t all. There was a pulsing red something spreading beneath his skin in a veiny web. The strange red web had already taken up most of his forearm, and he hadn’t even been cut by whatever it was for that long. And the healing potion didn’t do a thing to the cut besides stop it from bleeding.

Scott’s breath got quicker as the panic began to set in. What was he supposed to do? He definitely didn’t know what was happening, or what effect this cut and the resulting corruption in his skin would have. And he didn’t exactly have anyone he could go to for help… unless he finally got over himself and went to Pearl or Gem. They left the Wither Rose Alliance too- surely they would be on his side and be willing to help him?

His mind made up, Scott flew to Gem’s empire. She was closer than Pearl was, and was the land’s resident magic expert. Surely she could help Scott. But when Scott made it there, the Crystal Cliffs seemed vacant. Gem was nowhere to be seen, unless she was in one of her towers, in her home nestled in the cliffside, or really any other building in her empire. Before Scott could call out to Gem for help, his head spun. While the healing potion had helped at first, the stinging pain from the cut on his arm was back in full force, he was still a little battle-weary from dealing with Fwhip and Sausage’s little “gift,” and the flight to Gem’s took a lot more out of him than he thought. Scott took a step forward, intending to try and make his way towards one of the buildings in Gem’s empire- and promptly fell on his face. He laid there for a few moments, dimly realizing he should be trying to get up. But his head felt foggy and his arm stung like hell- and he couldn’t quite get any of his limbs to respond. He finally mustered the strength to push himself up on the forearm that wasn’t cut and pulsing with corruption- but that small movement took what remaining energy he had, and his arm gave out as he fell into the embrace of unconsciousness with a groan.

Taglists below! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

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#empires smp #scott smajor #flower husbands #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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kaialone · 4 years ago

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Kirby Planet Robobot Translation Comparison: Facing Mecha Knight

This will be a comparison of the original Japanese version and the US English localized version.

Specifically, this will cover the cutscene where Kirby encounters Susie for the second time, and ends up battling Mecha Knight.

You can also watch this cutscene for yourself in English and Japanese.

For the comparison, the usual points apply:

Bolded is the original Japanese text, for the reference.

Bolded and italicized is my translation.

Italicized is the official NOA translation.

A (number) indicates that I have a specific comment to make on that part in the translation notes.

As you read this, please keep in mind that with translations like these, it’s important not to focus on the exact literal wordings, since there is no single “correct answer” when it comes to translations.

Rather than that, consider the actual information that is being conveyed, in which way, and why.

Meeting Susie Again:

Secretary Susie:

おーお〜いーだいなハールトマン〜

Oh, great Haltmann~ (1)

Noble Haltmann, we adore him

Secretary Susie:

おーお〜いーだいなハールトマン〜

Oh, great Haltmann~

Noble Haltmann, we adore him!

Secretary Susie:

永遠にー果てなくー栄えよ〜

May you prosper, unending, for all eternity~

Every day we wish him glory!

Secretary Susie:

……おっと、たいへんしつれいいたしました。

...Oh dear, how terribly rude of me.

Oh! Pardon me.

Secretary Susie:

われらがカンパニーのすばらしい社歌、

「銀河に名立たるハルトマン」。

That was our company's marvelous theme song,

"Haltmann, Famed Across the Galaxy".

That was our company's wonderful theme song, "The Noble Haltmann."

Secretary Susie:

ついつい口ずさんでしまいましたわ。

I was just overcome with the urge to sing it to myself.

Sometimes I just find myself singing it out loud. It's so catchy!

Secretary Susie:

さ��… また、お会いしましたね。

Now then... It appears we meet again.

At any rate, I must say, how nice to see you again.

Secretary Susie:

秘書スージーでございます。

It is I, Secretary Susie.

I'm Susie, but I'm sure you remember me.

Secretary Susie:

そうそう、ワタクシ最近…

Oh yes, just recently...

Let me tell you a story.

Secretary Susie:

とーってもステキな方にお会いしましたわ。

I met with the most wonderful person.

Not long ago, I met someone who impressed me very much.

Secretary Susie:

いさましくてクールで、ハイレベルな剣士様…

Valiant and cool, a truly high-class swordfighter...

He was strong and full of confidence... A knight of the highest order.

Secretary Susie:

で、せっかくお会いできたのですから、

And, since I was fortunate enough to meet him,

I was so impressed...

Secretary Susie:

ちょっぴり全身カイゾウして…

I have subjected him to just a tiny full-body reconstruction...

I gave him a complete remodel!

Secretary Susie:

わが社のセキュリティマシンとさせていただきました。

And given him the privilege of being a security machine for our company.

And I hired him as a company security guard.

Secretary Susie:

ウフフ…

Uhuhu...

Heehee! I wonder what you'll make of him?

Secretary Susie:

お気にめしていただけるかしら？

I wonder if he will be to your liking?

Please allow me to present...

Secretary Susie:

プロダクトNo. M-７１１０、「メタナイトボーグ」よ…

Now, Product #M-7110, (2) "Meta Knight Borg"...

Model #M-7110. Mecha Knight...

Secretary Susie:

おゆきなさい！

Get to it, please!

ENGAGE!

Translation Notes:

I translated the lyrics that Susie is singing here directly, so they don’t go exactly with the melody in my translation, but they do in the original Japanese.

There’s actually a Japanese pun in Mecha Knight’s product number. The number “7″ can be read as “na”, the number “1″ can be read as “i”, and the number “10″ can be read as “to”. When put together, this spells out “naito”, which is a Japanese transliteration of the English word “knight”.

Comparisons & Thoughts:

This cutscene is another one without many differences.

If you were to really pick it apart it’s arguably a bit looser than the previous cutscene, like having Susie add a few extra comments, but nothing big.

We do get the first mention of the Haltmann Work Company’s theme song, and there is a lot to say about that.

Now, the company’s theme song is hard to talk about without directly addressing details that will come up later in the game, so keep that in mind.

First of all, in English, the song is simply titled “The Noble Haltmann”, whereas in Japanese it’s called 銀河に名立たるハルトマン/Ginga ni Nadataru Harutoman.

I choose to translate the Japanese title as “Haltmann, Famed Across the Galaxy”, but it could also be translated as “The Galaxy-Famous Haltmann” or the like.

So, there’s a bit of a difference between the titles here, with the English version feeling a bit more grounded and reserved in its worship of Haltmann, but that’s not all there is to it.

The Japanese title of this song is a subtle reference to the Japanese title of the “Milky Way Wishes” mode from Kirby Super Star, where it’s known as 銀河に願いを/Ginga ni Negai o, which roughly translates to ”A Wish Upon the Galaxy”.

The reference is definitely intentional, considering how Planet Robobot features several important callbacks to Milky Way Wishes.

The English version lacks such a reference, but it might have been difficult to come up with one, even if the localizers noticed this detail.

Next up, there’s the song’s actual lyrics, and that’s where things get a bit muddy in English.

Basically, in the Japanese version of this cutscene here, Susie is singing the first line of the song. In the next cutscene, she will sing the second line.

Then, the pause screen during Haltmann’s battle will show the full lyrics of the entire first strophe. And lastly, the final unlock of the game is the music video that features a previously unseen second strophe.

Because of that, in the Japanese version, the player ends up slowly being shown more and more of the song as they play through the game, culminating with the music video.

It’s clearly supposed to be an important build up, considering it’s also the main theme of the game that was specifically written to represent it and its story.

The English version is a lot less consistent with the song and its lyrics.

Here in this scene, Susie is singing “Noble Haltmann, we adore him! Every day we wish him glory!”.

This doesn’t match with Haltmann’s pause screen and the music video later on, where the first line is given as “Noble Haltmann, we adore him, kingly lord of time and space!“, instead.

To make matters more confusing, the former actually goes better with the melody of the song, it seems.

The English version of Haltmann’s pause screen description also only features part of the first strophe, rather than all of the first, and the lyrics that Susie will sing in the next cutscene are taken from the second strophe, which isn’t supposed to come up until the music video.

It’s kinda messy, honestly.

I can only assume this is a result of how game translations usually work.

Things like the text from in-game dialogue, the text from in-game menu screens, and the text from additional extras like the music video are normally internally stored in different places, and often you end up with different people having to translate them, with very little context.

Note that I wouldn’t blame the translator(s) and localizer(s) involved here, because they can’t really help their working conditions.

But whatever the case may be, as a result the English version lacks the neat progression of slowly getting to know the song, the way it’s presented in the Japanese version.

With all that general stuff out of the way, let’s have a closer look at the lines Susie sings in this specific cutscene.

In Japanese, she sings “Oh, great Haltmann~ May you prosper, unending, for all eternity~”, while in English she sings “Noble Haltmann, we adore him! Every day we wish him glory!”.

Just like with the song’s title, the English version of this line is a bit more reserved when it comes to practically worshipping Haltmann.

It’s not even like it’s not revering him, it’s just that the Japanese version goes even further with it.

But translating lyrics like this is also something that’s especially difficult, since you need to match the melody of the song, so more differences are to be expected with those.

Really a minor thing, but I want to point out this section:

And, since I was fortunate enough to meet him,

I was so impressed…

I have subjected him to just a tiny full-body reconstruction…

I gave him a complete remodel!

And given him the privilege of being a security machine for our company.

And I hired him as a company security guard.

In the Japanese version, the way Susie says that she gave Meta Knight a “tiny full-body reconstruction” is of course a bit of a joke, talking about something so drastic like it’s just a small little thing.

The English version doesn’t retain this directly, but it gives Susie’s dialogue a similar energy here, having her declare that she gave him a complete remodel like it’s something to be excited about.

A bit of a stronger difference is the fact that Susie says she made Meta Knight a “security machine” in Japanese, rather than a “security guard” like in English.

In the Japanese version, there is a stronger impression of Meta Knight being literally turned into an object or product as far as Susie is concerned, and that that’s a good thing in her eyes too.

In English it’s more like she makes him an employee against his will.

Finally, Mecha Knight’s product number “#M-7110” is a pun in Japanese, as I explained in the translation notes above.

I think it makes sense that the English version didn’t try to adapt it and just kept it the same, because in English you just have a lot less to work with as far as number puns go.

I can’t help but wonder what might’ve worked though, perhaps something like “#M-98”?

And that’s it for this cutscene.

Not a whole lot of differences here again, but more subtle differences are starting to crop up and will continue to add up over time, and we will get to that later.

I want to say that I do really like the localization in this one though, particularly the way Susie’s “swooning” over Meta Knight is written.

It stays close to the original without sounding awkward in English, and captures the basic mood the original version was getting at.

All in all, pretty good.

And with that, feel free to check out the next part!

< Previous Part | Start | Next Part >

#kirby #kirby of the stars #kirby planet robobot #planet robobot #kirby translations #my translations #planet robobot translation comparisons #kirby planet robobot spoilers #robobot spoilers #planet robobot spoilers

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debiteful · 3 years ago

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Hey, when you’ve got time, think you could write a story about a predator, through inebriation, swallows someone about a third their size and don’t remember, and the story’s mostly about the prey’s attempts to get the predator’s attention over the course of a week while hijinks ensue? Preferably anthros, nonfatal, if possible?

Content: soft vore, safe vore, unaware female anthro owl pred, trapped male anthro dragon prey, drunk pred, struggles, exhaustion, minor belly bulge, pred in discomfort, descriptive internal, food in with prey, multiple stomachs, awkward end, secondhand embarrassment

Graffa woke up with a belch. She stretched and wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. She couldn't remember a single thing about last night. Well, that wasn't quite true. She remembered taking someone home with her- a dragon! The little fella has been an absolute hoot at the party.

She rubbed her eyes with clawed hands, then scratched a feathered forearm. She looked around, her head turning more than 180° thanks to her owl anatomy. Well, he didn't seem to be here now. She got up to get ready for the day.

Despite appearances, Herbert, the dragon, was still there. In a bashful, daring gambit he had convinced the far from sober lady to eat him whole. She had been clumsy about it, hands fumbling to stuff him past her beak and down her gullet. He had helped as best he could, wriggling in and not fighting the waves of contracting muscles.

From there he had slid into her first stomach. Its small capacity was stretched to its limits around his scaly body. It had made lovely gurgles and threatening growls as it filled with fluids which gushed around him. They stung his nose and eyes a little, but they couldn't do much else to his tough hide.

He could feel her patting or pounding at the bulge he made high in her abdomen. The repeated blows helped move him along, deeper into her digestive tract. One short squeeze through a sphincter sent him into her gizzard. This was much more spacious, the tough, smooth walls bulging only slightly around the little guy.

Suddenly he was squished firmly from one side. It felt like a tight hug, but in reality she had flopped into bed and passed out. When he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position, the stomach walls flexed around him. Muscular folds clenched around a limb or his head, only to slowly release it after a.few moments. The entire gizzard shifted as the walls tried to grind him with little success. They relied on the enzymes to soften what came through, and those had failed to affect him.

It was there, in her second stomach, that Herbert now lay. After a restless night of a churning stomach, he was drowsy and limp. When he felt her move, he was startled into alertness. Now was his chance to get out! He squirmed weakly, legs kicking and sinking feet into squishy muscular walls.

She burped again, just a small one this time. She had gotten changed into clothes and was headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Oddly, she didn't feel too hungry. In fact, now that she thought about it, her stomach felt really strange. Was her gizzard doing backflips inside?

She gave it a firm rub. He felt it- it was rather nice- and pushed out against where he felt it. Yes, she was noticing!

Graffa frowned as she felt her gizzard move. It sure felt firm. What had she eaten last night? If only she could remember- then she could avoid it. Whatever it was, it was making her awfully bloated. Fairly unappetized, she settled on a piece of fruit for breakfast.

While she thought, her small meal made its way to the gizzard. Herbert didn't feel the food so much- it was all the same warm body temperature- as he felt the stomach respond. The entire thing clenched around him and began to grind at its contents. He groaned and tried to relax, not daring to resist the muscular organ's will as it squished him this way and that. Slowly but surely, whatever she ate became a paste. Then it easily slid into the next portion of her digestive system, unlike him.

She went over to the couch and flopped down. She smoothed her ruffled feathers and rubbed her aching belly. Maybe some TV would help.

While she relaxed, Herbert was finally able to doze off. It seemed the stomach was satisfied with her meager offering.

She changed position a few times, and eventually it jostled him awake. She was on the move again, this time getting a snack. Resting didn't seem to be helping, and eating hadn't hurt.

As mushy chips joined him, Herbert was now energized enough to cry out. "HEY! YOU! Uh- Graffa!"

When he was only met with silence he wriggled his head closer to the outer wall and yelled, "You big feathered beaut! Let me out! I'm still in here!"

Between flesh, feathers, and a TV turned up to beat the sound of her crunching, he didn't stand a chance of being heard. He shouted and hollered until his voice was hoarse. The humid air trapped with him tasted slightly of salt.

He tried a few more times throughout the day with similar results. By evening he was reduced to whines and whimpers, "Please Graffa… hear me… let me out of here, I don't want to be a midnight snack…"

He coughed weakly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't form a single word. So much for that.

The day after the next day, the owl was still feeling bloated. It was like a bowling ball had settled in her gut. No amount of rubbing or snacking or medication could soothe it for long. Whatever she had eaten to do this, she would certainly avoid it like the plague- once she figured out what it was.

She considered calling in to work briefly. Remembering the big meeting with her supervisor's supervisor ended that line of thought. Graffa knew she had to go to work. The drive was uneventful, and that heavy feeling in her gut didn't fade.

When she got there and sat down in the board room, she absently rubbed at it a bit.

When her boss' boss arrived, and the meeting began, trouble started. Herbert had finally gotten a few winks of sleep during her drive, but the movement to get into the building and sit down had brought him back to wakefulness. How had she not noticed him? It was time to make her notice.

The doll sized dragon kicked and failed as best he could. Her stomach reacted immediately, pushing back and growling. The more he moved, the louder her stomach noises got. Surely this would draw her attention. It might even make her stomach release it on its own.

He was not so lucky. Beneath her feathers she blushed hard as her stomach imitated a whale with its rumbling sounds. It was clear the boss had noticed, though he had the professionalism to say nothing. Maybe it was her place to?

During a lull in the conversation she cleared her throat, "Sorry about the ah- noises. Stomach's been feeling off all day."

"Well thank you for coming in anyway. I'm incredibly busy, as you know."

She nodded. Speaking didn't make her feel much better. Thankfully the meeting moved on from there. Even better, Herbert had exhausted himself. She made it through the rest of the day with little incident.

The unfortunate prey had a lot of time to think. How could he gain her attention? He certainly didn't want to live in here forever! Even if it was warm, and soft, and the walls embraced and just about massaged him. Whenever he thought about the nicer points, he found himself stroking the nearest fold of flesh. In different circumstances this would be a fantastic stomach.

It took him a whole day to think of another way to vye for her attention. As she sat down to supper, he wriggled into position.

She still hadn't found her appetite. As a result, meals were small and snacks were frequent. It was almost like something was taking up her stomach space rent free. She ate slowly, doing it more because she knew she had to than because she felt hungry.

As the sludge joined poor Herbert, he was jostled by the stomach walls. He squirmed to keep his position. His hand slid along the undulating wall beneath him until it found the place where the mashed food left. He plugged it with a hand. He yelped in surprise as it sucked in his arm a bit. All the better to keep the food out, he mused.

Graffa felt a cramp low in her belly as it clenched around his arm. She groaned and pushed at it, trying to move whatever it was along. Her probing rubs squished the walls against his arm and face, and she did succeed in pushing his arm deeper.

He yelped, "Hey! Careful! There's someone in here!" But the stomach drowned him out. All she heard was loud gurgles which rumbled across her abdomen.

Terrified of being sucked in entirely, he struggled to get his arm free. His free hand pushed and slid at the shifting walls while trying to brace to pull. The trapped arm wiggled back and forth. When he tugged on it, it pushed himself down against the bottom of the stomach.

The continual downward strokes from outside the stomach did nothing to help his cause. He struggled vainly for quite some time. At last, he was too tired to fight it anymore. He couldn't stop whatever would happen. He was almost too tired to feel terror at that prospect. Almost.

After making her way to bed much earlier than usual, Graffa belched. She grimaced as her gizzard cramped and another burp came up. The movements jerked Herbert upward, freeing his limp arm. They weren't enough to send him all the way up like he dared to hope.

Relatively free, he settled curled up inside her stomach. His numb arm was cradled gently against his chest.

They both drifted off to sleep with difficulty.

After the failure of his last attempt, Herbert was stumped on how to make her notice him. For days he just lay curled up in her belly, letting it churn around him. Nothing had worked. Maybe he would be stuck like this forever…

His salvation was a phone call.

One of his friends had been asking around when he didn't answer his texts. The sleuth had figured out that at last weeks party his pal had gone home with Graffa. Mutual friends of friends were able to get him her phone number.

Graffa answered the phone, "Hello? Graffa speaking."

"Hi. I'm a friend of Herbert's and I've been really worried about him. Do you know when he left your house? Assuming he made it there," he added grimly. He had had too much time to over think.

"No, I'm not sure actually. I haven't seen him since-" A memory of holding the little dragon in her hands popped up. She trailed off. Eyes slowly sank to her own belly. "Oh- I'll call you back maybe. I might know where he is."

"Wait can you-" She hung up.

With a grimace she poked at her belly, "Herbert..?"

His name rumbled around him. Heart leaping to his throat, he struggled hard, "Yes! YES! In here!"

Her amber eyes widened. At least- well, at least he was alive.

She scurried off for a towel then let him up and out with great effort. She rubbed him with the soft, dry towel while not daring to look at him.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air. His cheeks were hot, unsure if he should be explaining what happened. She felt much the same way.

They both awkwardly started, then cut off at hearing the other. He spoke up again, "I guess I should be going…"

She nodded mutely. As he tracked down his things from where they had been tucked out of sight, she just stared at the floor. Belatedly she remembered, "Hey, let your friend know you're okay- I assume you're okay?"

He nodded and left without another word.

#soft vore #safe vore #female pred #male prey #anthro pred #anthro prey #owl pred #dragon prey #endosoma #size difference #pouch anon #lol

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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a love that endures preview | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows irritatingly, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to be, until a high school reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin feature in this and they aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, vaguely implied smut but it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: anticipated 15K → a/n: are you ever, like, irritatingly aware of how in love you are with someone? because that’s me while writing this fic. this fic was supposed to be 6-7K in length since it was a commission, but then i kept writing and well... here we are!! i hope to get this out before the end of the year but i thought it’d be nice to release a preview just so you guys know i’m still alive. or whatever. anyway!! enjoy!!

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years. He might have grown taller a little since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair is not dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It is styled differently too: combed over and jelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead on full display. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18 year old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two look as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest dealbreakers in your relationships.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly suckerpunching the offending degenerate in the face. You barely hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret actually holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but the grin is forming fast on your face. This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads up in alarm. You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

#btsghostie #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #my wips #look at me writing a fic when im in the middle of my finals season HAHAHAH #like you would never ever catch me writing except during the times when i shouldnt be #but yea this is probs coming out after christmas bc i have another thing releasing on that day (winkies)#but definitely coming out before new years so!! im so excited for this!!#i havent been this pumped for a fic since a boy like you LMAO #and you can bet your butts that this is gonna be equally if not sweeter than that one #who the fuck is angst? idk #okay this fic will have like 2% angst but HEY if you can drink 2% milk and not notice then you can read this fic #dont worry tbh its like baby angst.... 2020 is weird bc i really did become a fluff writer and it be like that sometimes!!#see yall soon syub syub

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years ago

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I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe.

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point."

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn.

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy��s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server.

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

#dream smp #dream smp au #immune au #tommyinnit #fundy #sapnap #eret #the eret #awesamdude #dream #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #submission #snapdragon & firefly #long post

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costellos · 4 years ago

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a/n: I’ve been reminiscing on a lot of cheesy romcoms and one of my favorite tropes are “dates that aren’t officially dates but basically are dates.” we love a good yearning. that said, here are some #unofficialofficialdates that the boys use to spend time with you!

tw: mentions of drugs

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & what excuses they use to get closer to you!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati gets closer to you by having you assist him at “fundraisers.”

Passione holds a handful of events throughout the year. elaborate parties with expensive champagne, mindless chatter, and some very high-profile attendees. people will join to officialize deals, buy drugs, and of course, donate to keep Passione thriving.

Bucciarati usually goes alone, acting as a representative for his escort team. this isn’t the type of scene you’d see the others at. but up until your joining, you’ve found yourself as his sole companion.

it began as a way to familiarize yourself with mobster life. his idea, of course. although he didn’t push the idea, he’d be lying if he said he hoped you would accept. ↳ “it’s not required, but the company would be nice.”

it’s an odd affair. celebrities and politicians join and no one blinks an eye. it’s not where you’d usually find yourself on a Saturday night, with you and your partner dressed to the nines (okay, maybe not a usual scene for you; Bucciarati always had something beautiful draped onto his figure).

the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails are nice, at least. but you find yourself drawn to your conversations with Bucciarati the most.

he makes you feel welcome at every event, that you deserve to be here as much as the starlet making her grand appearance. you’re unsure that you can handle business with new clients, but the way he talks to you is so reassuring and supportive that you quickly help the gang obtain new patrons.

you can’t help but notice that his speech became more casual after the first outing. he’s a fan of crude jokes and local gossip, you find. but you also notice the hand at your hip as he guides you to every following fundraiser. if you look at him while he he does so, he’d send a the kindest grin. ↳ “see? you’re a natural. we need to work on your eye contact, though. clients respond better when they see those pretty eyes look back at them.”

that shameless flirtation came out after your fifth fundraiser. by that point, Bucciarati made less of an effort to hide his attraction toward you. all the other patrons thought you to be a couple. why not play the part? besides, he finds your embarrassment endearing. cute, even. he’s already planning ways to make this night last longer.

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio gets closer to you by helping you get ready for your missions.

you’re typically the first choice for espionage missions. the way you slip into parties, meetings, anything without anyone noticing is impressive, to say the least. but only part of that is thanks to your own abilities. Abbacchio does a lot of the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

it started when he noticed your god awful attempt at masquerade makeup. your contouring left much to be desired. ↳ “...please don’t tell me you’re actually going out like that.”

and so began a tradition of sorts. you usually meet him at his apartment, considering that’s where all his tools are. it was awkward at first; Abbacchio isn’t the best conversationalist, but he did try to seem somewhat engaged in whatever you had to say.

with time, however, it became easier. less awkward. Abbacchio shares whatever wine (and gossip) he has at his disposal that week. you find that his humor can be quite dry once you melt through that icy exterior. and with more time, you start to notice the tiniest smiles when you pop by.

he’s also less fussy when you ask him to do your makeup. before he would roll his eyes and ask when you were next available, but now... he just says to come by that Friday night. not without some minor teasing, though you found that to be a part of his charm. (plus, the fact you were breaking through to him was exciting in itself.)

he’s incredibly gentle when he does your makeup. he always holds your chin as he dabs liquid foundation onto your face, his hand moving your head for those hard-to-reach areas. when he does your eyeshadow, you can feel that same hand cup your cheek to keep you steady. though intimate, it’s not uncomfortable.

whenever he caught you staring at him, Abbacchio would ask what you were looking at. recently, however, you’ve noticed he merely purses his lips, swallows, and looks away. ↳ “huh. would’ve never known you could look so stunning. you’re welcome.”

his rude teasing made its appearance after eight visits. it’s an awful attempt to deny his feelings. maybe you’ll back off if he’s mean enough. but the way you smile at him after every session, how you shamelessly compliment him... he can’t help himself. he has to get closer to you in any way that he can.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno gets closer to you by asking you to help him with his hair.

you’d often watch girls fawn over Giorno whenever you went on patrols with him. and it’s warranted: his chiseled cheekbones, long lashes, and defined physique had him rival the Roman statues that lined Naples. everything about him is a piece of art. including his hair.

you caught him struggling to braid his hair shortly before your next patrol. strands would be thicker than others, and in one case, you watched as his hair tie snapped between his fingers. he obviously needed help. ↳ “well, if you’re offering. be my guest.”

so you got to work. it wasn’t a big deal; part of the issue was that Giorno couldn’t see the back of his head. you separated his hair into three strands, weaved them between each other, and tied the ends of his hair into a loop. just as you’d always seen him do it.

but once you finished, Giorno was hooked. the way your fingernails dragged along his scalp, how you were so careful to not pull his hair... it was wonderful. such a small action that felt so personal to him.

he asks you to help him with his hair whenever he can. not too frequently that you’d catch on, though. and he knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t deny his request. you’re far too kind. it’s a little manipulative on his end, but he’s also aware that you wouldn’t mind.

it never feels awkward. he asks you about your day while you work. sometimes he gives you a briefing about what’s on the agenda. though it seems casual on your end, as mentioned, Giorno finds the experience quite intimate. ↳ “I don’t know what it is, but something about your touch is enough to make me feel so relaxed. ...ah, excuse me. was that too forward?”

that statement comes out after you’ve braided Giorno’s hair ten times. by that point, you’ve started to think that he doesn’t really need help with his hair. the fact that he’s started producing flowers to put in your own hair was a dead giveaway. but can you blame him? he loves seeing you blush as he tucks daisies behind your ear.

guido mista.

Mista gets closer to you by showing you his favorite quick eats.

as a long-standing resident of Naples, the gunslinger is aware of all the best restaurants in the city. from hole-in-the walls to elegant restaurants, he knows ‘em all. he has a particular soft spot for the former.

you’re the opposite of him: new to Naples and unaware of what foods await you. Mista takes it upon himself to change that. ↳ “you’ve never heard of Sorbillo and you’ve been living here for how long? ...alright, well. we’re gonna change that. you and me, Sorbillo, this Saturday.”

and thus a new tradition began. whenever you and Mista had a free Saturday night, you’d meet at whatever restaurant he recommended that week. sometimes it was seafood, other nights it was pizza, but it was always something extremely delicious (and extremely unforgettable).

he caters his choices to what you’re in the mood for. Mista’s not a picky eater by any means (so long as it’s not in fours), so he’s down for whatever you want. plus, it lets him get to know your tastes a little better.

he’s a great conversationalist. he can keep you distracted from long lines and longer food prep times. you never get the impression that he’s just making small talk, because honestly, he’s not. he genuinely wants to get to know you better. he usually asks about your life before Passione.

your weekly outings originally started as a fun hangout between two friends. but during one chilly night, Mista was quick to notice your shivering. he wasted no time in giving you his coat and hat. ↳ “hey, you don’t ever get... I dunno... bored of this, do you? I know we’ve been doing this for a while and... if you ever wanna stop, you can let me know.”

that question came up after your seventh outing. you’d never seen the gunslinger get embarrassed like this. it only comes up because Mista’s realizing how much he loves being around you. he loves when your eyes widen as you take that first bite, he loves when muse how good the food is. he needs to know where you stand before he gets too invested because honestly, he’s starting to love you as well.

narancia ghirga.

Narancia gets closer to you by asking you to help him read.

Fugo’s not the best tutor. bless him, he tries, but Narancia isn’t the best student either. the latter often spaces out while working. and when he doesn’t, he tries to distract Fugo with some meaningless chatter to end the session sooner. Fugo was quick to catch onto this.

as a result, he turned to you to tutor Narancia. it started as a joke. “if [Name] can’t do it, no one can,” he laughed. the pupil, however, was more than happy to switch tutors. ↳ “fine! [Name]’ll be a better teacher than you ever were!!”

and like that, you were Narancia’s new tutor. not that you minded. it would benefit the whole team if he could read above a primary school level. every Tuesday and Thursday, an hour before the gang’s meetings at Libeccio, you and Narancia would grab a table and go over his reading material. sometimes Fugo joins to watch Narancia’s progress, sometimes Mista to hang out and enjoy a slice of cake, but it’s normally a one-on-one lesson.

Narancia quickly realizes that he likes those lessons best. it’s much easier when the others aren’t teasing him for his inability to read words like “signorile.” plus, he likes his time alone with you. you don’t laugh. you never judge him. if he has a question, he doesn’t feel stupid to come to you about it, even outside of tutoring sessions.

he’s still distracted when he’s with you, but half the time it’s intentional, half the time it’s not. he just wants to learn more about you. he’ll take breaks between questions to ask you about yourself. Narancia usually sticks to questions regarding your hobbies and interests. lord help you if you share the same music taste because he’ll want to share all his favorite tunes with you.

lately he’s been quite diligent with his work. he’ll go a chapter ahead of what you’ve scheduled and... oh my, are those annotations? you’d never seen him smile brighter than when you praised him for his hard work. ↳ “what are we gonna do once my reading is like... really good? we’re not just gonna stop, are we?”

he asks you this after your fourth session. the question came up rather early, honestly. but Narancia was already having a lot of fun after working with you. he knew that this was going to be something worth his time. and when he saw your own smile, he knew that you were worth everything, too.

pannacotta fugo.

Fugo gets closer to you by requesting your help planning missions.

most of the gang’s missions are planned by Fugo himself. while he is a college dropout, he still spent hundreds of hours studying Italian history and law. he can be trusted to help the escort team avoid law enforcement.

but there was one job he couldn’t wrap his head around. it was a breaking-and-entering mission meant for Bucciarati and Narancia. they were supposed to cross through an Armani outlet, yet... the security was fool proof. there was no way to cleanly get through it, even with Bucciarati’s Sticky Fingers. that was when you came in and proved him wrong. ↳ “[Name], would you mind helping me with this next mission? it’s a reconnaissance job for Abbacchio.”

he started coming to you whenever he felt stuck. you’re one of the few people he trusts with a task as important as this one. besides, you’d already proved that you were more than capable to untangle tough situations.

working with you is a mixed bag, though. sure, you help Fugo resolve his questions, but you make him feel so... small. it’s not that you do it on purpose. it’s just that being smart is all that he has. it’s all he’s ever known. and here you come, making these problems seem like they were nothing.

yet he can’t get enough of you. you don’t make it seem like these things are a big deal. he loves when you place your hand on his arm and praise him when he figures it out himself. god, he hates that he can’t look you in the eye; he can only imagine how lovely you look when you’re glowing.

there’s one moment that will stick with you forever. it was an infiltration mission meant for the whole team, the eleventh job you’d worked on with him. it took hours of back-and-forth bantering, Fugo having to leave the room to go scream outside, and one of Narancia’s awful energy drinks until Fugo figured it out. and when he did, you’ll never forget how he was beaming, his fingers laced with yours as he thanked you for your help. it’s too bad it didn’t last that long, for he quickly became embarrassed and turned away. ↳ “[Name]! I have another mission to work on with you! when are you free?”

Fugo saw you as his planning partner after that occurrence. he came to you with every mission he received; after all, he needs you to make sure that there aren’t any holes. he wants to chase every high he can with you. hell, every low if you’ll let him. he wants to do everything and more with you.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #bucci gang #golden wind #Giorno Giovanna #Pannacotta Fugo #Bruno Bucciarati #Narancia Ghirga #guido mista #leone abbacchio #headcanons #long post #drugs/#WHEW it took me two days to write this #I kept getting burnt out :')#it's been a hot minute since I wrote something like this #but I'm so happy w how it came out!!

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sluttbuttsstuff · 4 years ago

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LA SQUADRA BACKSTORY HEADCANONS PART 2

Here’s everyone else’s backstory, part one with Melone and Ghiacchio is here

https://sluttbuttsstuff.tumblr.com/post/652486890343268352/la-squadra-backstory-headcanons-part-1-ghiacchio

WARNINGS: dark themes, SFW

None of this is Canon of course, just speculation

PROSCUITTO AND PESCI:

I’m combining theirs because they’re so intertwined.

Prosciutto is a few years older than pesci, and they grew up in the same neighborhood.

By the time Prosciutto was in high school, Pesci was in 2-3rd grade, basically

Prosciutto was the younger of two children from an old school mafia family.

Pesci was the only child of a teen mom, and mostly raised by his grandmother.

To be honest, Prosciutto was kind of annoyed by Pesci when he first met him. He was a weird looking kid who was annoyingly clingy and kind of a crybaby

Pesci wasn't well liked by the other kids his age, and when they did hang or they usually either teased to poor kid or used him

Prosciutto was liked well enough by his peers, but he spent most of his time with people older than him- his father’s “associates” and new mafioso initiates.

There was one that Prosciutto became particularly close to- his uncle.

He was younger than most of the other mafiosos, and a lot less uptight than Prosciutto’s father.

He made Prosciutto feel like he was already apart of the gang, trusting him with family secrets, teaching him how to shoot and care for a gun, even bought Prosciutto his first pack of cigarettes

Prosciutto’s uncle made him feel like he was the capable adult and badass gangster he so desperately wanted to be.

Prosciutto’s father, of course, loved his Brother and wanted him to have a good relationship with Prosciutto, but he didn’t approve of his son’s involvement in the family business, at least not so young.

In truth, turns out Prosciutto’s uncle was a scumbag with a lot of gambling debts, and ended up getting himself into a lot of trouble

He was always bad at money, and thought he could get some from his brother, but he refused

Angry, Prosciutto’s uncle killed his brother, Prosciutto’s father, hoping to get some inheritance or at least steal some off of him

Prosciutto happened to hear and see everything, and in a rage, killed his uncle and mentor

Angry and betrayed, Prosciutto decided not to join his family’s gang, but to make a name and life for himself, and ended up settling with passione.

He had a difficult time, struggling to survive and make a name for himself, especially when he first got his stand.

Initially, he thought it was a useless stand; he didn’t see any potential in a stand that just makes someone get older

But then he realized he could disguise himself, age others into dust, and was promoted to hitman

Prosciutto learned a lot from his experience, and realized something very important

He and Pesci, the small boy who lived in his neighborhood, were one and the same

Used by their peers, potential ignored, betrayed by their family- the next time he saw Pesci playing by himself on the street Prosciutto treated him VERY differently

Pesci was surprised but nonetheless happy; his grandmother was nice to him, and his mother worked hard to support him, but he didn’t really have anyone to teach him how to be a man.

Prosciutto didn’t encourage Pesci to become a mafioso, but he never discouraged him either. He let Pesci decide for himself

Prosciutto tried to be a mentor that was the perfect mix of his father and uncle-strict with high expectations, but also caring and gentle when necessary

Pesci was able to stand up to his bullies thanks to Prosciutto, and Pesci idolized him for helping him so much

So naturally he wanted to be just like his mentor Prosciutto, hence joining Passione

In truth, Pesci is naturally gentle and kind, but at the same time, he knows there are lots of people being bullied and hurt like he was as a child

Its Pesci’s dream to not only live up to Prosciutto’s expectations, but to make sure he’s never weak and taken advantage of again like he was as a child

And also? He's never told anyone, but he secretly dreams of being able to protect and mentor others like Prosciutto did for him

It’s true that he can be cowardly and has issues with self-esteem, but he wants to make prosciutto proud, and I think he could have become a very capable, firm but fair mafioso like he wanted to

ILLUSIO:

Illusio is the oldest of two children from an average middle class Italian family.

From a young age, Illusio was very aware that both of his parents preferred his younger brother.

He was smarter, prettier, stronger, more charming etc and His parents didn’t bother hiding their preference

Illusio would work hard to earn their approval, helping around the house with chores and trying his best to do things that would make them happy, but his brother did it better

It aggravated Illusio to no end

To make things worse, his brother noticed the preference as well, and instead of sympathizing with illusio, or even just ignoring his effect, he was very cruel to Illusio

He would complain to his parents that Illusio’s room was bigger, and he would get illusio’s old room.

Illusio had a girlfriend? His brother would steal her away, just to spite Illusio.

Obviously, this gave Illusio a GIANT inferiority complex, and he grew to hate his brother more and more everyday

Finally, one day Illusio snapped, it was something insignificant, to this day Illusio can’t remember what it was that set him off

But he ended up strangling his brother to death.

It wasn’t planned, but he didn’t regret it. He quickly packed up what few things he had and ran away from home

Illusio hasn’t made any contact with his family, and they haven’t made any with him to this day. It’s probably better this way

He joined Passione soon after for protection against the law, and manifested Man in the Mirror

Man in the Mirror was obviously influenced with his fears of inadequacy, as well as manifesting a safe space from him from others

He would isolate himself when he was having issues with his family as a child, and that manifested into the mirror world when he received his stand

He’s become obsessed with himself and his self-appearance to overcompensate for his lack of support and care as a child, which is why it’s mirrors

Because he was so often gaslit as a child, he is able to physically control who comes or goes into his “World” as a means of protection and self preservation

FORMAGGIO:

Formaggio’s mom was a single parent, trying her best to raise him

She kept trying to find a husband, but she had a bad habit of picking awful dudes

Best case, Formaggio got ignored, worst case, he got hit a few times by his mom’s partner

Eventually, Formaggio’s mom landed a man who was willing to marry her and adopt Formaggio

He was nice enough to his mother, but he really wasn't interested in raising Formaggio at all

It didn’t help Formaggio was a hyperactive annoying child- he couldn’t help it, he was left to raise himself

Formaggio’s stepfather was fairly wealthy, and did regularly spoil him and his mom with presents and money

But he still mistreated Formaggio- purposefully ignoring him, beating him if he acted up

He and Formaggio fought a lot, and unfortunately Fomaggio’s mom sided with her new husband

She still worked most of the day, and had lost several boyfriends due to Formaggio’s behavior, so she thought that was the case here

Even if she wanted to, she literally couldn’t afford divorce- she needed his money

So Formaggio’s relationship with his stepfather got worse and worse

It wasn’t until Formaggio was a teenager, however, that Formaggio found a solution

He hung around a lot of bad kids,and got involved with Passione.

He found out that his stepfather had pissed off some higher ups in Passione

He ended up killing his stepfather to gain the favor of the gang, and that was how he got into la squadra

Also, He ended up leaving home, and never actually finished high school

Little Feet is a way for Formaggio to feel the control that he never had as a child, and to put his enemies into the same position he was in for years with his mother and stepfather

Like his mother and father, he still has to deal with monetary issues- he has problems saving money and wants to live it up while he has it.

Just another reason he was so eager to kill the boss and take over Passione

RISOTTO:

Risotto was the only child of his two parents, who died tragically in a car crash. Despite just being a baby, he was able to survive with minor injury, but his stand was awakened as a result

He was adopted by His Mother’s sister, and lived with his Aunt uncle and their own child.

Their family was HEAVILY religious, Roman Catholic of course, and very strict with Risotto and his cousin

His cousin, a few years older than Risotto, was the only one openly warm with him

His Aunt and Uncle were cold and distant, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that Risotto seemed to be “Cursed”

Accidents, though relatively small, followed Risotto like the plague

Kids who teased Risotto’s bizarre eyes would end up stepping on a nail at the playground

People who yelled at Risotto and his cousin on the street would get unexplained nosebleeds

Risotto’s aunt was starting to believe he was possessed by a demon, or being punished for some unknown sin

They started disciplining him whenever anything bizarre happened, and taking him to church

They even tried having an exorcist perform on him, but it continued

Risotto’s cousin didn’t believe it though, he knew Risotto wasn’t evil and wouldn’t hurt anyone

Without him, Risotto didn’t have a friend in the world

His eyes were odd, he prematurely greyed, and he grew very tall and large from a young age.

So he got a lot of weird looks, followed by random accidents and bloody injuries which got worse and worse

It started to become too much for Risotto, and his cousin realized this

He knew he and Risotto had to get away from his parents, so he got a driver’s license, saved up money, and made a plan with Risotto to escape

On the day they planned to leave, their Parents caught them, and got into a big fight

There was lots of yelling, even some violence, but Risotto and his cousin managed to escape

As they were leaving, Risotto’s aunt called out that they were disowned, and that Risotto was an evil monster

In the car, Risotto’s cousin tried to comfort him, who was visibly upset, but he just couldn’t stay calm.

As if possessed, His cousins arms moved the steering wheel, screaming in pain

Nails and Razor blades were poking out of his skin, and he lost control of the car

They ended up crashing the car, and Risotto’s cousin was dying

Risotto’s cousin looked at Risotto like he never had before: Afraid.

He called him a monster, that he must have really hurt all those other people, and now he had killed him

His cousin died in Risotto’s arms, and Risotto lost everything

He destroyed the car he and his cousin had been in, and everyone assumed he had died in the wreckage

Eventually, his talents were noticed by Passione, and he worked his way up to head Capo of La Squadra Execuzione

Risotto never fully recovered from losing his cousin, and became obsessed with controlling his powers and emotions

As a result, he became a cold and ruthless leader his men respected

However, he can’t help caring for his squad, they’re all he has left at this point

His job, his teammates, they’re all his life consists of at this point.

Why is his stand like that? Who knows, he was just a child when he manifested it

It wasn’t his choice to have this power, but he’ll make the best of it, for his team’s sake

SORBET AND GELATO:

Sorbet grew up in a poor family, and spent most of his time on the streets trying to earn a living. He dropped out of school early to join the workforce as soon as possible, and joined the military to leave his family.

He doesn’t hate his family or anything, they tried their best, but there’s just too many painful memories of starving and helplessness.

He met Gelato in the Military, he came from a long family line of soldiers

Gelato learned from an early age how to fight and defend himself, and had to deal with a lot of toxic masculinity and violent older siblings

Sorbet and Gelato ended up bonding, just friends at first but after a time they figured out their feelings

Tired of Military BS, they decided to desert, and ended up joining Passione

They don’t do a job without the other, and either share a room or their own apartment

They’ve dealt with a lot of discrimination because of their sexuality, but Passione doesn’t judge them for it, even if they don’t pay as much as they should

Besides, killing is their specialty, what else would they do?

#sluttbuttsstuff #headcanons #fic #imagines #la squadra #vento aureo #jjba #no shipping #risotto #pesci #prosciutto #formaggio #illusio #sorbet and gelato

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