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thewhumpcaretaker · 4 months ago

Note

Vincent tending to Chidi’s wounds when a medical professional isn’t near (with Vincent surprisingly having good knowledge on wounds) has always been on my mind and I thought to share with you ^_^

Anyways here’s a crappy screenshot of them because aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Chidi looks so small😭

Thank you so much for this ask! This ended up being almost chapter-length and I may use snippets of it in Those Who Have Something to Live For later on, oops!!

Also, small hearts for small chidi: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

-⚜- I Want to Be Next to You -⚜-

TW: gunshot wound, discussion of self-sacrifice

The first thing Chidi noticed was the red pouring out of Vincent’s shoulder. The second thing he noticed was how fast he was breathing.

He didn’t say anything, just staggered back against the wall with alarmingly wide eyes almost rolling back in his head - that look of unspeakable terror that Chidi had seen only a few times in his service with Vincent.

Chidi was across the balcony and in contact with Vincent almost instantly, gripping both arms to slow his fall and guide him to the ground. Their legs folded under them in unison, almost gracefully, like two swans landing on water. And they both felt they were drifting on something like water, suddenly floating above a terrible, murky depth. Their eyes were locked together, mirroring each other’s desperation. “C'est bon [It’s okay],” he whispered, low enough to reach only Vincent.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, as if without breathing, “Non, ce n'est pas le cas, ils putain… ils… [No it’s not, they fucking…they…]”

Chidi couldn’t contradict him. They had been ambushed. A particularly crucial client had insisted on meeting Vincent on “neutral ground,” without much backup, in a remote villa. As he had feared, it was merely a ruse to make an attempt on Vincent’s life. And Chidi hadn’t stopped it…they’d laid hands on Vincent, they’d put metal in him…

“Get a medic, and arrange evacuation,” he barked over his shoulder, without breaking eye contact with Vincent. Chidi was scary like this.

The ground around them was littered with bodies. Only two other guards survived – and the enemy was demolished. One of those guards hesitated. “What should I tell them about the deal, sir? And the ambush?”

“I don’t care! I’m going to stay with my ward! GO!” My ward. Vincent was the ward of all the bodyguards, but Chidi didn’t say our. No, at moments like this, it became clearer than ever that Vincent was his responsibility in a way that none of the other Myrmadons shared.

In another moment, they were alone.

“Chidi…” It wasn’t the beginning of a question, it was an inarticulate plea. Vincent’s head was lolling from one side to the other against the wall, in danger of knocking against it from how badly he was shaking.

“Je suis là. [I’m here.]” He lowered him the rest of the way down, not against the hard marble, but into his lap, elevating the wounded shoulder above the rest of his body. Overwhelmed by the mixture of shock and human contact, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for half a second before staring desperately up at Chidi again. It was a magnetic look, impossible to break away from. Help me, it was saying. Chidi obeyed.

“Je vais vous attacher un garrot maintenant, monsieur. Cela signifie que je vais attacher un morceau de tissu autour de votre épaule. Cela pourrait faire mal mais je vais essayer d’être rapide. [I’m going to tie you a tourniquet now, sir. This means I’m going to tie a piece of cloth around your shoulder. It might hurt but I’ll try to be quick.]” For once, he was the one chattering away, trying to fill the silence, to keep Vincent’s mind from running away with him. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, and his face expressionless. He had to be the rock right now, something to hold onto.

He took off his suitcoat and then ripped off his shirt sleeve from underneath, tying it around Vincent’s shoulder. As it squeezed the muscles around the wound, Vincent went even paler, panting in an effort not to scream. Even at a time like this, he didn’t want to look weak. It made Chidi’s heart twist. “Vous allez bien, monsieur. [You’re doing well, sir.]” He wasn’t. He was starting to hyperventilate, and it really concerned Chidi. “Peux-tu respirer avec moi, lentement ? De la même manière que je respire. [Can you breathe with me, slowly? The same way I’m breathing.]”

The Marquis struggled for a moment, staring at Chidi’s chest. He saw another wave of fear rise up behind Vincent’s eyes as he lost control. “Je – je ne peux pas – [I – I can’t – ]”

“Ce n'est pas grave alors. Continuez simplement d’essayer et concentrez-vous sur ma voix. Je vais faire pression sur toi pour arrêter le saignement maintenant, d'accord ? Et je continuerai à faire ça jusqu’à ce que l’aide arrive. [That’s okay then. Just keep trying and focus on my voice. I’m going to press on you to stop the bleeding now, okay? And I’ll keep doing that until help comes.]” Chidi did his best not to talk too fast, not to let the panic affect his voice. He felt like breaking down – seeing Vincent like this was too much. But he had to be reassuring for him.

“…d’accord… ça prend combien de temps? […okay…how long with that take?]”

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Pas longtemps. [I don’t know, sir. Not long.]” He lowered his hands over the wound and pressed down as hard as he could. Vincent made an awful, strangled sound. Even through the pressure, Chidi could feel how badly he was shivering. “Attendez, faisons ça aussi. [Wait, let’s do this too.]” He took his hands off the wound long enough to throw his coat over Vincent’s chest, and then pressed down again. Vincent snuggled involuntarily into the warmth, the shivering subsiding a little. After the initial pain of Chidi’s strength against his shoulder again, he relaxed into it. Then, following a long moment of hesitance, his hand rested on top of Chidi’s.

“Merci.” He stroked along Chidi’s hand just the way he would if they were just resting in bed together after making love.

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]”

His eyes were closed again and suddenly Chidi worried he might lose consciousness.

“Hé, pouvez-vous continuer à me regarder monsieur ? Reste éveillé s'il te plait. [Hey, can you keep looking at me sir? Stay awake please.]”

Vincent wrenched his eyelids open with what seemed a very great effort. “Parlez-moi alors. [Talk to me then.]” It was an order, but spoken so quietly, so vulnerably.

“D’accord.” Chidi thought for a moment. “Tu sais, j'ai appris la médecine de campagne pour toi. J'ai pris des cours le soir, pendant mon temps libre. Parce que si jamais tu étais bloqué comme ça, je voulais être sûr de pouvoir t'aider. [You know, I learned field medicine for you. I took lessons in the evenings, during my leisure time. Because if you were ever stranded like this, I wanted to make sure I could help you.]”

Vincent swallowed. “Je ne le savais pas. Je…te remercie. [I didn’t know that. I…thank you.]” His hand was stroking idly against Chidi’s, with deep affection, soothing both himself and his lover at once. He was getting into that zoned out space that he entered sometimes, when he was hurt or very sick. A space that forced his deeply defended heart to open a little.

“Ce n'était pas un problème, monsieur. Je suis content de l’avoir fait. [It was no trouble, sir. I’m glad I did.]”

“Je suis… je suis content que tu sois là. Peut-être… peut-être que je dramatise mais… [I’m…I’m glad you’re here. Maybe…maybe I’m being dramatic but…]” He went silent for a long time, so long that Chidi almost thought he was passing out. But he wasn’t. “Si je meurs, je veux qu'il soit à côté de toi. [If I die, I want it be next to you.]”

Chidi’s throat tightened. He looked away at the sunset, waves of pink and gold crashing down over jagged mountains. But it wasn’t half as beautiful as Vincent, so he looked back. “Si je meurs, je veux que ce soit pour vous, monsieur. Mais je préfère que nous vivions tous les deux. [If I die, I want it to be for you, sir. But I’d rather we both live.]”

Vincent didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, it was in a rush, with his voice dropping quieter and quieter until Chidi could barely hear him. “Je préfère ça aussi, ces jours-ci. Il y a quelques instants, quand on m'a tiré dessus, j'ai réalisé que… Pour une fois, je n'avais pas peur parce que j'étais seule, mais parce que je voulais continuer à vivre. Je veux être à côté de toi. [I’d rather that too, these days. A few moments ago, when I was shot, I realized that…For once, I wasn’t scared because I was alone, but because I want to keep living. I want to be next to you.]”

You will. You always will. “Je serai toujours à vos côtés, monsieur. [I will always be by your side, sir.]” Chidi wrapped himself around Vincent’s body, giving him all of his warmth, all of his presence, all of himself. For life.

#hoplesslydevoted #chidi x marquis de gramont #chidi jw #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #angst #hurt/comfort #whump #assassin whump #bodyguard whump

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pigeon-pit · 2 months ago

Text

~*PIGEON PIT FALL 2024 DATES*~

hey y’all! we’re really stoked to be hitting the road again this fall and play east coast shows for the first time in a long time. come hang out, we’ll be playing new songs, old songs, whatever songs we feel like and have some brand new merch for sale too. we got some really special shows on here! Will update bands and ticket links as time goes on but for the most part shows are pay at the door and all ages! <3

10/14 in Minneapolis, MN at The Artery w/ Erica Lyle & Mold Wine

10/15 in Chicago, IL at Pilsen Community Books w/ Sunday Cruise

10/16 in Indianapolis, IN at Longshot w/ Looter & Passerine

10/17 in Pittsburgh, PA at Mr Roboto Project w/ Frog Legs, No Jane, Cacklin Racket & Rayne Blakeman (https://dltsgdom.ticketleap.com/pigeon-pit-roboto/)

10/18 in Akron, PA at House of Jenk w/ Local News Legend, Joyful Forfeit & Erin Incoherent

10/20 in Brattleboro, VT at Buoyant Heart w/ Harm, Leaf Glitter & Kivimae

10/21 in Brooklyn, NY at Trans Pecos w/ Choked Up & precious human (https://www.venuepilot.co/events/114396/orders/new)

10/23 in Philadelphia, PA at Foto Club w/ Paper Bee & Ezra Cohen (https://dice.fm/partner/4333-collective/event/dk59l6-pigeon-pit-paper-bee-ezra-cohen-23rd-oct-foto-club-philadelphia-tickets )

10/24 in Richmond, VA at Crescent Club w/ Flora and the Fauna and Shotgun Princess

10/26 in Gainesville, FL at Roadhouse w/ Mechanical Canine, Heavy Lag, Shift Meal & the Alleged Band

10/27 in Gainesville, FL - FEST - at Vivid Music Hall w/ Chuck Ragan and the Camaraderie, Tim Barry, Brendan Kelly, Walter Mitty and his MAkeshift Orchestra & Apes of the State (https://www.seetickets.us/event/Vivid-Music-Hall-CHUCK-RAGAN-TIM-BARRY-BRENDAN-KELLY/610483) (18+)

10/28 in Atlanta, GA at Wallers Coffee w/ Dakota Floyd, Official Bard of Baldwin County & Ozello (https://pigeonpitwallers.bpt.me/)

10/29 in Pensacola FL at the 309 Project w/ the Taints & TBA

10/30 in New Orleans, LA at SASS w/ Twisted Teens & TACK (4011 St Claude)

11/1 in Little Rock, AR at River City Coffee w/ TBA

11/2 in Kansas City, MO at Howdy w/ Small Void & TBA

11/4 in Denver, CO at 7th Circle Music Collective w/ Fables of the Fall, Marissa. & Darling Driftwood

#folk punk #pigeon pit #live music #diy punk

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leondickrider · 1 year ago

Text

relationship headcanons | leon s kennedy x gn!reader

💭 . . . hiii, so i moved to this account from my old account @movedoopsie so this an updated version of both of my old relationship headcanons posts and nsfw post (with some new bonus headcanons hehe) (‘. • ᵕ •. `)

before reading: fluff, suggestive, nsfw marked, some are sad bc i love making leon suffer ₍ᐡ｡っ ̫-｡ᐡ₎ not proofread | warnings: cursing, substance abuse mentioned | wc 2.1k

love with him kinda gives me and your mama by childish gambino but very much guns and roses by lana del rey 🎀

ONE THING I FORGOT TO MENTION IN MY ORIGINAL POSTS: television heaven by lana del rey is so re2make leon coded !!!! and maybe perhaps starry eyed... just maybe...

it's canon that he listens to rock (refer to re2r opening) but I'm sure he would listen to alternative and hip hop

btw, to the spotify playlist makers, he would never listen to mother mother he is quite literally born in the 70s

also i doubt he would actually listen to lana del rey, but if he did he would listen to ultraviolence ₍ᐢ.”⚇.”ᐢ₎

when he's frustrated, he'll mutter curses under his breath like it's so sexy and hot and pussy soddening or dick hardening (I don't have a dick idk how it works)

he loves when you wear long, flowy dresses or shirts, especially if they are in white. if you get it you get it

he would like white clothes on you since white typically represents like purity and cleanliness. and with all the stuff he's been through and it's just comforting

his favorite colors are blue and green tho

he's a good kisser 10/10

leon definitely replies with the driest things ever over text. like you could say "hey baby I love you <3 be careful at work" and he'll say "Ok love you." and he uses the period too

also replies with 👍, 👎, 😀 and 😍

when you are both going to sleep at the same time, he will scratch your back out of habit, even if he falls asleep you will feel his hand making circular motions on your back

he's the lightest sleeper ever. he wakes up if you shift in bed too fast, if you make any unusual sound, literally wakes up so easily and this leads to him being very sleepy :(

he would want 2 kids so they aren't lonely. he wouldn't ever want his kids to feel the loneliness he felt as an orphan

he's a girl dad but if he had a son then you already know that kid is going to be a carbon copy of his dad

sometimes he comes home really drunk and he leans all over you, kissing you all over and saying how much he loves you and stuff and then he cries and then falls asleep

when he goes fishing or hunting or camping he always drags you along for it even if you complain

he looks like he goes camping like every season as the vacation he so desperately asks for 24/7

he doesn't understand text abbreviations. he's like a victorian child. he says "LOL" and doesn't even know what it means. "leon I'm feeling really sick, bring me some soup please" "Ok LOL."

he also replies really slowly to texts sometimes, it's not even on purpose he is just has no clue how to iphone

during missions, he has those cute lil kitten sneezes (like in re4r) but at home this man forces them to be obnoxiously loud because it always makes you giggle

and his hearts melts a little every time you giggle. your laughter is like his favorite sound in the whole wide world

he gets home at unholy hours of the night usually, so he usually just goes to the bedroom, gives you a kiss on your forehead or cheek while you're asleep and takes a quick shower before sleeping

however on nights where you wait for him to get home he is taken by surprise when you fling yourself into his arms when he enters

when be walks in he'll be like "sono a casa..." really quietly

yeah he learned a little italian bc he's like a mafioso son basically so he decided "why not just learn italian and make my girlfriend swoon over it?" il mio king

he's incredibly insecure in relationships. he thinks you deserve better than him, somebody who can be there for you without fail and isn't heavily traumatized

when you're sick he will literally do everything for you, he doesn't let you do anything until you're better

even when you aren't sick he does everything, he justa bit more lenient

hero complex ofc, he loves being there to 'save you' even if it's just helping you get something off the top shelf or helping you zip up a dress or a shirt

always puts his bed by you in minecraft even tho he has no idea how to play :3

also, loves bear hugging you. but he also does those hugs where he lifts you up completely and spins you around a little

if you where in raccoon city with him he would do the spinning hug the second you were finally safe

when he's feeling really affectionate (usually when he's a lil tipsy) he'll tell you things like "sei tutto il mio mondo" and "sei la metà della mia mela" (this is so cute if you also love apples)

he's a heavyweight this man can handle his alcohol, so if you get drunk easy like me, then yea he's def got you covered

doesn't let anybody he doesn't trust near you when you're drunk

also, even when he's drunk he's very protective. he's actually more protective

he is really good at comforting you when you need it but often pushes you away when you need it :(

sometime he will disappear for long periods of times. and he cuts off all contact. but eventually you will get a call from somebody like chris, claire, etc. that leon was drinking and they were bringing him home

he goes through cycles of highs where he stops drinking and lows where he drinks excessively (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

sometimes he'll send you random selfies when he gets service or random texts like "Hi." and tbh it scared the shit out of you to just get a random Hi when he's in the middle of like the desert a few times

he isn't really good with physical affection, he'll give you awkward hugs and hold your hands but he's just very awkward in general so...

but if we're talking cute re2make leon then omfg hugs 24/7 he will not keep his hands off you

he isn't really into pda bc he's shy about it, he will hold your hand and maybe give you an awkward side hug but that's really it unless it's one of those special occasions lmfao

this is kind of random but when he's alone he likes to look at old pictures of you both and just reminisce on the past ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

re2make leon the typa guy to play just dance with you

maybe re4make if he's in love enough (he is)

his style is actually really good so he ALWAYS looks so good next to you (refer to casual leon model) 🐩

he sings in the shower sometimes

he likes to take showers with you since it's relaxing when you wash his hair since you have like soft hands and not his big thick meaty manly leather beefy hands

falls asleep with light piano music and rain audios in the background 😭

his instagram is basically a fanpage for you. always appreciating you!! "My s/o took this." "Date night night with s/o." "Imagine not having the prettiest bestest amazingest s/o ever."

he and ada are mutuals, this is his revenge for ghosting him lol

takes you on picnic dates a lot

for people with periods, he is like so good with helping you woth getting tampons/pads, getting medicine, etc etc

his ideal house with you would be one of those stereotypical white american family suburb houses (he's so american i'll never let him live down calling luis 'lewis' 😭)

he pledge allegiance to the flag he is a PATRIOT🇺🇸

he spoils the hell out of you !!!! you look at a dress twice? magically in your closet the next day. you look at a pretty necklace that costs more than a car? he already got it

government paycheck

when he was 21 he dreamed of having a really normal life with you. a normal house, normal cars, 2 kids, a dog, all these other totally normal things

he does not get the normal life lol

nsfw

he is very territorial, he definitely marks you up in spots that are very visible and harder to hide

he isn't really picky about what lingerie you wear but if you wear white sets with little blue or pink ribbons then you got your work cut out for you

he's very romantic during sex. on anniversaries he'll even get rose petals and candles in you're into that kinda stuff lol

had to buy a whole different phone just for videos/photos of you both because his phone has a ton of work things and he didn't want to risk accidentally sending the wrong picture to the wrong person

when he gets back from missions that were very stressful and got him pent up then sex is way rougher than usual

he is definitely into worshipping your body. he'll tell you how beautiful you are and kiss every inch if your skin that he can

sometime he'll also say some italian things to you while you do the deed like "sei molto bella"

when he's horny he'll tell you "mi ecciti così tanto"

although, italian bedroom talk is kinda cringe sometimes so he usually sticks to english

he is definitely very experienced, he's been with several women, usually one night stands. but we do also know he had a girlfriend before resi 2 so there's that

he would prefer sex stays in the bedroom, or the house at least

he probably gets pleasure from making you get pleasure. like just from eating you out he will... yea

as i said before, territorial 😊

one of his sexual fantasies is fucking you while he's on a mission but he probably wouldn't want to take that risk bc like zombies

it's not rare to have quickies in the mornings

he's big like maybe 6 or 7 inches? he may not have a könig bulge but he's absolutely packing

dirty talk. says things like "y'like that princess?" "that feel good?" "i know you like it baby" "you feel so girl pretty girl" "look at me lovie" when you close ur eyes

man is a freak (refer to THAT clip from death island)

however, sex with him is usually really vanilla simply because he is too tired from all these missions to be doing all that

when it's not vanilla he's a switch simply bc I know it. he'll let you take the reins from time to time, but he is always the one in control if we're being fr

also i'm pretty sure he's top leaning because like... the shit he's been through?? he'd want a little control over something and having control in bed makes him feel really powerful

he still likes to bottom tho lol

he also calls u mommy or daddy or master or mistress if u a freaky freak lol

loves brat taming!!!!!

he likes to hold your hand while having sex

enjoys morning sex lots, especially the morning after he returns from a mission. he's too exhausted the night of returning, so he wakes up early and fucks you

love love loves missionary bc he gets to look at your face and he can just look down to see him yk thrusting (goodbye i hate this word)

i will say tho sometimes he will say the most outlandish things like "i wanna pump so many babies into you that we repopulate raccoon city" but it's ok bc it's leon

loves white sets on you (refer to 8)

sooo good with after care!!! if you need something he will do it or get it. want a snack? he's grabbing it. want a nice warm bubble bath? he's running the water and grabbing the soap for bubbles

spoils you with aftercare tbh.... after him you really cannot ever get better aftercare

very vocal, lots of whimpers and whines coming from him

really good with his hands, I mean look at the way he handles guns. i'm sure his hands come in handy in more ways than just flipping a gun around

amazing with his tongue and mouth as well 🎀

he love love loves when u sit on his face !!!

when you give him head he likes to rub your scalp and he makes the most attractive noises ever

he owns a couple toys. he def owns a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs

he probably has no preference to if you're shaved or not when he's older

but when he's younger he prefers it shaved or trimmed cuz he lives between your legs and it gets a bit annoying getting hair in his mouth 😭

(i'm sorry if all the nsfw seems aimed towards afab people, I literally have no idea how to write for amab but i'm trying to spoil everybody...)

౨ৎ translations "sono a casa" i'm home; "il mio [re]" my king; "sei tutto il mio mondo" you are my whole world; "sei la metà della mia mela" you are half of my apple; "sei molto bella" you're very beautiful; "mi eciti così tanto" you're turning me on | please correct me if any of this is wrong since i rarely speak to my italian friends and family and i don't say these things to them. i had to research :)

reblogs and replies appreciated always <3

leon kennedy masterlist

#vivi ౨ৎ #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #vivi writes ౨ৎ

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cr-ok · 3 months ago

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contains some spoilers for the ARG

Bill Ci. My Brainrot Guy.

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill List Overview & Entry Syntax

a little disorganized

yell at me if I’m missing codes or if something is wrongly categorized

do not worry about spaces/some punctuation marks (",", ".", "-", "+", "&", "@", parenthesis, quotation marks, and slashes)

i. e. "THEYLLSEE"/"THEYLL SEE"/"THEY'LL SEE" all work & have the same output

site does not accept entries with "?"

all characters are capitalized automatically

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill You All are Wonderful People

Busy_Abroad370 CranberrySoft8335 DCode Dog_core fishy--friend FRAMER_FRAMER Hacker88774770 Global-Pepper-5823 marzinstarz moonwytte mothford ohnoimonfire RiotingSpectre themoonweaversden themysteryofgravityfalls thisisnotawebsitedotcom-com wolsalwastaken

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Where to Click

book button below the screen dagger dial below the screen “McGucket Labs” above the screen gold tooth on skeleton jar link below the prism

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Relevant to The Book of Bill

BOYFRIEND/LONELY/LOVE/MARRY ME/ROMANCE/SOULMATE/TRUE LOVE CRYPTOGRAM CODEX DESTRUCTION IS A FORM OF CREATION SCARY/SPOOKS/SPOOKY/SPOOKEMUPS T. J. ECKLEBURG

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Bill, Past & Present

BABY/BABY BILL/DADDY/LALALA/LALALALALA/MOMMY DIVORCE/BREAKUP/ROCK BOTTOM EUCLID/SCALENE/SCRIMBLES EUCLYDIA FAMILY MATTERS FORGET THE PAST IRREGULAR JUST FIT IN RUBBER HOSE

it ends, eventually

SEVEN EYES TANTRUM THERAPRISM VALLIS CINERIS WELL WELL WELL BEING

three outputs

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Stanford, Past & Present

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA DOES GOD EXIST/FACE OF GOD/FRILLIAM/GOD/HELP ME/IS GOD REAL/IS RELIGION REAL/REVEAL GOD/REVEAL GOD TO ME/SAVE ME/SHOW ME GOD/WHAT DOES GOD LOOK LIKE/WHAT IS GOD/WHO IS GOD EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES I’M STILL ON YOUR MIND/ON YOUR MIND OROBOROUS SORRY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Riddles

answers in book

RIDDLE

NO/YES

MOUNTAIN DON'T

LYRE LIAR

HAROLD'S RAMBLINGS

UNION MADE

29121239168518

GREBLEY HEMBERDRECK

A RAT/RAT

3466554

TINSEL SNAKE

TORTURE MENTALLY

XGQRTHX

333 SUNDAPPLE LANE, COZY CREEK, IL, 60714-94611

CAESAR, ATBASH, & VIGENERE/MULTILEVEL MARK

EMMALINE BUTTERNUBBINS/BUTTERNUBBINS

DISPENSE MY ANSWER

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Zodiac

DIPPER

enter five times

FORD/SIXER/STANFORD/STANFORD PINES GIDEON

two outputs

GRUNKLE STAN/STAN/STANLEY/STANLEY PINES/STAN PINES

enter eight times

MASON MABEL - enter thirteen times FIDDLEFORD/FIDDLEFORD HADRON MCGUCKET/FIDDLEFORD MCGUCKET/MCGUCKET PACIFICA PLATINUM PAZ ROBBIE SOOS WENDY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Bill Addressing the User

BAAAA/SAY BAAAA BLACK SHEEP BOO BERRY DESTRUCTION IS A FORM OF CREATION NAITSUAF

use the button and the knob

UNREALITY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Canon to Universe

ALGEBRA/GEOMETRY/GREECE/GREEK/SHAPE/SHAPES/MATH/PLATO/PYTHAGORUS/TRIGONOMETRY BABBA/DISCO GIRL BLENDIN/BLENDIN BLENJAMIN BLANDIN/BLENDIN BLANDIN BLIND EYE CLONE/PAPER JAM/PAPER JAM DIPPER/TYRONE DUCKTECTIVE FORDTRAMARINE HECTORING HOTXOLOTL JUST BLENDIN KINGS OF NEW JERSEY KOOK KUBRICK L IS REAL 2401 LOVE YA BRO PINES PORTAL REALITY R34LITY SEVERAL TIMES/SEV'RAL TIMES SUCK IT, MERLIN

use Cipher Font B

WEIRDMAGEDDON YOU'RE INSANE

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Directly from "Gravity Falls"

AM I BLANCHIN' BYE GOLD DEER TEETH FILBRICK

Stans's father's name

FIXINIT1 DUCHESS APPROVES/THE DUCHESS APPROVES HOLOGRAM REALITY UNIVERSE/THE UNIVERSE

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Unsure of the Canonicity

ANALOG HORROR/CREEPYPASTA/HORROR/URBAN LEGEND/URBAN LEGENDS BURNED INSIDE BURNSIDE CARD/MY CARD

two outputs

CURSED CURSE WITTEBANE HEY NERD LIES OCCURREMUSITERUM OWL TROWEL PAPER IS BOOKSKIN SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Ciphertology

CIPHERTOLOGY

two outputs

DIONARAP GOODNIGHT SALLY STOD EHT TCENNOC TOURIST TRAP WHICH RELIGION IS RIGHT YOU CAN'T KILL AN IDEA

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Easter Eggs

ALEX/ALEX HIRSCH/ALEXANDER ROBERT HIRSCH/HIRSCH ANSWER ASSHOLE/BITCH/CUM/CUNT/DICK/FUCK/FUCK YOU/GANG BANG/GLORY HOLE/JIZZ/MILF/PUSSY/SEX/SHIT/TITS/SLUT/TED CRUZ/WHORE BOOK OF BILL/THE BOOK OF BILL CHIP/DORITO/NACHO

jumpscare warning

CRYPTO/DOGE/ELON/FORTNITE/GYATT/NFT/RIZZ/SKIBIDI DEATH DISNEY/DISNEYLAND/EPCOT/MICKEY/MICKEY MOUSE/WALT DISNEY EASTER EGG FUCK YOU ALEX/FUCK ALEX HIRSCH GUN/THE GUN HISTORY

four outputs

HOW DO I DIE? HOW WILL I DIE? I SEE/THEY’LL SEE/THEY’LL ALL SEE IS HELL REAL? IS THERE AN AFTERLIFE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER I DIE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER WE DIE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER YOU DIE/WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE/WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DIE LIFE MEOW/MEOW WOW MONSTER MORALITY NOT A PHASE NOTHING PEAK PINATA OH YES THEY BOTH ONE-EYED KING QUESTION SCREEN SCIENTOLOGY SEASON 3 SEASON 2 SEASON 1 SKELETON SOMETHING TELL ME HOW I'LL DIE TITANS BLOOD TRIANGLE

two outputs.

I'm convinced one is a typo

VIRUS WHO ARE YOU

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Reference to the Show

ABUELITA AXOLOTL BILL/BILL CIPHER/CIPHER/LLIB/LLIB REHPIC/REHPIC

three outputs

BLANCHIN/BLANCHING CARYN

Stans's mother's name

CIA/FBI/NSA CRAY CRAY CRAZ/XYLER DIPPY FRESH GIFFANY

enter this six times

GLASS SHARD BEACH GLOBNAR GRAVITY FALLS JOURNAL 1 JOURNAL 2 JOURNAL 3 MYSTERY MYSTERY SHACK TAD STRANGE TOBY DETERMINED WADDLES

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Cameos

CONSPIRACY GAME THEORY/HELP ME MATPAT/HELP US MATPAT/MATPAT/THAT’S JUST A/THEORY WEIRD

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Does Not Work; I'm in Shambles

ASS BILL IS SANS BLIND IVAN DRAKE FIDDLEFORD H. MCGUCKET/HADRON FINGERS IN HIS ASS HENCHMAINIACS LEBAM LIGMA LUCIFER MERMANDO OVERLOOK/OVERLOOK HOTEL PLEASE SATAN SEXYMAN SEVRAL TIMEZ SIGMA THEY WILL ALL SEE TOOT TOOT MCBUMBERSNAZZLE TWINK JULY 4/7-4-1921

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill I Have Been Mislead/Fuck You, Internet

BRAINROT BUBBLE

eye in the jar element ID

CUSSES FOURTRAMARINE

spelling error

GOD BUBBLE MCSUCKIT OK KO REPHIC

spelling error

SMALL STILL ON YOUR MIND

incorrectly-remembered

#bill cipher #book of bill #gravity falls #the book of bill #toxic old man yaoi #old man yaoi #billford #gravity falls bill #the brainrot is real #scalene cipher #euclid cipher #cipher hunt #ciphertology #stanford pines #gravity falls axolotl #tbob #tbob spoilers #gravity falls fandom

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pinkanonwrites · 2 years ago

Text

It’s You I Like

Vash/Reader, songfic, 1500+ words I don’t normally write Isekai stuff for Vash but this was too good an opportunity to pass up, and I ended up liking it a lot so maybe I’ll do more little drabbles with this specific isekai!reader

"Well, at least we managed to stock up on everything before we left."

“...”

“You said the next town was, what? About forty iles? Doubt we’ll make that tonight, but it’s not too bad considering.”

“...”

“So I can set up the sleeping bags if you want to get a fire going, how ‘bout that Vash? …Vash?”

“...Hm? Oh. Oh! Y-Yeah, no problem… Here, here’s this.” Even though Vash responded to you, his gaze hadn’t yet left the direction the two of you had just come from as his bag thumped into the sand next to you. Or rather, not so much came from as fled from. You were just about to make yourselves comfortable at the local inn for the evening when someone managed to recognize your red-coated traveling companion, and it wasn’t long before the entire town was hot on your tail. Miraculously, somehow, the two of you managed to escape the hailstorm of bullets completely unscathed and with all your meager travel gear intact, but now you found yourself far past the outskirts of the town and left to your own devices in the barren wasteland.

Not like you had any room to complain though. Considering your sudden and unorthodox appearance in one of your favorite series, you'd much rather cling to the familiar presence of Vash the Stampede than risk your luck bumming around any other town on this desolate rock. How fortunate were you to not only find the spiky protagonist, but also to have him listen to and believe your wildly unbelievable tale of woe. Mentioning the SEEDS ships helped, you supposed. Now wherever Vash went you had no choice but to follow.

Again, though. Definitely not a complaint.

Vash was still quiet as the two of you cobbled together your camping site at the base of a large outcropping rock. There was a small smile on his face, framed by the fire's amber glow. But even without having read the manga and watched the anime you could tell it wasn't a real one. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You were probably looking forward to an actual bed tonight, huh?" He joked, gaze never leaving the small fire. "Welcome to the life of an outlaw! I assure you, it's always this glamorous."

"It's no big deal! Camping's not bad either, at least when you have the sleeping bags."

He didn't look convinced by your words, but he nodded anyway, an uncomfortable silence falling between the two of you. You kicked your boots off and pulled your knees to your chest on top of your sleeping bag, watching the fire crackle.

"...Is it hard?"

"Hm?" When you glanced over to Vash he was finally looking your way, elbow propped up on his knee and his cheek resting in his palm. Despite the casual pose there was a melancholy behind his eyes, a deep remorse. "Is what?"

"Running around like this. I doubt you're used to it."

"It's… Well I won't lie to you, it isn't easy." Vash barked out a laugh at your brutally honest response. You pushed forward, unabated. "But honestly? I'm probably safer with you than I am anywhere else on this planet. I don't know any people, any places… The only thing I really know is you." A prickling heat began to crawl up the back of your neck at your openness, and you rested the side of your head down on your knees as if it would deter the sudden fluster. "I'm really lucky you found me."

That seemed to catch Vash off-guard, as he began to awkwardly fiddle with his cybernetic hand as his gaze flitted around. "That's, uh, I mean… you've got a pretty skewed idea of luck, I think. Heh…"

There was an awkwardness that fell in the next extended silence too, but it wasn't quite the same. It was a little softer around the edges, more vulnerable. Off to your side you could hear the soft clinking of Vash disassembling and cleaning his gun, bits and pieces placed carefully across his sleeping bag to make sure nothing was lost in the shuffle. As you stretched your legs out in front of you in a v-shape, you hummed softly to yourself as you watched the embers stir and crumble into the sand.

"What song is that?" You glanced at Vash, biting back a chuckle at his furrowed expression, tongue peeking from his teeth as he stared down the empty chambers of his revolver with a cleaning pick and a look of intense focus.

"It's a children's song from home. It's from an old TV show, I think." You hummed the first line a little louder, just enough so Vash could hear the melody over the fire's crackle. You doubted he even knew what a "TV show" was, but he didn't seem too fazed by it.

"Do you like to sing?"

"I like it. I'm average, I think, but I always have fun when I'm singing." Out of the corner of your eye you could see Vash looking at you again. "Oh, absolutely not. Not gonna happen."

"Hey, I didn't even say anything!"

"You didn't have to! I could tell by your face! I'm not gonna sing, it's embarrassing."

"No it's not! Besides, you said you like it. And it's a song from Earth, too! I wanna hear it." He probably didn't even realize it, but he was flashing you those big, sad puppy-dog eyes that he didn't yet know you couldn't resist. You let out a small, irritated whine, hand finding the back of your neck and resting on the flushed skin there as you drew your gaze back to the crackling fire.

"...Fine. Just this once. And don't… Don't say anything weird."

"You got it!" You could see him salute out of the corner of your eye, and couldn't help the quiet snort of laughter that came from you in response. Dork. The quiet click-clack of him beginning to reassemble his firearm returned, so now was as good a time as ever, you supposed.

"It's you, I like."

There was a sharp tink! of Vash fumbling part of the barrel and it clattering down into the remaining pile of gun parts, but you were far too self-conscious to glance over and gauge his expression.

"It's not the things you wear. It's not the way you do your hair, but it's you I like."

You could feel him staring, but you kept your eyes locked on the low, rolling flames.

"The way you are right now, the way down deep inside you. Not the things that hide you…"

Stretching your foot out just a bit, you tapped next to the pile of gun parts sorted neatly on his sleeping bag.

"...Not your toys, they're just beside you."

He chuckled, so quietly that he probably didn't expect you to hear it. But you did, and it made your face positively burn.

"But it's you, I like. Every part of you. Your skin, your eyes, your feelings, whether old or new."

You couldn't ignore Vash's continuous shifting around any longer, flicking your gaze over to him. He'd turned himself completely to face you, cross-legged, chin perched in his palm, a look in his eyes so soft it made your heart feel like it was thundering right up against your ribcage. Your voice wavered for just a note, but you pushed forward.

"I hope that you remember, even when you're feeling blue."

Blue, so blue, his deep cyan eyes finding yours and not flitting away, watching you so gently, yet so intently. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn't find it in yourself to look away either.

"That it's you, I like. You yourself, it's you…"

He seemed to lean in at your every word, like a sailor to a siren. You hardly found your singing to be enough to hypnotize like mermaids in old fairy tales, and yet here he was.

"It's you, I like."

With your song ended, the silence that stretched between you was only interspersed by the soft crackle of the fire. A sharp humiliation suddenly rushed through you, face burning hot at your own vulnerability. Seeming to blink his way out of a trance, Vash began to speak.

"That was-"

"GOODNIGHT VASH!" You yelped, quickly rolling over and burying yourself in your sleeping bag facing away from him, the edge of the fabric pulled all the way up to your nose. He didn't push, letting you curl up and wallow in your own embarrassment, the clicking of his continued gun reassembly peppering the background silence.

And then he began to hum. Quietly, carefully, he felt out the unfamiliar melody.

"It's you, I like."

You could hear the smile in his voice.

"It's not the things you wear."

Warmth blossomed in the pit of your chest, curling up around your heart and settling fluffy and light. He was a good singer as well, his lack of familiarity with the song the only thing slowing him down. But he continued, metal bits and parts snapping together under careful hands as he sang your song.

"It's not the way you do your hair…"

Eyelids dipping heavily, you let them slide shut, Vash's voice filling the empty wasteland and pooling low and sweet in your tired mind.

As sleep began to fog at the corners of your mind, you were completely oblivious to Vash's fond gaze upon your bundled-up form as you began to drift into unconsciousness.

"...but it's you, I like."

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun imagines #trigun x reader #my writing

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mirajaneswritingshenanigans · 25 days ago

Text

They Never Asked

Fandom(s): The Sound of Magic

Pairing(s): Ri-eul x Wife!Reader

Summary: Ah-yi and Il-deung find out that Ri-eul has an entire family. One they had no idea existed in the first place.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters mentioned in this work. Every character and scene belongs to the writers, producers, directors, and creators of this drama. I am simply borrowing everything to create this work of art.

A/N: Y/N-Your Name. This was a lovely request that I hope the requester(and my readers) enjoy. I decided to give two kids to Ri-eul. I didn’t know what to name the kids, so the word toddler may be used excessively. I’m so sorry, don’t hate me. I couldn't think of names. I created the gif used in this post on my tablet. There’s a whole process I use in an app.

Warning(s): Out of character moments.

Word Count: 1,058

Ah-yi and Il-deung were on their way to visit Ri-eul. He had been teaching both of them magic tricks. Today was another one of the sessions they had scheduled with him. The two of them walked in a comfortable silence until they reached the amusement park. They suddenly stopped when they noticed Ri-eul dancing around with a bubble wand. A toddler was chasing after him, laughing loudly. A woman sat off to the side with an infant swaddled in their arms. Gently rocking in place while softly patting the infant.

“Um, what’s going on here?” Ah-yi asked in confusion. Ri-eul stopped and smiled brightly at Ah-yi. Him stopping made the toddler run into his leg, knocking them to the ground. They landed on their butt. They looked up at Ri-eul as tears filled their eyes. He bent down and gently picked them. “Are you hurt?” Ri-eul asked gently. The toddler shook their head no. “Why the tears?” Ri-eul asked as he wiped a tear away. “I think it was the shock of the fall.” The woman said as she walked over to them. Ah-yi and Il-deung watched her gently pat the toddlers head.

“Now, I am thoroughly confused.” Ah-yi said. “Oh, dear. You did it again, huh?” “Well, they never asked.” Ri-eul said in an amused tone. “Asked what?” Il-deung said. You turned to smile at them. “I’m Y/N, Ri-eul’s wife.” You had said. “This is my little family.” Ri-eul stated proudly as he gently spun in a circle with his toddler still in his arms. Ah-yi and Il-deung had a look of shock on their face.

“I just assumed that he was here alone.” Il-deung whispered to himself. “Looks like you were wrong.” Ah-yi whispered to him. “This isn’t a trick by the way.” Ri-eul said when he stopped spinning. You laughed at his statement. “I swear we’re not a secret or anything. This one just doesn’t mention us unless asked about his personal life.” You gently poked Ri-eul on his ribs as you spoke. Ri-eul smiled brightly at you. You shook your head in amusement. “MORE BUBBLES!” The toddler suddenly yelled. Ri-eul gently set them down and walked over to where he had set the bubble wand down. Ah-yi and Il-deung watched in amusement as Ri-eul dipped the wand and then began to jog around. He had the bubble wand extended as he jogged in a circle. As bubbles floated through the air, the toddler jumped happily, popping each one that got close to them. Laughing loudly as each one popped.

“You two must be the students he’s talked about.” You turned to Ah-yi and Il-deung. Ah-yi raised her brows at you. “How old?” Ah-yi questioned as she looked at the baby bundled in your arm. You gently smiled and leaned the baby more towards Ah-yi. They could tell that the baby was fast asleep. Which amazed them with how loud their surroundings currently were. “She’s only eight months old.” You replied. “How can she sleep with all this noise?” Il-deung asked curiously. “She’s used to it by now. Ri-eul and our sun love to mess around. Today it’s bubbles, tomorrow who knows what it will be.” You told them as you looked over to where your son and Ri-eul were bonding.

“What did you mean when you said he did it again?” Il-deung asked. You laughed a little. “Ri-eul has a habit of surprising people when they discover he has a family. And every time it’s the same thing. He’ll say that they never asked, so he didn’t feel the need to talk about his personal life.” You looked over to Ri-eul with a loving smile. Ah-yi smiled as she looked from you to Ri-eul. She could see the love and happiness radiating from Ri-eul. Which surprised her a bit because he had always seemed so sad. “You’re probably wondering where we stay.” Ah-yi’s attention was brought back to you as you spoke. Il-deung gave you a curious look. “We do have a house. He just likes to be here to spread magic. When you can’t find him here, that means he’s at home with us.” You gestured between yourself and the two kids.

“Home!” Your son suddenly ran up to you yelling. “I think he’s tuckered out.” Ri-eul said when he stopped a few feet in front of you. “Is that so?” You asked your son. “Hungry! I wanna go home. Please?” Ah-yi couldn’t help but laugh at his puppy dog begging eyes. “Of course, we’ll go home now.” You said to him as you carefully stood up. Trying your best not to tousle your daughter too much. “What time should we expect you?” You looked up from your daughter to Ri-eul. He walked over and gently kissed your temple. “Shouldn’t be too late.” Ri-eul said before he gently kissed your daughters forehead. “Teaching magic?” Your son turned his attention to him. “As always.” Ri-eul said with a small laugh as he leaned down to his son, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. You took your son’s hand and began to make your way home. Ri-eul happily watched you walk away until he couldn’t see you anymore.

“Shall we?” Ri-eul asked as he spun on heels around to Ah-yi and Il-deung. A playful smile gracing his features. “I have so many questions.” Ah-yi said. Ri-eul turned around to face Ah-yi with one hand holding his chin as if he were thinking. “And I may have many answers.” He said in a playful tone. “But first, let’s head inside.” Ri-eul turned back around and began to walk towards the amusement park building. “He’s so weird.” Il-deung whispered to Ah-yi. “I’d say he’s eccentric than weird.” Ah-yi whispered back. When Ri-eul made it to the entrance he turned around to face them. “Well, are you two coming or not.” He said as he gestured to the space behind him.

Ah-yi and Il-deung had to pick up their pace to finally catch up to him. He led the way to where he had been teaching them magic. Ah-yi and Il-deung made a silent agreement not to keep him here too long. They knew he would want to spend time with his family tonight. Ah-yi also decided that she would hold her questions for a later date. Right now was about learning magic from Ri-eul with Il-deung.

Main Masterlist

#the sound of magic #the sound of magic series #ri eul x wife!reader #ri eul x reader #they never asked fanfic #x reader

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blueiscoool · 1 year ago

Text

A 2,600-Year-Old Unopened Etruscan Tomb Discovered in Italy

Community leaders and archeologists in central Italy recently gathered in the municipality of Montalto di Castro for the opening of a tomb that dates back more than 2 1/2 millennia, the municipality announced in a social media post last week.

"Today … we witnessed the opening of an ancient Etruscan tomb buried at the Osteria Necropolis in Vulci," the municipality of Montalto di Castro, which sits along the Mediterranean Sea about 100 miles northwest of Rome, wrote Oct. 27 on Facebook, calling the grand unveiling "a day of culture and history" in a translated statement.

Historians say the Etruscans built their civilization on a portion of the land that is now modern-day Italy, beginning as early as 900 B.C., and operated as a network of city-states not completely unlike the Roman Republic that came after it. The Etruscans dominated Italy until falling, as a result of the Roman-Etruscan wars, to the then-expanding Roman empire around the 4th century B.C.

Vulci, an archaeological site in the northern Lazio region not far from Montalto di Castro, was once a rich Etruscan city. Its ruins have become a popular spot for tourist visits and as well as a place of interest for archaeological excavations.

The tomb discovered there earlier this year was found remarkably intact when it was officially opened at the end of October, for the first time in about 2,600 years, according to the Italian online magazine Finestre sull'Arte, which focuses on ancient and contemporary art. It was opened and explored following the opening of a similar tomb in the area this past April, the magazine reported. Montalto di Castro Mayor Emanuela Socciarelli attended the opening along with Simona Baldassarre, the councilor of culture for the Lazio region, Simona Carosi, the manager of the Superintendency of Archaeology for the province of Viterbo and southern Etruria, and Carlos Casi, the director of the Vulci Foundation, which helped lead the excavation alongside archeologists.

Archaeologists found a collection of long-lost treasures inside the ancient tomb, including a collection of pottery and amphorae, which are tall jars with two handles and a narrow neck typically associated with ancient Greek or Roman cultures. The jars contained wine from Greece, likely from the island of Chios, Finestre sull'Arte reported. It could be a relic of the wine trade happening at that time in history.

Utensils, cups, iron objects, and a variety of ceramics and decorative accessories were also found inside the tomb in perfect condition, as was a tablecloth that may have been used for a funerary ritual offering called "the last meal" or "meal of the dead." A bronze cauldron was also found.

The stockpile of personal belongings found inside the tomb suggests the family for whom it was constructed was probably quite wealthy in their day.

The complex structure and layout of the burial site is also important to archeologists and historians, Casi told the Italian news outlet Il Messaggero, noting that the tomb "appears to be characterized by a partition saved in the rock which creates a passage arch between the dromos, i.e. the short corridor with steps, and the vestibule, from which the two rooms were accessed, the front one and the one on the left: the usual one on the right is missing, evidently because the space had already been occupied by other tombs."

By EMILY MAE CZACHOR.

#A 2600-Year-Old Unopened Etruscan Tomb Discovered in Italy #Montalto di Castro #Osteria Necropolis in Vulci #ancient tomb #ancient grave #ancient necropolis #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #etruscan history

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scribbling-dragon · 2 years ago

Text

first to fall

summary:

The darkness welcomes the Canary, the first to fall. And he welcomes those that fall after him.

Or: a concept on what happens after the final deaths.

(ao3 link)

(6,476 words)

just a heads-up that the main theme of this fic revolves around death. there are lots of mentions of it so if that's not your jam feel free not to read this :]

He doesn't even feel the ground when he hits it.

The feeling rushes away as a wave of numbness overtakes him, flooding his nerves until they're dulled and blunted, leaving him gasping in breaths he no longer needs. He breathes anyway, because it is a small comfort, a reminder, that he can still do it- that his lungs still work and that he can draw air into them. The rise and fall of his chest assures him of this, rising rapidly beneath his hand.

His heart continues to thump beneath his hand, the pulsing beat another small comfort. A comfort that he can only barely afford himself here.

Something echoes above him, some semblance of words drifting in the air above him. He’s not sure that he really is surrounded by air here, but thinking too far down that line of thought does nothing but cause his still-beating heart to race faster and his thoughts to spin in a dizzying whirl.

He stands, dragging himself from the waters of this place. Here. Wherever here is. He’s visited this place several times, returning each time he fulfils his job- completes his duty. He hasn't asked about this place, hasn't voiced any details of it. No-one else mentions it either. He doubts they remember it.

And the universe said you have played the game well.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves the voice off with a dismissive hand, droplets of water flicking from the ends of his fingers. “You can cut the spiel, I've heard it all before.” He doesn't mean to snap- well, he does, actually, but the beings watching over him should know that he’s heard it before, that he doesn't care for their empty words.

The silence that follows after feels accusing, the weight of several eyes on him lingering for moments after his outburst.

“I'm not sorry,” he snaps. His wings ruffle, the sound of feathers brushing against each other quiet against the blood roaring in his ears. “We’ve been through this song and dance several times before, and we’ll go through it several times again. The least you can do is leave me be.”

The eyes continue to linger, though he can see no faces that they may be peering from. No disappointed expressions or pitying murmurs that lament his fate- his curse. The eyes watch him, and he does his best to stare back- see how much they like being scrutinised over their every action.

The weight of eyes on him gradually disappears. The silence that follows is not accusing nor pitying nor is it disappointing. It is simply silent.

He scoffs, rocking back on his heels, wishing that he was still wearing his shoes. The water laps at his ankles, not rising any higher, but the cold has no such qualms. It clambers through his bones, settling deep within the marrow and burying its teeth into him, gnawing at his bones until he shivers.

His face feels warm, hair sticking to his forehead as he idles his time away in the void of nothingness and ankle-deep water. The darkness stretches thick around him, seemingly endless in every direction imaginable. He doesn't bother walking, not like he had the first and second times. The third time he had sat in the water until it soaked his clothes entirely, leaving him a shivering wreck. He doesn't sit this time. He doesn't pace either- no matter how far he walks, duty will always drag him back to this spot.

Best to remain rooted in place. The water wasn't here the first time he arrived, stumbled into the domain of something beyond death; he’s certain they can change it whenever they wish to, shaping it to their whims and twisting it in accordance to their arbitrary rules. He’s sure it would take nothing less than a single thought to place him in a true cage- one with bars rather than an illusion of freedom.

He prefers the endless void to the thought of a cage.

He swipes at the first drops of blood that drip into his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his face. His palm comes away smeared in crimson, the tang of iron hanging heavier around his head than before. He can taste it in the back of his throat.

He wipes at it again, swipes it away before too much of it can enter his eyes and blind him. It glistens, dark and wet, on the leather of his jacket (-not his jacket, it’s borrowed, taken with permission and something that is expected to be returned- a promise he should not break- a deal he does not want to break-). He’ll have to wash the blood out, he thinks, Tango wouldn't want the jacket returned with his blood soaking the leather. He thinks he remembers something about this being a favourite jacket, but one that was slightly too big on the shoulders for him to really wear it all that often-

Something cracks through the air. It is not as sharp as the lightning that thunders through this place when someone comes to join him more permanently. He turns to where the person is fighting their way through the water. The water upon which he stands yet threatens to drown them- swallow them completely.

He grabs Skizz’s hand, hauls him from the yawning depths before they gain too many ideas and try to keep him longer than they should. The water clings to him, threatening to drag him beneath the surface if Jimmy’s grip wavers for even a moment.

He shakes, just slightly, when he finally manages to pull Skizz free, pausing for a moment to breathe. It isn't as though Skizz will judge him for it- he can't even see him. Nobody can. They simply twitch and sometimes murmur incomprehensible sentences to themselves as the universe works its magic.

He watches as the bones are set and the wounds are healed, if only slightly. He won't bleed out when he returns, as long as he doesn't run too far or too fast- as long as he doesn't jump immediately back into the action.

Jimmy wonders what’s happening. The world around him remains dark and they do not give him a whisper of guidance.

Blood drips into his eyes again, blinding him momentarily before he blinks it away. It sticks in his lashes, threatening to glue his eyes shut if he blinks for too long or too hard. He doesn't bother to wipe the blood away, feeling, instead, as the warmth drips further down his face. His hair sticks to his forehead.

He brushes a hand over Skizz’s shoulder, careful not to apply too much pressure or alert Skizz to his presence. He woke someone up, once, watched the ways the waters tried to claim him before his time. He tries his best not to wake them anymore.

Skizz twitches once more, words falling past his lips- nothing Jimmy can hear. The sound of words escapes him here, leaving him with a yawning sense of emptiness. The silence rings in his ears.

Skizz melts back into the water, returning to whatever conflict they've tumbled into now that his warning has been cried out. He tries not to feel too bitter at the man’s return to the land of the living- Jimmy saw his clock, could see it ticking down, slowly but surely. The man will be back before long. They always are.

His face feels warm. The blood is sticky against his chin, tacky against his skin. He raises a hand to brush the worst of it away from his eyes, swiping at it, ignoring the way more trickles down to replace it.

The water brushes over his feet, moving with an invisible tide. The water barely reaches his ankles, and yet everyone else sinks deep into it, slipping easily into the water and drifting elsewhere.

This place does not bow to time, even as every other fragment of life dances along to time’s merry tune. He’s glad of its timeless nature, unsure if he would be able to stand and wait for the moments to tick down, for the next person to burst free from the waters.

He doesn't have to wait long- or maybe he does. Time doesn't exist here.

Joel bursts from the water, hands clawing for something that is out of reach. Jimmy lunges forward, pulling him free from the water before it can swallow him back down, drag him into its depths.

Joel’s fingers curl into his arms, nails digging into his skin, denting the leather of his jacket. He holds onto Joel even as he winces, feels the blood start to bead beneath Joel’s hands. He ignores it- it’ll be gone in a moment and Joel will return, will sink back into the waters and continue to chase whoever he was hunting.

Joel always thrashes, eager to return to the land of the living, eager to send more people to greet him (or not greet him, none of them ever speak, not until they come to stand beside him and wait for their friends to join them). Jimmy holds him steady, even as he winces at the stinging.

The waters rise up to greet Joel, and Jimmy’s forced to push him back down, ignoring the way he struggles- reluctant to be guided in where he should go, what path he should take. He holds him there until the water whisks him away, swallowing him and returning him to the conflicts.

It is as though the floodgates have burst, death flowing freely among the members of the server. The water is around his knees, just below. He has to push forward to move anyway, wading through the sucking depths of the water. He can't see his feet.

The water is cold. The gnawing cold has faded, leaving numbness in its wake. He’s not sure which he prefers; he’s never decided whether the gnawing of the cold, the feeling of something like teeth scraping along his bones, or the numbness that spreads in its wake is better. He’s stood in this cold several times over, and yet he’s never come to a decision. He can hardly think with the pressing darkness and rising waters.

The waters never rose before. Never climbed over his feet, never clambered higher than that. He shivers. He’s only glad that he didn't awake in the robes of last time; the fabric would have dragged in the water and weighed him down. The leather jacket is cold, but it is a small comfort anyway.

BigB emerges from the water next, hardly lingering before he’s returning to the living, leaving him alone in the darkness. Scott follows soon after, the scales on his cheeks shining oddly in the lack of light. They shimmer, even with no sun to reflect off of them. They're almost iridescent.

Scott doesn't move, doesn't stir. He simply lays there, still. Jimmy almost thinks he can see the whites of his eyes, eyes only slightly open, not enough to see. His mouth moves quickly, words dropping past his lips though no sound follows them.

He hates it when they talk. Reminds him that they're seeing something beyond him, experiencing something other than this cold, endless void. The darkness swallows everything around him, but his visitors see something beyond that. He’s never seen anything beyond that; the cold void greets him every time.

With each death something crackles through the air, weighs down on his limbs as he’s forced, each time, to watch them sink back into the water; to return to the conflict that he heralded. And yet, the conflict continues, his warnings go unheeded. What is the point in the canary, in its song, when no one stops to listen when the song dies out?

He thinks they simply enjoy tormenting him. Forcing him to watch as his friends die, unable to do anything but provide them with comforts they won't even remember.

Impulse dies. Then Etho. Both of them are silent. He wouldn't even notice their presence without the crackle in the air and the heavy feeling that settles around his throat. Skizz returns again, calmer than before. His face is settled in something that could be resignation but could also be acceptance. Jimmy can hardly see through the blood dripping in his eyes.

The next death cracks through the air, and he startles, whipping around. His wings bristle, feathers rising with his apprehension. The water sloshes around his knees, soaking his jeans through, the cold sending shivers down his spine. He thought the cold had settled far enough into his bones that he wouldn't shiver anymore. The cold slithers down his spine anyway.

Martyn is halfway sat up, hands trailing in the water. He seems…almost aware of it, eyes half-open as he looks around. His eyes don't catch on him, don't pause or linger; he doubts Martyn’s actually seeing him, simply staring at something that his own brain has summoned to make this void more comfortable.

Martyn says something, the sound carrying in the silence. His ears ring with the sudden input of sound and he steps closer. He can feel his feathers bristling, something cold continuing to slither down his spine. He hates seeing Martyn here, hates watching the way he glances around, half-aware of his surroundings. He hates it.

Martyn’s eyes catch on him, half-closed, but they pause all the same. Martyn grabs the front of his jacket, grip surprisingly strong for someone between life and death, a foot on either side of the boundary. He’s yanked forward, water sloshing around him as he’s dragged closer.

“-first to fall,” Martyn says, voice wavering. His eyes flicker back and forth, studying his face. Jimmy can feel his heart thundering in his chest, thumping hard enough to make him feel sick- he’s light-headed, heart in his throat. He hates seeing Martyn like this, hardly aware of himself. He hates it. “Forever caged in different walls.”

Martyn’s hand loosens on his jacket, releasing him completely a moment later as he disappears. He doesn't sink back into the water- the water doesn't claim him, doesn't allow him to sink into its depths and return. He’s yanked off, pulled away abruptly and with little warning.

Jimmy swallows, hearing the sound of it echo around him, feels the click of his throat. There’s something lodged there, as though his heart is truly stuck in his throat. He tries to swallow it down, but the lump refuses to disappear, lingers as Skizz follows after Martyn. Then Etho, blood blossoming on his jacket, spreading in the water. Scar’s throat is ripped loose, hanging in bloody tatters and he’s forced to watch as it stitches itself back together. Something makes a gristly crack and he forces himself to look away, the sick feeling rising in his throat again.

He doesn't get a warning when Joel bursts forth, surging forward from the darkness and lunging for him. Blood trails behind him in the water, water sloshing around both their legs as Joel grips at his arms, teeth bared in the beginnings of a snarl. He grips Jimmy’s arms hard enough to bruise, nails digging in.

Jimmy has to pry his hands off, carefully unlatching each finger and praying Joel doesn't start clinging to him again. He still has time, even as ticks down, trickling away faster and faster as Joel turns to the violence that soothes his aches. He shoves him down into the water, ignoring the way Joel seems to choke on it, pushing him down and waiting for him to fade away again.

He kneels in the water, feels it tugging at his jacket, threatening to pull him under too. He hates this. He hates the weight on his back, the water weighing down his wings, pinning him in place. The weight around his neck, holding him down as he kneels in the water, the cold soaking into his bones, threatening to pull him deeper into the waters.

His chest hitches, something painful clawing up his throat. He presses a hand to his mouth, muffling any sound he might make.

There are eyes on his back, pinning him in place. Like a bug on a board, held up and displayed in a collection, nothing more than an ornament. He doesn't turn to face them, even as the stare on his back grows heavier, watching him with disapproval.

He wants to turn on them, to snarl at them and voice his displeasure. He thinks it, and his throat closes over, mouth growing dry. Their stare turns mocking, gleeful, something that makes his anger burn a little hotter. His mouth remains dry and their stare disappears, leaving him alone again.

“I do too.”

Skizz’s eyes are open when he surfaces, looking around himself, as though confused. Jimmy stares at him, watches him for a moment before it all clicks into place. He remains kneeling in the water, squinting at Skizz as he stands. A lot of the blood obscures his vision, dripping into his eyes. Some of it has dried, threatening to stick his eyelashes together and render him truly blind.

His voice does not return to him.

“Oh, hey,” Skizz greets him, turning around in the water. He seems unbothered by it, moving through it as though it isn't there. Jimmy wouldn't be surprised if the water was only here for him- if he was the only one that suffered from it. “You, uh, you have a little something on your face, buddy.”

He nods. Skizz looks awkward, looking over him cautiously. He’s not sure what he looks like, can feel the blood over his face but the water gives him no reflection. He doesn't know how else they choose to twist him, change him to fit their purposes.

He opens his mouth to speak, but not even the sound of his breathing makes it past his lips before it shrivels in the air. He shuts his mouth again, jaw clicking, and gestures at it helplessly.

“No voice?” Skizz guesses. He doesn't look angry, doesn't pace back and forth, doesn't demand to be returned to the fight, to return to his allies. He nods in response to Skizz’s question, and the man’s face screws up in something resembling sympathy. “That sucks, scream it away already?”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the air around them. He doesn't know why he bothers. Skizz won't understand, and even if he did, this place will fade from his mind as soon as he leaves it. Its clinging cold won't follow him home, won't linger in his bones or the dark recesses of his mind. He leaves, and it washes clean, as though he was never there in the first place.

The knowledge of this place is his burden to bear.

“I don't think I get what you mean.” Skizz sits beside him, crossing his legs. He shivers as he sinks further into the water; maybe he can see it, just choosing not to comment on the way Jimmy is slumped over into it, clothes soaked through and face painted red with blood.

He shrugs.

This is the first time they've taken his voice from him, stolen away the one comfort he can provide in this place. Normally he’s able to reassure his friends, promise them that they only need to wait a little bit longer and they’ll be free again; calm the ones that hunger for the violence, the ones that would try and tear this place apart to try and return.

The water stirs, rippling just in front of him. Skizz’s eyes widen, watching the place that Bdubs rises from with a shocked silence. He reaches forward, hands stretching out to touch Bdubs- to shake him awake.

Jimmy bats his hands away, shakes his head at Skizz’s questioning eyes. He simply presses a firm, but gentle, hand onto Bdubs’ shoulder, holding him in place. He doesn't know why he bothers, doesn't know why he tries- Bdubs doesn't even move, twitching only slightly, face twisting and changing.

Maybe it’s because he remembers the feeling of Bdubs’ hands on his shoulders, fingers curling into the leather of his jacket, shaking him back and forth as Bdubs asked- begged him to kill him, pleaded for him to take some of his time in the hopes that he might last a little longer.

It wouldn't work- it never worked. Always the first to fall. And yet he took the time anyway, selfishly stole it from Bdubs, as though the noose wasn't already tightening around his throat, as though his song was not already petering out. He took it, driven by the force of Bdubs’ pleading and the misguided hope that, perhaps, this might be the time that it fixes everything.

Bdubs sinks back into the water, gone without a single sound. The surface doesn't even ripple.

“Does…everyone come here?” Skizz asks. The first one always does, curious about this place, asking questions- too many questions, questions he doesn't have the answer to. He’d answered them, at first, when he still hoped that someone might remember this misery, recall this place and his presence in it.

He didn't answer any questions last time, unable to meet Tango’s eyes as they sat in the silence together. He hadn't wanted to explain to Tango, to explain and then watch him forget, to know that when he tries to summon the words outside of this place, that they fail him; leave him open-mouthed and unable to force a single syllable from his lips.

He nods, and Skizz frowns. “I don't remember coming here.”

He shakes his head, hopes it communicates the no one ever does that he wants to say. Skizz frowns a little deeper, brows furrowing and eyes searching over him. Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn't find, because he slumps a moment later, shoulders bowing inwards.

Normally, this is the moment when he finds the words to comfort them. To assure them that it will all be over soon and that they can return to their homes as though this never happened, because to them, it didn't. This place doesn't exist outside of his own memory.

He feels tears beading in the corners of his eyes as he waits for the next death, for the next person to rise from the waters and then return to them again. He sucks in a deep breath, but it’s not enough to stop the first tear from falling. It cuts through the blood on his face, carving a path through the crimson.

It drops into the water, not even causing the surface to ripple.

He sucks in another breath, stares down at the water that does not reflect his face, watches as blood drips from his head and into the water, blossoms of red swirling deep within, like petals of a life long-gone.

When tears no longer prick at the corners of his eyes, he turns to face Skizz, watches the way he studies the water too, pulling faces as though that would convince it to show his reflection. Skizz looks up after a moment, meeting his eyes.

His throat is dry, painfully so, but he nods towards Skizz anyway, tilting his head in question. He hopes the man gets the idea, or at least the gist of what he’s trying to ask. The silence is uncomfortable, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the darkness and the ringing in his ears.

“Oh, uh,” Skizz looks down at himself, though there are no wounds to show the battles he’s fought in over the past however-long it’s been. “Etho killed me.” Some of his surprise must show on his face because Skizz laughs, shaking his hands, “It’s not what you think, I swear. I just,” he sighs, “just didn't have the fight to go on any longer, I suppose. I didn't want my time to go to someone else, for someone to stand over me and claim those thirty minutes when they could go somewhere that I wanted them to.”

Oh. He supposes that makes sense.

“I wasn't going to win, wasn't going to gain that time back. I didn't play the game well enough to win it back. I wish I played it better.”

Jimmy watches him.

Skizz looks up, away from where his hands have been trailing through the water. No one has risen through the depths to greet them, however temporarily, so there is nothing for him to do. His world grinds to a halt, however temporary, with the lack of a job.

“Do we…normally react like this?” Skizz asks. He clarifies a moment later, “Sitting with you, asking questions, talking like this?”

He shakes his head, then reconsiders, bobbing it from side to side in a so-and-so gesture. Skizz seems to understand him, at least a little.

“Would you rather I was angrier?”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow at the question, asking silently, do you want to be angrier?

“No,” Skizz laughs, shaking his head. “No I suppose not. I don't really have anything to be angry about anyway. I did what I set out to do, and I did it well. That’s all we can really ask for, right?”

Jimmy dips his head in agreement, even though he wants to protest, wants to claw his way back to the land of the living, for just a moment more of life, just a few seconds. He doesn't want this- he never does. He never does what he set out to do, never survives long enough to be the second gone, rather than the first. His death heralds the descent into madness, and no one seems to notice.

Impulse rises through the water, and he sees Skizz jerk forward, panic flashing across his face before he settles back again with a glance in Jimmy’s direction. Jimmy leans forward, looking over Impulse’s face.

The deaths this time around have been far less gruesome. Falling from high places, blown to pieces so they are already stitched back together when they appear here. He’s grateful for it, for not having to watch as the universe pieces them back together, seals their wounds shut.

Impulse disappears as quickly as he arrived, eager to return to the fight. Skizz looks almost disappointed, watching his once-ally sink back into the waters.

Silence rings in his ears and they watch, together, as Scar emerges from the water, blood blossoming at his throat. Arrows are a good way to die, such a small wound and so easily fixed. Jimmy prefers it to the cleaving swipe of an axe or the tearing slash of a sword.

Cleo and Bdubs appear together. He’s glad he didn't have to sit through the four people Grian killed earlier, unsure of how he would deal with so many people- he can hardly stand to watch two people return to the waters, only used to it because everyone had arrived as a pair last time. Everyone had slipped through the waters with their partner, even if they were unaware of it.

“Are you always here?”

Skizz’s voice breaks the silence. He had been quiet enough that Jimmy almost forgot he was there. He hesitates, before nodding slowly. He watches the last of Cleo’s hair disappear into the darkness, swallowed by the water as they're returned to somewhere warmer.

“Without your voice?” Skizz asks, something softer in his tone.

He scoffs, or tries to without sound, and shakes his head.

Skizz makes a noise in the back of his throat and Jimmy turns to face him. “Then why can't you speak?”

He shrugs, gesturing above their heads again.

Skizz falls silent again after that, probably unsure of how to respond to that. Jimmy doesn't know either, but he doesn't have a voice to speak with right now, so he doesn't have to think of a response either.

Joel’s blood spreads through the water before he appears, dragging himself from it almost sluggishly. None of the fight from before is present in him, and he simply sways back and forth, hands twitching, arms ready and braced for some kind of impact. He’s expecting a fight before he’s even alive again, Jimmy realises.

He doesn't even fight when Jimmy pushes him back into the water, holds him down and waits for him to return. Skizz watches him, eyes heavy on his back- but these eyes have a face to connect them to, a nose and a mouth and eyebrows that he can see and understand, not just the feeling of eyes weighing heavily on him.

He sighs, shoulders rising and falling silently. His wings ruffle, the soft sound of feathers on feathers filling the echoing expanse that stretches around them. It disrupts the ringing in his ears, for a moment, and he relaxes in something that is not just the pressing silence.

Skizz shifts in the water behind him, hears it sloshing slightly, smacking against exposed skin.

He feels Grian before he sees him, watches the way Skizz stiffens at the sudden pressure bearing down on both of their heads, making his eyes ache. He meets Skizz’s eyes, shaking his head slowly and giving him a smile. He doesn't know how convincing it is, with blood soaking through his hair and sticking to his skin. He probably looks horrifying, but Skizz smiles back anyway.

Grian’s eyes are open as he emerges from the water, sitting up as though he’s waking up in bed, comfortable in this place in a way that never fails to unnerve Jimmy.

Grian sees him after a moment, blinking, his eyes refocusing.

“Ouch,” Grian winces in sympathy, though he’s still smiling, eyes flicking over his face. “Looks like you got the short end of the stick this time, huh?”

He shrugs, nodding at the same time. He doesn't miss the way Grian’s eyes narrow, “What’s wrong with your-”

The water claims him before he can finish his sentence, though Jimmy knows what he was going to ask anyway. The water wraps around him, seizing his hands and legs in poor imitations of shackles, dragging him back down.

A feather rests on the surface of the water, dislodged in the brief panic Grian had before he was pulled away again. The water claims that too, sucking it down into the darkness before he can even think of picking it up.

“How did he see you?” Skizz asks. Jimmy doesn't have a response for that, not one he can communicate with hand gestures and the nodding of his head. He settles for shrugging. “Right, yeah, yes or no questions. Can he always see you?”

He nods.

“Huh.” Skizz says. “If he always sees you, and you're always here, how come I don't remember this place?” Skizz looks around, as though the darkness will have changed, will have become something more familiar to him in the time between now and the last time he examined their surroundings.

Jimmy shakes his head. He doesn't know how to communicate no one ever does, don't feel bad or I've tried to tell everyone, so many times, they never hear, no matter how loud I speak. So he doesn't bother. He just watches the water.

Scar doesn't need to be pushed back down into the water. He goes happily, barely there before he’s returning again, face twisting into a smirk as he disappears.

Time does not exist in this place. This place, this void, exists beyond time, outside of it. It does not dance along to time’s merry little tune, creating its own song for Jimmy to play along with, as unwilling as he is. But he follows the motions anyway, moves through the verses and tries not to wonder how long it has been, tries not to think about how many people he’s seen.

(He’s seen so many more people than he usually would. Everyone died too much, this time, throwing their lives away with giddy delight as they realised they had more than three.)

Joel thrashes in the water, lunging forward with the intent to kill, not yet realising that his target is no longer in front of him, that he is no longer in front of his target. Jimmy catches him as he stumbles, holding his wrists tightly before he tries to break free.

He can feel his timer ticking down, can feel the erratic thump-thump-thump of his heart beneath his palm. He mourns Joel, silently, feeling how his life is slipping between his fingers, like sand through an hourglass. His sunglasses are cracked, one line through the left lens. Joel managed to scrape his way through his entire time without damaging them, but now, they crack and begin to fall apart on his face.

Jimmy pushes him under before he can watch them break completely, mourning Joel before he even joins them completely. It won't be long. Had seen the beginnings of madness in Joel’s eyes as he twisted mid-fall, watched the rage spark to life behind his sunglasses.

He doesn't have to wait long. It’s hardly a few moments - or perhaps it’s several hours - before Joel is surging out of the water, shaking his head like a dog, droplets flying everywhere as he snarls and seethes, hands curled into fists.

He’s laughing, some shaky, jerking cackle that makes Jimmy’s ears ring after so long spent in silence. He tosses his glasses away, doesn't even watch to see them sink into the water, swallowed by the hungry waters.

Skizz watches him, and he watches Joel. Watches the way he almost shakes apart, still laughing.

He presses a hand to his shoulder, which is when Joel seems to realise he’s not alone, that they're watching, that he has an audience.

“What the heck!” Joel startles backwards, voice tilting upwards towards the end. He shrieks, something which Joel denies every time it’s mentioned. “You can creep up on me like that!” He shrieks, voice still pitching higher, before he seems to realise who he’s shrieking at.

Joel stares at him for several long moments. The red in his eyes is gone. Then he turns with a snarl, shoving his way through the water, either ignorant or uncaring of the way it sloshes everywhere, soaking him through in a matter of moments.

“No,” Joel shakes his head. “Send me back!” He whirls on Jimmy, arms flung out on either side as he yells. “I need more time, I have more time! They need to- need to-” he cuts himself off with a yell, kicking through the water, sending an arc of water through the air.

He stills a moment later, chest heaving, breath heavy as he seems to collect himself, if only slightly.

“Why are you here?” Joel asks. He doesn't turn to face him, doesn't even continue with the anger that he had been feeding since…since whenever the bloodlust gripped his mind utterly and sent him on whatever rampage he tore through the server with this time. “Why are you here?” He repeats, a little louder, when Jimmy doesn't respond.

He doesn't have words to respond with, doesn't have any comfort he can provide. His throat is dry and he can taste blood in his mouth. His tongue feels thick and heavy, as though he’s gone without water for several days. For all he knows, he has. He doesn't know how long it’s been.

“Jimmy!” Joel turns on him, grabs him by the shoulders and gets close up and in his face. Jimmy doesn't flinch back, knows Joel won't actually hurt him, can feel the way his fingers barely press into his jacket, not even holding him tight enough to leave indents in the leather from his nails. “Answer me!”

“He can't,” Joel startles as Skizz speaks up, and Jimmy almost does as well- almost forgot that Skizz was here, watching. “He can't speak.”

Joel looks back at him, the whites of his eyes wider than usual. He stares at him, asking if it’s true, searching his face. He doesn't wince at the sight of the blood, doesn't murmur in sympathy or pity. He just looks over him, searching his face for something.

He shakes his head with a smile, hoping that there isn't too much blood on his teeth.

Joel’s eyes harden. “Why’d you have to be so stupid?” He asks, hands curling a little tighter into his jacket, pulling him closer to Joel until they're almost hugging. “Why’d you have to fall off? It was going so well? You didn't have to die.”

He smiles, and shakes his head again. It was always going to happen, he tries to say, tries to communicate, there was nothing to be done against it. The canary will always be the first to fall.

Joel snarls something, wordless and angry. Jimmy almost misses the way Joel had changed for the first iteration of this game, and then the second, the way his wolves had changed him a little. The way he had changed and not changed back, a snarl still buried beneath some of his words, even as the ears (something Lizzie had found funny at the time, at the start, before things went wrong) faded and the unnatural shine of his eyes reversed.

He raises a hand, pressing it over where Joel’s hand grips his jacket. His hands are cold and Joel’s hands are warm. He has been sat in this water for far longer than him, his fingers stiff with death and decay and the cold of sitting between life and whatever comes after.

His throat clicks as he swallows, but no words come to his mind, no words are able to make it free from his throat. His heart beats uncomfortably hard in his chest.

“You were meant to be free,” Joel says. He sounds like he’s begging, which is wrong. Joel doesn't ask for things, he takes them with a grin or a smirk and a laugh, pleased with whatever it is he’s managed to steal. “I was going to save you, give you my time, stop you from being the first.”

He shakes his head again, even as the sentiment warms his heart. It wouldn't have worked. He would have died halfway to that point, losing Joel whatever time he had managed to gain and ending up back here again. He is always the first, there is no escaping that.

To try and escape means the bars will be smaller next time, less gaps for him to wriggle his way through. The choking feeling will be more heavy on his neck, in his chest, in his lungs.

“It’s not fair.” Joel snarls. “You shouldn't have to be first.”

He doesn't know how to communicate it’s okay and you tried your best through his eyes and actions alone. He settles, instead, for the comfort of someone else, of someone that wanted something else for him. Even if it would never- could never happen.

He has a job to do. A curse to fulfil.

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the-broken-truth · 1 year ago

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Wednesday Goes Enid Hunting [Part 4]

Wenclair - Slight Yandere Wednesday Addams (She falls victim to the Addams' Curse) - Takes Place After The Crackstone Incident

[Enid runs through the forest, jumping over overgrown tree roots and dodging large rocks and bushes so her clothes do get caught in the twigs. With her keen hearing, Enid can hear Wednesday closing in on her. Enid locks her teeth as she runs even faster before sliding to a stop and hiding behind a huge tree to catch her breath. Enid pants to calm her racing heart as the sound of footsteps closing in on her location stops suddenly.]

Wednesday (Looking around the forest for any sign of Enid - seeing nothing): You know I'm going to find you, Enid Sinclair; your fate was sealed the moment my curse chose you as my eternal partner. (Opens her gun and loads more darts) I have to admit, you are giving me a proper hunt; I couldn't ask for a better outing before the school season ends. (Closes the gun) Tell me, Cara Mia - do you know why I want to hunt you so badly? It's because your 'family' doesn't deserve you. They have disregarded your emotions and existence for too long and now that you have embraced the creature within you - on a Blood Moon, no less - they suddenly want to be in your good graces. They don't deserve you, Enid. They never have.

[Wednesday starts walking around - her raven eyes searching for any kind of movement with a smirk on her face as her finger hovers over the sensitive trigger of the gun.]

Wednesday: You are a very special person to me, il mio potente lupo. You are like a rare gem that only appears once in a blue moon - or in our case, every Blood Moon. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant to play a significant role in my life, but I tried to ignore it. Goody once told me that, as the Raven of the Addams Family, I was meant to be alone. However, when we had our argument and you chose to spend the night with Tanaka, something broke inside me, and for the first time, I realized that being alone was not enough. Then came the night when Crackstone was revived, and the Hyde tried to kill me. Despite everything I had done to hurt you, you never turned your back on me. You accepted me for who I am, with all my flaws and imperfections. And after we defeated our enemies, you held me close and gave me warmth and comfort. I can't let those unworthy people use you for their own gain, exploiting your power. Your power belongs to you, and you belong to me.

[Enid looked at the ground as she listens to Wednesday's Words - she could feel her heart beating faster when she heard the gun cock again and she dodged just in time for the dart to land in the trunk of the tree, causing the wolf to run again.]

Wednesday (Watching Enid run away with a smirk on her face): Run for me, Enid! Let me prove my worth to you! (Chases after Enid)

Broken Truth: Oh, before I forget. Translations:

Cara Mia - My Darling in Italian

il mio potente lupo - my powerful wolf in Italian

#wenclair #wednesday goes enid hunting #wednesday addams #enid sinclair

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diceriadelluntore · 18 days ago

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Storia Di Musica #346 - Ride, Smile, 1990

Il piccolo percorso storico-musicale sugli EP arriva alla conclusione con la storia di oggi, che rappresenta un po' l'ultimo apice della produzione degli extended play. L'ultimo grande movimento del rock ad usarli con frequenza è stato il cosiddetto shoegaze, un movimento del rock alternativo che ebbe un certo successo tra la fine degli anni '80 e l'inizio degli anni '90. Il termine shoegaze fu coniato da alcuni giornalisti del New Musical Express che notarono una peculiare caratteristica nei nuovi gruppi emergenti inglesi: tendevano a suonare dal vivo, soprattutto i chitarristi, tenendo il capo chino, come a "fissare lo sguardo sulle scarpe". In un primo momento, fu preso come simbolo di un certo modo "timido" di presentarsi, alternativo al sempre più crescente bisogno di spettacolarizzazione degli eventi musicali, ma più prosaicamente, la testa abbassata mentre si suonava era per coordinare i movimenti dei piedi sulle pedane degli effetti sonori, che erano una delle caratteristiche musicali del genere. Riverberi, feedback, distorsioni divennero il marchio di fabbrica di una schiera di giovani band, che usavano le parti vocali in modo molto spettacolare, quasi come strumento aggiunto. Apoteosi del genere fu Loveless dei My Bloody Valentine, opera grandiosa e unica del gruppo di Kevin Shields, disco che ne racchiude tutti gli stilemi fondamentali, e tra quasi tutti i gruppi shoegaze c'era una proficua e interessante partecipazione reciproca, tanto che Steve Sutherland del Melody Maker scrisse un reportage sul genere dal titolo The Scene That Celebrates Itself. Tutte la band, e cito Spacemen 3, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Mercury Rev, Lush, Chapterhouse, Slowdive, produssero ottimi EP, sia come trampolino di lancio per andare oltre i singoli, sia come diffusione di materiale sperimentale in vista degli album veri e propri.

Una band che fece degli Ep una vera e propria caratteristica sono stati i Ride. Nascono ad Oxford, nel 1988, quando i chitarristi Andy Bell e Mark Gardener si trasferiscono a Bradbury per studiare alla Scuola di Design. Assoldano il bassista Laurence Colbert e il batterista Steve Queralt e formano una band a cui danno il nome di Ride, dal piatto ride della batteria. Suonando nella camera da letto di Queralt, registrano un demo tape, nel 1989, che arriva, non si sa come, a Jim Reid, leader dei Jesus And Mary Chain (band seminale e più citata da tutti i gruppi shoegaze). Questi piacevolmente sorpresa chiede al manager Alan McGee, che è anche discografico di una etichetta che di lì a poco diventerà fondamentale, la Creation, di scritturarli. Tra gennaio e settembre del 1990 i Ride pubblicarono tre EP: Ride, che è il primo disco in assoluto della Creation che entra il Classifica in Gran Bretagna (nella Top 75), ha in copertina delle rose rosse, Play, che ha in copertina dei narcisi gialli, e Fall, che invece ha una foto dei pinguini imperatori sotto la neve. I primi due furono uniti in una compilation, che è il disco di oggi, Smile (che ha le ortensie in copertina) che fu distribuito dalla Sire per il mercato americano, e verrà ripubblicato nel 1992 in Gran Bretagna e in Europa, quando i Ride avranno già pubblicato il loro primo album intero.

Smile si apre con uno dei pezzi che diventeranno i più iconici della band: Chelsea Girl è il prototipo dello shoegaze, con il muro sonoro chitarristico che sale di potenza, la ritmica asfissiante, la forza del suono elettrico; Drive Blind, altra canzone che diventerà un must dei loro concerti, è appena più lenta e melodica, e diventa un piccolo inno al disagio di quei tempi (Driving me 'round and leaving me there \Cover my eyes and we'll die driving blind\Cover my trail and we'll leave life behind\Drive blind); Ride Ep finiva con All I Can See, toccante e dal suono "più americano" e Close My Eyes. Play invece si apre con Like A Daydream, altro brano piuttosto noto, che è il tentativo Ride di scrivere una canzone non dico d'amore, ma quanto meno di una cotta adolescenziale, tra le stupende chitarre rampanti, che salgono e si avviluppano in stupendi assoli; Silver è più blues, Furthest Sense, ancora sulla difficoltà della comunicazione tra le generazioni (Who could ever understand?\So don't try to criticize,\You don't know the change that's in my eyes), e si conclude con la spettacolare Perfect Time, dall'intro scoppiettante.

I Ride pubblicheranno il primo disco nel 1990, Nowhere: in copertina una onda del mare senza increspatura, e dentro il meglio dello shoegaze, in un disco che diventerà un successo per il movimento, arrivando al numero 11 in classifica. Pensato come un disco da registrare "live in the studio", registrato di notte, portò ad un crollo mentale il primo produttore, Mark Waterman, tanto che il mixing del lavoro fu fatto dall'astro nascente Alan Moulder. Tra i brani gioiello, Seagulls, Dreams Burn Down e la stupenda Vapour Trail. Tra l'altro pochi mesi dopo, pubblicheranno un altro Ep, Today Forever, nel 1991, con in copertina le fauci di un grande squalo bianco, che anticiperà il secondo lavoro, Going Blank Again, disco del 1992, che li consacrerà al successo (numero 5 in UK, disco d'oro, lo splendido singolo Leave Them Behind).

La band durerà fino al 1995, per dissidi artistici, dovuti al fatto che lo shoegaze fu travolto da altro tipo di musica (il brit pop, il suono notturno del Trip Hop, l'esplosione definitiva della musica dance) ma con sorpresa si riuniranno nel 2014, e pubblicheranno nuovi dischi che un po' prendono da quel momento particolare, riavvolgendo il nastro di una piccola storia musicale fatta di feedback, belle canzoni e tanti Ep significativi.

#ride #smile #1990 #recensione

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wub-fur-radio · 1 year ago

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Appealing Sounds of Confusion & Dismay

Nothing is absolute; everything is possible. – Hassan-i-Sabbah

If you’ve been dismayed to be feeling even more confused than usual of late, Wub-Fur Internet Radio wants you to know you are not alone and wishes to do what we can to help. Toward that end we offer this two part streaming mix of appealing sounds from around the planet and across the multiverses of contemporary psychedelic/stoner/doom/space rock music. Featuring 25 new tunes from 25 of your favorite modern psych combos, including Frankie and the Witch Fingers, Black Sand, Sonic Moon, King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, Queens of the Stone Age, Jeffrey Alexander + The Heavy Lidders, Druid Fluids, Dead Feathers, Dead Shaman, Pink Fairies, Gong, Goat, and 13 more bands who are dismayed but not afraid to be confused.

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud: Part One | Part Two

Running Times: Pt. 1: 1 hour, 14 seconds; Pt. 2: 59 minutes, 52 seconds

Tracklists

Part One

Repeat Transmission (0:55) — Brown Spirits | Coburg, Australia

Just an Illusion (4:29) — Black Sand | New Zealand

Flutter By (4:41) — Druid Fluids | Adelaide, Australia

Let It Out (3:47) — The Wans | Nashville, TN

Give It Time (3:54) — Sonic Moon | Aarhus, Denmark

Gardeners of the Earth (5:20) — White Canyon & The 5th Dimension | MG, Brazil

Gila Monster (4:36) — King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard | Melbourne, Australia

Mild Davis (4:46) — Frankie and the Witch Fingers | Los Angeles, CA

Negative Space (3:53) — Queens of the Stone Age | Palm Desert, CA

What It Is to Be Free (4:12) — Kind | Boston, MA

Counting Up and Down (3:18) — Jeffrey Alexander + The Heavy Lidders | Philadelphia, PA

Those Disruptors (5:25) — Modoki | Tokyo, Japan

La Storia Dell'Aviditia (4:30) — Futuropaco | Oakland, CA

Trying to Keep Control (6:29) — Dead Shaman | Switzerland

Part Two

Robbery (9:56) — Dead Feathers | Chicago, IL

Another Sailor Who Dies at Midnight (3:06) — Tangerine Stoned | Italy

Join the Resistance (5:35) — Goat | Norrbotten County, Sweden

Montezuma (4:49) — Edena Gardens | Copenhagen, Denmark

Hassan I Sahba (6:02) — Pink Fairies | London, UK

Tiny Galaxies (3:51) — Gong | UK

Something To Fall Back On (3:50) — The Wytches | UK

FTW (7:09) — LSD | Dublin, Ireland

In My Own Dream (8:19) — The Third Mind | Downey, CA

Your Confusion May Now Be Visible (4:50) — DWLVS | San Francisco, CA / Philadelphia, PA

Barely a Season (2:26) — Abronia | Portland, OR

All tracks released in 2023.

#psychedelic rock #neo-psychedelia #space rock #stoner rock #music mixes

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lagncx · 5 months ago

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Ch 1 ghosts of past

It was an invasion in the camp as soon as everyone was ready to rest. They've been caught off guard.

Astarion looked at his friends Gale ,Tav , and Shadowheart, hells even La'zel was on the ground. Where were the others? By now Astarion would've had a flaming arrow explode the fuckers, but something was wrong. Familiar and soon he realized what made his stomach turn, Vampire spawn. Some new faces some familiar. Tav pulled themselves up their great sword in hand as they shook off the wobbliness "Run Astarion! They want you not us. they won't have you." Tav spit a wad of blood on one of the spawn's shoes that charged at them with a mace. "They won't take you; we won't let them." Gale held his shoulder seething casting a magic missle on the spawn that was feasting on him. Why did Astarion feel so sick? So paralyzed. No, he can't let his freinds do all the dirt for him Astarion shot a bow of thunder at the spawn that had already taken a bite of Lazel and when she recomposed herself, she slashed at the enemies.

Everyone was giving it their all, but Astarion noticed Shadowheart was still very hurt he rushed over to her side "What is it? where are you hurt?" He turned shadowheart on her side looking for a wound seeing a bite on her neck for sure a vampire, but it wasn't normal. Almost like a vampire with three sets of fangs. Astarion laid a hand on it and started to heal her, but he felt the hairs on his neck stand a chill his ears twitched something was coming right towards him. Before he could react, he felt his cape pulled launching him back into the chest of someone and pushed right back agaisnt a rock his jaw hitting it making his eyes water and teeth vibrate. The person leaned against him lips next to his ear "This cape suits you, little star" Astarion let out a pained sob when the stranger pushed him harder into the rock "You've strayed too far away from the nest. Now Cazador wants you home. His runaway pet~" Astarion pulled his hands away and kicked the stomach of the person sending them back pulling a dagger out of his shoe "Tell Cazador. To Fuck! Off! I'm not going back. Unless it's to Slaughter him, I'll die before I go back!" The person stood laughing pulling off the cloak the campfire showing their features and it was like the world slowed and closed around Astarion his breathing uneven and he lowered his dagger "Killing you, would be my honor. But it will have to wait." Astarion gasped "y-y/n?" He shook his head It was you; you were the same even after a century just pale and cold. But you're supposed to be dead...actually dead left in a ditch after being feasted on by Cazador but here you are, The gorgeous monk from that night. He was in a daze his mind racing with questions and his throat was in pain growing a lump in the back his eyes watering. You grabbed him by the throat bringing him back to reality throwing him on the ground knocking the wind out of him his body him wheezing trying to take in a breath your knee pushing on his stomach your hand squeezing his throat hearing him yell when your nails dug into his skin. "Ive waited so long to have you here, crush your pretty throat where you regurgitate those loving meaningless words and rip out that damn vile tonuge of yours. i want you fucking dead...but lucky for you Cazador wants you alive. Seems ill have to wait." You said through gritted teeth You raised your right fist ready to knock him out but you got sent to his side with a punch, Astarion felt an arm pull him up for only a second, Karlach pushed Astarion behind her as she looked at you your jaw hanging out of place drool falling on the dirt but you just touched it pushing it into place your cheek was marked in the shape of Karlachs fist it was smoking the burn was intense but you just stood up un bothered "Keep your fucking hands off my freinds! Unless you want another sizzle on your cheek to take home with you!" Karlach yelled obviously raging and breathing heavy "Back off or ill tear you to pieces." Karlach warned. Astarion watched the way you smiled your fangs shining

You had three fangs they looked out of place but that wasn't important. Astarion whispered too himself "They should be dead..." Karlach looked back at him "You know them??" He stayed silent. Karlach turned to him "Astarion answer me-" In a flash you had Karlach impaled on a tree a branch through her leg she screamed your hands holding her down, but she was flaming how were you so calm your hands were being roasted skin dissolving away muscles exposed and it bubbled like gales boiling soup flesh popping and you kept a straight face looking over her your eyes glowed an orange "Hm, Karlach how much time do you have left? That infernal machinery seems like it won't last long." Karlach struggled "How do you know that?!" She was cut off when you pushed the branch with your leg the bark tearing into Karlachs muscle making her sob. "Has star told you about me? No? hm, and here I thought I was special"

Tav had cast a sunbeam with the blood of lathander a young spawn was the target so blood-hungry he neglected his surroundings being caught in the beam making him scream and the other spawn called for you "Y/N!" Your head turned to the scream seeing the boy shielding himself best he could "Help!" Some spawn tried grabbing him the pain being too much their fingers smoking. You hurried over to La'zel dragging you back "Tsk! No you don't!"you spun yourself punching her with multiple blows making her fall on her ass before misty stepping to the boy pulling him out of the beam with no harm done to you. Astarion and everyone watched in horror "The hells?!" Said shadowheart How could you go in the light unharmed, it was supposed to be impossible. You handed the young boy over to the archer spawn who thanked you before facing the group in front of you being immediately met with a blade to your throat by Wyll "Don't move." He warned blade against your jaw you just laughed "Oh come on don't embarrass yourself you're not stronger than me" you laughed looking back at the spawn who stood far behind "Told master not to have them with me...they weren't ready, but he insisted." You sighed "Just hand over the snake and I'll be on my way." Gale scoffed "Hes not going anywhere with you!" Tav stepped up "If you touch him on my life ill fuck you up!" Wyll looked at you stepping back lowering his blade "Enjoy your breaths while you can still take them...leave!" Astarion helped karlach off the tree the best he could without being burned seeing the protective arch his freinds made and the way Halsin in his bear form stood in front of Astarion big and fuzzy foaming at the mouth ready to swallow you whole he felt himself grateful that he ran into these people and for only a second he smiled but he felt deep down begging you to leave not to get yourself hurt even more. But Wyll looked at Tav who nodded and used concentrated blast to blast you into a tree you falling face first into a rock knocking you unconscious.

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

Yippie yippie yippie so i have more its ready to be posted but please be patient i have to type it all out again...so yea i love you all so much thank you and this is what i was scared to post

@beepersteeper @chaoticgoodstuff and others who were supposed to be waiting for this im so sorry i hope this finds you. sorry it isnt fancy with font and theme dividers. im not a writer - Lagncx

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion #enemies to lovers #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #fandom

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boundinparchment · 1 year ago

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLI

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. On AO3 here.

Zandik adjusted the veil one more time despite the fabric covering exactly what it needed to, his fingers lingering on the edge of the fabric. A piece of absolute ingenuity, it did nothing to hinder your vision whatsoever, as if you were wearing tinted glasses in the sun; the fabric was entirely solid from the other side and hid your appearance.

“The Tsaritsa will likely ask to see your face; other than myself, moya Tsaritsa is the only one entitled to such knowledge,” he said softly. “No one else. Not at present, at any rate.”

The passing touch slipped away, as it always did, and you found yourself longing for that stolen moment weeks ago. He held himself back still. Only this time, the distance felt like a chasm. Emotional limitations reared their heads, familiar only in the vague sensation that reminded you of a darkened auditorium and a gaze across a library.

As soon as Omega’s hand fell from yours weeks prior, Zandik always seemed just out of reach.

You expected the trip to Snezhnaya to be similar to the one you made to the foot of the mountain that felt like a lifetime ago. He’d since explained that leyline travel was the compression of time and space, using the world’s veins to connect one memory or sensation with oneself in order to do so. You half-hoped that you would pack your things and the two of you would fall and arrive right where you needed to.

But his mind was elsewhere after he ripped a red star-like device from behind a false mask and a bundle of wires. His gaze had lingered on the purple and green chess pieces in your hands and wordlessly, you held them out to him. If Omega had them, and was passing them along, they had to be important.

Zandik took them from you and you saw them again only once, when the two of you were alone in the captain’s quarters and he called each one a Gnosis. The ideas he posed to you were nothing new, merely offshoots of similar discussions you shared in the past about the stars and fate and what laid beyond them. As the ship rocked on a particularly tumultuous night, you could only think of a diagram drawn in the dirt and discussions of pruning to perfect fate, perfect humanity .

Everything felt like an echo of itself.

And now you stood in a parlor next to Zandik waiting for the Tsaritsa to call on you both, your hands aching from lack of stretching and the frozen air. He played with the Gnoses idly, their inner power shimmering. You had only ever met the Dendro Archon our of necessity and now here you were, about to meet the Archon known best for her ruthlessness and lack of heart. It was easy to take comfort in the way he held his shoulders, the certainty and dash of arrogance that came from him in waves that made everyone else shift their weight and avert their eyes, all the while whispering about the success of Sumeru at every turn.

You wished you weren’t keenly aware of the handmaiden’s eyes on you as she finally escorted the two of you into the Tsaritsa’s private study. Plenty of the whispers circulating around the Palace were about you and it had taken you several moments to process the title of ‘Lord Harbinger Dottore’ that accompanied them. Mere glances turned into stares as if people were dissecting you; audiences of massive proportions were never a problem but you were one in a crowd back then, just another face.

Not known to be the soulmate of a high-ranking Fatui Harbinger.

The Tsaritsa’s study was, structurally, like the rest of the Palace: crystalline, clean, opulent. Bookshelves lined the pathway that opened up to a raised area with a large desk, a sparkling skylight above, and wide windows with a pristine view of the jagged mountains and swirling snow outside. Off to one side, the room stretched a little to accompany a sitting area by a fireplace. Despite the kind smile and warmth in the soft blue eyes watching you approach, it was difficult to imagine the woman standing before you ever taking comfort in the fire.

Platinum hair fell in waves, curling softly as it went from white to icy blue. She wore, not a gown, but a beautifully pressed white dress uniform one might have reserved for court rather than a battlefield. Epaulets of gold framed her shoulders and a red sash cut a clean line across her torso from her left shoulder to her right hip, a shining crystalline star pinned where one might consider her heart to be.

The Tsaritsa looked as if she might have been carved from the very permafrost of her kingdom and yet her expression seemed capable of melting even the most stubborn ice.

“It is good to finally see you in good company after all these years, Doctor,” she said. “Two Gnoses and a soulmate? Quite an unparalleled success.”

You bowed as Zandik had told you to, right hand over your heart. With the large cloak around you, the gesture didn’t come off as polite as you preferred but the smile on the Archon’s face didn’t fade.

And neither did your confusion. The Dendro Archon had known about the connection between you and Zandik but it had been a matter of circumstance. Not to mention said circumstances were tied deeply with Omega’s entire plan. The Cryo Archon laughed softly as you turned your head to look between them for a moment. It was not your turn to speak and you were not on familiar terms with the Tsaritsa; it would be impolite to interrupt.

Cold hands, the fingertips as blue as morning snow, lifted the veil over your eyes and tucked it back to keep it in place. Her eyes scrutinized every part of your visage, drinking you in the way a shore pulled a tide but her kind smile never wavered.

“I do govern matters of the heart, my dear,” the Tsaritsa said, cupping your face for a moment. “We Archons may not choose Vision bearers or fated bonds but we can identify their qualities. It has been a long while since I last had the pleasure of such a union. I hope you find my land to your liking.”

She took your hands in hers, finding your calluses with ease, your fingers stiff.

“You will have to play for me, sometime. If you’re skilled with a piano, there is one in a salon that’s never seen much use. It is yours should you ever wish to play it.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you replied when she folded your hands together and let go.

“Now, Doctor, the matter of the Gnoses…”

You kept the veil lifted as you watched Zandik hand over the two chess pieces, Omega’s apology changing hands once more.

When the Segment handed them to you, forced your fingers around the powerful beacons, you wished you’d known how imperative they were then and there. If you had understood then what you did now, after several seasick days and discussions about the divine, you would have at least had the nerve to speak. Not that Omega deserved anything after the mess he made of your memories and your fated bond.

Most of the conversation passed in a mix of words you understood and names you had no reference for. Something about Fontaine, about Natlan, and two more Gnoses left.

“We shall speak of this another time, then,” the Tsaritsa concluded. “You have…quite a workload waiting for you, according to Lord Pantalone.”

Zandik said nothing, only bowing in a similar fashion as he did upon greeting the Tsaritsa. You followed suit, wondering all the while what kind of god the Tsaritsa was to earn the respect of a heretic like your soulmate.

The laboratories were far into the depths of the Palace. You had known the stairs of opera houses and theatres, of grand mansions and more, but nothing quite compared to the endless flights between the heart of the Palace and the underground facilities. More than once, you had to stop, even going so far as to return the cloak to Zandik before you grew too overheated. He draped it over his shoulders, unbothered by the extra layer.

“Please tell me elevators travel this far down, Zandik.”

“They do.”

“Then why—”

His fingers pushed the edge of the veil up, tangled in your hair, and his other hand reached up to remove his own mask. He wasn’t one for sleep, not consistently, something you’d known for years due to the strange schedule your dreams followed. Whatever Omega had done, however, had taken its toll; his eyes were strained, the bruises beneath them darker than the last time you saw his face, and the usual spark behind them was dim, just like his earring. Not unlike a candle burning the last of its wick.

Moments like this made you question the existence of the chasm you swore you felt. He gave in, only when he was certain you were hidden from others. For all but a few minutes, you felt closer to him again. Another moment, stolen in the mere minutes you were given as of late.

Zandik inhaled deeply, slowly, your heart racing of its own accord at his proximity as the cloak fell around both of you. If anyone were to see you, they might have the very wrong idea of what was transpiring, which certainly didn’t help . You brought a hand to his cheek and rested the other on his neck, dipping a finger beneath the leather choker to pull him back ever so slightly so you could look him in the eye again.

“Zandik…”

The hand in your hair tugged a little before loosened its grip, as if he was catching himself. Whenever he touched you, it wasn’t for long as of late.

If Omega managed to mess up your memories, you could only imagine what he must have done to Zandik’s own consciousness in his last few moments.

You blinked away a memory of Omega, face streaked with oil, struggling to close the necessary distance.

Zandik released a breath through his teeth, his eyes tracing the wall behind you before he settled his gaze on you again.

“It would be best if you took up the Tsaritsa’s offer,” he whispered, his fingers in your hair tense again before they pulled away to fix the stray pieces. “There are several plans that need my attention; you will need to occupy yourself and I will not keep you as...”

“As Omega did,” you finished for him.

“Precisely. I will not deny that a part of me would prefer to keep you to myself but that would be a disservice to you.”

He leaned into your touch ever so slightly and closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked at peace, and your chest ached at the way minute parts of him relaxed against you. He was, genuinely, trying; there was no impression he was doing anything to the contrary, not during the ship ride over, and certainly not now.

“I sent a letter ahead of us when we docked,” Zandik said, standing straight again. “Of all of the other Harbingers, Pantalone is…a colleague I’ve come to a mutual understanding with. He will likely already be down in the lab or arrive soon enough.”

“Pantalone?”

The Tsaritsa mentioned someone by that name, you recalled. Another Harbinger, from the sound of it.

“He’s polite enough, as only a banker can be,” he continued. “Perceptive, of course.”

Your lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. You would, inevitably, run into people who put pieces together as easily as if they were doing a jigsaw puzzle. After all, you were a foreigner and there were only so many purposes for someone in your position.

In the distance, you felt the rumble of a boiler kicking on, and you counted the beats between valve openings for a moment before you spoke.

“Is there a point to hiding my face, then? Doesn’t this,” you gestured to your veil, “draw more attention to me?”

“The attention of a new presence is quick to pass. Not hiding your face would be indicative of not being my equal, which would put you at a disadvantage; you were quite clear that, if you came with me, it would not be with the intention of being anything less than what you are to me and I have no desire to put you in such a position. Those with public facing roles, and lesser ranks, must show their face and their identities are masks in and of themselves. Pantalone is the head of Northland Bank in its entirety, for example, but he is also the Ninth Harbinger. Such identities feed one another but conversely they are precisely what hold him back.”

You let your hands drift from his face and his neck to his chest, pulling them back in the heat of the cloak.

“We will deal with the hypotheticals of any problems as they become reality,” Zandik concluded.

He sounded as if he was speaking more to himself than to you but you nodded in agreement nonetheless. He replaced his mask and you straightened the eye veil again before continuing down the stairway.

When you passed through a set of grandiose doors and stepped into the large workspace, you were greeted by the sight of a man with black hair waving away a gurney. He looked every bit a businessman in his sleek attire (Liyue-inspired, you guessed), dressed in black with hints of purple and a set of spectacles perched on his nose. You saw a hint of gold behind his glasses as he looked Zandik over, as if taking inventory of a shelf, but he closed them again as he smiled and folded his hands.

“You certainly took your time,” the stranger said. “I have other appointments to keep, Doctor.”

Zandik scoffed. “Like what, Regrator, cutting yourself? How do you manage to slice your hand when all you do is accounting?”

The man before you was entirely unfazed by the jab; in fact, you swore his smile grew wider.

“The same way you manage to simultaneously collapse in at least ten different places at the same time,” he replied.

You schooled your lips, reminding yourself that your mouth was still visible. So he, too, knew about the Segmentation? How many more knew about them? Or was it an open secret that Zandik had kept branches of himself and used them for all sorts of purposes?

“Better than collapsing only once and dealing with it in intervals. Get it all out of the way, you know? Wouldn’t you call that economical , Regrator?”

Judging by the tilt of the other man’s head and his tight smile, you gathered he could think of a million things to call the phenomena and not a single one of them was economical.

“It’s quite rude not to shed some light on your…endeavors, Doctor. No word, no warning, reports of you collapsing everywhere and no one having a plan. Not to mention your…intriguing companion.”

He turned his attention to you and your blood iced over as his eyes opened and focused on you. That shade of gold was only rivaled by mora itself, you thought, but mora at least retained some sort of warmth.

“I am Pantalone, Ninth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It is rare to see our Doctor in the company of others. Whom do I have the grace of meeting?”

You gave your name, along with the gesture of respect you gave the Tsaritsa. When you looked up again, no smile graced Pantalone’s lips. In fact, you speaking seemed to have his mood worse somehow.

“You are from Fontaine, mademoiselle?”

“Yes.”

“And yet the ship you were on came straight from Sumeru—”

“Are you done, Regrator? I believe there are more important matters to address than the company I keep.”

A sharpness in the air hung high, like the guillotine that the Hydro Archon loved to make use of. Unspoken questions that would be asked when you weren’t there. Pantalone’s gaze shifted from you to Zandik, staring for a moment, before he spoke again.

“I was only ensuring that she was given the respect of an introduction, Doctor. But yes, if you would allow me to explain what, precisely , has been done in your absence regarding the…prostheses.”

You made to follow Zandik (after all, why would you not go with him, after what you’d witnessed?) only to see Zandik shake his head. His hair curled around the crystal earring, the jewel dull and lifeless, like a man at the gallows.

“I will be back shortly. There’s little reason for you to accompany me.”

With Pantalone lingering in the background, you were in no position to barter and argue against him. It was one thing when you were alone; it was another to have a lower rank Harbinger witness the Second bicker with who was, effectively, a stranger. On the journey over, you were reminded that a Harbinger’s rank was not just a social one but a military one as well. Authority could not, should not, be usurped. The consequences were not just social embarrassment.

You gave a small nod and you watched the two men cross the threshold into another room, the chilled air spilling out and curling like a cat by a fire. The heavy door closed behind them and you were left alone in the large space.

The stone walls were illuminated at intervals just large enough to keep the shadows at bay but when you looked up, the ceiling was swallowed by darkness. It was too large to be a workshop in and of itself but you caught piles of parts off to one side, organized by part and then by size, and in a corner you caught a smaller version of the machine you saw in the mountains, partially dismantled.

The flagstones beneath your first were not without questionable stains and you tried not to think too hard about their source. You hummed a few bars of notes quietly as you inspected the rest of the open space; down a corridor, you found a well-stocked and sizeable library, and then an office, shelves cluttered with more books, along with jars of what must have been specimens, and various trinkets and mechanical pieces.

You picked up a mask, different than the one Zandik wore now, with only the eyes and a corner of the mouth cut out. A black and white pattern, with the sigil of the Fatui, decorated the surface, and you tried to imagine how he might look in it, red eyes shining. It wouldn’t have looked right on Zandik now, not with the way his hair was. But a younger version of him, the false memory of a student of the Akademiya who shared a picnic at sunset with you, came to mind instead.

Putting it down, you continued humming, trying to commit the notes and patterns to memory to write them down later as you returned to the large open area. Zandik and Pantalone were already finished, it appeared, and as you drew closer, you heard parts of the conversation.

“Don’t tell me you actually have a soulmate, Doctor.”

You tried not to think about the way Pantalone said the word, as if it were acid to be spit.

“You’re the last person to ever consider any kind of action by the Heavenly Principles to be worth the trouble. How do you know she isn’t lying?”

“The prostheses weren’t the only things Omega saw fit to take matters into his own hands with, Regrator.”

The command in his voice said everything words didn’t: drop the matter at once.

You caught a flash of anger across Pantalone’s face that vanished as soon as both men saw you approach. Pantalone closed his eyes as he smiled this time before he spoke.

“Be careful in your wanderings, mademoiselle; you never know what you’ll find in the depths of the Palace. The Doctor has spent many a decade creating all sorts of monstrous fiends and mechanical deathtraps.”

“I’ll keep that in that mind, Lord Pantalone,” you replied evenly, bowing slightly out of deference.

You hated how easily your muscles remembered certain things; tones to use, gestures to exhibit submission and respect. The culture was different but the ego of a man with a lot of money and power and every desire to gain more of it was universal. Your skin crawled at the memories that swam to the surface and you swore you felt old bruises blossom across your flesh in an instant.

“I appreciate your thorough work as always, Pantalone,” Zandik said. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Excellent. I tire of seeing your face anyway.”

With a polite bow to you and a murmuring of titles, the large doors to the facility slammed shut and you were finally left alone with Zandik again.

“He seems…delightful,” you said after a beat. “And he’s the only colleague of the Harbingers you get along with?”

Zandik’s jaw clenched and then unclenched as he kept his gaze on the doors for a full beat longer than necessary.

“I would consider him…not unlike those you spent your time with in your orchestra. Tolerable at best but the options to pick from are…subpar.”

He held out a hand towards you and you closed the distance to take it, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the cloak again. You wanted to ask about the conversation you overheard but the heavy sigh that escaped Zandik shoved that thought aside. The room, no doubt, held something related to what had happened over the last few weeks, and only seemed to have taken a heavier toll on him.

“You would prefer to go straight to work,” you stated.

“There is too much to be done and I am without the means to delegate my workload,” Zandik replied tersely. “I must.”

“Tomorrow.”

He scoffed and you turned to face him entirely.

“One day of rest won’t kill you. Overworking yourself might.”

“And one day of rest won’t be enough to repair—”

You reached up and took his mask off carefully, as he had shown you how to, disregarding the door nearby.

“You can have tomorrow, Zandik. Everything will be here tomorrow, too.”

Weary eyes looked at you. His mouth was partially open in further protest until he exhaled and looked away. He might work through it anyway, you knew well enough, but you wouldn’t be able to rest yourself if you didn’t try.

“As you wish. But don’t anticipate subliminal results. I’ve never been one to be idle.”

The sitting room looked exactly as it did in the first dream you saw it in. Directly across from you was a series of windows nestled among stone light enough to reflect daylight when it was present. The ceiling was still covered in geometric patterns that, if you looked at them too long, you would be lost in their designs; a mimicry of the plush area rugs in various shades of blue.

Familiar chairs and sofas, a coffee table marked at the exact spot used to rest metal boot heels, sat in the center of the room. Bookshelves covered the walls, an unlit fireplace sat right where you recalled it being.

The rest of the suite wasn’t much better. Objects and furniture you expected to be in one area were in another, some rooms didn’t exist, and when you asked about direct access to the labs, Zandik chuckled.

“As if I would risk any back entry to my private rooms to be exploited,” he said.

He’d meant it teasingly.

It didn’t stop the hair on the back of your neck and arms from standing up. Even as you picked from a tray brought up to the room, washed up, dug through your belongings, you felt off-kilter. It was impossible to shake the sensation both that you were being watched and that you were utterly alone.

Déjà vu felt like too weak of an experience.

Not helped, of course, by Zandik picking through correspondence and moving about the rooms on autopilot. He was no doubt trying to ground himself while trying to relax per your ask, at least to the best of his abilities.

He wasn’t one for compliance; others complied with him, not the other way around.

The bed (hardly used, Zandik admitted), was far more welcoming than you anticipated. Smooth sheets, warm blankets, supportive without being too firm. Falling asleep was easy; your body was exhausted and your mind only had so much bandwidth before it, too, gave in.

Staying asleep was another matter.

By the time you realized you were dreaming, it was impossible to stop. Omega, pulling you away from your work, crowding you, invading you. Hands on your face, your neck, as the smile above you faltered and twitched, barely choking out final words you wished you could forget. Blue liquid ran from unsee eyes and the weight above you went slack.

You struggled against the pressure on top of you only to feel your arms restrained and hear your name called as if you were deep underwater. Gasp after gasp never felt like enough and when you came face to face with wide red eyes with even darker circles beneath them, you could only let out a silent scream as your vision blurred.

“You’re awake, you’re safe,” you heard, Zandik’s voice gravelly with sleep. “Breathe.”

Your lungs didn’t want to work but you did as he said, inhaling and exhaling as he counted. Just as you focused on the rhythm of a metronome, you let the cadence and beat of Zandik’s counting guide you until the noose around your lungs loosened. Absently, your fingers twitched, desiring nothing more than to hear and feel the vibration of strings beneath them, through your very being.

Zandik only left long enough to retrieve a glass of water. You suppressed a chill as the cold liquid ran down into the empty pit of your stomach.

“Tell me what happened,” he said at last.

“The room,” you whispered when you found your voice again. “The layout is different enough but Omega used much of it in the dreamscape.”

You took another sip, all the while feeling tired but determined eyes on you, observing everything. On Omega, the sensation had been unsettling; on Zandik, it felt just like it did in every dream, even if you never actually saw his face. Not unlike when he’d watched you summon energy from your Vision all those weeks ago.

“I dreamed but you weren’t there. Omega was. Started out as if the…experiment never stopped. Only it turned into the Sanctuary and instead of him falling before me, he fell on top of me and—and you’re right here and instead of you, I get—”

Your words died as your throat and lungs tightened again, your mind seeing the image all too clear.

Hands pried yours off of the water glass, took it away, and then smoothed your hair out of your face.

“It was only a nightmare,” Zandik said steadily. “No one else is here. Just me.”

In the waking world, your mind understood it so easily; without the dreams and in a different location, you were under the assumption your subconscious knew the difference too.

Arms reached around you, awkward in their embrace but no less well-intended. You thought of a flower, crystalized in Cryo nestled safely in your bag. Lips found your hairline, your forehead, your temple, each brush a promise.

“Time is required,” he whispered. “Such a situation cannot be handled without a great deal of research and observation first. It is not my usual approach but I am beginning to find you are the exception in most things. And therefore I must accommodate you accordingly.”

You leaned into him, hands reaching for the soft material of his sleep shirt as you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent. You didn’t remember falling asleep again but the next time you opened your eyes, it was to find the room bathed in crisp morning light, the sky outside streaked with pink and orange.

Beside you, the bed was empty, cold.

The only indication that last night’s moment wasn’t a dream in itself were the rumpled sheets and pillow, long since abandoned in favor of work. A sentiment you could understand as you dressed, longing to put the notes in your mind to paper, to hear them properly. A need that, if denied for too long, would rupture rather than blossom.

Perhaps you would take up the Tsaritsa’s offer after all.

#fic: dream a little dream of me #il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #soulmate au #dottore/reader #il dottore/reader #il dottore x female reader #dottore x female reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader

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