#She lines more with the Vast's 'fuck it we do what we do' vibes than any other fear I think

[saintsenara]

Hello! Your thoughtful, funny approach to the unhinged ships has legitimately been a bright spot for me during a difficult few weeks. So thank you! Here are a few more if you feel so inclined:

Hooch/McGonagall

Andromeda/Bill

Justin/Dudley

ahh, anon, thank you so much for this lovely message! i hope things are looking up now, and i wish you strength and honour to keep chugging along if they're not. i will always be delighted to receive these asks, and i hope they keep entertaining you.

rolanda hooch/minerva mcgonagall

zoe wanamaker went so fucking hard when she decided to play hooch as the cuntiest dyke in the castle, and so i will always be committed to imagining hooch in exactly that vein - strutting around with her leather quidditch gloves, her masculine tailoring, and what is clearly an impeccable strap game.

and mcgonagall has stern-older-lesbian-with-a-secret-wild-side vibes as well - she's a little bit of a renegade, she doesn't suffer fools gladly, and she's a great fan of quidditch.

i think we can all picture the romantic midnight swoopings they're going on. and also the massive fights they're having when hooch awards slytherin penalties against gryffindor.

and arguing is foreplay...

andromeda tonks/bill weasley

i have decided, after careful deliberation, to back this.

something i really like thinking about when it comes to andromeda's post-war journey is how her grief over her daughter's death would be tinged by the fact that - as he tells us in deathly hallows - she didn't approve of her relationship with lupin.

i don't think this is entirely to do with his lycanthropy [i think, for example, that ted and andromeda were left alone during the first war as long as they kept their heads down, and that tonks joining the order - which andromeda can choose to blame lupin's influence for - forfeits this], but i think it's also fair to interpret lupin's statement that ted and andromeda are "disgusted" by their marriage as true, rather than an exaggeration formed of his own self-loathing. the casual prejudice against werewolves even by "good" characters is a really striking part of the series - and andromeda sharing it is something i find really interesting to explore when thinking about her relationship with tonks.

[as is the fact that she can't see the irony that this is exactly how bellatrix and narcissa think about ted.]

i think you can do something really interesting in the immediate post-battle haze with andromeda trying to come to terms with the fact that she never fully patched things up with tonks before she died, that she didn't have a chance to get past her prejudices and get to know lupin, and that she's only come to appreciate how brave her son-in-law was when he too was dead.

it's clear that lupin provides bill with some level of support in the immediate aftermath of his run-in with fenrir greyback, and that bill would both remember him fondly and be determined to defend him and werewolves generally from the treatment they would undoubtedly get from the state in the months after the war ends [after all, we are told that the vast, vast majority of werewolves support voldemort - they are bound to be first in line for the public's vengeance, and are an easy scapegoat for the government].

two people trying to uncover truths and falling in love while doing it is my poison, and i would love a fic in which andromeda initially seeks out bill in an effort to understand the things which have died with tonks and lupin which then turns into something more...

dudley dursley/justin finch-fletchley

one of the exceptionally minor mysteries of the series is just how posh a school smeltings is supposed to be. the dursleys are a satire of all that is thoroughly, averagely middle class in the uk, and yet smeltings - with its weird traditions, its odd uniform, and the fact that it's an all-boys full-boarding school - is a pastiche of the most elite public schools [which, in the uk, means fee-paying - what is meant by "public school" in the united states is a "state school" here].

above all, the smeltings uniform bears a very strong resemblance to that worn by boys at harrow... which is the great rival to eton.

just picture it. justin is forced to go watch his younger brother boxing for eton in a match against smeltings. he's bored out of his mind... until an enormous blonde heavyweight who's taken out the entirety of the team from charterhouse catches his eye...

[professorspork]

director's commentary sdau emerald scene

You know, I really should have seen this coming but I didn't.

Let's put it under a cut bc moderate spice and considerable length:

This scene went through more iterations and re-writes than the vast majority of its brethren.

I dug around in our chat history to find the exact moment we generated the idea, because this one wouldn't have happened without you. and you know what I learned?

it dates to mid-January 2023, which is literally before I started posting newsbees. this idea is OLD. it is some of the EARLIEST MATERIAL of sdau.

I told you I was reading this for fic research in the middle of an unrelated discussion about Emerald; you then joked that all you could think about was Emerald at the sex club giving vytal fic vibes, just bored out of her skull while people throw themselves at her, and I said I hadn't come up with a role for her yet.

you: emerald would try to go to the sex club after getting out of a toxic relationship the way blake did and then she'd be there for 15 minutes and nope the fuck out and run away me: which, actually-- she could be one of blake's one-off partners where after about 5 minutes blake's like "you are allowed to leave we really don't have to do this" and em's like OHTHANKGOD

I briefly considered a much crueler idea in which Blake witnessed Emerald and Cinder doing a scene together, but we quickly agreed that the original idea was the better one.

I haven't been able to find chat history about it, so I'm moderately certain that I didn't tell you about the fact that I'd decided to read poor Emerald for filth and give her the Mommy kink until I started showing you the scene in its original incarnation, in mid-July of 2023 (which has the benefit of showing just how long this project has taken me, lmao).

me: emerald. sweetheart. when you say mommy kink most people assume that means you wanna be coddled and not that you want to be negged. just. just saying me: emerald do you know what mothers are me: emerald

That first version of the scene differed in several keys ways from the final product, but the most crucial of those was that in the first go-around, Blake actually agreed to give Emerald her number. Em asked for it, and Blake said "Sure, I'd like that," and then the scene ended.

I sat on that for *checks time stamps* approximately 29 hours before I broke the news to you that, upon reflection, I didn't buy it; I just couldn't believe that Blake would be in a healthy enough place mentally to do that. the better and more accurate thing for the story would be for Blake to chicken out and then regret it, because she couldn't be for Em what Sun had been for her.

you: oh no why are you doing that it makes me sad me: because if blake is in a cool enough place to do that with em her actually exchanging numbers with yang doesn't hit as hard you: but now I'm so sad me: i mean it's still ME i'm sure i'll find a way for her to encounter em again before the end

(hmmm. Did I do that in the end? I SUPPOSE WE'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND FIND OUT, DEAR READERS.)

from there, once I'd figured out what the scene was truly for, it was still a lot of effort and tweaking before I got it to read how I wanted to: threading the simultaneous needles of being lowkey arousing but also inarguably unsettling from the jump, so that you're seeing those red flags but maybe, like Blake, thinking they can be overcome until it's very obvious they Can't. I struggled with how to frame it so that it came through that Blake was being... mmm, let's say reckless without crossing the line into Blake being irresponsible, and I wasn't happy with my first stabs at it. in the very first draft, after Em says says she doesn't want to discuss her burn scar and adds "There, that's a boundary, since you wanted one so bad," the prose goes 'There is absolutely no way they are fucking at this point, given Emerald's attitude, and… Blake doesn't know why she stays.'

Which: why would I tell the reader that? It's way too on the nose, and drains the scene of all tension! it also made the spanking moment read as overtly didactic in a way that I didn't like and hadn't intended, so. I tried to drill down into what I thought it was about.

adding the flashback moments to Blake's encounter with Trifa helped considerably; that wasn't in the first draft at all, though the fact that she'd had that encounter was already canon. taking a look at it again, I realized weaving those two together was an opportunity to show why Blake "lets" Emerald make this mistake and indulges her, because it's the same thing Blake went through and she understands it. massaging the tempo and timbre of my vocab took some doing so Blake wasn't in full-on panic attack mode and thus making it all seem WORSE than it already was.

and the final thing I changed was just... twisting that knife more and adding to their rapport. the original draft was brief; it went right from Emerald giving the Cinder backstory to Blake being like "congrats on past tense" and then it was the phone number ask. it was important to me to elaborate on why these two had chemistry, on how they were parallel, and on just how much they liked each other and vibed-- on just how much of an opportunity Blake was missing out on. so Blake laughing more at Em's jokes, and getting the Mercury context, that all came later.

in total, I think this scene had like five or six discrete iterations before reaching its final form.

[winksasleeplesseye]

reunio (six)

SUMMARY: While Leon and Ashley are off on their own adventure amongst the vast castle, Amara, Luis, and the reluctant Ada are off on their own journey within the castle walls. A hunt and a reunion ensues. But, the chaos isn't over yet.

WORD COUNT: 7k (no edits, we die like men)

WARNINGS: some item hunting, angst, flashbacks and conversations and violence

[PREVIOUS] [SERIES MASTERLIST] [NEXT]

1999

The wallpaper was a bit dated, gaudy for sure. All of it in its 70s glory. The floral green upholstered couches and almost painful salmon pink of the accents and decor made Amara’s eyes hurt. 

Paired with the two suits currently occupying the couches. They looked just about excited as postmen at Christmas. Only here out of obligation to the young girl temporarily staying here. It’d been a tough first year, reestablishing normalcy to a girl who’d had less than a normal life proved to be far more difficult than expected. Another reason they’d called her here, beyond their allotted visits. 

The older woman, Mrs. Hoffman, was sweet but one could tell she ran her home with a tad bit of an iron fist. If it wasn’t already clear, this woman was strict to Sherry. 

Treating her as though what laid inside her could be fixed.

Stupid. Fucked up, really.

They’d become two of a kind. Amara knew what it was like to be uprooted quite often, never quite having stability to really put much stock into making friends, sure, she’d try but never quite knowing when they’d be off to the next place made it hard to keep in touch. 

Sherry had been in limbo, both Amara and Claire argued that this much moving around didn’t do much for her. 

Amara leaned against the doorframe, Sherry not yet made aware of her being there as she rummaged through a storage container of cassette tapes. Even from her sitting position on the floor, Amara could tell she’d hit a bit of a growth spurt in her absence. 

The soft melody of an older song played in the cassette player as Sherry clicked it on. The Jackson Five. 

Hmm, she was impressed that Sherry even knew them. 

The song was Got to Be There. Huh, how fitting. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to such old songs?” Amara makes her presence known, the smile Sherry wore is enough to make her have one in return. 

Pushing herself off the ground, she practically jumped into her arms. “Amara!”

“Sherbear! Careful now, my ribs are still bruised from the last hug you gave me,” she jested, ruffling her hair. “How’s Hoffman treating you?” 

“Like a fucking dictator.” There’s a particular heavy emphasis on the curse word. It was definitely new to her. 

“Hey, watch that language.”

“Sorry. It’s just—“

“Yeah, I know.” 

They wanted her here to quell Sherry’s frustrations with going from place to place. One could say she was essentially in the system. Considering how this country operated, no one wanted to be there but Sherry had a strange predicament to start. The cards didn’t really line up in any of their favors. 

Unfortunately, soon enough, she’d be under the care of Derek C. Simmons. 

It was the last option the government had. Amara had fought tooth and nail with the decision but there wasn’t much leverage on her part. Couldn’t exactly go against her own deal, really. 

That man in question had something about him that made her stomach turn. He was like Irons 2.0, a general creepy vibe radiated from him that she didn’t like. He seemed the last person qualified to truly care for Sherry. 

“When am I gonna get to stay with you?” She has a puppy dog look in her eyes. “I’ve never been more bored in my life.”

“Sorry kiddo, but I still have no idea,” Amara answered honestly, shoving a hand into her pocket. She didn’t want to crush the girl’s hopes. Wait. She almost forgot. “Sheesh, Sherry, your keychain!” 

“Where from this time?”

Sherry had developed a strange knack for collecting keychains much like a mother collecting mugs from her kids in their many travel adventures. Amara thought it sweet and just about the funnest thing to pick up on her missions, the others assigned with her would make fun that she’d take the time to stop into the most touristy places just for a “silly” keychain but to see Sherry’s eyes light up as she looked over the fun designs made it worth it. 

“Italy, can’t you tell by the moped?” Amara pointed out the cartoon, an over-exaggerated man speeding away on his blue Vespa and the damn near kismet colors of brown cobblestone streets against a teal-blue skyline on it made it one of the more artistic keychains she’d picked out for the girl. 

Sherry, a little too perceptive for her own good, seems to notice Amara’s overall demeanor underneath the smile she wore. 

“I’m not staying here much longer, am I?”

“You know, in another life, I’d like to think you’d be a detective the way you pick up on so much,” Amara sighed with a sad smile, going down to eye level with the girl. 

“When?”

Her head hangs low, she can’t say it…not directly anyway, not while seeing the sadness that would spring to the girl’s eyes. 

“Next week. With Simmons.” 

Amara inevitably looked on the bright side. Having someone as “important” as Simmons as her guardian guaranteed that no perceived threats could get close to the girl. The only threat that she could think of was Wesker (only second to the very government themselves). After the mansion incident and RC, Wesker’s body had never been recovered so that formed the only logical conclusion to come to that he still walked among the living. 

“He gives me the creeps,” Sherry fiddled with a loose hem on her t-shirt, “a lot of creeps.” 

“I won’t fight you on that, kiddo. But, he’s just about the safest option for you now and you know Claire and me fought hard on that choice.” Amara explained. “There’s a quote I heard once that went a bit like this…in any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” 

“This feels like the wrong thing.” Her voice is small. 

“It’s better than nothing, right?” Amara noted. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to just up and leave and never see you again. You’ll always have me, we are two of a kind after all.” 

Present 

Amara wandered through the grandiose halls of the castle, in search of an item—a blue Butterfly to be specific—to aid Luis in creating a new suppressant and at the same time pondered on the notion of getting Sherry a castle keychain.

This mission had her thinking a lot about the past few years considering she had not one, but two familiar faces from Raccoon. And if Leon was any indication, they’d been…difficult to say the least. 

He was always pretty, but damn, he looked exhausted.

She never thought about her own struggles with sleep nor the other problems that arose too hard, barely breaching the surface. Just put them down as nights filled with distant voices on TV and ramen. The beauty of compartmentalization, she’d punch it down any chance she got. She rubbed her back gingerly, feeling a knot beneath her fingertips. A constant almost hunger sat in her stomach and it gnawed and bubbled like bile in her throat. 

“Definitely need a hot bath after this.” Amara scaled the wall. Silently wishing she had Ada’s grappling gun. 

Amara surveyed the room once she entered, gun at the ready, listening for any special guest that was too keen on choking her out.

Clear. 

She lowered her gun, putting it back in her holster. “Thank fucking God.” 

“Now, let’s see about a blue butterfly.” 

The collection room sat below one of the castle battlement towers so it was pretty clear how little whoever ran this place cared less about preservation, should it have ever come under attack. 

Her hands slid across the displays. The floor creaked under her weight with every cautious step. For a moment, it was as if she were at a museum, slowly gazing over different exhibits. Something about these items fascinated the curiosity deep down.

A letter stood out on the table next to an animal skull, almost too convenient if Amara had to guess. 

Her eyes skim the letter—a diary entry now that she looks closer—and it reads: 

Preparator’s Notes

The collection master is a tacky and lousy boss! He leaves all the dissections for me to do! Even if he does bother to come here, all he does is gawk at his three favorite specimens in a particular order before leaving. 

There’s nothing special about them anyway! Why only look at those three specimens when we have that prized butterfly to admire?

A good researcher would know such things. 

She now noticed the lock, images were the code to unlock it. Seriously? What was it with the damn puzzles? 

She walked around the room about three times. By the third time, her vision blacked out momentarily and a pain struck inside her ribcage. It sent her to her knees.  “Fuck sake, knock it off.” Amara almost wanted to punch herself in the chest but thought better of it. Was this what Leon and Ashley were going through too? 

The more negative part of her thoughts drifted to the smallest possibility of them failing. Small, but ever present. 

A puppet to a parasite. No control over her own body, her own thoughts. Controlled by some unknown figure. 

A particular twist in her gut made her feel like any contents in her stomach could come up. She didn’t want to stomach that for either one of them. Or herself for that matter. They didn’t survive everything thrown their way so far to give up now. 

Stand on your feet, girl. One of her trainers would say after a breathtaking blow would damn near make her keel over. Amara would wave a hand dismissively (tears threatening to spill from her eyes), thinking maybe just maybe she wasn’t cut out for it after all. But that was too easy. 

“Amara? Hanging in there?” Luis’ voice from her radio shaked her out of her thoughts.

“Define that, and I’ll let you know,” She pathetically pushed herself to her feet. “How’s it coming with the ingredients?” 

“Just need yours and we’re good. I’m all about taking it slow, but maybe hurry it up?” 

“So I've saved the best for last?” Amara wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m honored.” She turned the lock a few times, the crudely drawn images on it denoted the animal skulls she had examined. 

A satisfying click comes from it as it opens the display. A perfectly preserved blue butterfly. She weighs it between her fingertips, careful not to let it break. “This better work for all the trouble you gave me.” 

There’s a silence from the comms but she can still hear the sounds in the background on Luis’ end. “Luis, I’ve got it. On my way.” She hangs up shortly after.

Amara is more than ready to get the hell out of here but another letter catches her eye. 

Preparator’s Notes 

The collection master has yet to examine this painting. Lousy boss that he is. After my thorough examination, I’ve decided to have the painting moved to the gallery in the hall with the three-headed statue for display. 

I’m sure the castellan, or someone, will appreciate its rather unusual nature. 

“Two birds, one stone.” 

That had to be pure happenstance that the very last painting would be among the collection of the other rather stereotypical pieces that Amara expected on the walls. She racked her brain, retracing the steps it would take to get to the gallery quickly while also delivering the butterfly to Luis.��

Her watch read 7:35 pm. Amara lifted her eyes to the sky and for the first time, she noticed how dark it truly was. Almost a whole day had passed? 

Los Illuminados really had them on their toes for hours. And yet, here she was, fighting against the clock against a mind-controlling parasite to burn a painting. Shit, she needed to get her priorities straight. 

After having traversed a few of the castle walls (narrowly avoiding encounters with the black robes), she noticed Luis as he carried a wooden box. Amara could only assume those were his tools. 

Ada came up along the path not too long after her.

Amara handed Luis the butterfly, perfectly intact. Ada followed suit and handed him the ink and other items. “That should be everything.” 

Luis dug in his pocket, a small tube of sorts held between his fingertips. The Amber. An almost heady, painful reaction came over both women in its presence. Amara could see black veins as they crawled up the exposed skin of her hands. Her vision turned damn near kaleidoscopic. Her reaction is instinctive. Clawing at the fabric of her sleeve as if she felt the parasite squirming in her veins. 

The habit wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to her. As the G infection took hold of her six years ago, she remembered the spine-tingling pain and the way her nerves almost numbed to nothing. At random intervals she’d press a hand against her right arm to feel that her touch still registered against her skin. That she hadn't been overtaken by the virus. 

“Shit…the parasite must be reacting to the Amber."

"So, that's the Amber? Not exactly what I expected," Amara spoke. It was small, a mere tiny piece of what seemed to be something broken off a larger block. The parasite was minuscule within the resin of yellowish-red tree bark. Like it had been naturally occurring for quite some time. 

She had only learned a few things in her trek to get the Butterfly. The castle's history was in papers that laid haphazardly all over the various rooms of this place. They clearly had no problem with letting an outsider such as Amara learn their history. The Plagas had been here, naturally occurring within the village before the cult had come to deliver what they thought was...salvation to the villagers. Of course, then, it had no name, and the villagers searched for anything that would rid them of this "plague." 

Amara couldn't exactly blame them. How easy it was to go along with this lulled state of prosperity. 

But, it was false. A pyrrhic victory as they had given up their free will and their bodies to something truly grotesque. 

"It's coming," Ada spoke softly, a hand against her temple. 

An inhuman screech came from nearby. Amara's reaction isn't physical, so much as it is visual at the sight of...she can't even begin to describe it. Its face denoted that of a bug of sorts, gnarly claws extended out from underneath the robe it wore as it towered over all three of them. 

She never looked away, careful not to blink for fear of this disgusting thing lunging at them. Doesn't even flinch as this thing gets closer. Her first thought isn't even fighting this thing, it's going after that painting while she still had the chance. Clearly, it's after Ada and she guessed the suppressant could wait. Her second thought was catching up with Leon, now that Luis had recreated it, maybe she could tell him something good. 

With that in mind, experiencing a brief sense of deja vu, she ran toward the Grand Hall. "We'll meet up again soon!" 

"Head towards the mines!" Luis shouted back as he helped Ada away from the creature. 

The Grand Hall is just as Amara expected. Though, entirely too damn quiet for her liking. An elegant chandelier hung above her head, illuminating the hall with more than enough light. Marble statues lined the path and a plush velvet blue carpet leading to the staircase laid beneath her boots. Mud now stained the carpet and for a brief second, she felt bad that such quality was ruined by it. She would have loved to spend some more time wandering this place but she had to remind herself that she was here on a mission. 

Still, her eyes follow along the opulent archways, ones also cast in stainless marble. 

"If I were a gallery, where would I be?" Amara posed the question to herself. She pulled from her knowledge as a high school student, the history nerd inside her surely squealing at the chance to use what others deemed "useless" information. 

Castle galleries were usually nestled toward the back, better to keep their intimacy and the state of exclusivity to the ones who lived there rather than outwardly make them known. 

Plus, they offered their telling of the family's lineage and history beyond just the books. Not that Amara was particularly, fervently interested in learning about whoever ran this place now (she only learned by chance), considering the zealots followed the orders of their castellan and well, their castellan didn't like guests. 

That was another thing she'd learned. Ramon Salazar ran the show around here and didn't seem pleasant, based on what she read. 

A Spanish nobleman, descended from centuries of warriors, born to Diego and Catalina Salazar. 

She hoped she wouldn’t have to meet him, but she also wondered if Leon and Ashley had encountered him. Salazar sounded like…what was it that the servant called him? A Pulgarcito.

Fuck being impolite and imposing on his castle. Like, seriously? He threw acid on the face of one of his servants. He clearly fits right in with Los Illuminados. Catalina had allowed their influence to take hold and take hold of her son and while Amara could certainly understand the need to protect their flesh and blood, a parasite would be the last thing she'd give a child to "protect" them. Honestly, getting the chance to rid him of one painting was doing him a favor. 

The gallery is not as she expected. It's actually rather nice, at least the little shit had taste in art. Like she were one to talk, just about the only thing she ever owned art-wise was a knockoff Basquiat (before it was burned to a crisp in '98) but examining the paintings, she could still see the brushstrokes and dried paint laid upon the canvasses. The smell still hit her nose...huh, oil paint.

Most people couldn't stand the scent of paint but Amara found it quite fragrant, it made her miss her set-up at her new apartment. In the corner of her bedroom meeting the slanted windows to the floor, giving her a view of the city as she would let her paintbrush across canvases. 

She certainly would be committing the room to memory. Its vibrant apple-red carpets, marble flooring, and gold-framed displays were worthy on their own to be painted. Of course, they needed to get out of here alive first before that would happen. 

There it is. 

The painting. 

All its glory laid out before her. More of a macabre display than anything else and it all was mere inches from her fingertips.

Yet, a weird feeling wriggled up her neck. 

This is way too easy. 

Amara quickly scanned her surroundings at every angle, God forbid a spike or something dropped down on her head.

Her first steps when encountering one of the paintings on her missions were to document them. Preferably with a camera or something. Each one of the paintings needed to be documented, not only for top brass but for record purposes.

Amara’s eyes scanned the length of the frame. Shit. 

She was beginning to wish she had actually kept the mini camera from her last mission. 

How in the hell could she document this? 

As if a lightbulb shone above her head, she frantically ripped open the pouch (just short of tearing it apart) on her leg. If she couldn’t take a photo, she could damn well draw the picture, right?

Well, a more rudimentary version, at least. 

Kneeling to the ground, she places her notepad onto her thigh. A quick once over of the painting has her examining the more basic ideas of it as she began her outline.  

There wasn’t exactly the luxury of time. After a few minutes, she raises the notepad to the light. Amara turns her lips down in a judgmental manner.

Crude but good enough.

Could be better. 

Now, it was time to destroy the real thing. 

She managed to get the painting off the wall but she hadn’t accounted for the fact that maybe, just maybe, there had been a weight mechanism to deter thieves. The hall becomes shrouded in darkness, a particularly loud thud comes from the entrance she came from. 

“Shit!” She laughed humorlessly. “This is just delightful.” 

And it only seemed to get more delightful as Amara heard the heavy footsteps and shifting, grating sound of what had to be steel or iron plates. 

Just as she turned around, she only had a half second before she moved out of the way of the business end of a heavy sword. Sparks from where the sword hit the floor momentarily lit up the space. Part of her wanted to take a closer look at the knight that had just reanimated to attack her but the other part of her—and frankly, the more logical—pushed herself out of its way. 

Her stomach turned, a tightness constricting around her ribs as the knight wobbled and stumbled towards her, sword dragging against the carpet. 

Amara conferred with herself for a moment. Clearly the darkness was a trigger for it to come to life and attack so maybe light would be just the thing to stop it? It’s at this moment that she remembered she does have weapons at her disposal, namely a flash grenade she found lying around earlier.

She quickly enacts her idea–her only idea–to toss a flash grenade near it just as it raises the sword once more to swipe at her. The room is covered in the brightness white light, briefly fucking with Amara’s vision. A disconcerting little scream (screech?) sounded off from the knight and when her eyes readjust, she finds the armor in pieces on the floor and viscera around it. 

Moving closer to it, she stands over it and for some reason all that comes to mind for her to say is: “You are no knight in shining armor.” 

Amara realized how stupid it sounded only afterwards in the silence, but decided not to chastise herself. 

Some of Leon’s tendencies to quip had left an imprint on her brain.

With an eye roll, she stepped away from the armor and focused on the bars locking her in. In proper Indiana Jones fashion, she swiftly replaced the weight of the painting with a seemingly heavy chalice that had escaped its display during the knight’s melee. The bars lift from the entrance.

“Now,” she moved towards the sword, taking it in her hands, “time to actually destroy this painting.” 

Needing no preamble, Amara plunges the sword into the canvas. Dragging the sharp sword through the image with no rhyme or reason. The artist inside her cried a little at ruining of such a nice canvas but it was for the greater good. After the painting is practically shredded, Amara can faintly hear the sound of gunshots resonating within the halls. The only answer that made sense shouted in her head. Leon and Ashley. 

Dropping the sword, she propelled herself in that direction.

Amara followed the noise to find more of the castle goons were on Leon and Ashley like bees to honey. One had Leon in their clutches, choking him out while another attempted to grab at Ashley. Within moments, Amara dispatched both with efficiency. 

Both drop with unceremonius thuds but that sends Leon and Ashley’s attention towards her. She can’t help but smile.

“You know, if you needed the assist…I would’ve come sooner.” 

“Amara!” Ashley couldn’t fight a smile as she stepped over the bodies to meet them halfway. Leon sat on the ground, still recovering his breath. “Need a hand?” 

“Thanks.” Leon took hold of her outstretched hand, pulling him up to stand once again. “Where have you been? Where’s Luis?” 

She looked back towards the way she came briefly. Luis could handle Ada’s infection. Hers seemed more urgent. 

“It’s a long story, really long. He said he’d meet us in the ballroom.” 

Amara really didn’t want to divulge everything from start to finish in the time they’d been apart. Better to be given grief later by Leon. 

“What about you two? Anything interesting?”

The pair share a look. She can only imagine what that meant. She raised her eyebrows briefly before throwing her hands up in defeat, “I’m better off not knowing. Anyways, what the hell are you two doing now?” 

“Well, we’ve been trying to get a-head of the game,” Leon picks up what seems to be a golden lion statue head, his voice is deadpan, but it’s clear he’s attempting to lighten the mood.

Amara looks at Ashley, “Has he subjected you to this this whole time?” 

She chuckled a tad, “Get this. He paid me a compliment not too long ago.”

“Consider me shocked, I thought Leon the Grouch  over here had a heart of stone.” 

It doesn’t escape Amara’s notice that a corner of Leon’s mouth slightly quirked up. But just as quick as it had come, it was gone. “If you two are done, I’d like to get a move on.”

She waved a hand at him. “Oh, don’t get your holster in a twist.” 

They trailed behind Leon as he made his way back towards what seemed to be a three headed statue. Sans the one he currently held in his hands. The mechanism quietly slots into place at the final piece being attached but something about it seemed particularly off. Things couldn’t be that easy this evening. 

She doesn’t hesitate to voice that. “Well…that seemed way too easy. A bit…disconcerting actually.” 

As if right on cue, Ashley pointed and yelled out, “Leon! Amara! The stairs!” 

Both of them follow where she pointed, finding more of those stupid zealots coming after them. Everything after that happened so quick, it almost gave her whiplash.

Her heart pounded against her chest and reverberated in her ears, though she wasn’t sure if it was sheer terror or adrenaline kicking in. A healthy mix of both, probably. 

But, if there was one thing she learned in all her training, she had to do the hard things scared out of her mind.

Leon swiftly aimed his gun at them, ready to take them all on as Ashley stood closer to the pillars to give herself proper distance. 

Amara followed suit with the former. Better two guns than one. 

But just as quick, she heard a click from a switch and a familiar thud. A gilded cage surrounded both her and Leon. Leaving Ashley vulnerable. They were trapped.

“Run! Now!” Leon swiftly commanded through the bars to Ashley in a tone that Amara hadn’t heard from him before. (Though, to be fair, she’d never seen him in a mission setting until now).

They briefly shared a glance before turning their attention to the threat.

Two of their zealot friends had somehow joined them within the golden enclosure. 

She leapt out of the way of a scythe, just barely scraping at her ankles. 

Through the bars, a flaming arrow scraped against her arm. Trying not to wince, she unloaded a few rounds into the zealot with her good arm. She slid between their legs. A quick slash of a boot knife, then a disgusting spurt of red at the zealot’s ankles.

She had to be sure. 

It was a shame the higher ups couldn’t see what a pair these two were. Both worked with an efficiency and a finesse even within the barrier of the enclosure.

The zealot laid at her feet, guaranteed they would not get back up. Blood seeped onto the marble floor beneath.

There was almost a deafening silence except the lock of flames emanating from torches nearby. Amara could only breathe a sigh of relief. 

But, that didn’t stop her from being brought back to reality. Her arm. 

Damn arrows. Amara checked the sleeve of her sweater, that fiery arrow cut through it straight to her skin. Blood sat at the surface of a fresh cut and stung more than the countless other scrapes she’d acquired over the years. 

She examined the surroundings more clearly. An array of the black-robed zealots lay haphazardly around the space of the cage. 

Only she and Leon remained standing. 

Now Ashley had to fend for herself, something that Amara hated to think about. She briefly put herself in the girl’s shoes. Thinking about how scary this whole ordeal was without the necessary tools and training that the two of them had. 

She gingerly rubbed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood onto the inside of her sweater. It’d heal. 

Just like every other wound. Part of her “experimentation” before they loosened her leash noted the G virus had granted an almost protective ability over certain types of wounds. This was one of them. 

But, with the added intruder swimming in her organs, it was almost as if this ability were halted. The pain stayed and the cut still bled. 

“You alright?” Leon asked, immediately taking gentle hold of her elbow to examine her. Amara found herself doing the same—something she’d been doing a lot since reuniting with the pair. Besides the mussed hair, dirt, and other grime, Leon looked just about as unscathed as when he’d first arrived. Except for the wound on his hand, she didn’t see it but one could ascertain from the blood on the grip of his gun.

“I’ll live. Just a scratch. Now, let me see your hand,” Amara held out her own. Leon scrunched his eyes in confusion. “What?”

“I’m no gun aficionado, but guns don’t make your hand bleed through a glove, Leon.” She gestured once more, “Now, hand please.” 

He hesitantly placed his hand in her palm. She took her time to remove his glove, the cut through it more obvious when looked at directly. Sheesh, how’d he do that? 

“Do I want to know what you did?” She asked, half joking and half serious as she met his eyes. 

He scoffed, “Will it make you feel better if I tell you?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Ashley tried to stab me.” He stated, as if he were describing the most mundane thing like the weather or something.

“She what?” 

“It’s not what you think…something…or someone took over her,” Leon looked as though he was still trying to piece it together. “I, at least, had—ah—the sense to stop her—shit—before she took an eye out.” Leon hissed as Amara rubbed alcohol along the cuts. 

“All it cost you was some flesh.” Amara looked away briefly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there… to help.” 

“I’m a big boy, I can fight my own battles.” 

“You don’t have to fight them alone, you know? I don’t want you to,” She admitted. “Being alone, it’s not a nice feeling-” 

“Amara—“

“And you won’t ever be alone. Not when you have me. Okay?” 

Leon pulls away the second she finishes cleaning the wound, and a heavy sigh leaves him. 

“It’s not that simple,” he spoke faintly. 

“Why not?” She asked just as quietly, ready to lay it all out considering they weren’t leaving the cage anytime soon. “Why can’t it be?”

“Is this really the time for this?” Leon is cold, cutting in his tone. It’s obvious to Amara that he’s trying to deflect. The more direct, the more indirect people became, she realized. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in—what? Six years? Now is as good a time as any,” She barked, she could feel herself running hot with anger. “I guess the message has been pretty clear and I was too stupid to see it.” 

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes more than likely annoyed to even have the conversation especially right now. 

“I stayed away for a reason, Amara, and not for whatever reason you think I have.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Because you deserve normal. A normal life. Normal everything.” The frustration is clear in his voice, but his voice remains at the same level. 

“And you don’t?” 

“Has anything since Raccoon shown that I do?” Leon gestures briefly.

“Leon, I don’t know if you’re aware but…shit’s been fucked up for me too since then. Doesn’t make the both of us any less deserving of something good.” 

“I can’t take that risk. I need you to be safe.”

“From what? The world? The government? I’ve never needed protecting, Leon. I’ve needed yo—“

You. That’s what she was going to say: that after everything, she had no one to turn to. To tell about everything and that would understand and he was the one person, her person… and he wasn’t there. It devastated her in a way she couldn’t fathom. But none of that came out, because his mouth was suddenly covering hers.

Was it a way to get her to shut up or to distract her from the topic, or both? 

Amara panicked at first, muscles stiffened, standing frozen, but his hand was on her cheek, the other wrapped gently around her neck, and she was suddenly kissing him back. 

Her arms fervently wrapped around his shoulders, crushing her front against his. Her hands thread through his hair, messing up its carefully styled appearance, making it a bit more disheveled, but it wasn’t enough. 

She wanted to dishevel all of him. 

Realizing they both needed to breathe at some point, Leon pulled away first, looking down at her. The thumb on her cheek traveled to her lower lip, tracing it.

“Don’t you realize?” Leon whispered, and she watched his lips, “The reason I need to protect you so badly is because I’m in love with you?” 

Her breath hitched at those words. Amara hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them. 

“I’ll be damned if I let myself be another part of your suffering. You don’t deserve that,” He repeated himself as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. 

“And what do I deserve?”

“Better than me.”

“I think I can decide that for myself,” she spoke. “Leon, you’re worried about the risk, but what about the guarantees?” 

“Amara-“

“Leon! Amara!” Ashley’s voice echoed from higher up. It quickly separates the two as they both search for where it came from. 

Amara cracked a smile, her first in what felt like hours, though it was brief. 

From her vantage point, the voice seems to come from a gated door at the nearest balcony. “Ashley? Are you okay?” 

“…Yeah, hang tight, I’ll get you guys out of there!” 

The sound of her boots gets farther and farther away but Amara can’t help but feel a weight lifted. 

They both nod their head in understanding despite her not being able to see it. She had to give her some credit, she’s a smart cookie. She moves towards the statue, deciding to sit down for once.

“Sit with me?” Amara asked him innocently. He couldn’t do anything but oblige. 

Were it any other place, not surrounded by corpses, he’d think it romantic to sit under a statue. Huh, maybe this is their romantic?

Her words made the gears turn in his head. When he sat next to her, she laid her head on his shoulder. Leon cherished any sort of contact she’d give him, god knows the last time he’d known a gentle touch. 

He’d spent a lot of time alone, by choice. Having anything even remotely close to a “close” relationship with anyone was a risk. It’s probably why he’d gotten such a reputation around the office according to Hunnigan. Leon never really cared for the gossip or the attention he got. 

He never really divulged anyone in his love life prior to Raccoon and after. At least, he tried to. Hunnigan certainly pestered him enough. He’d only let himself slip up once in mentioning Amara (not by name, of course). 

She certainly teased him enough about it before this mission, but it was easy to tell that she worried about him. Leon would constantly wave her off, wave her off, wave her off until she gave up. 

But now, Amara offered a new perspective. One he never thought to consider. 

He always thought about the risks of it all and became quite familiar. What if he died on his next mission or even this one? Never got to see Amara again, something he couldn’t exactly face head-on. What about the guarantees? What if he could prove himself wrong? Do this kind of work and have someone to come home to?

Leon knew it was too soon to retire now as a government agent (not that they’d let him), but he’d imagined it—well, he didn’t imagine beyond a certain point these days. Just getting to the next day with a pulse was good enough. But a part of him—deep down—had yearned for that silly white-picket-fence life when he was more idealistic, more bushy-tailed, more the bright-eyed rookie he’d left behind in Raccoon City. Buried under the remains of a forgotten city. 

He could see that now as if Amara had unlocked it from the deepest recesses of his mind. The guarantee of someone to confide in, someone happy to be with him, happy to come home with him. 

“Get out of your head,” Amara nudged him with her elbow. “Is this a bad time to ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you…seeing anyone? You know, it’s been…six years.” 

“I just kissed you and said I’m in love with you, is that not answer enough?” 

“Maybe? People kiss people all the time—“

Leon sighed. “No, I’m not. You?”

“Don’t laugh. But no.” A strange giddiness came over him at this information. But still, he found it insane that that was even the case. Her? Of all people? 

“No? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Look at you, any man would be insane to not kiss the ground that your feet walk on.” 

“Huh, then would that make you insane?” 

Damn. She had him there.

“That’s debatable.” Her laugh is brief, it’s nice. Leon wished he could bottle it up. 

“Fucked up circumstances aside, this is good.” 

“Yeah.” His reply is terse. 

“How have you been?” Leon stares straight ahead, genuinely thinking about the question. But something inside wants to retract, dial it back in fear of revealing too much. Vulnerability isn’t exactly his strong suit. Too much of his life had become classified information. 

Awful. Terrible. Like nothing seems right. 

“I’m alive, usually counts for something,” he quipped.

“It does, so working directly under Graham, huh? How’d you manage that?” 

“Well, they asked me and I couldn’t exactly say no.” 

Amara nodded in understanding. She knew too well but he couldn’t fault her for asking. More curiosity nagged at him for what she had been doing for six years. He knew that she’d become a top agent but not exactly how that came to be. Training, a few covert ops, and Operation Javier all came to mind for himself. 

He shuddered to think what they’d had her doing. What about the past six years was fucked up for her? 

“So, uh…what about you?” 

She looked away. “I’m sure you’ve read the file.” 

He noticed her blinking rapidly as if she were trying to clear something from her vision. 

“A file only says so much.” Leon ran a hand across her forehead, still checking that she was okay. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” 

“Damn parasite.” She cursed, leaning into his touch. “Your hands are still cold.” 

That alone made Leon become more alert, and back into focus mode. She felt unnaturally, uncomfortably warm. He abruptly stood up, carefully pulling Amara up with him so that could better assess her. Holding her face between his palms, he scanned every inch of it even as her brow furrowed in obvious confusion. 

“Everything okay?” 

“I hope so.” 

That's when he noticed a brief twitch and almost jerk, he had to catch her before she all but collapsed to the floor. He recognized it, the parasite had to be working hard to take Amara down. He hated to call it a shield, but considering the G virus, she still looked just as sorry as the rest of them but it had to be fighting just as hard to keep her at "optimal" performance. Like a machine. 

She dug a hand into his bicep, eyes scrunched close while her other hand pressed against her temple. She’d been having the visions too, seeing and hearing that hooded figure in her head. Trying to lure her in with his almost sinister, charming words. 

Leon could only wonder what he’d been filling her head with. Whatever it was, it was bullshit. 

Amara seemed as though she had come up for air, the vision had passed. “Give me a fucking break.” 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Leon sighed, turning his head in the direction of where Ashley had called out to them. He really hoped that she was alright. For now, he basked in the closeness with Amara, curling his fingers around hers briefly.

Something about it was strange…foreign almost. 

Physical touch didn’t exactly fit into his busy schedule. Which in hindsight is incredibly…sad (something that Hunnigan doesn’t fail to remind him of). 

“Leon?” Amara softly spoke.

“Hm?”

She snickers a bit to herself, “I may have fibbed a bit earlier.”

He furrows his brows, turning his attention from watching the outer perimeters of the cage to her. “About?”

“Dating someone.” 

Leon’s response is swift. “Don’t tell me anything.” 

Amara jokingly scoffed. “Seriously? Why? Think you’ll get jealous?” 

“I won’t bullshit you and say I wouldn’t…because I would, insanely.” And it’s the truth. Leon always thought honesty is the best policy but that doesn’t stop the slight heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment. 

“Well, rest assured, it’s much like the antiques in this castle. Ancient history.” 

“How thoughtful of you to tell me,” Leon deadpanned. Much like with their resident Spanish heartthrob, Leon couldn’t exactly stomach the thought of anyone else wrapped up in Amara’s arms. Besides, right now, they needed to get out of this cage.

“Now, can you focus?”

“Hey, you’re the boss here,” Amara put her hands up in surrender with a knowing smirk. 

Just then, Leon could faintly hear footsteps from above. Of course, neither he nor Amara were aware their momentary reprieve was coming to an end. 

[appalachianapologies]

okay so I was tagged by @lailuhhh and @rosieblogstuff and I think one other person (i am so sorry i forgor) many days ago and i am finally doing the first sentence of ten works thing. I guess the general consensus is no one knows whether or not this is for WIPs or posted things so like many others I'll just do a combo of both :D

From a wip that is uhhhh 22k and counting long, titled in my google docs as simply "fuck it desi lore," starting off strong with a sentence that I don't think is actually grammatically correct but you know what sometimes the vibes matter more than grammar and you can quote me on that: Later, Desi will feel guilty for it.

From chapter one of Remittent Distress, we have a line that sounds like it's going to be macriley WHICH IT IS NOT- (PS she's just out on a little mini mission she's not dead or anything) During the three days that Riley has been gone, Mac's been coping poorly.

Another chapter one first sentence, we have the first line of what's shaping up to be my next book! Cue the school intercom noise... "Good morning Ravens, happy Tuesday, and happy first day of school!"

Next we have chapter one (not the prologue) of False Dawn, which is a WIP that keeps me up at night and makes me feel far too many emotions at once: Bozer has a strange affinity for sending physical letters.

We have a bit of a secret fic that's up next- set in Tender Mercies universe, except this is set approximately 10 years in the future from Aground, the most recent fic in the series. Mac makes it a single step into the visitation cell before freezing on the spot.

Next up we have the first line of one of my favorite fics of mine, where we get some Sam Cage! (sam my beloved). Get ready for the first sentence of Episteme! Samantha Cage, despite her evergrowing want to be out of the life she threw herself into, isn’t exactly sure how to stay out of it.

Okay so this is the first line at the moment, but might not be if/when I finally get around to writing the vast majority of this fic. After drafting out an entire fic on a plane ride about a year ago, I only actually fully wrote out a few paragraphs. Here's the beginning of it as of right now: “Arriving in forty-five minutes,” comes the eventual answer through Mac’s earpiece. 

Now we have the first line from Past + Fire + Present, purely because I think it's a fabulous addition to the whole point of this post (and also this does happen to be a fic that i am quite happy about how it came out). The first sentence is a little bit lack-luster though... Hands.

Changing things up a bit, this next sentence is from my 95% finished The Martian fic that has been 95% finished for over a year at this point. I really just need to write two more paragraphs and post it at this point, but here's the start! Sneaking out of Beck's quarters as soon as he stepped out to talk to the rest of the crew was probably not the brightest of plans, but I can’t take it back now.

And to end things off, we're going to hop back to Remittent Distress, but this time in the form of the first sentence for chapter three! (Currently working on it, fear not) It’s to be expected.

I'm fairly certain that at this point everyone that I know has been tagged in this (and I'm also like a week or two late at this point), so if you see this, assume you're being tagged! (and also if you write your own please tag me somewhere in it so I can read your sentences :D)

[thebl00dmaster]

Limbus Tamers

The limbus brainrot is terminal and digimon has been worming its way back so why not combine the two together. I’m not the biggest Digimon nerd (mainly watched some Adventure, 02 and Tamers and played Digimon world 3 and Cybersleuth) so I’ve been using Wikimon to help with the evolution lines, while  yes I could just mix and max anything I tried to use Digimon that actually evolve into one another.

I may do another one with Dante, Charon and Vergilius plus any Sinner I want revisit. So onward to my dubious picks!

For Yi Sang I chose this line mostly for his desire to have wings and his association with crows. Plus Yatagaramon is cool.

For Faust I focused on her witch imagery, what with her base E.G.O. giving her a broom and her codename being Walpurgisnacht, and her vast knowledge with Impmon being a stand in for Mephistopheles (I know Mephismon exist I already had settled on witchmon and needed a rookie). AncientWisemon could have gone to Yi Sang since he invented the mirror we use to pull the gacha but it still have that sorcerer vibe.

For La Creatura I settled for the Guilmon line mostly because Gallantmon/Dukemon, being a Royal Knight, fitted with her knightly delusions and also because I remember Guilmon going feral at some points in Tamers. Plus if we go for Dark Digivolutions,when Don completely snaps she could go down the Megidramon (or even ChaosDukemon) route similarly to Takato.

I hesitated a bit with Ryoshu so I ended doing both ideas: I kinda cobbled this one together trying to concile her ties to fire (her E.G.O inflict burn,the “cooking” of the Kebab and that one picture of her burning everything using as her steed) and art with Etemon being a singer and Piedmon being a clown (and circus artist in general).  Plus the Dark Master have throwing knives/swords. 

This one was more was more based on her swordplay and the fact she’s ... ok maybe not “honourable” but she’d rather not do it the “coward’s way”, she straight up refused to disguise herself during the casino heist and wanted to face the Shi assassin head on in Canto IV. So Musyamon popped into my mind and then went up the evo line to try and keep the samurai/ronin theme and Kunemon is here because I couldn’t use Kotemon as it doesn’t digivolve into Musyamon. 

Mr Salt got the Andromon line because he’s very robotic at times, a cog in the machine if you will, plus he is a tank of a man so Guardromon fits well. Also I thought it would be funny if somehow the machine Digimon ended up being more prone to make judgements than its human partner. 

I didn’t know where to go with Hong Lu, I tried with the Devas and little more with Lopmon’s line then I saw QueenChessmon and went “Chess is pastime for hoity-toity rich folk and Hong Lu is a rich boy” and went from there. Not really satisfied but it just clicked in the moment. ... If Hong Lu is playing some 5d chess with us I SWEAR TO -

Another double feature with the other sinner with double seats privilege ... this was completely incidental. This one is based on the brutish side of Heathcliff though Ogremon can be cunning as can our angry british. Titamon is also connected to revenge (specifically against the Olympos XII) so it fits as well. I know Rebellimon doesn’t digivolve to Titamon but fuck it ! I didn’t want Digitamamon on here and that’s the only exception I made, I just wanted to keep mean green demon all the way.

This one came frame from a flash about Telepole Heathcliff and since He’s a bastard I couldn’t him give a regular Gabumon.

I just had to give Fishmael a Whamon because of Moby Dick. As for the rest: I picked Gomamon because I thought it’d be funny to have a laid back partner with how rigid she can be; Dolphmon to transition between Gomamon and Whamon and Plesiomon because it’s a traditional Mega for Gomamon alongside Vikemon.

I must admit being stumped and just going “Waifumon go !”. Might revisit her with a more fitting line sometime.

For Sinclair at first I wanted to give him an avian line then stumbled upon Tsukaimon digivolving into Pidmon and went “time to go the angel route” as a spin on Patamon. Outside of MagnaAngemon (and Angewomon for that matter) I tried not to use Adventure/02 digimon. I picked Dominimon but hesitated between it, ClavisAngemon and SlashAngemon.

For Outism I first wanted to have an Olympos XII member then wondered whether or not there was a trojan horse digimon, Lo and behold there was ! As for the rest I worked my way down : Cherrymon being a duplicitous tree (he tried to manipulate Yamato during the Dark Master arc) fit Outis being suspicious, kiwimon is kind of a filler pick and Alraumon is a fake Palmon. 

Finally for Gregor I picked the Wormmon line though with some changes. I chose Snimon instead of Stingmon to harken to G Corp Gregor and while there’s a roachmon I felt it was too on the nose. As for Bloomlordmon I hesitated with going with GranKuwagamon or HeraclesKabuterimon but leaned more on this one mainly to distance a bit from bugs since Gregor has two plant based E.G.O.

That should be it for now.

[arthurian-owls]

Good to know (and thank you for complimenting my brain) ^_^ I kind of slipped off listening things in order around season 4, I think? Anyway, I'll also use the fan extrapolation of levels of involvement with fears (from least to most, touched -> marked -> aligned -> avatarised) in these headcanons for clarity; so, here we go, in no particular order:

Bess and Hortense/Mist are both marked by The Lonely, but in different ways (Hortense's mark is more metaphorical - the growing divide between Hortense, the folk hero and Hortense, the actual person).

Soren is certainly marked by The End - he almost dies a lot in these books; the reason he's only marked is because he wouldn't knowingly serve a fear entity. I'd also argue that he is marked by The Vast and touched by The Desolation because of how much he's willingly flying in all kinds of weather and his natural affinity for the colliering(also losing his parents; tapping into Desolation's aspect as fear of pain and loss).

Eglantine is touched by The Distortion(Michael's entity) and The Lonely: she has problems consistently keeping up friendships and her longing for parental(specifically maternal) affection leads to her being taken advantage of; also, during the Shattering she's effectively drugged for months and convinced she flies back to Tyto forest and meets her (dead)mother; pretty in line with an idea of Distortion and Lonely team-up. Wouldn't knowingly serve a fear entity, but could get tricked into getting aligned or avatarised around Shattering, though not much later.

Kludd would totally get avatarised without truly realising. He'd probably think he just gotten good until some reckless pure one officer had pointed out that manifestations of Slaughter around him are, in fact, very much not normal. Marked by The Corruption(Worm Lady's entity) (in its "fucked up and deeply unhealthy attraction, co-dependency" aspect)because Nyra, aligned with The Slaughter and The Desolation. Most likely to be avatarised by The Slaughter (possibly in the tragic "I don't know who I am outside of serving the fear and I don't think there's much of the real me left anymore" way)

Nyra would jump into serving a fear entity faster than one could finish explaining the concept to her; as far as she is concerned, power is power, the source doesn't really matter. Aligned with The Slaughter, The Desolation, arguably touched by The Hunt(because she held a grudge against the Guardians and Soren's family specifically for years and tracked Coryn down in the Middle Kingdom, but doesn't seem to enjoy the chase the same way Hunt avatars/aligned people do), marked by The Corruption.

If Skench and Spoorn were any more Web-aligned, they would've started sprouting spider legs. St Aegolius as a whole also has very strong The Buried manifestation vibes(in both its literal and metaphorical aspects: Soren and Gylfie describe the place as claustrophobic, and the whole place about straight up erasing or deeply repressing your actual identity).

Ruby is touched by The Hunt(because of whatever scared her and her family off their nest) and The Vast, but otherwise fine.

Otulissa would've made one hell of an Archivist; I think she could've been tricked/convinced into serving a fear entity(like Jon was), but would never do it on her own. Very lightly touched by The Web, The Eye(because she genuinely enjoys learning new things, writing them down and analysing them) and The Slaughter(particularly when she lost an eye), but otherwise fairly resistant to the fears.

Now, the characters/things who actually inspired this ask:

The Ember of Hoole is an Eye/Web team-up manifestation, but in a different way than the Archive is. Grank is aligned with The Eye and marked by The Web, but not fully avatarised (his pursuit of knowledge and how he most often uses firesight to learn what is happening somewhere else sounds very Eye aligned to me. Also, his apathetic state when he looked into the Ember sounds a lot like the statement of the guy who escaped the Web-aligned boarding house).

It could've been a neat thematic twist if Hoole was touched by The Dark(in its "willing ignorance" aspect); alas, he's only aligned with The Eye and The Web. Would've sworn to find a way to sever a connection with the fear entity/seal them away entirely once he learned that avatars have to feed off people in some capacity.

Lord Arrin is touched by The Vast(in its "so rich money start to lose meaning" aspect). Would totally start feeding people to The Vast and would've gotten himself eaten in the long run because he absolutely would've gotten too arrogant for his own good. Also possibly touched by the Desolation after losing his son.

Penryck is Slaughter- and Hunt-aligned (because I'm convinced he intentionally let Siv go at least twice)Was touched and marked by both pretty early, but at different times(think four different incidents instead of just one) and started noticeably losing himself to them around the beginning of "To be King". He would've become a full Slaughter avatar if he lived a little longer. He is also touched by The Web because(at least in my hc) he's really good at networking and genuinely prefers to try and solve things with words first - one can always escalate to violence if talking failed👌

Ullryck(based mostly on my headcanon for her) is touched by The End and The Slaughter. She's an assasin, she's in it for the money, and if she can do her job and be a nuisance for the high king of Nyrthgar? Sign her up. But she isn't really interested in being an avatar.

DUDE I AM IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THIS!!! Why in the WORLD are you leaving these gems in my ask box when I log in once every ten years instead of just posting em yourself?? /lh

Your character interpretations are so spot-on and I seriously dig all of these headcanons!!!!

[idolswrestlingadventure]

Wrestlemania 2 (1985)

Wrestlemania 2 - Bundy Boogaloo

We’re back and we’re live from…everywhere! Turns out this edition of Wrestletopia occurs in multiple locations around the globe but fear not we have Vince and Susan Saint James, for some reason, as commentators making us aware exactly what the stakes are. Though Susan I’m pretty sure turned up expecting a different gig, and bless her, she’s trying to cut across Vince’s dialogue with something topical, I think she got away with it, good save Susan!…okay on with the lineup and this looks like a stacked evening! 

"What do think Susan?" "I try not to Vince..."

Now that I recognise a few fighters this gets a little more interesting! Lot’s of coked up pre-match interviews and an intro from the legendary Ray Charles! Complete with patriotic images of ‘murica, not sure if this is wrestling or a party political broadcast.

Pretty sure my mother had his jacket as a pair of curtains

Paul “Mr Wonderful” Orndorff V The Magnificent Muraco (with Mr. Fuji) - Mr Fuji standing in the ring with a top hat and cane giving his best Oddjob impression absolutely shows the calibre of crowd manipulation this production is giving us. The commentators even comment over the crowd’s booing calling him the “Sinister Mr. Fuji” and I feel embarrassed by proxy. Also anyone who calls himself Mr. Wonderful had better be a heel otherwise this is a level of kayfabe I can’t quite believe.

Lots of big slams and energy in this match, both contestants are absolutely massi….oh no Mr Wonderful just pulled the “slanty eyes” move at Mr Fuji, jesus christ Orndoff for fucks sake. Beefy sweaty men do beefy sweaty men things which results in a no-contest -Tier 9-

Yes hello this is HR, we would like to have a word...

“Macho Man” Randy Savage V George “The Animal” Steele - My first watch with Randy Savage! And possibly the hairiest man I’ve ever seen in George. Randy gives a mildly unintelligible rant before putting his Intercontinental Title on the line. A really strange start of this match as they appear to do some kind of animal territorial contest dance before getting into the…do we even call this wrestling? Is this actually some kind of interpretive dance? If they showed this in the west end would it win awards? George seems more interested in eating Randy’s boot than actually fighting. A turnbuckle gets eaten, Randy’s nose gets squished, very entertaining! -Tier 4-

Several small cultures of primate exist within those vast tracts of shoulder hair.

Jake “The Snake” Roberts V George Wells - Two Georges for the price of one! Now that’s value for money! Now Jake kind of looks like my uncle who lived in a caravan down the bottom of the garden who occasionally emerged in a waft of dank smoke to declare working was over-rated. Same vibes.

I’m 90% sure that these days this would violate several animal cruelty laws just by having the snake there in this raw environment. Which also, I do think they should bring back chairs by the side of the ring so people can get a face full of wrestler at mach 6, the real authentic experience! Jake’s doing some good selling here in the early game, though seems like he gets the victory a little too easily at the end, however it does mean we get to see Jake’s Snake as it’s thrust unwillingly on George Well’s trashing body. -Tier 5-

Hey kids, wanna develop a phobia!

Mr. T V Rowdy Roddy Piper Boxing Match - Pre show Roddy Piper claimed that if Mr. T could knock him out then he would quit Boxing, Wrestling and Men in a high pitch timbre, his energy levels only matched by the amount of substances ingested pre show.

So this is a boxing match right, in Wrestlemania, I guessed shenanigans, and yes, we get shenanigans. Including one young Joan Rivers coming out as a guest announcer. I’m still not sure in what context Mr. T got involved in wrestling, and then boxing in wrestling, and then wrestling in boxing in wrestling. But I guess it made sense to someone somewhere. -Tier 6-

I believe in wrestling parlance they call this a "Shit-Show"

The Fabulous Moolah V Velvet McIntyre - Our token ladies showing for the evening, although surprised it’s not quite at the T&A levels that attitude got to. Moolah actually slams her opponent around with some ferocity, even Velvet gets some good acrobatics in there including a big slam to Moolah. Sadly the match only lasts a few minutes, and Moolah pins Velvet for the win despite everyone clearly wanting more. -Tier 6-

Corporal Kirchner V Nikolai Volkoff - Yep, wouldn’t be Wrestlemania without some representation of the current Soviet Union to get the blood pumping for all those red blooded Americans in the audience. Unlike last ‘mania the Corporal takes the win, which means technically this could be counted towards the fall of the Soviet Union. -Tier 4-

I sing you the song of my people, who you hate

Battle Royale! - Okay, so a lot of people in the ring, some of them wrestlers, some of them football players. Needless to say, this is a big cluster-fuck and quite hard to really track what is going on. Only the Killer Bee’s vibrant underwear seem to stick out of the fleshy mass of contestants.

Except for the fact you have Andre The Giant in there, absolutely no way anyone is throwing him off the ring. Even the Hart Foundation had no contest against someone who could eat the ring as an appetiser. Predictable win for Andre. -Tier 6-

Andre preparing himself a light lunch

Note to self, I’m issuing out a lot of middling tiers here, but I suppose I have to leave wiggle room for the really good matches later in WWF/WWE

The British Bulldogs V The Dream Team - Ozzy Osborne! He’s ecstatically glad to be here, and this is peak Ozzy too! Before all the reality show terribleness. Sorry, be right back, I need to go listen to The Ultimate Sin before I continue.

Greg Valentine doing his best “He-Man Fresh From The Pub” impression took time out for this match, although each he does have some moves, even if this match is not as frantic as most. The latter end of the match does become more a battle of wills and I think it probably lasts about 5 minutes longer than it probably should have. But the Bulldogs secure the win, rule britannia, let’s get on the crazy train! -Tier 4-

As we switch to a new locale, we get Jesse Ventura, Lord Alfred Hates and…Elvira. Name a more iconic trio…

Jesse feeling emasculated, decided to out-dress Elvira

Ricky Steamboat V Hercules Hernandez - Well, he’s called Hercules and yep, he fits the bill, stocky, top heavy and wearing BDSM gear. That’s what I read in Greek literature anyway. Ricky Steamboat is giving lots more energy than the last match we watched with him in it and thinking about it, Hercules is a good match for him. Both contestants seemingly giving the match all the moves they know, and not shy of some quality acrobatics along the way! -Tier 2-

They call him Hercules but the only win he'll get is Hercudeez nuts...

Adrian Adonis V Uncle Elmer - Sometimes you see the gimmick, you see what the gimmick is trying to do, and realise the gimmick just falls flat on its face with abstract weirdness, and “The Adorable” Adonis is not even the strangest thing in wrestling. That being said, Adrian doesn’t seem afraid to throw himself around the ring, almost in a farcical nature, which I’m conflicted again because can you add comedy to this so-called-sport? Not sure where my line sits with this match. I’m not really entertained, just more annoyed. -Tier 7-

Uncle Elmer put under strict security escort which I can only assume is a witness protection program gone very, very wrong.

Terry and Hoss Funk V Tito Santana and The Junkyard Dog - The JYD and Tito are back to fight Funk itself. I do wish Jimmy Hart and his megaphone would bugger off though, or at least give him a swift chokeslam. The match devolves into an out of ring melee with multiple people getting slammed into chairs, choked by chains or receiving a slap from the man with Thumb on his pants. It’s a crazy match but it’s great when the crowd goes nuts of the Dawg serving out Junkyard Justice. -Tier 3-

Hulk Hogan V King Kong Bundy Cage Match - So this is the big one. A cage match, two men enter…and both men will eventually leave, but it’s the first one out who wins! I could do this commentating thing. We get a lot of pre-setup for this with emphasis being put on Hogan’s injury, which of course amazingly is not a problem for the more technical manuevers.

And behold, the birth of crossfit!

Honestly, this is so fun to watch. The cage adds a lot to the storyline here, with Hogan taking more than his fair share of the attention however this is one of the first matches where I feel works so well in the kayfabe you forget all the predetermination and enjoy the battle. Hogan manages a bodyslam on Bundy and even goes Super Saiyan at one point, before climbing out of the ring to get his win. This goes in the list of matches I would probably watch again. -Tier 1-

Wow, the second PPV is done! Despite some middling matches and some bizarre decisions I enjoyed this. They definitely amped up the theatrics for this event, and seeing some of the early stages of what will become modern WWE is fascinating.

I did skip The Wrestling Classic and will skip The Big Event, so straight onto Wrestlemania 3!

Final Score: 6 Confused Susan Saint James' Out Of 10

Notable Dialogue

Rowdy Roddy Piper: “I grew my hair long, that way you can tell the difference between me and [Mr] T”

Vince: “Let me ask you a question Susan, do you like snakes?”

Ventura: “Leg warmers and all, he’s a very dangerous man”

Hogan: “Well you know now brother, this is what it’s all about, a winner and a loser, no way in, no way out”

Coked Up Award: Roddy Piper absolutely had a unique energy this evening.

[hailmaryfullofgrace55675]

[ID: screencapped tags from user isa-ghost reblogging from pwettyepic

#i get this post is silly and also spicy but #in my innocent little cis ally brain transgender is ppl my age or close to it #transsexuals are majestic elder queers who dont give a shit about the performative overthinking bs my generation does abt labels #and that might not be necessarily right bc every trans/nb umbrella person picks n chooses which words they use for themselves ofc i get that #but transsexual has such a Vibe to it it sounds like the person has unlocked a secret mastery or bonus wisdom to being cisn’t #it makes me think of the Black queens and homeless queers who were so gorgeous and gave no fucks and #made the most of what they had. who found family in each other in the worst of conditions and expressed their #Fuck Yous to their oppressors with bricks and partying in their secret safe spaces in spite of the world that hated them #hearing people my age choose to use the word is so nice bc it feels like an instant bridge between my gen of queers and theirs #i hate ppl my age who decided our elder labels are icky dirty wrong offensive labels /end ID]

Let’s get in depth on how this is line of thinking is shallow and misinformed, and develop a better understanding of trans history along the way.

in my innocent little cis ally brain transgender is ppl my age or close to it

This is wrong. See Transgender*: The Rhetorical Landscape of a Term by K.J. Rawson and Cristan Williams, Rawson’s timeline The “Trans + Gender” Project, and Williams’s Tracking Transgender: The Historical Truth. Alternately, just go to a space with some trans people over 45, and you will hear them using the label transgender. “Transgender” is people of all ages. It is not a new term. The period in which “transsexual” existed in English without “transgender” was 15 or 16 years from ~1949 to 1965. (It was earlier coined in German by Magnus Hirschfeld, in 1923. Happy centennial, Transsexualismus!) The vast majority of current trans elders came to trans identity very much in the age of transgender identification.

transsexuals are majestic elder queers who dont give a shit about the performative overthinking bs my generation does abt labels

This is manifestly untrue. Many young people identify as transsexual, many of whom are extremely online and discourse-brained.

Furthermore, this is objectifying of queer elders. They’re not magical forest creatures. They’re people who were born five, six decades ago, maybe more. It’s just silly. “Majestic”.

Queer elders who currently use the term transsexual were young once, and when they were young discussions about labels were alive and well, see previous sources. To use an example for context, the woman most (inaccurately) cited for coining the term transgender was born in 1912 and died at 96 in 2009. The label discussions of yesteryear were also perfectly vicious. More on this later.*

and that might not be necessarily right bc every trans/nb umbrella person picks n chooses which words they use for themselves ofc i get that

Ha. Yes, it’s a good intuition that vibes-based affinity sorting of people who use contentiously defined queer identity labels for what are inevitably idiosyncratic personal reasons is not going to be necessarily right. Thank fuck we got over doing this nonsense with bi and pan, amirite, folks?

but transsexual has such a Vibe to it it sounds like the person has unlocked a secret mastery or bonus wisdom to being cisn’t

“People who use a special cool label are special and cool. They’re wiser and more enlightened than people who use other labels.” is the mind-killer. It is the little-death that brings total obliteration. Do not let aesthetics rule over your critical faculties like this. Seriously. This is naïve the way “that guy is wearing sunglasses, so he must be chill” is naïve. This is naïve the way “that girl sounds really confident, so she must really know what she’s talking about” is naïve. Independent from anything specific to the word transsexual or gender and sexuality labels, or even to words, do not put stock in vibes like this.

it makes me think of the Black queens and homeless queers who were so gorgeous and gave no fucks and made the most of what they had. who found family in each other in the worst of conditions and expressed their Fuck Yous to their oppressors with bricks and partying in their secret safe spaces in spite of the world that hated them

First of all: this is objectifying. It’s not respectful, it’s pedestalizing and dehumanizing. So gorgeous, so romantically marginalized, so in the past. They “gave no fucks and made the most of what they had.” How sweet, and how flat. And their successors, in this imagining, aren’t other Black queens or other homeless queers (plenty of whom are on tumblr, in 2023, blogging about the discourse, by the way), but people who use the label “transsexual”.

Second: many, perhaps most, of the people being gestured at here didn’t identify as transsexual. Many identified as transvestites and as (drag, street, no modifier) queens. In many cases, the ones who identified as transsexual did so specifically to indicate that they wanted, were pursuing, or had already gotten hormones and surgery. More on this later.*

hearing people my age choose to use the word is so nice bc it feels like an instant bridge between my gen of queers and theirs

This is an illusory sense of closeness. Using the word transsexual conveys no instant understanding or connection. It’s completely separate from any actual work of learning or community building.

It’s perfectly possible to actually connect with people who were trans in the 70s through their writings, their art, their interviews, and other preserved sources, and it’s also possible to connect with them live and in person. Someone who was born in 1950 is only 73, it’s not like they’re all dead! In terms of connecting with older trans people, hearing 25 year olds call themselves transsexuals is nothing. If it’s mistaken for and takes the place of actual connection it’s worse than nothing.

For a more substantial connection to past generations of trans community than hearing 25 year olds identify like other 25 year olds on twitter, look up Miss Major on YouTube or join some kind of local group.

i hate ppl my age who decided our elder labels are icky dirty wrong offensive labels

People isa-ghost’s age (24) didn’t decide “transsexual” was “icky dirty wrong offensive”. “Transsexual” has, see initial sources, been a contested label since the so-romanticized 70s. Early Zoomers came of trans age just in time to pretty well miss the discussions in which transsexual fell out of fashion in favor of transgender, MTF and FTM in favor of trans woman and trans man, and genderqueer in favor of nonbinary; and to receive that the latter of each set were the most current terms as wisdom from people 5-15 years older than them.

For more detail on the transsexual vs transgender discussions, see Julia Serano’s A “Transsexual Vs Transgender” Intervention for her overview and the community engagement in the comments, or a discussion on Susan’s Place for the grittily authentic forum version.

*This is the more later. Look at those discussions, really. Look at Phyllis Frye’s 1976 table comparing transvestites to transgenderists to transsexuals. Look at Harry Benjamin’s Sex Orientation Scale. Transgender and transsexual aren’t alternative umbrella terms, or they certainly weren’t before transsexual fell out of favor. “Transgender” is by no means without its gatekeepers, and trans people have had (sometimes) more expansive and compassionate understandings of what transsexuality could encompass than medical gatekeepers and transphobes, but “transsexual” has been extensively used to specify hormones-and-surgery transitioners as different and often more committed and more legitimate than “mere” transvestites and transgenderists. It’s been bitterly fought over, wielded as a weapon, and defined in terribly narrow, homophobic, sexist, binarist, and transphobic ways.

Transsexual is not a beautiful, baggage free word from before trans people got into label arguments. If such a time ever existed, it was certainly well before 1923. Transgender is not a lightweight bit of newstyle political correctness, it has decades of baggage, too. It’s fine to disprefer transgender and to reclaim transsexual, but it should be done in knowledge of the history (and present), not in romanticizing a poorly understood past. Older trans people are human beings, not elves of the woods, and a lot of them use transgender over transsexual because they’re the ones who participated in the switchover in the first place.

📜 Maybe the real connection to trans communities of the past was the arguments we had about the uses of “transsexual” and “transgender” along the way. 💎😌

[abelllia]

Semi-Niche Crossovers go BRRR

*smashes tma, genshin, and cookie run together into a weird fruit punch*

[Image ID: The first image is a horizontal digital drawing of Ningguang and Beidou from Genshin Impact dressed as Elias Bouchard and Peter Lukas from The Magnus Archives. On the left is Ningguang, she's facing towards the camera's left and is winking at the viewer. She wears tiny circular glasses, a white dress shirt, a brown tie, a dull green tweed waistcoat, black gloves, dull brown pants, and a dull brown blazer with darker brown elbow patches. Behind her are two floating eyes with red irises. On the right is Beidou, she's facing toward the camera's right and is looking down at the viewer with an open-mouthed grin, a pipe between her teeth. She wears a pale blue dress shirt, a black tie, dark blue slacks, and a long navy blue jacket. She holds a captain's hat on her left hand. Bright blue smoke curls from her pipe. Behind them both is a rectangle that from left to right is a gradient from light green to light blue.

The second image is of Jonathan Sims from the Magnus Archives dressed as Eclair Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom. Jon is a thin man with brown skin, long near-black hair with grey streaks in a ponytail, and dark brown eyes.  He holds a quill and several meters of parchment./.End ID]

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

For each member of the Cullens, what do you think it would take for them to realize the extent of how unhinged Edward is and what do you think they would do about it, if anything?

Well, we’re going dark places today, aren’t we?

Alice

Alice is already fully aware of what Edward is, she simply doesn’t care.

There are visions that Alice misses, Edward thinks Alice misses the vast majority of Biology due to being hyper focused on Jasper (and likely missed the school massacre that Edward was seriously planning) but there is a lot she doesn’t miss.

Every time Edward thinks about how great it’d be to smash Mike Newton’s head like a watermelon, every time he considers devouring Bella, every time he enters her room unannounced to stare at her while she sleeps unawares, the time Edward considers genocide of the Quileute Tribe because of Jake’s telling Bella a story he doesn’t even believe, Alice knows.

It changes nothing for her.

She roots for Edward and Bella’s relationship, not because she knows for a certainty it will work out, but because it might. And that slim might, where Bella Swan might survive and become Edward’s lover as well as her own Barbie is worth everything they put Bella through to get there.

Also damningly, Alice cares very little for how good Edward is for Bella just as she cares very little for Bella period. Bella is Alice’s excuse to party and a dress up toy, but Alice will cut contact with her to a) please Edward b) prove a point to Edward.

Worse, Alice will take Bella to Italy, a city where she knows Bella will be killed with a 90% chance upon entry, on the slim chance that they might prevent Edward’s suicide. Yes, she vaguely explains the risk Bella’s taking, but she doesn’t say it in clear terms nor does she waste much time arguing.

Edward is far more important to Alice than Bella.

What I’m getting at is, thanks to her gift, Alice is intimately aware of just what Edward is capable of. She doesn’t care. And yes, there’s something to be said that Edward, more often than not, does not act upon these futures and he shouldn’t be condemned for choices he does not make. However, he does make some of them, and Alice knows.

There’s nothing I think Edward could do to either inform her that she was gravely wrong in how she perceived him or drive her away. Alice would be disappointed he’s thrown the family into such disarray but most likely would try to steer him away from whatever choice would cause such a rift.

She would aid, abet, and enable him because that is what will keep the Cullens together. Which is something Alice very much wants.

Carlisle

Carlisle lives in a river in Egypt, the water is made of double think. There are strong hints that Carlisle’s family is not quite as gung ho or altruistic about the diet as he is. Instead of being appalled, Carlisle quietly lowers his standards, and gives enthusiastic applause when Edward does things like choose not to brutally murder the serial rapist who nearly raped Bella. This is big growth for Edward! He also takes measures like sending family members who have accidents to their victims funeral, in the hopes that something, maybe, might make them see humans as people worthy of life.

If you asked him though, he’d talk about how amazing his family and the Denali are for the diet, and how he’s so proud to be a part of this community that values human life. LOOK HOW MUCH THEY VALUE IT.

When it comes to Edward, I think Edward holds a special place in Carlisle’s heart. He was not only the first person he turned, but Edward left and came back, to Carlisle this signaled that he’d found meaning and purpose in preserving human life. More, Edward... is very good at hiding what he is and is desperate that Carlisle above all others never see it.

Rather than have a conscience, most of the time, what stops Edward from “you name horrific action” of the day is the thought of “What would Carlisle say?” 

My point being, from the outside, especially to Carlisle, Edward truly does look like a noble soul. There are... flags, but they’re easily ignored or written off as issues with Edward’s emotional maturity.

Where Carlisle starts getting concerned is with Bella. Edward leaves for Alaska, great, Carlisle’s proud he was able to make that decision and know his limits. ThEn EdWArd CoMeS BaCK.

Edward comes back, in a week, nothing has changed, and he refuses to leave. Carlisle talks to him, Edward’s thinking he’s better than Hamburger and he can’t let her win, what he actually says to Carlisle is something along the lines of “I can’t run from my fears” Carlisle does an upside down smiley face then says, “Yes, you can, please do” And Edward doesn’t.

Things with Edward and this girl get progressively weird, but Carlisle is very proud that Edward sees the value of human life and not murdering a girl for being nearly hit by a van (this is how low Carlisle’s standards have become), and then Alice goes, “Oh, by the way, Edward is in love with this girl!”

Carlisle just sits there, “Alright then” and quietly puts aside his dreams of moving to a town where Edward doesn’t eat Bella Swan.

But I’m getting off track, this isn’t about canon where Carlisle can explain Edward’s actions away as noble but extreme, emotionally immature, and misguided.

Eating Bella’s not enough. Carlisle will see this as a tragic accident, something he foresaw, but something he assumes will haunt Edward for eternity. And, as it will haunt Edward for eternity (though not for the reasons Carlisle assumes) there will be nothing to make Carlisle question Edward’s character. He was young and foolish to think his limits were endless, but this was a tragic accident.

And it’s something, that in canon, Carlisle is hoping won’t happen but expects with helplessness.

I think there are a number of things that could do it. Had Edward eaten Biology, had he decided to defy Volturi law by eating Saint Marcus’ Square, but staying closer to the realm of possibility...

Had Edward forcibly aborted Bella, murdering her and her child in the process, or else if Renesmee didn’t have her gift, and Edward murdered her after her birth (assuming Jake didn’t get to it first).

Those actions cannot be excused away nor cannot be seen as tragic accidents. They are premeditated and evil, and yes evil is a strong word, yet here we are. This is Carlisle staring in the face of madness.

And that’s what it will take.

If Edward cheats on Bella, then while Carlisle is sad and disappointed, affairs happen and passion fades. More, Edward and Bella married awfully young and barely knew each other, this perhaps isn’t surprising.

If Edward eats a human Bella on the day she’s supposed to be turned, in very suspicious circumstances right at the last minute. Carlisle will know, deep down, but never allow himself to believe it. He’ll think Edward is utterly devestated and had let his guard down on that last day in anticipation of Bella’s turning.

This though, there’s no denying this.

I don’t believe Carlisle can kill Edward. Murder is not in his nature, and more, Edward is so dear to him. And now that this has happened, Carlisle would blame himself in part because surely, the human Edward Masen would never have become this. 

He’d likely reach out to Aro. Eclipse has happened, but not Breaking Dawn, and more everything is in question. He has to know the truth from a man who has seen Edward’s very soul. He goes in person, likely tells Edward his plans, and Edward rages but that doesn’t stop Carlisle.

Rosalie (more on her below) would never forgive Edward, ever, she is done. She and Emmett likely go with Carlisle to Volterra to hear the truth of what Edward is. Esme stays behind with Edward, torn in half, but unable to leave his side in this time of crisis. With that, her and Carlisle’s marriage completely dissolves on the spot. Alice stays with Edward as well, which means Jasper does to, though this likely starts the gears in head and he begins to contemplate leaving his wife. Though I imagine he won’t act for some time.

By the time Emmett, Rosalie, and Carlisle reach Volterra the coven is broken.

If Bella survived, if Edward murdered Renesmee while she was out of commission for three days, then I imagine she too goes to Volterra. Not for truth, but so that Aro can murder her, because there’s no point in living anymore.

Emmett

It would have to be beyond the pale extreme because Emmett gets more hints than most of the family (i.e. Carlisle and Rosalie).

Edward doesn’t really confide in Emmett, per se, but he does say some pretty damning things on their hunting trip in New Moon and give off varying vibes of crazy. Rather than realize that Edward, perhaps, is dangerous, Emmett only gets the feeling that Edward might not be alright in the head. Mostly, Emmett doesn’t want to think about it.

So he gets to listen to Edward raving about how Bella could be crushed by a meteor, wondering why Edward even cares when two days ago he didn’t give a flying fuck about this rando tasty human.

To Emmett, Edward has been laughing madly to himself for days, is now a  paranoid wreck, and is starting to creep him out but... Maybe if he ignores it, Edward will go back to normal?

Not helping is that Emmett doesn’t care about human life. He’s constantly telling Edward to treat himself and eat Bella, in a manner that suggests he vicariously wants to live through the delicious experience (as well as get Edward to calm down). 

If Edward eats Bella, Emmett will slap him on the back and say “Good job, bro!” If Edward eats Bella after the whole “love” thing, well, that’s weird, but, uh, “Sorry, bro?” If Edward murders all of Biology...

Then Emmet might do a double take and think, you know, maybe something’s not right with Edward.

I think he’d suggest he and Rose take a very long vacation and wait for things to calm down. Hoping that, if he ignores this, it will go away and Edward will return to a... saneish person.

What Rose thinks is a different story.

Esme

There is nothing on this planet that could tear Esme away from Edward. Esme’s purpose in life, the thing that gives her joy each morning and each night, is her family which you can condense down to Edward: the best and brightest of all of us.

We see it in canon.

The day after Edward decides he’s in love he acts like a lunatic. The car smells like Bella, as he kidnapped her for a ride home (Bella did not realize she had, in fact, been abducted. Edward does for two seconds then says to himself, “No, no, this is--completely necessary. I’M A MONSTER”

Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett get to ride home in this Bella smelling car. Edward keeps laughing, like he’s in an opium den, it’s fucking weird. Edward offers no explanation, the car always smells like Bella, what are you talking about?

Edward then skips to the piano, giggling to himself, and sits down to compose. An action he hasn’t done in years. He’s still grinning and giggling to himself, by the way. Alice joins him at the piano, being equally cryptic and weird as usual. For some reason, Rosalie leaves the room in complete humiliation and shame. This is never explained to anyone watching.

Esme is sitting in the room, taking this all in, and thinks nothing. Instead she smiles, at beautiful Edward, and asks him to play the song he composed for her. She’s so glad to see him filled with joy again. She tells him that he is the best and brightest of all of them.

Esme later gives Edward her pretty much express permission to eat Bella if the girl is causing him such pain and misery. Luckily for Bella, Edward’s in love. So he passes on that and assures Esme the most wonderful thing has happened, he is in love.

My point being, Edward could drop the corpses of the students he murdered in Biology so he could more efficiently eat Bella at Esme’s feet and she wouldn’t blink. It wouldn’t even process for her. Esme would continue carrying on as Esme, nothing changing, while the rest of the family stares agog at the city Edward just murdered.

There is nothing Edward could do or say that would ever change Esme’s mind and she will always treat him as her favorite child.

Jasper

With his gift, I imagine Jasper suspects. Edward loathes Rosalie, despises him, and his feelings for others are... strange. He holds indifference and contempt for mankind and when it comes to Bella. Woof, what a cocktail.

He has no proof though, but I imagine if the smallest thing comes into his lap, that suspicion would become a certainty.

As for what he’d do, it’s hard to say.

I think, in most scenarios, he’d look the other way. Yes, Edward is a monater, but Jasper to is a monster if for different reasons, he has no room to judge. More, Edward is in many respects the heart of the Cullens, far more than Japser himself is. If Jasper goes causing strife, making accusations the others may or may not believe, then the coven could collapse.

This place, these people, are what Jasper thinks he’s been searching for all his life. For the first time, he knows peace, and is trying to live a life where he doesn’t persist in agony every time he succumbs to eating. Jasper is not going to risk that falling apart, even if he finds Edward unpleasant.

And if Edward keeps it to himself, or if the occasional human is the victim, then that’s a price Jasper is willing to pay.

Jasper might actually get concerned when it comes to Bella. For all Bella’s not very close with him, he holds her in very high regard. He nearly devoured Bella, and she forgave him, she forgave him his monstrously brutal past and has never flinched from him. She is a reminder of what humanity can be and why it’s important.

If he realized the threat Edward is to Bella, not just in eating her, but on a level much darker than that, then he might start to act and would probably try to get Bella to leave while she could. However, he also likely knows Bella would never listen, because she doesn’t see what Edward is and nothing would convince her otherwise. Not to mention, as soon as Jasper knows, Edward will plot against him so that no one in the family will ever listen to a word he says.

Not to mention that Alice, of course, must know and doesn’t care. That will be quite the blow to Jasper taking any action.

Barring extreme circumstances, Jasper does nothing, he just watches and waits to see what the others do.

Rosalie

For all that Edward doesn’t bother to be nice to Rosalie, and is ready to lay into her at a moment’s notice, he’s very dear to her. He is, in all regards, her brother and she cares for him deeply as she does the family as a whole.

Rosalie has no idea what he truly is and it would take a lot for her to accept it. More, unlike Carlisle, although she prizes human values and tries to hold herself to human standards her morals have slipped enough that she genuinely advocates murdering Bella Swan in her sleep so that Rosalie won’t have to move.

Murdering Bella won’t be enough, Rosalie will see it as the accident that could have been avoided if Edward hadn’t insisted on being a fool. 

I think, for Rosalie, the best way to drive it home would be a sexual crime. Had Edward forced Bella’s abortion in Breaking Dawn, that would have done it. First, it’d be such a messy, bloody, affair at that point and would look like a horror show (which means Edward’s more than likely to eat Bella in the process). Second, this would be Edward taking the child that Bella wanted, tearing it from her and murdering it, and performing the most vile action that Rosalie can likely even contemplate.

I don’t know what she’d do, I don’t think Rosalie’s capable of killing Edward, she cares for him too much, even after something like this. However, I think she would make an ultimatum to Carlisle “either he goes or I go” and then would never speak of Edward again, he’s dead to her.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble) 

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst 

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe 

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood 

Word count: 4.6k 

Parts

ONE | TWO 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.” 

“Well, expect the unexpected.” 

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.” 

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.” 

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses. 

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses. 

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.” 

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace. 

“You do your research for tonight?” 

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details. 

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...” 

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed. 

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks. 

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions. 

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.” 

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t. 

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?” 

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.” 

“I know. I know.” 

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches. 

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence. 

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.” 

“You think he hates us?” 

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.” 

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.” 

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.” 

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--” 

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.” 

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence. 

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.” 

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac. 

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece. 

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had  wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips. 

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion. 

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.” 

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.” 

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back. 

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic. 

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?” 

“Of course, your Highness.” 

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.” 

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.” 

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator. 

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room. 

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later. 

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report. 

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter. 

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.” 

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after. 

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be. 

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him. 

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight. 

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass. 

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped. 

“Anything that I should be concerned about?” 

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?” 

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear. 

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity. 

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening. 

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice. 

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line. 

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating. 

“Oh wait...what’s this?” 

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?” 

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.” 

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.” 

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.” 

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.” 

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables. 

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.” 

“Should we be concerned?” 

“No. Seems harmless.” 

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man. 

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place. 

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin. 

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.” 

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said. 

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s. 

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?” 

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line. 

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly. 

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.” 

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--” 

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?” 

“Babydoll’s her codename.” 

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.” 

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably. 

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner. 

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.” 

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.” 

“So they really are strangers?” 

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.” 

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did. 

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted. 

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words. 

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown. 

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well. 

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave. 

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed. 

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned. 

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.” 

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down. 

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--” 

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner. 

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.” 

“Be careful what you wish for.” 

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key. 

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.” 

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before. 

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.” 

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!” 

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible 

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room. 

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed. 

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might. 

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--” 

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??” 

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip. 

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other. 

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below. 

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!” 

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!” 

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red. 

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom. 

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out. 

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!” 

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame. 

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered. 

“I’ll be down in a second!!!” 

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!” 

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!” 

“FOX! Now!” 

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!” 

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side. 

“Thank God,” You sighed. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms. 

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?” 

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself. 

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway. 

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful. 

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?” 

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.” 

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--” 

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.” 

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility. 

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!” 

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.” 

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood. 

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted. 

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so. 

Chan whimpered like a toddler. 

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.” 

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!” 

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle. 

“He’s delirious.” 

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.” 

[runespoor7]

locked tomb ramblings

devoured gideon the ninth and harrow the ninth and i Love Everyone In This Bar

ALL OF THE SPOILERS below this line

- i’d unfortunately come across the name Ianthe a few times on tumblr, way more than any other non Gideon or Harrow name, so I knew to keep an eye out for her (in every meaning of the word, ohohoho), which spoiled the reveal about her importance a little

- knew harrow was going to be my fave at the early reveal of Baby Harrow, Age Ten, Hiding The Fact Her Parents Are Dead By Animating Their Corpses.

- that moment at the end of gtn when Corona is wailing bc Ianthe didn’t take her, and you go oh so it’s MUCH MORE incesty than merely the vibes in ianthe’s dialogue, huh

- (me, when the plot of gtn goes on and corona folds every time ianthe takes a decision: *eyes emoji*)

- the homestuck energy is off the charts, i love it. it’s so baroque and the characters are so funny and we are definitely on bad guys’ side!

- necrolord prime, please, sir, is it not enough that you are an immortal emperor with armies of necromancers deploying 15y-olds on the frontlines to keep your empire expanding? necrolord prime????? (he is awful, like the vast majority of this cast, i love him)

- OH HELLO ACT V PART 2

- the previous lyctors are ancestors, in homestuck vibes

- in homestuck vibes: bby harrow with her dead parents she moves around like puppets. that’s a lusus thing. that’s a terezi thing. (rose as a troll gets terezi things.)

- still in homestuck vibes, dearly love the fragmentary world-building and the fact that it’s all horrible (15y-olds on the frontlines!!!!), but culturally speaking it’s taken for granted. we don’t see ppl going on rants on how it’s Unhealthy or Wrong. we do get Gideon realizing it’s jarring, after all, to imagine these kids in a war! but that’s very different

- (was Cam already side-eyeing the fuck out of that. Cam and Palamedes are strong contenders for it, and Cam clearly Hides Stuff-- I presume BoE isn’t as positive as the cult of the Signless was in Homestuck, but was she already involved?)

- hi yeah the fact that 100% of the remaining Lyctors were lowkey betraying John is hilarious

- mercymorn <3 <3 <3 (i: like the shouty ones)

- bby harrow saw a woman in a box and fell in love THIS IS DEEPLY AND WEIRDLY UTENAESQUE

- john is a fantastic akio figure. his take on adulthood and what he’s peddling is very different from what akio did, but he’s the character most obviously buying into gendered roles and expectations? the way he talks about his thing with “Annabel Lee” is nothing but expected. (It’s only through what others tell us, especially Augustine, that we know there’s a lot more to it.)

- (john telling the first gideon he’d have forgiven gideon banging commander wake reads very Gender)

- the pool sceneTM

- the codependency!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- gideon checking there aren’t bones booby-trapping the place she’s waiting for her shuffle and harrow spending the night before booby-trapping it better :)

- the number of times i screamed silently about kismessitude feels (harrow’s pitch soup brings all the girls to the yard?)

- *hateshipping mercy and augustine and staring right at them, daring them to say a word*

- wish i’d been more able to focus on the first part of htn instead of going wtf wtf wt

- ianthe never met a bad decision she didn’t want to take home, i’m not even disappointed or surprised or angry, either at her or at myself. ofc she was going to side with god. (probably so she can vanquish him herself later and set herself up as goddess empress, i’m sure she thinks she can fix things better that he can) (i am extremely curious about the things ianthe sees when she screams. what does she see in the river?) (i hope she lets corona save her.)

- (IANTHE LYING TO HARROW ABOUT NOT SEEING THE CORPSE THOUGH Y I K E S. Ianthe (derogatory)!!!!!!)

- absolutely loved the dream bubbles, LOVED that characters who weren’t explored/were sidelined early got their chance here!!

- nothing could have prepared me for Ortus getting a dignity and nuanced characterization and all that in htn, and i <333333333

- there’s an entire thing about the way fiction and memory and history and reality affect one another, especially in htn - it’s a malleable thing, Harrow’s memory is malleable and Ortus’ poem recalls a version of Matthis Nonius that isn’t who the man was, but how he’s remembered. “Is this how it happens?” Abigail the historian not letting Harrow get lost in alternate facts. And that reminds us to be careful of John’s version of Alecto, of BoE’s version of the facts, but also it’s beautiful. we make stories out of things and we make myth.

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

Songs That Remind Me of Fem Eddie Kaspbrak

Ghost Adventure Spirit Orb by chloe moriondo For some reason the vast majority of Eddie songs evade reasoning they’re just… Eddie. This one has peak young Eddie vibes, just after It and finding out her mother’s been lying to her and not being sure why she feels the way she feels about girls or why she wants to wear pants all the time and cut her hair short. She’s just young and lost and floundering, trying to find her footing. Also it just has a lot of lyrics that line up really well with Eddie’s general shit. ‘All of the time, I'm thinking 'bout things too much And then I end up out of touch, and feel a lot less real than before I speak a lot of words, but tend to say a lot less I'm just a fucking mess, and I will shut my bedroom door’ - ‘And as I iron out my brain to speak to ice cream stains I'll stare at the ceiling stars and ponder why life's so hard’ - ‘In the salt water caves and overgrown hospitals, the like Stumble on the way to tell the frogs and toadstools about how I hate this body And they'll say, oh, they'll say We would like to help you, but it Seems your living in dreams, come back to reality I'll cry wait, and I will wake up late again’

4 AM by Bears In Trees This song is sort of a cheap asthma shot but it also has huge dysfunctional due to miscommunication and internalized homophobia reddie vibes rip. ‘I've woken up, it's 4AM And I'm unable to breathe again My lungs have given up on me And my throat is collapsing’ - ‘And I know you're not asleep yet For God's sake, it's only 4AM You're probably thinking about what you want to be Despite not knowing what that mean’ - ‘She's a social smoker, I'm an asthma patient She's experimenting with not breathing and I want out She wants to live her life, but doesn't know how Well, neither do I, but I'm dealing with it right now’

Denim Jacket by Sammy Rae Okay, this is the peak of like ‘I don’t have a reason it’s just huge Eddie vibes’, I think she’d listen to it, and in general it’s just Eddie breaking away from the people trying to control her and finding what makes her happy. Think those AUs where they defeat It as kids and get to just be the actual people they wanna be when they grow up. ‘And I was anxious, didn't know how to act Socially speaking, I had lost my tact Nobody gave me no time to react Good thing I had my bulletproof (denim jacket)’ - ‘I think I'm doing more than enough But you say that it's never enough But I got it, denim jacket, woah oh And I am under pressure but I ain't been never fresher, no’ - ‘Walking to the beat I can feel the street below my feet, I can smell the air so clear’ - ‘Oh, call me by my first name or you call me nothing at all 'Cause we ain't nothing at all’ (Eddie-bear vibes ^^^)

[avery-allyss]

I guess this could be worse.

The assignment was to create a design based off of one or more creation myths. I have little hints of several because copying something too closely seems redundant. Yes it a bit of a confusing jumble and you need to stretch a lil to pick up all the references, but I like it that way.

Egg shape is from several myths, mainly because my favorite myth is the Finnish creation myth, which is also the source of the duck. I'll get more into that further down in the reflective portion of this post.

The yin/yang base for the devision of the egg is from Asia. The concept is more into the description of the energies, the yang being masculine firey intenseness of light, and the yin being the quite coolness of darkness.

The volcano ang glacier are derived from Norse mythology, and I played with the idea of making some sort of root system in the line separating the two to represent the beginning of yggdrasil.

The reeds and cat are from the native American myth. Something about a Reed carrying the founders through worlds, and loosing a war to cat people? It stuck in my mind.

This is the second time I've ever done print making, the first was over ten years ago and stamping a smaller design on an extra large Tshirt I still use as pjs.

The entire process was a mess.

We had one linoleum panel to work with. We had to carve away each color we wanted to keep.

I started slow because the white and yellow layers were so complicated.

I miss measured the paper size so the back of all four copies are a mess.

I made four copies, and every one had a different mystake. The one showed was the only one that the cat showed up on.

I fucked up carving alot, I just got good at covering it up.

The duck has no bill. I tried to make up for it by giving them an intentional halo, it didn't quite work.

The reeds are too short. This actually gives off a slightly more organic vibe than I was going for. I'm not quite sure if I like it.

One of the sun swirls is broken up a bit because my hand sliped.

The blue layer was off and ended up giving the volcano some highlight. It pops a little until you realize it's out of place, so I don't like it.

Printed red through black in one day, my entire arm hates me still. I had my entire arm tensed to prevent slip ups. It's not so bad right now because my mom told me which med to take today, but I couldn't sleep on that side or my back very well last night. At least I didn't break skin when I stabed myself! I need to lay off crocheting, but that's how I decompress...

I will repost with individual pictures of each copy and the drawing on Monday, that's when the crit is anyway.

What I would do differently

Smaller egg, let the corners interact with each other a bit.

I would play with the idea of white clouds, or white with black highlights.

I would make the sun swirls part of the red gradient. I would also simplify their shape to make them easier to carve.

I would look at different ways to portray the cat. Maybe I would play with the idea of red eyes on the cat. Red claws to represent violence? Cause I'm not going to ever go all in on a horrific portrayal, hints have to do for kitty.

Multi colored and more consistent pebble bed. Maybe mossy rocks or sand with grasses growing in? Seeds? Arthropods to pull in yet another creation myth?

Duck would have a bill and a halo or some sort. There plenty of methods to imitate and explore.

I would play with the idea of defining individual rock structure on the volcano and the small waterfall.

Gemstones on the volcano?

Maybe not even do a volcano, and just make a black dragon on a mountain? Chinese style to keep up with the theme of creation?

Shade the reeds in gradients, maybe make thin red lines to imitate their texture?

Dragonflies by the reeds?

Green layer to add moss and lichen, as well as springtime pigments for the reeds as opposed to fall, can you even marble shades effectively in print making? Green detailing on the cat would start getting Erie.

Yggdrasil roots in the division, multi color highlights on yellow, tiny branch coming around to poke out by the sun?

Grey to black gradient instead of straight black for the outline?

Use a digital painting software instead of actualy carving it all. That's the only way I will play with this image again.

The Finnish Godess of Creaton

Luonnotar

Once the universe was comprised of three things.

There was nothingness, a vast unmeasurable abyss where not even a single star shone. The power of stillness was held in the dark expanse.

There was a river, a mysterious flow of swirling posability. The power and movement of the universe was held in the 'waters'.

And lastly, there was a girl. Luonntar was the daughter of the stillness of the abyss and the power of movement. She was alone, and there was nothing for her to do, no way to express herself, or to release energy, or even just simply enrich her life. She did not know companionship, so she did not know to be lonely. She did not sleep, nor did she truly live. She only felt emptiness. There was no pain to be felt, nor was there joy to be had.

Something changed. Something tightened in Luonntar's chest, as though her heart was hurting. Over another eternity she came to recognize the pain as desire. Into her emptiness had flowed a blind longing. She wanted something but she did not know what there even was to want. She wanted change, but because she never experienced anything but the same river and the same darkness, she had no idea what it was she wanted.

Slowly (as everything so far had), an idea budded in Luonntar's mind, the first idea ever in the universe. She jumped into the river and swam. She did not sink, but floated on the surface, looking back up to the darkness she had left from. This action permanently altered the universe, though seeing how took some more time (of corse). In the meantime the girl relaxed as she drifted through the river.

Then came a duck ((grapes are not involved in this myth stahp)) swimming up to Luonntar. A duck, in a universe where there had only ever been one being, now there were two! With Luonntar's change and wish, she changed the entire universe and a new world was created in which the duck could exist too.

The curious bird swam around the girl looking at the strange other being, the girl laying very still as she did the same. The duck climbed up onto Luonntar's warm knee and sat. Then something else happened, something so beautiful that Luonntar could not believe her eyes.

The duck layed three eggs there upon the goddess' knee because it was the only warm dry place in the entire universe, and the only place the future could hatch.

Luonntar kept so very still, anxious of the fragile life prched upon her knee. The duck warmed her clutch as they grew hotter and hotter as the future drew near.

Luonntar yearned for that future like she had never yearned before, bringing back the dull pain from before. She ignored it.

The eggs grew uncomfortably hot, the ducks featherstickled her, and the bebed feet left tiny scratches on her. She ignored it all.

Suddenly the duck shifted, her feathers tickling Luonntar and she couldn't help but to twitch reflexively. She did not mean to but it was enough. She watched horrified as the eggs tumbled into the river. She berated herself, fearing for the eggs. Would they sink forever out of sight? Would the future be lost?

Instead the eggs broke open. Marvels poured forth. The yolks joined into the sun and rose up into the abyss. The whites became a silver moon, rising as well. The tiny bits of the shells became the stars, scattered disjointed with the rest of the remains of the three eggs. In a world where only darkness had existed, light was born. It was magic.

Luonntar was changed by the magic, as she dove beneath the surface. Something was calling to her from the depths. It was the mud at the bottom. She grabbed handfuls and swam back to the surface. She molded a cone from the mud upon her belly and placed it on the surface of the river. It rose into the sky and became a mountain.

She dived again and again, returning to the surface to mold more new landscapes. She carved veins of rivers through the land, scooping out lakes. The stars watched in fascination. Inspired, they rearranged themselves into designs. The moon learned out to show its changing face to the earth.

As Luonntar built the land, life burst forth. Plants grew, creatures came to be. All life was the children of the new earth. When the goddess rested at long last and looked at the bright sky, the green foliage, and the lively children, she knew it was good.

((Adlibed from "Wild Girls" by Patricia Monaghan))

[phoebehalliwell]

how would you rank the seasons from least to most favourite?

alright okay right off the bat worst season season 7. for starters i think this season has no staying power i mean like since i’ve been running this blog 4 so long now my knowledge of charmed is encyclopedic and insanely vast more than like it ever need be but for the longest time. i could not remember season 7. like wtf even happened there?? evidently leo became human??? cole returned? the avatars??? like all of it was just. it’s not even necessarily forgettable it’s just i straight up could not remember it for the longest time. and i’ve said it before the concept of utopia was way to advanced for a show like charmed to tackle i am not watching charmed for moral philosophy i am watching bc i love these girls ♥ hee hee hoo hoo magic adventure ✨ tho if i am to offer a single comment on utopia: it’s awfully rich for a show to go on about destiny and fate and then take a stand against utopia in the name of free will. but w/e. i don’t like leo in the avatars i don’t like his dynamic with piper in this season i don’t like whatever phoebe’s doing this season there’s like leslie?? maybe there’s someone else? boring & flavorless they should have been setting up her endgame instead of puttering around. and kyle. zoo wee mama. could have been a great antihero. morally gray. duplicitous. self serving. but no. they gave him all those traits and called him hero/love interest. s7 left a lot to be desired out of the characters and their relationships also gave us phat L’s such as the charmed ones are werewolves don’t worry about it and feminism peaked with naked women. shout out to zankou: demon, dilf, dub & the noir episode.

you know what? fuck it i’ll say it second worse season 5 genuinely fuck season five. this is probably a Very Specific beef 2 me But. i hate what they did to the charmed universe. this was the season that marked the transition of charmed from supernatural drama to campy soap which like. i love camp! i do! but fr. fuck this season and what it did to the worldbuilding. the early season have Such A Vibe to them man with warlocks and witches and just a couple niche monsters from assorted lore that the show took and made their own. season five opens with mermaids goes directly into fairytales then gives us superheros whatever the fuck was going on in that mummy episode the sandman leprechauns and nymphs. and i hate it for that. it takes away from this urban fantasy things that go bump in the night what lurks in the shadows of the back alleys of san francisco in favor of the ugliest cinderella dress ever put to television and an onslaught of horrible irish accents for a full episode. other issues with season five: cole’s still here? why? they don’t know and neither will you! we’re not redeeming him! phoebe’s not getting back together with him! yes he died we just refuse to let him go! the cherry on top of course being a cole-centric 100th episode. shout out to. hmm. lemme think about what i actually liked about this season. i like jason dean as a love interest i don’t remember what he did in s5 but i know he was there. the season finale i’ve talked about how stupid & shitty it was but idc i still love that episode and then shout out to bacarra the only original villain this season that was a proper serve. the crone gets second place.

next on this come on we all saw it coming season 8. it’s a bad season! and i get bts there was a whole lot happening budget cuts missing actor etc. but it goes beyond that. it was a bad season. billie and christie were bad. and i’ve said this before but billie in herself is not an inherently bad character. she was just the literal worst for the show. she was a dollar store buffy blonde confident cocky skilled and ready 2 fight evil But. we are not following her like we followed buffy we are following her mentors. it’s like if we had a show called giles that aired for seven seasons And Then buffy showed up. billie was insanely irritating to watch from our perspective and in general wasn’t like. well written. attempts to humanize her / give her more depth often fell flat. and then christy. oh nelly. oh my god. barely a character. not well acted but hey it would have been a miracle if she was. negatives include dumain who was a mess omg bringing back the triad bringing back the source billie & christy obvi and also involving homeland security. which is season 7′s fault which is why it’s the worst. dubs on the other hand include both coop and henry i really liked them the shoehorned love interests weren’t great but i like their characters i though the way the got rid of leo to save on the budget was really creative and gave us a great piper episode and of course the sugary sweet finale i love it i do what can i say.

yet another controversial choice aptly coming in fourth is season 4. i respect what season 4 set out to do. i think it was a good idea. long form narratives, keeping a darker tone, focusing on character-driven drama and growth. too bad it fucking failed miserably at all of this. cole as the source and phoebe as the queen of hell was just so so botched. they had a very unique opportunity following the death of prue to explore these characters and what it means to them to be charmed, to be witches. they saved the world but the cost is insanely high. they’ve lost an older sister. they’ve gained a new sister. how do you even begin to cope with all this? episodes such as hell hath no fury and brain drain fuck so hard because they work with exactly that. had the whole season been like those episode season four would sit at number one with flying colors absolutely no competition. but alas. we can’t have nice things. the show got so bogged down with phoebe & cole, in a way that was just so, so messy. for starters, whether you loved cole or hated him before, we can all agree source!cole sucked. he was such a strong 180 from what we had seen that the show had to make the source some type of possession to justify half the shit they were trying to pull. and then to pit phoebe and paige against one another over a man was just. disgusting. and the ending of course felt rushed because it was! they wrapped up that entire issue in a nice little bow much faster than they reasonably should have been able to. it could have been a great season. it was definitely not. shout out to the seer an iconic mastermind on barbas levels, as previously stated brain drain and hell hath no fury Specific shout out to piper’s scene at prue’s grave shout out to paige as a character i like what they did with her and um. yeah that’s it.

okay we’re exiting the shit tier in favorite of the good tier welcome to the upper half. kicking us off is season 6. season 6 did what season 4 could not in that it gave us a long form plot that still left plenty of room for like. normal demon of the week episodes. i love phoebe early in this season with her faboo haircut her brand new empathy power and her relationship with jason dean. obvious strikes against for whatever the fuck that baby crazy stint was and also the mata hari episode. yikes. i love paige’s hair color in this season nothing paige as a character necessarily stands out to me however i like how they seem to have hit the blend of work-magic with paige where she wants a life and career outside of magic however she still loves the craft and embraces is with an open heart and mind. season six also gives us chris who was a very fun male lead imo we really didn’t have many like him he’s bitchy. he whines and bitches a lot he’s got an agenda he’s a bit secretive but at the end of the day he just wants a family i like him. i like the character growth we see out of piper i like seeing her try to move on from leo i love seeing her get back together with leo i like her dynamic with chris and her fears about motherhood. i also liked richard but that one takes a lot of justification. L’s are witchstock hyde school reunion used karma off the top of my head also the paige/richard/addiction plotline was so tone deaf. also the girls were mean to darryl : ( he deserved so much better. dubs were chris as a character, tbh the episode little monsters, phoebe with empathy specifically saying i love you too to jason i could write a dissertation on that line alone also the courtship of wyatt’s father and i thought the reveals of evil wyatt and chris being piper and leo’s son were both fun and interesting plot twists.

coming in third is actually season 2 a season i really do love it’s just. it lacks structure. imo there is a lot to love about season 2 morality bites and pardon my past are both delightful time travel episodes we get jack sheridan and bane jessup two of my personal favorite prue love interests we get p3 h2o and a great prue plotline regarding the death of patty we get the super cute cupid episode it’s a great. collection of episodes. it’s not a great season. there’s just imo not a strong enough thread connecting the stories together it’s mainly held together by having the same characters in it over and over again i really liked dan personally but like. i knew we were wasting time there. he was just an obstacle. a super cute loving and caring obstacle who’s great with kids but lbr piper and leo were always endgame. wasting our time on dan was stupid. i do love the sister dynamics in season two “gotta hand it to those pesky little demons they sure have brought us closer together” but again. this season could have benefitted from a rex and hannah type or even like a cole or zankou. this season is less of a season and more of just like a handful of episodes, and while there are some fat dubs, there are also some definite swings & misses. shout out to the time travel episodes the prue centric episodes phoebe’s character growth and maturity throughout this season (e.g. her going back to college) and i also think the fashion got a lot more fun this season.

second place i’m saying season one season one was a really strong start and gave us these really compelling characters with interesting relationships between one another But. a lot of it just kinda falls flat. and credit where credit is due it was a brand new show getting its feet under it but the fourth sister feats of clay which prue is it anyway they just simply aren’t dubs imo. also i don’t like that 70′s episode bc again i am an asshole concerned about The Lore i can’t believe one bitch ass warlock caused the Charmed Ones to grow up without powers. it just really bugs me. all in all the plots as a whole like aren’t great imo they’re nothing to write home about (save for from fear to eternity) it’s really the characters that make this season so goddamn good.

first place congratulations to the one the only season three. this is just because it kinda hits all my requirements in that it has some banger one offs (e.g. all halliwell’s eve, the good, the bad, and the cursed) it has an overarching plot at the exact same time as the source becomes more prominent and obvi cole is also there with murderous intent i like the character growth we see especially from prue i like piper and leo finally get married overall i really like the aesthetic of this season that blends a darker urban fantasy tone with still some charmed fashion and whimsy. strikes against tbh phoebe and cole’s relationship i am insanely picky with my enemies to lovers and the do not come remotely close to cutting the mustard in fact they are almost immediately disqualified however from afar i can see and respect The Drama. shout out to recasting victor prue with pistols death as a character and shannen directing episodes

[background-noise-headache]

Hurt the Bard, but like, Emotionally/Non-lethally

Um, terribly painful Jaskier-whump idea. (This has some Geraskier elements in it, but in a pre-relationship, developing friendship way, featuring a lot of Geralt openly caring for Jaskier because that’s my head canon, Geralt speaks with actions and his eyes, not his words. 

I know the fandom likes to play with the idea of Jaskier’s parents being distant or abusive or neglectful. Which I do enjoy, but I vibe more with the idea that Jaskier had very supportive parents and that’s why he’s so confident and open and affectionate.

So, this: The court mage’s apprentice is bitter and angry seeing all this love that annoying brat (only a few years younger than him) gets. The jealousy is eating at him. Jaskier goes to Oxenfurt then sets out on his own to become a bard with the encouragement of his parents even if it’s not what’s expected of a viscount.

Somewhere between when Jaskier meets Geralt to the djinn incident (I imagine after Cintra) Jaskier is home for a while, telling his family about his adventures and being showered in love and sharing that love back with them, he’s missed them so much.

The apprentice is now the court mage and that anger has never gone away, just been buried and smothered because dude does not have the best coping mechanisms, no one ever taught him any. Asshole decides to cast a curse on Jaskier:

“Every kind word will cause you pain and make you rot on the inside, but no one will see the pain they cause you. It won’t kill you physically, but you’ll swear you’re dying. Every kind word, every compliment, will make you rot until the only relief and joy you get is when someone insults you. You’ll beg for them to hate you, beg for them to spit in your face.”

By the next day it’s clear how effective the curse is.

(Okay, trigger warning for body horror, skin issues, medical wounds. This is honestly me coping with a terrible nightmare I had a few years back that I never completely got over and sometimes I need to talk about it. So, bear with me, or skip to my line of astrisks)

(You know what, additional trigger warnings for toxic relationships and emotional abuse between Jaskier an characters only mentioned in the show but never seen. You know the ones)

By rot, I mean that when Jaskier looks at his skin it looks like it’s bruising, and then cracking, bleeding, pealing away. It’s molting and pussy and awful (that is specifically what it looked like in my dream, the skin on my left arm was molting.) But nobody fricken sees it! Jaskier can point to the wounds, groan in pain, nobody sees the cause. It’s not actually there, it’s technically in his head because that’s what the curse does, it won’t kill him, just rot him. 

So immediately Jaskier realizes he has to leave home because every time he sees his parents and his siblings and his neices and nephews they’re excited and happy and loving. They’re quick to realize something’s wrong, but Jaskier knows they can’t see the way his skin is turning. He leaves without saying goodbye because he can’t explain.

He travels, avoids his friends and familiar places where he’s known. But when he performs his audience will tell him how wonderful his songs were and patrons will flirt and it’s all pain. It’s less painful to avoid performing, but harder to survive without it. But he can’t always bear the pain, it’s just too much sometimes.

He runs into an old classmate. He and Valdo were never close, several years apart in age. They chat, they flirt, they go to bed together. Valdo is sparing with his compliments, and very observant. Because Jaskier gets irritable with pain and too many nice words makes him lash out, but insults stir a fire in his eyes that Valdo enjoys. He thinks he knows what Jaskier really wants. He’s not sure how he feels about it, but Valdo can’t remember the last time he had a fling so interesting and contradictory.

They travel for a while. Jaskier becomes a backup for Valdo’s performances, getting a share of the coin to get by and minimal attention. It’s better this way, he tells himself.

One drunken night he tells Valdo about the curse. To Valdo it makes too much sense and it’s so tragic and the tragedy makes it more romantic. The relationship is downhill from there as Jaskier realizes the kind of situation he’s gotten himself into and how he’s becoming dependent on Valdo’s cruelty, and how much crueler it feels if Valdo says something nice.

He leaves.

He meets the Countess. She flirts with insults and thrives making people feel lower than her. She pays him a lot of money to play for her and takes him to bed and rarely has a kind word and if he avoids drinking too much he’ll never fall into the same trap he did with Valdo.

And then a song begins circulating about a poor bard cursed to long for pain and cruelty, who will never know love again. Which fucking hurts worse than any of this shit before, the message that he’ll never be loved again burns.

The Countess grows bored and kicks him out. He travels for a few weeks, to tired and burnt out to perform and goes through his money fast. He also had jack-all in the way of travel supplies, not even a bedroll, so it’s a rough few weeks after he can no longer afford a bed under a roof.

And then he meets Geralt on the bank of the Pontar. Gods it’s nice to focus on someone else’s problems for a moment. And then the fillingless pie comment, and it’s the first time in a Gods-know-how-long time that he finds no relief in the insult, only annoyance. And that old habit of bickering with Geralt kicks in because even if it’s been a few years they’re still friends. 

(Yes, they’re friends. I head canon that Geralt says they’re not friends 1. because he has obvious abandonment issues and self loathing problems, as the fandom well knows, and 2. every time he says he and Jaskier aren’t friends, Jaskier insists they are with more and more evidence to prove it and it makes Geralt feel warm and fuzzy. Eventually they had that conversation and Jaskier knows what Geralt actually means/wants to hear when he says they’re not friends)

(also Geralt has been plagued with insomnia for weeks or months on end, and I’m telling you, you would be cranky too. Not getting enough sleep gives me migraines, worsens my snow vision, makes my ADHD worse, and makes me irritable. That’s why Geralt is so grumpy on the river bank)

So for a few minutes he forgets about the curse and the festering rot on his skin. And then the djinn, and he’d really like to get back at the two people that have hurt him the most recently, and then break this stupid fucking curse already.

No such luck.

And after all the djinn nonsense, Yen makes the offhanded comment, “Where’s your cursed bard run off to.”

“He shouldn’t be cursed any more.”

“Oh no, he was cursed long before the djinn.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I didn’t see it until you left.”

“And you didn’t break it?”

“It wasn’t killing him. The djinn was. One problem at a time. The djinn needed to be solved before this curse.”

So, yeah, Yennefer and Geralt find Jaskier outside and they have a long talk about it. Yen needs a day to prepare for breaking the curse because she’s already used a lot of chaos today and she needs rest. (And those two idiots need to talk, she can see it and it’s giving her a migraine she needs to sleep off)

Jaskier tells Geralt about the last year or so of his life. It’s fucking shit.

The curse is broken. There’s no sign of rot on Jaskier’s skin, no pain when anyone says something kind, like “we are friends” and “I missed you” which is a relief.

But the emotional changes won’t go away overnight. Jaskier responds to kindness with hostility and takes insults in silence. And Geralt isn’t doing well watching someone he cares about act... act like Geralt. Self-hating and believing they need cruelty to be normal. And there’s no traveling therapist either. So they’re doing the best they can. But it’s a rough few years as Jaskier unlearns all that shit.

It kind of convinces Geralt to get his head a little more out of his ass and stop hating himself so much, realizing how painful it must be for Jaskier and his brothers and Vesemir and Yennefer to watch.

The mountain is just a really awful few days. Jaskier takes Geralt’s lashing with minimal resistance. A comment that it’s not fair is a vast improvement from 5-6 years ago, but nothing like his younger self would have responded, all puffed up dramatics until Geralt realized how ridiculous he was being.

Geralt and Jaskier have an awkward, stunted few days hiking down the mountain, during which Jaskier decides he needs to go to the coast and sort himself out. He’ll see Geralt next spring.

He goes home and spends that autumn with his family. It’s the most healing three months he’s ever had. The mage has long since left, and Jaskier’s not sure he’ll ever get that closure, but he’ll take what healing he can get now. He’s more like his old self than he’s ever been since the curse broke.

And then Geralt shows up on the edge of winter, limping with an exhausted child surprise and a wounded sorceress by his side. Jaskier gives them shelter for a few nights but they can’t stay, they’ll in danger as long as they’re stuck down south.

The night before they leave, Geralt and Jaskier talk, clear the air. Geralt asks if Jaskier is happy. He is. So Geralt decides not to ask Jaskier to join him. Yennefer is the one to ask, because fuck that idiotic bullshit and Ciri already knows him from a few winters spent at Cintra and adores him, and he’s already great with kids, a skill Yennefer and Geralt can’t claim yet.

Jaskier’s family supports him, of course they do. He promises to return home soon.

* * *

So like, I was going to pose this as a writing prompt and offer it to anyone who wants to write it. I didn’t intend to develop it so much, but getting it out of my system helped a lot. I needed to get all those ideas out.

If it speaks to you, feel free to run with it, but please include a link to this original post or mentioned me. My ao3 is Shadowmightwrite17

(yeah, tbh, that nightmare still haunts me. I told my parents about it immediately, but I didn’t open up about it to anyone until last summer when I told my best friend about it. I was like, “did I ever tell you about that one nightmare I had where my skin was molting off my arm?” and he was like, “no. no you did not. wtf” But there was also a thing last week when I read a vaguely body-horror sentence in a Witcher fanfic about something moving under your skin and I remembered again, so like, I needed to talk about it somehow)