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twiistedgalaxies · 4 years ago

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Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

“Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

Geralt blinked, “What?” This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

“...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill.

“I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

“Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

“The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

“Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius.

He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain.

Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him.

A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

“Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade.

Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

“Hm?”

“I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

“She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

“Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

“You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

“Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

“No,” Geralt said resolutely.

“Huh?”

“I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years ago

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Hey!! Was wondering if I could get some Dib x reader where the reader is a really ‘popular’ likeable kid at skool and Dib has liked them for a while but feels they’re “unattainable”? (Basically every high school romance movie ever lol) thanks!

I had a lot of fun with this one! It ended up being longer than I thought it would haha.

It was a crisp autumn day, dead leaves crunching under your feet. Although it was dry in the moment, there was this feeling in the air that threatened a downpour. You stood behind your friends when they came to a stop, watching them with your hands stuffed deep in your pockets, feet shifting, the only sign to display your discomfort. Your eyes followed the notebook that was being tossed between your friends, a simple black spiral book, appearance only made special by the strange eye symbol scribbled in paint marker that adorned the front. Wicked cackles escaped your friends as they continued to throw the book around as if it were a football.

"Give it back!" Ah. And then there was Dib. The strange boy in your class that went on and on about aliens and saving the earth from Zim, your other absurd classmate. He took another jump, swiping his arm out in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was his. His fingers gently grazed the binding, only to be yanked back by his trench coat at the hands of Torque Smacky. This was what qualified as a middle school prank. Admittedly, you had thought it was a bit funny at first. That was until your friends began to run to the edge of campus, spitting hurtful words back at the clearly unathletic Dib, who was wheezing and struggling to keep up with your group.

"Soulstealers? Chupacabras? You are actually insane." Jessica laughed as she flipped through what seemed to be his personal supernatural journal.

"This is why nobody likes you, Dib. You're a freak." Smacky shoved him hard, his body colliding with the chainlink fence. You winced at the rattling it caused and the look in his eyes as he hunkered down into himself, slouching against the fence. The one thing you could say about him was that he was not one to give up easily, if at all. And yet, he looked defeated, deciding to take the lickings and wait until they lost interest. You couldn't take it anymore.

You were always well liked by everyone. Everyone adored you and your pleasant attitude, always gravitating towards and revolving around you as if you were their sun. And although you stood behind those that you called your friends, you couldn't just sit there and watch how they treated Dib. He was definitely out there, sure, and maybe you didn't understand everything he said, but there was a line you had to draw. He was never hurting anyone. If he wanted to believe in aliens, who were you to stop him?

"Guys, that's enough. Knock it off." You spoke up for the first time in that encounter, snatching the book from Jessica's hands. Your friends, whom most would label as 'the popular crowd', all stared at you. Not necessarily in anger. More so shock. "Here." You tossed the notebook back to him, lips moving in a silent 'I'm sorry'. His hands fumbled the book, almost dropping it as he too stared at you with disbelief. Why would you help him? Weren't you friends with those who antagonized him?

"Thanks-"

"Shut it. Just feel lucky they stepped in." Smacky retreated a few feet back from him, glaring at him all the while.

"Let's go. It was getting boring anyways." Jessica turned swiftly on her heel, every one of your friends following her. Glancing one more time at Dib, you nodded to him, a movement that was so slight it was barely noticeable. Without another word, you jogged after your friends, catching up with them quickly.

Dib was left standing there, still leaning against the fence, notebook still clutched close to his chest. His mind was now full of questions, which was no different from its usual state. Why would you be nice to him? No one was ever nice to him. Especially not the popular kids. He began to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you weren't as bad as the kids you spent your time with.

High school. Sometimes media would try and convince you that it was supposed to be some magical experience that would change your life, that your entire character could be rebuilt from the ground up. If that were completely true, why had everything remained an almost exact carbon copy of the way it's been since your earlier days? Sure, you had changed a little bit. Different music taste, new style, trivial things like that. But, your friends and position on the social ladder? Exactly the same. You had stayed in the popular pool, friends still adoring you, and despite questioning their actions and morals many a time, you adored them as well. If anything, you were more popular than ever.

Dib had also remained the same. Always squabbling with Zim, causing a scene, being made fun of and ostracized daily. He was still the local loser, but at this point he was owning it. He never did have the patience to be someone he was not. That was one thing you admired about him, one thing you could never be. You didn't think anyone you were close to could ever truly be themselves. The only thing that felt different about him was his more 'fuck you' attitude to those who antagonized him. He still wouldn't fight back, but he had developed a tougher skin, almost paying no mind to any insults. He knew what was right in his mind, if no one would believe him, their loss.

Over the years, you had many classes with Dib. You had grown rather fond of him, at the very least he believed in something that wasn't ridiculously vapid. And, despite coming off as a bit of a nervous dork in some instances, he was surprisingly self-assured, for the most part. You were proud to admit to yourself that you looked forward to see him almost every day.

Twisting the knob on the classroom door, you let yourself in, eyes resting on the familiar dark-haired nerd, his face taken up by the same large glasses he's had for as long as you could remember. Waving, you approached his table, watching him straighten up almost immediately.

"Morning, Dib. How're you doing?" You always liked to ask him how things were going for him, knowing that he never was given concern very often. No one in your class would ask him how his life was, his sister, at least to you, seemed to not care, and from what you knew, his dad was some prestigious scientist that was always busy.

"Hey, Y/n. And, um, I'm doing alright! What about you?" His smile was bright, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. You felt a giggle escape you as you witnessed this. Every morning, despite having the exact same routine, he always seemed to be taken aback that you were asking how he was doing, that you were even the tiniest amount of invested in his life.

"Fine, I guess. What about your ghosts and aliens?" You weren't sure that you believed in all of that crap, but if he took an interest in it and he wasn't harming anyone, who were you to stop him? "Oh, and I want an update on that werewolf you found in your trash." Remembering the story he had told you yesterday, you figured you would ask for a follow up to show your genuine encouragement.

"Oh, that! Uh, well...it turns out it was just some really hairy homeless guy rummaging through our garbage, but...as for aliens, I watched Zim's robot eat a baby. That was equal parts disturbing and intriguing." He shuddered, having flashbacks to whatever went down last night.

"His dog that he brought to pet day last year?" Thinking back to that day, it was a little strange. All hell broke loose, his dog going absolutely insane. It was a blessing he didn't end up destroying the entire school. Only the east wing. Lady luck was on your side that day, that was for sure.

“Yeah, GIR. The lip smacking noises really made it horrible." A cringe settled onto his features, and you felt it spreading to yourself as well. As much as you didn't believe that Zim was an alien (he was definitely odd and uncomfortable, that you would admit), you could see his dog consuming a human child.

"Geez. I'm sorry I asked." A chuckle fell from your lips, wishing to move past the disturbing imagery brought on by his response. Luckily for you, your teacher had announced the start of class, sending you back to your seat without having to think of a subject change.

"Tired of your charity work yet?" Jessica asked as you sat down in your usual seat across from her. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you pulled out your notebook and pencil, choosing to ignore her comment. You had always hated the abysmal way your friends treated Dib. So what if he was a bit weird? You felt bad for him, he had no one to talk to besides Zim, and he ate lunch with his sister every day. "Come on, please don't tell me you actually want to be his friend."

"I never said that...it's just...he seems so lonely." Ever since you could remember, you had been surrounded by friends. It was near impossible to hate you. You had never known what it was like to be all on your own, cursed to be a lone wolf. To you, it seemed that being alone was all Dib had ever experienced.

"He deserves it. He's a freak." Her answers were short and snappy as she tired of the subject.

"Does he?" Did anyone deserve to be lonely solely for being a little off beat? You were the only one of your friends, hell, even the whole school, who seemed to disagree with her notion. The social outcasts and rejects wouldn't even associate with him.

"Look, Y/n. I like you, I really do. We're friends. We have been for a long time. But if you become his friend, people are going to start talking." Your gaze fell to the tabletop, tired of this not-quite-argument. "You're too nice. I know you pity him, but think about your standing here. Popularity comes with a price."

"I didn't ask to be popular, okay? And at least if I were his friend, my social circle wouldn't be full of a bunch of dicks and stuck up bitches!" You spat, patience completely snapping. Jessica sat in a stunned silence, her eyes wide. That was the first time you had ever actively stood up to her. After a moment, you realized you were just a tad harsh, although she did deserve it. She was still your friend after all, and in her own twisted way, she was trying to look out for you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We can talk about it later at lunch. Just calm down, alright?" Jessica brushed stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her nose deep in her textbook for the first time in months. Sighing deeply, your eyes drifted to Dib's seat. His glance had already been on you, so you had managed to catch his eyes. His shoulders tensed from being caught staring, color creeping up his neck to his face. Before he could turn away, your lips quirked into a slight smile as you waved to him. It took him a second to register, but he returned the wave, a dorky grin plastered on his face. Again, you just couldn't see what was so bad about him.

"Dib, I swear to god, do you ever listen to me when I speak? You break my immersion-"

"You break my face. Yeah, I know." I laid on the couch, watching my sister play whatever VR game she was into at the time. All I did was start to ask her a question, I had barely gotten one syllable out before she cut me off. "It's important, I swear."

"Let me guess, Zim is eating waffles again?" Her voice was irritated, and I'm sure inside that head of hers she was wishing me to be dead.

"No, actually-"

"He's hiding in his toilet? Ooh, or maybe he's trying to work the toaster." Okay, so maybe I interrupt her for admittedly meaningless things sometimes. Fine, a lot of the times.

"This has nothing to do with Zim!" Now I had her attention. She hesitated for just the slightest second before she resumed playing again.

"Oh? This had better be good, Dib." Her voice was no longer threatening, rather it held curiosity. Although she would never say it to my face, she was intrigued by what I had to say.

"I need advice." Now, normally Gaz would be the last person on earth I would go to for this kind of thing, but I had already tried my dad, and lesson learned, never seek romantic advice from a man who is married to science. So, I had already exhausted pretty much all of my options. The internet was surprisingly not much help either.

"On what? How to stop bothering your sister?" Her words didn't match her tone at all. Besides, I knew that if she really wanted me out, she would remove me by force. I was suddenly beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, Gaz was very much...how to put this lightly...not romantically inclined. Still, she was my only hope at this point, and really, all I needed was someone to vent to.

"I was thinking more along the lines of cliché high school romance?" My voice became higher and quieter as the sentence went on, and I was just barely cut off by Gaz's groan. Despite her attitude, she powered off her headset out of her own volition, which meant she was definitely interested in whatever I had to say. I pushed myself to where I was sitting up, Gaz falling back onto the couch next to me.

"You're joking, right? You're asking me for advice?" I couldn't believe it either.

"Just hear me out?"

Fine. But if it's stupid I'm leaving." I already knew she wouldn't say no, but she still had to pretend it was a chore to listen to me.

"Okay, so you know Y/n, right?"

"The popular kid? They're so out of your league, Dib." She sounded condescending yet not surprised. I figured she had caught me staring at them at lunch multiple times. I had probably been pretty obvious about it. Thinking about that made me cringe, because Y/n most likely knows I stare at them all the time. If they didn't already hate me before, I'm sure they do now, they probably think I'm some sort of creepy stalker. Well, that's not the worst thing I've been called at school, so I'll take it, I guess.

"I know! And I told myself I wasn't going to fall for them, but I did. They actually talk to me though! Every morning in first period, and they wave to me in the halls, and god they have the cutest smile-"

"Dib! Okay! I get it, you're in love or whatever."

"I never said I was in love! It's just a crush. There's a difference." I watched her roll her eyes so hard I thought she might be transported to another dimension. Even I knew deep down I was lying through my teeth. All the little things had made me fall deeper into whatever my infatuation with Y/n was. Every glance, every little quip, every greeting...they all made my heart flutter and I would feel sick to my stomach every time I thought about them. It was a satisfying kind of sick, though. I knew I had been carrying these feelings for a long time. They had always been the first, if not the only, person to stand up for me when the teasing became too much. Of course I was going to fall in love, what else was to be expected?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But, do you even talk to them? No, you don't."

"So?" She was right. I never went out of my way to approach them. We would share short and simple conversations, but only when they spoke to me first. I was always too scared. They were the only person who could make me nervous and doubt myself anymore. The reasonable part of me told me that if I just went up to them, they would welcome the conversation. But, something was always stopping me. I held them on a pedestal, so much so that I believed making any move at all to be impossible. Y/n for me is unattainable, someone I was never meant to have. They were part of the untouchables, the most popular and worshiped kids in school. I'm just the freakshow who attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. And yet, something was pushing me to just reach for it.

"You're going to shoot your shot, aren't you." Her voice was flat. It wasn't a question. Rather, a statement that we both already knew to be true.

"Well, you know what they say. If you shoot for the moon, you're bound to at least land among the stars."

"I don't think that applies to this, unless your version of 'among the stars' is being taken out behind the school and beaten until you see stars." Ah, Gaz. Always so encouraging. What would I do without her?

"Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Of course! It's a terrible idea! But, it would be kind of funny to watch..." A smirk crept onto her face, which would have been unnerving if my thoughts weren't already racing to think of how I would even accomplish this.

"So, you're in?"

"I would never miss a chance to watch someone kick the shit out of you."

Without a doubt, you were spaced out. To the point where you barely noticed what had been left behind in your locker, almost crushing it with your multiple textbooks.

"What the...?" You pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and a note from your locker, even more confused than when you first saw it. For starters, you weren't sure how it had gotten in there in the first place. You were sure it was locked and that no one knew the combo. Unless someone broke into it with brute strength or some advanced skillset. If that wasn't enough to drive you crazy, the note was anonymous. No name, no nothing. It was typed as well, so you couldn't even analyze the handwriting if you wanted to. The contents of the note contained a love confession, and you weren't quite sure where to even begin with suspects. There were many people who had crushes on you, some even within your own friend group. Even still, the note was odd. It sounded like nobody in particular, the wordage making it seem like it could be from anyone and no one at the same time.

"Hey, Y/n. What'cha got there?" Jessica came up behind you, eyeing the flowers with intrigue. The two of you were back to being on good terms. This was how your friendship normally worked, for as long as you could remember anyway.

"A secret admirer, apparently." You mumbled, handing her the note to read. Clearly, the person had no intention of outing themselves. They were hoping for you to catch on. From the tone in the note, you guessed it had to come from someone who felt they had no place in confessing. That could be anyone, for literally any reason. Maybe they were your best friend, or a social reject.

"No way! We have to find out who this is."

"I dunno, they seem to be trying really hard to keep their identity a secret."

"But what if it's someone hot?" She poked you in the side, her face pleading with you to let her assist in finding out who left the gift as she passed the note back to you.

"But what if it's Zim?" You doubted it was him. As far as you were concerned, you pretended he didn't exist, and he seemed to hate your guts, which was completely fine by you. The two of you burst out laughing as you put the flowers back in your locker so you could retrieve them after school. "But, maybe I don't want to know."

"Lame." She huffed as you began your walk to class. You folded the note, stuffing it deep in your pocket. You hated that you knew you wouldn't be able to let this go. You felt the need to solve the mystery. Although you had no clue where to even begin, there was one person you hoped it would be from. He was your main suspicion, even though a part of you wondered if that was due to wishing for it to be so.

"Can we please just be lowkey about this? If I decide to pursue this, I want to keep it hushed. Word spreads like wildfire here."

Well, you were absolutely right about one thing. Word travels fast in high school, especially if it's drama. Left and right, you had people asking if you had found the unknown Romeo who had broke into your locker. You were disappointed but not surprised. You had expected Jessica to talk. Her lips were about as tightly sealed as a window in summertime. So far, everyone had their own theories. The wildest one you had heard was that it was from one of your teachers. You were immediately disgusted with that, and how desperately you desired to unhear that statement.

Nevertheless, you had started to feel more confident in your own personal favorite guess. There had been one certain individual who was particularly silent through the whole matter, almost uncharacteristically so.

Lunch time. The perfect time to gain confirmation of your theory. Tray of borderline unedible garbage in hand, you strode to your usual table, which seated all of the school's finest and most elite in terms of the social ladder. Instead of taking a seat like everyone expected, you continued to walk, not stopping until you reached the very last table in the back, which sat only two: the Membrane kids. Setting your tray down, you took a seat across from Dib, who stared in utter shock and amazement. The sister looked up from her Game Slave, glance so brief you weren't entirely sure if it had even happened. Without a word, she rose from her seat, leaving the lunch room completely, most likely to continue playing in the hallway. Let's face it, no one was going to eat the shit they served anyway. You hoped he would say something, anything that would be incriminating. However, only the usual din of the cafeteria could be heard, the occasional murmur of your table switch slipping through.

You couldn't handle any more of the surrounding clatter of trays, laughter, and indecipherable words, so you decided to speak. "Hey, Dib. You like mysteries, right?" The poor boy looked helpless, red up to the tips of his ears, eyes refusing to meet yours.

"Sure..." You could feel his knee bumping the table as he bounced his leg at about a hundred miles per minute. You had him right where you wanted him, and he knew it. You both did. In that moment, you knew it was him. It had to be. He was acting even stranger than usual. Based on his behavior, he knew you had cracked the case. Thinking back, it should have been fairly obvious from the beginning.

"Well, something strange happened this morning. And since mysteries are kind of your thing, I was wondering if you could help me?" You were trying to coax him into saying the words you needed so desperately to hear. And yet, he was so stubborn.

"Alright, I could, you know, give it a go, I guess." Maybe he wasn't stubborn, maybe this was him playing out his last hope that you still were clueless on who it could be.

"I found something interesting in my locker this morning. Some very pretty flowers and a lovely little note, but unfortunately, it was anonymous. So, I guess I have a secret admirer on my hands." By gauging his reaction, you could tell he wasn't about to relent any time soon. He nodded his head, lips pursed in a tight line.

"Well, that's a tough one." Vague answers, saying as little as possible. You were getting nowhere, and would be getting nowhere. He was really going to make you say it, wasn't he?

"Yes. I have my suspicions. Would you like to hear them?" He didn't respond at all, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He still wouldn't own up to it. You decided to give him one last chance to confess, saying no more and staring directly at him. Hoping the pressure would bring him to spill, you thought your breath would catch in your throat when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you do the math homework last night?" His voice was almost an octave higher than normal, and there was a slight wobble to it. You could only fix him with a glare. Unbelievable. He was trying to get out of this by changing the subject. There was no way in hell you were letting that happen.

"I know it's you, Dib."

"Oh...you do?" His voice was so soft and faint that you had to strain to hear it. His eyes fell to the floor, as if trying to will a wormhole to open beneath his feet to swallow him so he could be anywhere but there in that moment.

What Dib was expecting to happen was for laughter to spill from your lips, followed by you telling him that you could never in a thousand years like someone like him, that his chances were below zero.

Some pearls of laughter did escape you, but it wasn't malicious. Even Dib, in his most insecure and vulnerable state could see that. Throughout the day, you were itching for this confrontation. You hoped it was him, you wanted it to be him. Not so you could throw it back in his face. This whole ordeal brought you to realize that you had somehow caught feelings for him as well. Your morning conversations about spooks, although mildly concerning at times, made your day, and you appreciated how passionate he was about his interests, even if you didn't completely understand them.

"Who knew you were such a dorky, hopeless romantic?" You didn't think it was possible, but the blush that stained his face darkened at your words that were broken by giggles.

"So...you liked the flowers? Or were you just saying that?" His eyes finally met your own for the first time in what felt like ages. You could see he was slowly relaxing, although to him it probably felt as if he were still walking on eggshells.

"Of course. I'll put them in my room when I get home." His lips pulled back into the cutest smile you had ever seen, and you thought your heart had melted on the spot. "Can I see your phone?" You blurted out, embarrassed of yourself. What ever happened to playing it cool?

"Should I be concerned?" A hint of worry crept into his voice, but regardless, he pushed his phone over to you. Taking it, you opened contacts and input your number, adding a small heart next to your name. As you glanced around the lunchroom, eyes had started to become glued to you. You had been sitting there much too long, and many were taking notice. Standing up, you slid the phone back to him, taking your uneaten tray in your hands.

"Call me sometime." Those were the final few words that were spoken as you made your way back to your usual table, leaving him to sit and stare in disbelief. As lunch drew to a close, you would shoot Dib occasional looks, waving happily whenever you caught his eyes. You let yourself dream that this was possibly the beginning of some blossoming high school romance. In your position, you had your pick of virtually anyone at your school. Nevertheless, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be your secret admirer.

#dib membrane #invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim one shot #invader zim fic #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #request

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partnersatfazbear · 4 years ago

Text

Analysis of The Real Jake (SPOILERS)

I can't decide whether to make this post a stream-of-consciousness style or group it into evidence for x... but since it's easier, I'll just write my thoughts as I go. Although a lot of this is factual ties to, say, FNAF 4, things like relating Margie to Henry are just my own headcanon and you can do with that what you will AKA don't take this all too seriously, but have fun with it. There’s also specific notes about Michael Afton, for those that just want to know what was said regarding him (presumably).

Before I start, please note I've had three hours of sleep in the last... 28 hours? IDK I can't math, especially not on this little sleep. So, there may be errors. I tried to make a note on things I was unsure about, too.

Note: I wrote this before the Evan=CC theory was all but confirmed. Although I believe this theory from the logbook, I think a lot of these notes are still valid.

Read my notes under the cut:

Margie shares similar physical appearance to Henry: Pg 84 “The window fan blew a lock of her shoulder-length brown hair across her upper lip so it looked like she had a mustache.”

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned: Pg 86 “...it had been four years since his Mom had died...” (Jake is 9 in the story)

I notice when Scott mentions plaid. Pg 87 “...a green-and-blue plaid plush chair...” I mostly wanted to note this since canonically, Henry had a green plaid shirt.

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 89 “And you know he thinks about you [Jake] all the time?” “So, he has to concentrate on what he's doing... ...I don't want him thinking about me and end up shooting himself in the foot or something.” Pg 102 “Yeah, I did. [I spilled some chocolate ice cream] Right on my shirt!” Pg 122 “I did that today! [While playing a DDR like game, breaking a shoelace.]” (Admittedly, I only counted these because I headcanon William is much more of a bumbling fool than he appears. It comes up very often as you can see... although you could write it off as Evan just trying to relate to his kid.)

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 92 “...Margie was pretty sure Evan couldn't afford to replace a washer and dryer” and “...Evan, at his rank, could barely afford her” Pg 110 “Gillian's house shared stlying with Evan's, but hers was probably four times bigger.” (Again, I headcanon William and his family is on the low end of middle class, if not lower, in terms of income. Particularly, the house is cramped.)

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned. Pg 93 “First, Jake's Mom was killed.” Pg 139 “The mom's dead.” (You could infer that she died via something akin to a car crash in the context of the story, however if you reflect it to the games given the commonalities, I like to think of this as confirmation that William murdered her, given the word 'killed' is used.)

Margie records herself on her cell phone. Pg 93 (and on other pages) (Again referencing my headcanon for Henry, in which he records ideas/diaries often. At minimum, Henry is referred to as “Cassette Man” in PizzaSim so... I just thought it could make for an interesting comparison.)

Jake mentions his “friends”. Pg 99 “Patty and Davey... Vic... and the twins... Ellie and Evie... Kyle, Clay, and Garrett” (Also, he isn't mentioned until later, but there's his best friend Brandon, too. I noted these in reference to CC talking about his 'friends', either IRL or the plushies. I assume his IRL friends are the MCI victims. The number doesn't add up though. I really, really wanted to make a connection about the twins, considering Charlie and Sammy are twins, but there wasn't enough evidence to write it off as anything other than a coincidence. Also... Clay, really? We need another double name in this series? Ugh.)

What's your favorite flavor? Chocolate Pg. 102 “What flavor did you get?” “Chocolate. Duh.” (This is a stretch, but it did remind me of Help Wanted's final level in the main game, where you're asked to choose your favorite cake flavor. Although, they're discussing ice cream here.)

Maybe some insight into William's personality? Pg. 103 “You ever do that, Evan?” “What?” “Let off steam.” “Me? No. Steam is pretty much what keeps me going.” (Just more evidence that William is obsessed with his work. You could imply “steam” implies he runs like a machine, but that's stretching a bit.)

Pg. 113 -118 (Jake climbs out of his window to run off to play at the arcade with his friend. Obvious parallel to the child in Midnight Motorist, although it's daytime and no animatronics/fursuits luring him.) There is this, on Pg 121 also. Jake says, “We played all the racing games. I love racing games.”

PURPLE Pg 121 “...did you get a slushie at the arcade? I got one. I got grape. It turned my tongue purple.” “My tongue's purple, too!” “Purple power!” (Uh, do I really need to explain this? I should note that Evan is the one mentioning “grape”. I guess William likes grape flavor and purple.)

'Michael' is mentioned. Sort of a stand in for Michael Afton, but it should be noted that Michael and Evan are brothers in this universe. Pg 126, 127 “Michael...lived in Europe for a few years...” “Michael's a serious dude. He's, well, a little different. He's intense about making money...the way he is about it... can make him seem like he's not human.” “So, he's like a cyborg with bad programming?” Michael has some dialogue: “You must excersize caution. You could get chocolate on my suit, and that would be bad. Very, very bad.” (The very very bad thing is a running joke in the family, which is why this comes up. I don't have a lot to say about it, though. I think Michael [Afton] being obsessed with money seems a bit counter intuitive to how we know him, but who knows? I also want to note that Evan doesn't seem antagonistic towards Michael; in fact, he “hate[s] to ask him for favors”.)

Also, Pg 141 “His [Michael's] flat, gruff voice was unmistakable.” Michael is also the first one to hear his father is dead and informs Margie about it. “I have been notified that Evan's dead.” Pg 142 “She had only met Michael the one time, and she knew the way he processed the world was very different from what was “normal”” Michael also states to Margie: “I've got Evan's will... you're Jake's guardian and he left you the house and some savings. I'm the executor.” Margie also says: “He[Michael]'s a numbers genius, manages money for the wealthy people and has made a killing doing it.” “He's not a bad guy. He just doesn't know how to connect. He doesn't feel the way we do.” (Just more Michael characterization.)

Direct FNAF 4 easter egg references: Pg 128 “...the IV stand lurking in the corner of the room” Pg 129 “...and the line of perscription medication bottles marching across the top of the chest of drawers”

Margie is more than a nanny and possibly in love with Evan: Pg. 139 “She'd come to love Evan, too... like a brother.” Pg 140 “...she was included in the outings, movie nights, game nights, and storytelling time...” Pg 149 “...she wanted Evan to be more than just a boss, and being in his room when he was gone made her feel like a lovelorn stalker.” “Love him like a brother... She snorted. Boy, had she been lying to herself.” Pg 158 “What she was feeling called for a screaming fit or a total mental breakdown.” (Yeah, this is just me reading too much into this for Willry content, haha... But still. I am determined that Margie is a Henry stand-in.)

'I will put you back together' Pg 140 “I'm trying to bring you home whole.” (Evan is discussing “no man left behind” with his son, Jake. I think this is obvious.)

William's home office? Pg. 149 “When he was home, she'd go in and vacuum or put away laundry... ...when he was gone...coming in here felt like an invasion of privacy.” “Evan's room would be her room.” “...I'd feel like I was sleeping in your bed, she thought.” “...the room felt discretely masculine.” “The walls were covered in family photos.” “The shelves were stuffed with fiction... mysteries to classics, nonfiction... how-to books...from rebuilding a car engine to planting a garden.”

FNAF 4 reference. Pg 152 “Outside, a dog barked.” (You can hear a dog barking as ambient noise during nights when playing FNAF 4.)

Other notes:

It happens a lot, but one of the main things in the book is the doll Simon and how Jake talks to it. This is very blatantly a reference to the Golden Freddy Plush (“Psychic Friend Fredbear”). The story confirms it's Jake's father, Evan, talking through it. Although it makes the one scene in FNAF 4 a little wonky (the only scene where we see Purple Guy), I think it's pretty much confirmed that it's William talking to CC now. Obviously, we already suspected this due to Sister Location's “Secret Room”. In this story, Evan says he did it because he wanted to give Jake some hope he would live. Combined with both the IV/medicine bottle easter eggs (in the story and FNAF 4) I think it's plausible to assume that CC was taken home after the Bite of '83 for a period of time before he passed away. I will admit, also, that Evan definetly comes off as a very caring father (in comparison to how we presume William is based on what we've seen of him as a person; although I argued this before on this blog, I don't think William hates his kids. I think he's neglectful, moreso as the story goes on. I think he resents Michael for many reasons but I won't go into that here. I just don't think he's the abusive monster the fanbase interprets him to be—at least not early on.)

The cabinet reminds me a lot of the closets in the novel series. A built in shelf with a doll in it. A doll that represents a child. Considering Margie tends to this doll (see Pg. 130-135), I have to draw more parallels between her and Henry.

The fan is mentioned A LOT. I don't really know why, but I guess we can't help but think of every single FNAF office when it's brought up. Specifically, on Pg. 106, Margie mentions the fan in her room is as loud as a jet engine and the sound made her nervous. Once again, I'm reminded of PizzaSim. Seriously, screw you fan.

The heat is mentioned a lot, too. I know the story takes place in summer, but this did remind me of Pizza Sim.

Pg. 93 “Margie sat down in the faded blue webbed lawn chair that was set up, for reasons she never understood, in front of the shelves by the stairs.” (I noted this because it's specifically called out and I don't know why.)

Margie talks about why she's working for Evan: Pg. 95 “I didn't get the internship I applied for.” I like to think her and Mia (from 1280) were after the same internship. (I may be misremembering, but I'm pretty sure Mia mentioned an internship at the hospital.)

Jake is mentioned to have brown hair, green eyes. His favorite color is green. He also wears green often. I couldn't find anything really interesting about it. It would make more sense as a Puppet reference, tbh (because of the green bracelet (and eyes? I may be remembering wrong) I guess it's also worth noting that Elizabeth has green eyes.

Pg 135 “Are you afraid people will think you're murdering me?” “...I could end you so quickly you'd never make a sound.” (Just an odd conversation between Jake and Margie. Margie is joking here, obviously.) Also, Pg. 136 “I just figured your [Jake's] wires got crossed or your circuits were frying.” (Admittedly, I don't know what to make of this. Could be a reference to Robot-CC, if you believe that or MikeBot [I don't], but more likely just ironic dialogue. It could also reference Jake's future in the Stichwraith?)

Pg 139 “Sometimes, Margie wished she was like one of the robots Jake liked so much.” (Although I can't really compare this to Henry, I did write William with this mindset and thought it was worth mentioning.)

Pg 141+ So, Evan dies overseas (he's a soldier). (I think this could be hinting that William has been springlocked around the time CC passes away. Jake has been home for some time after his diagnosis so we can infer based on that and the easter eggs that CC was brought home to die in peace. At the very least, William's probably very absent during this time. Possibly brought in for questioning but not arrested. I don't know. I feel like there's something to this.)

Pg 154 “Dave's at work.” (Why? Can we not use established names? Aghhh)

Pg 155 “The ambulance arrived at 11:32.” (I don't know why this is stated so outright. I couldn't find a reason, except that a few paragraphs earlier they say it will arrive by noon. I don't know why it's so specific, but I felt like noting it anyway.)

Pg 159 “Five people. Five sets of eyes. And none of them noticed...” (Yeah. We all know how important 5 is in FNAF.)

Three medical personel are mentioned. One at the end is named Nancy [No Last Name Given], but I like to think its a reference to Man in 1280 and we're dealing with Heracles Hospital once more, although it's never said in this story. Speaking of, the only thing that really stood out to me in 1280's story was that a billionare funded the restoration of the hospital. I like to headcanon that was Henry's doing—I imagine him obscessing over overcompensating for his mistakes by giving back in every way possible, even if it isn't directly related to him.

So, this post only took two hours of my life. I hope someone gets some use out of it, be it for my intended Willry purposes or maybe those Michael fans that are curious about it. If you enjoyed this post, let me know. I'd love to write up more of these if I have the time.

I have other write-ups on this blog, too. Just search fnaf theories on my blog page!

#fazbear frights #spoilers #blackbird #the real jake #michael afton #william afton #henry emily #crying child #willry #helliam #fnaf 4 #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fan theory #fnaf theories #fnaf theory

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ihaveatheoryonthat · 4 years ago

Text

For obvious reasons, I’ve been poking around my MSA folder again. This is an old piece (circa 2016/pre-Hellbent) that I think is interesting, but that I know I’m never going to finish. It’s piecemeal, but hopefully there’s enough to enjoy!

The problem with being a supernatural entity on a team of paranormal investigators was that, inevitably, someone would figure something out.

That was hardly an issue for Mystery these days, since his status was something of an open secret among his humans (both living and deceased), but it did make things uncomfortable around other groups.

Such was the case now, and he watched silently, head cocked to the side in classic canine fashion, as a woman whispered something urgently to Vivi. She was hardly subtle about it, the way her eyes kept darting over to him, and, privately, he wondered why she even bothered keeping up the pretense if she honestly thought he was more than just a dog. Certainly she realized that any sentient being would recognize when they were being talked about.

Whatever the blonde said, Vivi laughed it off and made a sweeping gesture, trying to dismiss it. To Mystery, it was painfully obvious that the other woman had hit upon the truth, but, then again, he knew her. The stranger didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded and walked away-- though not without glancing back at them over her shoulder.

Perhaps trying to sell the part, Vivi closed the gap between herself and Mystery to ruffle his ears. He thumped his tail against the ground a handful of times and nipped at her sleeve.

---

Mystery raised his head in satisfaction, preening under the woman's incredulous gaze. It was put to an abrupt end, though, when one of the other investigators screamed. There was an answering gasp from behind them and, without looking, he realized what had happened. Everyone had been so focused on the main problem that--

"Aw, shit." Arthur breathed, looking at the empty air over his shoulder.

"I can't believe we forgot about that."

---

"Lewis, I truthfully do not care how that spell affected your projection, and if you had any common sense, you would realize why that is. If we don't get out of here right now, one of those ghost hunters is liable to catch you, and then what? We may know you're harmless, but I can guarantee that they won't take so kindly to the idea." / "Don't make us tell your family that you're gone again. Not over something so minor."

And, finally, the ghost relented.

While he'd already had a good idea what the spell had done, Mystery hadn't thought to prepare himself for the impact the glamour failure would have. He'd had all the information, true, but it didn't always play nice with the memory of his humans, and seeing Lewis as he'd been at the moment of his death was surprisingly difficult.

Perhaps guessing as much, Lewis raised his arms to block the worst of the fatal wound from view.

It was a nice gesture, but, ultimately, pointless.

"Come, now." Mystery whispered, dismissing the urge to say as much, "The plan is to meet Arthur and Vivi at the main road and leave before any of our friends here think to ask any more questions. I thought it best to let them do the convincing without any-- ah-- 'suspicious' influence, and, unfortunately, that means you and me."

He set off at a brisk pace, trusting the ghost to follow in his (ahem) wake. If it had been Vivi or even Arthur, Mystery might have been more inclined to keep an eye on them for fear of someone getting sidetracked or sheer dumb luck putting them in a tight spot, but Lewis floated dutifully along, still awkwardly trying to hide the bloody hole in his chest.

Maybe it was silly, but Mystery had to wonder at irony of the situation. Ignoring all signs of death and his own aura, what would the outside observer see? A dog calling the shots and a young man following them. It fit, he supposed; of his humans, Lewis had always been the most agreeable.

He snuck a sideways glance, eyes lingering on the gap that had torn halfway through the ghost's throat, and turned away so Lewis wouldn't notice the resultant grimace. Without knowing the specifics of the spell, there was no way to tell how long it would interfere with the ability to project an aura that wasn't so… gruesome. For a group of inexperienced youths, the range would be limited, but whether it was a matter of time, distance or any other variable was a complete unknown. If worst came to worst, there was sure to be a counter-spell somewhere, but that wasn't an ideal solution.

Mystery was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost yelped when a finger hooked under his collar and a steady arm swept him up, deeper into the undergrowth. While he refrained from doing anything quite so undignified, he was hardly thrilled with his new position a good five feet in the air, being held like no more than a puppy against Lewis's side.

With the clumsy crashing that sounded from up ahead, he recognized why the ghost had seen fit to make them scarce, but he was fairly certain that there were other ways to accomplish the same goal. Dryly, he looked up to see what Lewis had to say for himself, but all he got was a nearly inaudible "I panicked."

Mystery exhaled slowly and squirmed until he was set back on the ground, by which point the dull beam of a flashlight made its way along the main path, illuminating each tree in turn.

"--sure, Abby? If it could fool paranormal investigators for so long, it has to be a powerful spirit. The closest we've ever come to an actual haunting was just psychic residue; are we really ready for this?"

A pair of girls strode into view, the speaker nervously sweeping the flashlight's beam from side to side while her companion chewed on a strand of hair, eyes raised to the barren canopy in thought, where they reflected the scant moonlight.

"Your eyes." Mystery hissed in sudden alarm. When he looked up, the offending glow was focused on him. "They'll see--"

A piercing yelp suggested that his warning had come a fraction of a second too late. Had they not been sneaking through a woods pursued by excitable ghost hunters, it would have been funny how Lewis not only closed his eyes, but covered them with both hands and whirled around to face the opposite direction, the same way he'd play hide-and-seek with his sisters. As it stood, Mystery had more pressing matters to deal with, mostly concerning the pair of young women brandishing a flashlight in their general direction.

Though, if he knew humans-- specifically paranormal investigators-- well enough, there was one easy solution that came to mind. Admittedly, it had Vivi written all over it, but of everything Mystery could call himself in this form, A Very Loyal Dog was high on the list; it would be a gamble, but he felt it would be worth it.

In one fluid motion, he leapt away from Lewis and landed lightly several feet away. His impact with the ground made a satisfying crackle as the dry debris gave way beneath his paws, drawing the light off course towards where he was hidden.

"W-what was that?"

"Definitely not what we're looking for." The second girl sighed after a second to process the emptiness, though her expression was fixed firmly between relief and panic. "You see how high up those eyes were? You probably scared a raccoon with that flashlight 'a yours; you're deadly with that thing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. What kind of ghost kicks up a racket like that?"

The ghost in question was still hiding the glow of his eyes, but the way he had his shoulders hunched up told Mystery that his little stunt had successfully scared Lewis. Good. That made them even.

He crept nearer, any noise camouflaged by the way their would-be pursuers trundled along in the opposite direction, and brushed lightly against Lewis's leg to announce his presence.

"Sorry, I panicked."

Lewis cracked one eye open and gave Mystery an unimpressed look, but didn't bother to say anything about the transparent jab. That was another crisis averted-- if a minor one, compared to what had already happened-- and there was no use in arguing with results.

Neither breathed another word as they continued towards the grove's edge or even for the first few minutes that they idled at the tree line.

Ears swiveling as he listened for any suggestion of human activity, Mystery kept his eyes on the vehicle parked further up the road. It was likely where the two women they'd encountered had entered from, but it wasn't exactly empty; the cab light diffused into the darkness, revealing the vague outline of a person hunched over a book. Despite himself, Mystery's mind wandered to Arthur's crusade to keep Vivi from draining the van's battery the same way-- which had, more or less, devolved into convincing her to drape herself over Lewis instead.

Not that she needed any excuse.

Speaking of Lewis, he had been assigned look out duty. This served two purposes: one was so they'd actually know when to act and the other was that, if his attention was focused in the opposite direction, there was very little chance of him getting them caught because of that blasted glow. It had been a flimsy excuse and, like the joke earlier, it was obvious that the ghost had seen through it. Mystery was fairly certain that he'd been sulking over it for the past five minutes.

It wasn't that Mystery enjoyed poking fun at his humans, but they could just be so funny at times.

"Headlights." Lewis said quietly. After a second, he added, "Definitely Arthur and Vivi; that mud is still stuck to the left one. You don't think that guy over there is going to be any trouble, do you?"

Mystery picked his way over and glanced down the road before turning back to the potential troublemaker. "I don't want to find out. Let's just eliminate the risk and admit ourselves without making them stop for us."

"You want me to phase us through the van?"

The dog flattened his ears, but nodded. "Not my first choice, I assure you, but at the speed Arthur's going-- or lack thereof-- it shouldn't be a difficult task to accomplish."

Lewis mimicked the gesture and, belatedly, Mystery realized that he'd been pressing his arms against the phantom wound again, like he was trying to hide it from a nonexistent audience. He let the behavior slide this time-- though it did make him wonder about the earlier 'sulking'-- and stayed quiet as Lewis gathered him up and launched the both of them at the slow moving vehicle.

They wound up barreling through the windshield and tumbling to a halt in the back, eliciting twin shrieks from Arthur and Vivi, the latter of whom clamored halfway out of her seat to stare into the hold. Even in the darkness, her smile lit up her entire face as she asked, "Couldn't just wait for us, huh?"

"Arthur, speed up." Mystery said in lieu of a greeting, "We don't want to have any more friendly chats tonight. Vivi, sit properly and put your seatbelt on. And you," He rounded on the space Lewis had to occupy, based solely on the magenta glow. "That wasn't quite as horrible as last time. You're getting better at this."

"Hurray." He answered, amusement creeping into his tone despite the heavy layering of sarcasm. "I'm getting better at being dead."

"Oh, just take the compliment."

Reluctantly, Vivi wriggled back into her seat, head swiveling as she watched the stationary vehicle temporarily light up only to go dark again a second later. The detail didn't escape Arthur's notice, and he spared her a quick look. "See? That's why you use Lewis as a reading light and not the van."

She stuck her tongue out at him before leaning backwards, trying to look into the hold upside-down. "You make a better reading nest than this old thing anyway."

"Hurray." Lewis repeated, though the effort was foiled by the laughter that bubbled up before he'd even gotten the word out.

"You guys are so lucky you got out of the 'intervention'." With one hand, Arthur let go of the wheel to add the obligatory scare quotes. "Those people just wouldn't take 'no, we've got it covered' for an answer. At least we aren't like that. Anymore. Were we ever like that?"

Mystery snorted, finally turning his attention from the rear window as the last trace of the would-be ghost hunters disappeared into the night. "You don't want me to answer that."

And, for awhile, the ride lapsed into a comfortable rhythm. Mystery found his way into the front seat and curled up between Arthur and Vivi, listening to the conversation: complaints and rude remarks about the latest venture, debate over the usage of incense in the van, thinly veiled accusations of Deadbeats hiding important tools and, of course, heated discussion over the radio station.

It only lasted as long as the drive did, but that was better than nothing.

As was often the case, the rest stop they pulled into was deserted; given the hour and location, it was hardly a surprise. The light emanating from the post Arthur parked next to was dim, but enough to see by so long as one was in the van's front.

Vivi abandoned her excavation of the glove compartment-- dropping their abused map and an equally battered notebook she used to track investigations-- and made a desperate bid for freedom, bursting out the passenger-side door into the night.

"I can breathe again!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and grinned lopsidedly at Lewis as he pocketed the keys. "Weird how fresh air is such a commodity here. Any idea why my van smells like an aromatherapist's office? Any ideas? I'm stumped."

His grin tapered off when he realized that, instead of vaulting the front seat to join them, Lewis had shrunk back into the body of the van where only his eyes were visible. It was a far cry from how he'd been leaning backwards against the seat to socialize just minutes prior.

Briefly, Arthur's eyes flicked to Mystery, who stared back at him evenly. It was supposed to be a non-answer, but it told him what he wanted to know. So, keys jingling in his vest pocket, he hopped back into the van and knelt on the seat, mechanical arm hanging limply over the backrest as he leaned into the other.

"So. Today was fun. Plenty of paranormal activity and active paranormalists to keep everyone entertained-- some of us more than others." At the lack of any response-- beyond vague agreement-- Arthur sighed and abandoned his perch entirely, slipping behind it into the hold. "It's what that lady said, isn't it? Listen Lew, you know Vivi and I don't--"

As though summoned by the sound of her name, Vivi called, "Oh boooooys," and ran the length of the van, tapping at the siding with her nails. She stopped at the back doors knocked on them in rapid succession, waited long enough to serve as a dramatic pause, and threw the doors open with a cry of "Come out, come out and plaaaay!"

Arthur winced as the doors creaked on their hinges, and was about to remind Vivi 'easy does it' when he noticed something amiss. Blindly, he reached into the darkness after Lewis and pulled his hand back when it encountered something sharp.

"I was way off base; it wasn't what that girl said, it was the spell. What's wrong? What did it do to you?"

"Spell?" Vivi echoed, brows knit together and previous mischief forgotten, "What spe-- oh. That spell. Don't worry so much, it was just for true sight, and it's not like there's anyone around to see."

There was a scuffle from up front then the sound of paws on asphalt and Mystery's voice rang out before he even rounded the corner of the van. "Exactly, it's nothing to worry about. Arthur, might I suggest that you, Vivi and I take a walk?"

"What. Is. Wrong?"

The dog winced and looked to Vivi for backup, but found none. "Nothing's 'wrong' per se…"

He went safely ignored as Arthur and Vivi shared a look and, in unison, turned to stare into the shadows.

"How 'bout this: we find a place to talk and work all this out?"

There was a beat of silence and the magenta glow disappeared as Lewis sighed, "That's really sweet, Vivi, but I'd rather not."

"Why?"

"I just-- don't want you guys to have to see this. Go ahead and get some fresh air; I'll be fine here."

Vivi sighed and puffed her cheeks up. That made things substantially harder. If Lewis had convinced himself that he was doing this for her and Arthur's benefit, he wasn't going to budge on the issue. Not even death had managed to interfere with the force of nature that was Lewis's protective streak.

Still, she didn't understand the first part. What was there to see? True sight swept illusions away and kept them from being reestablished; even if the skeletal projection was Lewis's natural state-- and she knew for a fact that it wasn't-- there was no reason to hide.

"Please don't press the matter," Mystery said, leaping up into the back. "It will resolve itself. If it makes you feel better, I'll stay here and play 'guard dog' while you're away."

Her frown didn't lessen, but Vivi shrugged. "Who needs 'away'? We have full rein of the parking lot and all the fresh air we can handle-- that's good enough for me."

"You don't have to--"

Arthur snorted, cutting off a protest he'd heard dozens upon dozens of times in the past. "You keep thinkin' that, bud. Say it enough and maybe you'll convince one or two of the Deadbeats. Maybe."

As though he expected that to summon the wispy ghosts, Arthur glanced around and, assured that the little troublemakers weren't about to play any trick on him, blindly reached out to find the wall of the van. Once he successfully located it, he leaned back and slid down to the floor in an undignified-- but comfortable-- heap.

"So how'd you convince Mystery to let you phase him through the van, anyway?"

Scoffing, the dog in question trotted back into the van's darkened innards, leaving Vivi standing, idle and alone, at the back doors.

That just wouldn't do.

'Alone' she could handle but 'idle' she could not-- not when she had an investigation log to update and a conversation to eavesdrop on. That wasn't to say that the conversation in back was a secret or that she wasn't welcome to join, but it was more fun to think that there was some element of subterfuge involved. Besides, she couldn't record the day's events and talk at the same time; the one time she'd tried it, the results had been indecipherable.

Even though it would have been nice to run around a little, she could think of worse things to do. She still got her fresh air as she scribbled away in her notebook, heels knocking against the van's siding as she absently kicked her feet.

All things considered, it was an acceptable substitute-- up until Vivi turned the cab light on to scrutinize the map.

Arthur immediately fell silent, which wouldn't have been entirely unusual, but there wasn't any follow-up commentary from either of his conversation partners or any other indication that somebody had said something strange enough to render the lot of them speechless. Confused, Vivi straightened up in time to see Lewis scramble to cover the gaping hole that tore through his chest. It was a doomed attempt, doing nothing to obscure the dried blood caking his vest or the other, more minor puncture wounds. If anything, it only served to prominently show off the tip of a stalagmite that had, somehow, lodged itself in his arm.

Vivi felt her jaw drop and, on their own accord, her hands flew to her mouth.

"S-sorry." The ghost said, stubbornly refusing to meet anyone's eyes as he hugged his arms tighter around himself. "Sorry. It's pretty bad. I didn't want you to…"

Despite having gone so pale he looked ill, Arthur picked the abandoned train of thought up on Lewis's behalf. "Have to see it. Yeah. You mentioned that." / "Wh-what happened? Are you, y'know, okay?"

As promised, they found him at the picnic area across the parking lot. He was sitting at a table full of Deadbeats, chin propped up on one hand as he skimmed through one of Vivi's tomes. In theory, all of that was perfectly fine.

In actuality, five of the six wisps had seated themselves properly on the picnic benches while the sixth threaded itself through their leader's torso, staring blankly at the open book but still looking completely thrilled with the situation.

Lewis didn't even seem aware of it until, in his haste to cover the wound at their approach, he flipped the book upwards and hugged it to his chest. The offending Deadbeat phased through it, squeaked in dismay, and retreated.

#ihaveatheoryonthat MSA #mystery skulls #writing scraps

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bucketslutz · 4 years ago

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Get Out the Way

Chapter 1: The Huntress

Summary: You were successful as a bounty hunter for a while, and now as a skilled fighter working in an arena. You were craving excitement, until a Mandalorian crosses your path and offers you the opportunity to help bring his kid back and avenge the death of someone you lost long ago. Working with the bucket-head, though, isn't going as smoothly as you thought. Will it all be worth it in the end?

You can read Get Out the Way on AO3 here.

Warnings: 18+ only pls, violence, gore, language, bounty hunting, enemies to lovers sorta, slow burn af, banter, grogu in danger, AFAB reader, badass female reader, yes reader is a bounty hunter, smut eventually but for now they hate each other

Your lip tears open after the butt end of a weapon collides with your face, and a steady flow of bright red blood begins its path down your chin. The Devaronian, armed with a vibro-ax, snarls at you through stained teeth and spins his blade in his hand. Despite the pain and the, seemingly, winning 200 pound opponent gaining on you, a smile crept on your face. Letting him think he had the upper hand was fun. You hated to ruin his party, but you had a job to do. You stole a quick glance from a familiar face in the roaring crowd and he gave you a nod. Returning the gesture, you finally quit fucking around with your toy and ignited your dual shockwhips, whipping them around your head before they meet the floor with an electric crack. The Devaronian’s face fell as your whips narrowly missed his horn. He raises his weapon and ignites its energy chord, attempting to appear confident and in control of the fight. You almost laugh, as if that’s going to do anything, you say to yourself. He charges at your left side, and you dodge his attack effortlessly. You duck when he attempts to swing around at your head. You roll backwards and swing your whip at his leg. It wraps around his calf and you yank your weapon hard resulting in him landing on the floor with a clunk, your whip shocks him, immediately knocking the Devaronian out cold. The crowd erupts in a mixture of whoops and boos, emitting from humans and miscellaneous species alike. The rings filling the arena signal that you won the round.

Your unignited shockwhips return to your belt and you wipe the blood off your face. Departing from the ring, you try to ignore the incessant, nagging voice that calls your name and light footsteps that trail behind you. Finally deciding to entertain the source of the call, you stop and place you hands on your hips and stare up at the ceiling, huffing in indignation.

“Darling, y-” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can finish the thought.

“I told you not to call me darling,” you correct him, as if it was a common occurrence, then continue your journey to the bar hardly paying him any attention.

“Right, of course,” your sponsor corrects his previous statement by saying your name and follows you closely. “You were wonderful tonight, as usual. I’m always confident that you’ll make it out on top. But my patrons on the other hand, don’t like when you, how do you say, play with your food. It takes them out of the experience, makes it feel like they’re watching a choreographed show instead of a bloody fight.”

You hop over the bar and reach for the spotchka below and it lands on the counter with a harsh clank. You pour yourself a snort and down it with ease. Your sponsor was a lame excuse for a human being, he only existed to gain profit. And right now, to him, you were his most profitable investment. He was shorter and weaker than you, hence why he kissed your ass every second of every day. He didn’t want to meet the end of your wrath. The measly halo of white hair on his head and leathery, wrinkly skin did not help to make him look more intimidating. He looked to be two seconds away from death every day, so you had no problem walking all over him.

“Gundi, I seriously don’t give a fuck what your patrons want to see. You should consider yourself lucky to have me working for you. I could go back to the guild whenever the hell I want. Don’t push your luck.” You lift your bag from the ground and swing it over your shoulder. You slide over the bar and pat Gundi on the head when you land on the ground. He was like a trained dog at this point, you reward him by not killing him each time he decides not to step on your toes. You extend your hand out to the weasley man and he sets a sachet of credits in your palm. You close your fingers around your profits and hear it cling in your hand. You listen as Gundi sighs dejectedly once you exit the arena.

Admittedly, you really can’t go back to the guild whenever you want. You need to make a viable living, and Karga hasn’t given you a well-paying hunt in months. There’s only one person on Nevarro who he gives the best paying jobs to, and you’d rather not step on that bucket- head’s toes. So you’ve resorted to what would be a bounty hunter’s equivalent to prostitution. It wasn’t your best option, but there were no real challenging opponents on this stupid rock anyways so each fight felt more like a light workout than a real battle. But it was easy money, so you shouldn’t be complaining. Wincing as you entered the bathroom, you inspected the cut on your lip carefully. Maker, how did you let that nerf-herder lay a blow on you at all? You could’ve killed him in your sleep. Maybe you’re just bored. Winning matches without any challenge gets a little repetitive after a while. You need some more excitement in your life. Like in the early days of your bounty hunting career, you landed gigs with ease and collected bounties as if you were made for the job. After a while though, Greef didn’t want to give you anymore high-profile hunts. You didn’t even need your weapons for the bounties Karga started giving you. The excitement was gone as quickly as it came. After applying some bacta to your wound, you left the bathroom, then Gundi’s slimy establishment soon after.

You whipped through the streets outside the arena until a familiar scent assaulted your senses. You followed the scent to a local vendor selling various meats. You toss some credits at the vendor in exchange for some skewers of the meat. As you begin the walk back to your apartment, out of the corner of your eye you spot a small figure sitting in an alleyway. You stop and turn your head towards a little girl clothed in a dirty, torn dress. You approach her carefully and she meets your gaze. You crouch to her level and you can see her eyeing the food you just purchased. She looked to be starved, so you handed her a couple skewers of the meat along with a sachet of credits. The girl’s eyes light up and she smiles widely at you. You stand up and watch as she disappears into the alleyway. You really don’t like kids all that much, but she reminded you of yourself when you were young. You thought maybe a small act of kindness might help her get on her feet; an act of kindness you wished you’d seen when you were her age. You didn’t like to think about life back then, it wasn’t easy and you had to do a lot of things you didn’t want to do. Some of which a little girl should never see. But when you’re desperate, about anything sounds better than an empty stomach and a restless night on the street. At least it made you scrappy, appreciative of what you have now. Despite being a failing bounty hunter and a sellout, you at least have a roof over your head and credits in your pocket.

The trek back to your apartment felt heavier than usual. The weight of an unfamiliar presence plagued your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched. Whoever it is, you could take them anyways. Maybe it’s the voyeur in you, maybe it’s the part of you that longs for excitement, but you almost welcome the presence. The door leading to your apartment slides open and you step inside. Immediately feeling that same presence, you hesitate to turn on your lights, sensing that they’re watching you from the shadows. You flick your lights on and immediately draw your blaster from your holster and aim it at the figure in the doorway leading to your bedroom. The Mandalorian remains unmoving and unarmed. What the fuck is he doing here?

“Put that down,” he commands, breaking the silence. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“I’m not sure I can do that, Mando,” you assert, confidently. You look the man up and down and subtly admire the beskar armor. “I know you’ve been following me. You trying to get rid of your competition, shiny?” Your blaster remains aimed at the beskar clad bounty hunter as he crosses towards you in two steps.

“If I wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead already,” the Mandalorian remarks, still unarmed and showing no indication of hostility.Unfortunately, he was right. Knowing his track record, you would’ve been frozen in carbonite before you even made it to your apartment. So now you’re stuck wondering what he could possibly be doing here, if he’s not collecting a bounty.

“Alright, Mando,” you continue snidely. You return your blaster to its place in your holster and cross into your kitchen. “What could you bucket-head possibly want with little old me.”

“I need your help on a mission. I’m prepared to compensate you substantially for your skills,” he says.

“The mighty Mandalorian needs my help? Wow, I’m flattered, but I don’t work well with others. Trust me, you’d be better off on your own.” You reach for the spotchka in the cabinet over your head. You take a swig from the jug as you brush past the Mandalorian and into your living room. You sink into your couch and set the jug down in front of you on the coffee table.

“I saw you fight tonight at Gundi’s. You’re too good of a hunter to be in that hell-hole,” he says, taking a few steps towards you again, his boots hitting the ground hard with each step.

“If this is your way of trying to butter me up, shiny, then it’s not working. I work there because Karga won’t give me bounties worth my while anymore. The man has no faith in me, so fuck him. I can make twice the amount of credits in a week at Gundi’s than Karga would give me in a month.” You take another long swig from the jug of spotchka and kick your feet onto the coffee table, settling further back into your couch. “And what could I possibly do for you on your mission that no other guild member could?”

“Wraak has my kid, I need your help to kill him and get my kid back.”

The blood drains from your face and your palms become clammy. That’s why he wanted your help. Who else would want Wraak dead as bad as me? You thought to yourself. Mando says your name, “You’re a skilled hunter, you’re worth more than whatever Karga gives you. I’ll put in a good word with him if you come with me to get my kid back.”

“I never pegged you as the paternal type. This kid has to be pretty special if Wraak wanted to get his hands on him,” you remarked, attempting to seem together but in reality you’re kind of losing it.

“He’s important to me. I can’t get him back alone. You of all people should know what Wraak does to people who mean something to someone.”

You remained silent. Kill Wraak. You could kill Wraak. You don’t even know what to say anymore. You’re just staring at the floor dumbfounded. The perfect opportunity to kill that bastard has just been placed in front of you on a silver platter and you’re hesitating to accept the offer. Why? What’s wrong with you? Is it your pride? Do you want this to be something you do completely on your own? Without the help of a Mandalorian? Just take it. Accept the offer and kill Wraak.

“I leave tomorrow at 21:00. If you wish to join me, meet me at the Razor Crest.” …

I’m not going. It’ll be a waste of time. Mando is a pain in the ass anyways. You repeat your mantra as you wrap your fists in preparation for your fight tonight. You rest your hands on the sink as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You’re too distracted, you probably shouldn’t be fighting tonight. But what would you even be doing anyways if you weren’t fighting? Certainly not flying through the galaxy with a Mandalorian in search for his son and in the process gaining justice for an unjust murder. Yeah right, you would never. But what’s stopping you? You’re not afraid of Wraak, you hate him too much. And you’re not afraid of Mando either, he has already made it apparent that he doesn’t want you dead. Why can’t you just suck it up and go on this mission with shiny? Leaving the graffiti-covered bathroom, you attempt to shake those thoughts from your head.

You glare at your opponent when you enter the ring and roll your eyes at the Gamorrean attempting to appear intimidating. Dank Farrik, you could be doing better things right now. This is a waste of time. Maybe Mando won’t be as big of a pain in the ass as I think he will be. You’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for ages. What’s stopping you from leaving this lava rock and blasting Wraak into oblivion? That does sound kinda nice. He took so much from you. You’ve always felt the burden of his existence since your last encounter with him. You thought you’d never see him again. At this point in your life, you just wanted to move on. But you can’t and it kills you every day. It feels like the last piece of the puzzle would be to confront him; make him feel the same pain he made you feel all those years ago. After all these years you've spent running away from your past and trying to forget what hurt you, the opportunity to finally gain closure has just presented itself. But you now have to confront the very thing you’ve been running away from for so long. Maker, there’s nothing more you want than for Wraak to get what’s coming to him. Even if it means having to deal with Mando’s strange presence. He might not be so bad. What’s the worst he can do? It’s not like he could take you down, except he can. But you try not to think about how easily he could kill you given the opportunity. There’s nothing keeping you here anyways, you can do better than fighting Gamorreans in Gundi’s slimy arena.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the bell ringing and a feisty Gamorrean charging at you. You roll your eyes again having made up your mind and quickly step to the side and jut your foot out, tripping your opponent. You watch as he lands on his face and you apply pressure to his neck with your foot so he can’t get up. The bell rings signifying you won the round. Wasting no time, you exit the ring and snatch your bag up that was sitting just outside. This time, you don’t stop when Gundi calls your name. You don’t have time to deal with that creature, if you stop now you won’t have time to grab your gear from your apartment before getting to the razor crest.

Holy shit, you’re actually doing this. You’re finally going to kill Wraak after all these years. And with the help of a Mandalorian. This has got to be the weirdest fucking thing that’s happened to you. Well, besides the time you hooked up with that Gungan. But you were drunk so it barely even counts.

…

Shit. You have two minutes to get to the razor crest. You’re practically running to the shipyards now, hoping he didn’t decide to leave early. Aren’t Mandalorians people of their word? Or something like that? You can’t really be bothered learning about those bucket-heads anyways. But there is some sort of appealing mystique to them, why do they keep those helmets on all the time? Are they secretly a really ugly alien species? Are they actually high tech robots under there? But at the same time, you really don’t want to know what Mando looks like. You’re confident that he’d never want to show you his face, and you’re confident that you’d never want to see it. You’d feel like you’d be invading his privacy by stealing a glance at his face. As much as you hate admitting it, you kind of admire and respect Mando. He’s an incredibly skilled hunter and effortlessly strikes fear into complete strangers. It makes you wonder why’d he’d ever choose you, out of all people, to join him on this mission. It’s honestly kinda flattering. He thinks you’re a skilled fighter and that feels good. He’s intimidating and damn good at his job. No wonder Greef gives him all the high paying jobs. But you’d never tell him that to his face, or well, to his helmet. Maybe working with him won’t be so bad. You might get to know the mysterious man who lives in that armor.

Out of breath, you reach the hunk of junk Mando told you to meet him at. He’s standing at the top of the razor crest’s ramp setting down a couple of camtonos inside. His helmet turns to face you and you can only assume he’s making eye contact with you. Not wanting to be the first to speak, you simply nod and adjust your grip on your bag. He returns the nod and points to the pile of camtonos sitting outside the ship, indicating that he wants you to load them up.

“We leave once you get those in the hull,” he states simply. He turns and disappears into the crest. Welcome aboard, you tell yourself as you begin grabbing camtonos and stacking them in the hull of the Razor Crest.

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gladio-to-meet-you · 5 years ago

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Sharing is Caring (ft the Chocobros)

This was actually pretty fun to write, when I figured out how I was gonna go about it! It was a bit easier on me too, so I may be looking into doing more of these short lil pieces.

Feedback is always welcome! ♡

There isn't much that resident chef Ignis won't eat; he even prides himself on this fact. However, there are foods that he knows his girlfriend really likes so he'll share his portion of that particular food with her without hesitation. Since she never gets a chance to ask, he just casually places it on her plate without drawing unwanted attention, flashing her a soft smile before he turns back to his food. It started becoming a pretty regular occurrence a few months into the relationship, which was admittedly after she'd cutely asked him to share a couple times while they were out and it's decidedly a cute thing in his eyes.

The lovable blonde photographer isn't the pickiest eater of the Chocobros, but he does rank second out of them. He's changed his eating habits since he first met Noctis, but that doesn't mean he likes everything he eats. If he can get out of eating something he's not a huge fan of, you can bet that he will. Thankfully, his girlfriend is basically a human garbage disposal and will eat what he won't. Compared to the other boys, their habit of sharing food started pretty early. It was on their first date that she caught sight of the tiny frown he made at something on his plate, it was gone from his face pretty much as soon as she noticed it, but she didn't let that stop her. She spoke up, asking if there was anything on his plate that she could have that he didn’t want. He thought it was the sweetest thing ever and swore he would do his best to keep her in his life from that point on. Anytime they go out to eat now, Prompto orders something, keeps it how it was described, and let's her take from his plate what he doesn't like before he digs in.

The Prince is the pickiest eater to ever exist and while everyone around him is used to it, it can still be a bit of an annoyance when they go out to a fancy restaurant where everyone inside is expected to behave a certain way. With his aversion to most anything that's not bad for him, he's loathe to even touch what he won't eat. So if his order isn't made the way he requests, he'll nudge his plate across the table in the direction of his girlfriend without saying a word. By this point in their relationship, they've been together more than long enough for her to know exactly what that means, so she'll pull his plate close to her's and start taking the things he won't eat and put them on her plate. It started becoming a habit about six weeks into their relationship when he'd look across the table at her with his puppy dog eyes, which she couldn't seem to say no to, and ask her to take the vegetables in particular. Noctis sees it as a bit of a regular thing, it doesn't quite come across as romantic, but he adores her for putting up with him.

The Shield to the Prince is one of the least picky eaters to ever exist. He knows that even if he doesn't particularly like the taste or texture of something, there is some sort of benefit to eating it. His meals are usually very balanced, except for when he's left on his own for snack time and then it's nothing but Cup Noodles, which his girlfriend has come around to. Even though he's not picky, he'll let her get first go at his meal when they go out to eat, so if there's something she really likes, she'll take some of it and just give him the brightest, cutest little smile that lights up her whole face. It didn't initially start out like that though... About a month into their relationship, Gladio would make a show of scooping something up on his fork and holding it out to her with his hand cupped under it to catch anything that fell. She wasn't big on public displays of affection quite like that, so he was quick to switch it up to avoid making her uncomfortable. It warmed his heart to watch her decide what she wanted from his plate, so if you asked him, it was definitely a romantic thing.

#ffxv #ffxv headcannons #ffxv headcanons #chocobros #ignis scientia #ignis #prompto argentum #prompto #noctis lucis caelum #noctis #gladiolus amicitia #gladio

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eldonash · 4 years ago

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meet in the ashes | graham&orobas

Summary: Orobas in the mists of trying to find Carrington, finds time to invite Graham to Bloodhaven. However, in his interrogation in the Outskirts for information on his missing friend, the newborns there decide they have had enough of his questions and attack the pair. It ends poorly for them.

Orobas stood on a lamp post, lean and long, with an impeccable suit and a dissociative stare down the dark road. The outskirts were always thrumming with strange energy. The scratching awareness of a ghoul coming out of a street drain, or the muffled scream from someone’s neck being crunched into, or the fast paced steps of someone just trying to get from point A to point B knowing they might have walked into a horror movie if they looked into the darkness. Orobas turned his ivory handled dagger in his hand, blood dripped down the blade, splatter on the lamp post flickering in need of a new light bulb, the red glass running with a bead then splattering to the floor. He had spent the night looking for Carrington and the other older vampire wasn’t to be found. So he was awaiting someone new, maybe to see if he could figure something out, maybe to see what this vampire could do.

So he was meeting a vampire. Well, he’d technically already met the one when he dropped by to pick up his beloved cardboard cutout of Jacob to harass his roommate with but Graham, as with most things, treated the exchange with an almost insulting casualty because relationships were for suckers. Well-- he… WAS a sucker but in the more literal sense-- never mind. He shook his head as he walked in the pools of light the posts provided as he knew less of where he was specifically going and more just wandering until his senses could pick up where this other vampire was. The Outskirts was… pretty big? He didn’t go there often unless he was having his… a moment. WHICH he’d been pretty good about all things considered since he moved in; the whole ‘not breathing’ thing found itself to be most useful. Unless… was that what this other vampire was anticipating on? Nooo, he couldn’t have known, could he? Unless there was a chain-gang waiting for them to swoop down on them. He wasn’t-- it was too soon for that, right? But what iffff THAT was the ‘delicious’ part of what the other vamp was talking about. Ugh, he hated these pseudo-moral dilemmas… Wait, was that his man? Out in the distance? “Yo!” He called casually regardless of whether it was or not, waving the other figure down.

The moon was high, and bright, lingering up behind him, casting long shadows, and showing the pockets of asphalt broken from disrepair. The shout drew his gaze towards the other and there was the smallest part of Orobas that wondered if this vampire was sent here to fight him-- but the tone, the casualness. This must be the one he spoke to, an uninfluenced one-- someone new. “Mhm,” he disappeared from view, the low fog in the area taking him away from sight, he appeared a few paces from the other, and reached out, grabbing a different vampire who was hiding and slammed them down on the ground. With a calm tilt of his head, he stepped on their wrist causing the weapon in their hand to clank on the ground. “Look at this,” he said darkly, the bones in their wrists breaking. “Hello Graham-- “ The old vampire glanced over, an eerie tilt of his head. “You might want to duck--” Five other vampires came out of the darkness at them. The introduction had hardly been formal when the duo found themselves in a scrap. Or maybe… wait was this a trap? Did Graham get lured into a trap? “The hell, man?” The question fell from his thoughts out of his mouth but no offense could be found in his tone as he did what he was instructed to and ducked, taking a fluid sidestep as he did so and his hands raised in a brawler’s stance instinctively as their party seemed to grow in the span of a few seconds. “I’m guessing these aren’t friends of yours,” He gave a cocky grin, his mind telling him that he would’ve been feeling an adrenaline rush right about now. Had he ever fought other vampires before? He hadn’t ever fought other vampires before. “So whose blood?” He asked, casting the quickest of glances at the ruby-coated knife, dodging one of the incoming bodies and retaliating with a sharp elbow to the back of its head as it passed by, an instantaneous motion that resulted in a ‘crack’.

“Bait,” Orobas answered easily. These vampires were young, thirsty easily with just the scent, and Orobas had to relish the craze they could fall in at this age. He was like this too back then, Haxian there to make sure he didn’t go too far, swell his stomach to the point it was bursting. Orobas had a gleeful grin now and moved upward off the vampire he dropped to the ground and positioned himself with a confident fighting stance. “Also, I’m trying to gather information. You see-- one of my companions is missing and I’m certain someone knows something.” Orobas ducked when another vampire came for him, their fangs out reaching. He grabbed their arm and sliced it in half with his knife, the vampire screamed and hissed at him, and Orobas holding the severed limb, used it to strike another coming for him. Orobas laughed at their pain. Not having moved from his stance. “This is the best practice too, letting people act and come for you will always give them the disadvantage. Oh, and this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Bait, huh? Graham kicked the small of the back of the one whose head he cracked and looked over to see Orobas using an arm as a weapon. “Aw, what? No fair, I want an arm!” He whined loudly to be heard over the screaming vampire and he glanced down at the blood again. Bait… Well, he didn’t feel any lust for vampire blood so he challenged himself to breathe, to ACTUALLY breathe, to take in the scent of whatever that blood belonged to and it surged through him, shivering down his spine like a nail on a chalkboard and he exhaled sharply, his long, sharp tongue lolling out of his mouth as he turned his torso to regard the one-armed vampire. “I said-- I want an ARM!” He snarled, his voice carrying through that he was smiling widely as he virtually pounced on the younger creature and yanked on its other arm as hard as he could, feeling that one smell of blood pumping through him like the best shot of adrenaline in the world. The vampire screamed more, oh how it screamed, but they were like music to Graham’s ears as he heard the splintering and popping of sinew and muscle tearing, bones separating and soon enough… “Now I too am WELL ARMED,” He said victoriously, holding the arm up briefly before holding it like a bat and swinging at another vampire. “SO! What’s this about some companion that’s gone MISSING?” He asked as the limb collided with the vampire’s shoulder.

Orobas didn’t step back, watching Graham pounce on the injured newborn vampire and take their other arm. His smile was dangerously still, frozen in pleasure that had his insides aching at the carnage. The sound drew a gentle worry to his lip, tongue darting out to dampen it. Orobas existed through countless wars and battles overseas, and here in the United States. He always found a draw to those bringers of violence and destruction, and could so easily be swept up in it; wanting more. Taking it too far. His old weapon was coated in human blood, the body tossed near a bush, their heartbeat weak but alive, a melody should one listen closely for it. The old creature looked down at the vampire who was in pain and screaming about it, as Graham jumped off to fight another. He regarded them, stepping on their chest. “Tell me, a name. Someone Carrington speaks too. I know someone knows something, even small.” The newborn stilled, their fangs out and eyes molten. “I know nothing!” they snarled. “Yet you are gaining so much experience from this fight. You see what happens when you run straight ahead? Tell me your masters name. I want to speak with them.” The vampire blurted it out, and Orobas turned to grab the neck of someone trying to run him through with a metal rod. The object just went into his side, ruining his nice shirt. The real monster within Orobas surface. His skin appeared almost papery thin, hanging off his bone structure as the graying and bruised look around his face, sunk in. The faintest sound of bats fluttering around could almost be heard, like his body would explode into a swarm with one blink. His eyes were a crimson that burned through the whites. “Fine--” his voice sweet as song, a cheeriness against the monstrous visage. He swiped out and decapitated the vampire. “You will all die by our hand then.” Despite how much fun Graham was having, he found himself getting distracted by the smell of the blood between each attack he made, starting to almost wander off in search for the source instead of committing to their fight. It was… problematic, admittedly but in his easily-distracted gaze was the sight of Orobas shifting into a swarm of bats. “Whaaaa we can do that, too??” He asked incredulously. His sire never told him THAT. He wanted to do that! He also wanted to take the vampire’s fingers, tear them off and put them between HIS fingers so that he’d be like… the Wolverine of fingers. Was that too much? That was probably too much so he lobbed the arm at one of the vampires and, hearing the word ‘die’, he took that as permission to stop beating and start killing, cupcake! He jittered with energy, his tongue flopping around like a dog in the wind as he danced around the makeshift battlefield, fluidly avoiding most attacks (he did get a nice swipe in the face, embarrassingly enough while another one ripped into his calf) and countering with his own punches and kicks. “I want to PILE DRIVE YOU,” He pointed to the guy that was rushing him, albeit with a little more fear than before, and they met in the middle in what Graham knew the other guy wasn’t calling a “welcoming embrace”. “So the guy’s name is Carrington?” Graham called to Orobas as he lifted the other vampire clean off the ground by the waist and did exactly what he said he was going to do, hearing the crunching splat of the vampire’s head against the ground like a melon. “I think he gave me a Jacob cutout!”

The chaos was so sweet tasting in itself, and though he hadn’t originally meant to kill these young vampires, he was also old enough to push his dominance over them and their masters should they want to keep delaying his search. Orobas didn’t actually understand what he was feeling. Not knowing where Carrington was-- he didn’t know him that well, they could barely be called friends, but the moment they spoke to each other, something tethered him. Likely them being so old, knowing what it felt like to be involved with slayers finding them and turning the tide to kill their families. They both knew ancient war, and pain in a profound way those born within peaceful era’s couldn’t begin to understand. A special kin. Orobas fought with an elegance, and used his age to his advantage. Disappearing and appearing behind people, above them, or using his speed to dismember with clean cuts to have them drop to the ground. At hearing the last line, over the crunch of a head exploding. The silence of the disposed of younglings, had him standing among the dust and a few more in the distance. “A Jacob what?” “It’s a, uh…” Graham snapped his fingers in mock recollection, his other hand running fingers over the fresh slices in his face boredly yet lightly. “Oh RIGHT,” He exclaimed, spinning on a heel and kicking a fourth vampire in the jaw, going in for a headbutt as the young wretch recoiled. “It’s a cardboard cutout. Like those things you see in music stores of Willie Nelson or what-the-fuck-ever,” He explained, suddenly stopping in the middle of the fight again, once more instinctively starting to wander in the direction of the body before forcing himself to stand still. “They’re usually about, I dunno five or six feet tall,” He continued, brow furrowing and holding up a hand as if for comparison. “Dude gave me one of that Jacob kid from Twilight - the run that turned into the wolf and had problems keeping a shirt on,” He tapped a finger to his chin, hearing an incoming attack and he moved fluidly, catching the outstretched arm of the assailant and swinging him up and over his shoulder where the young vampire landed with a heavy ‘thud’. “So if this WASN’T your plan,” He started, giving the other guy’s face a swift kick with his boot. “What was?”

Orobas had no fucking idea what Graham was talking about, but he didn’t let up air that he didn’t. He assumed, maybe, it was something the other picked up being that it was a cutout, but the show, movie-- whatever it was went right over the old creatures head who didn’t keep up with much entertainment and rarely watched any. Orobas was crashed into by two young, and very angry vampires at him, and he would need to find their master-- were they just making a bunch of vampires to see if they turned? Did that mean there were a bunch of spawn nearby too. What a nuisance-- Orobas in his entire life never made one vampire. The connection to personal, and the time never felt entirely right to aid them in their learning. He palmed the face of the one trying to bite into him, and shoved them aside, still standing in the same place, and stood on the fallen with a dust dress shoe, pushing his heel into their cheek.

The other he grabbed back, “same master, mhm?” The questioned was deeply laced in compulsion, though on a vampire it couldn’t work, Orobas’ tone was enough of a threat, inches close to their face. The muscles around their eyes twitched-- and he grinned, “okay. I will deal with this. Messy, messy. I don’t need slayers stopping by wanting to dispose of you. Though, maybe I could let them lob a few heads off. Get them to do the work for incompetent masters.” He shoved them and the vampire snarled back and then ran off, the one he was stepping on too was released and they scrambled up and tried to run away. Orobas frowned, but referred to Graham with a curious tilt of their head. It wasn’t a threat-- though it was clear he was still trying to figure the other out. “I actually brought you a bottle of blood from one of our favorite dolls. Do you know Justin Timberlake? Mhm, he is a guest of ours.” The younger vampire was still having fun and while he felt himself pacing to pursue his new prey anxiously, Graham didn’t give chase as Orobas let the remaining members go. He felt rabid, hands shaking as he took wide strides back and forth like a tiger confined behind a thick pane of glass. He eventually started to allow himself to wander like he wanted to do the whole time, searching for the source of the blood. He forced himself to stop however and tapped his foot on the ground, not trying to appear impatient but he could feel himself jittering still. He never could tell where the fever pitch was and when he started to lower from it but the smell had arrived and now he needed to feed. “Hmm?” He asked, less because he didn’t hear and more because he rose his eyebrows as if he didn’t know WHAT he heard. “I’m sorry did you say you have Justin Timberlake as a-- “guest”?” He asked, barely concealing the surprise in his voice. “Can I ask why?”

Orobas dusted his shirt, and seemed annoyed that another shirt got a hole in in before he responded. Closing his jacket, and putting his dagger in it’s holster under it he seemed elegant once more. Like he just stepped out of a CEO meeting, and was going for a stroll versus having gotten into a fight. He smiled with a gentle delivery, “yes, my master acquired him for us. He’s here writing music or taking a couple years off the grid. But he’s, mhmm, he’s delicious. I have a bottle for you to sample. It’s not something easily acquired without killing him-- but he doesn’t mind in the least giving us a few pints.” His eyes flashed dangerously and knowingly. Orobas walked a few steps, the tapping of his shoes to the asphalt moving the dusted creatures around in the air. Near the lamppost and in a bush laid the half dead human, slowly bleeding still with long gashes across his abdomen and wrists. Orobas looked down at her, “I’m thoroughly annoyed when vampires make so much noise here. In the past, I could move around easily. Being loud, killing sprees, they were fun. But here is here, and here is my home. Newborn vampires have no chill. Are you the same then?” there was a challenge in tone as if he was to compare Graham to the ones dusted-- “can you bear it?” Red eyes danced from the dirty, dusty ground to the older vampire that stood before him in a professional manner to where he found where the blood source was. The tone in Orobas’ voice certainly didn’t fly by Graham unnoticed and he cocked his head sharply, the bones cracking faintly in retaliation. “Bear what?” He asked, his own tone not taking a growl to it yet but he could feel where he would start to get hot if he still generated body heat. He started to pace around more, keeping his bright eyes on the other vampire in a manner that definitely insinuated that he wasn’t backing down from anything; fear wasn’t a concept he was familiar with, not anymore. If he was to die by this other vampire, then fine but he wasn’t about to stand here and be equated to the dipshits that just attacked them. “Bear you flinging blood around hoping to lure in a bunch of assholes that have no chill? Buddy, I don’t know how old you are but I was taught right out the gate that my sitchiation’s a little… different,” His nostrils flared as a human’s did to express emotion. “Was THIS your plan? To put me on the spot then make me feel like a dumbass by riling me up then holding what you promised above my head?” He asked, feeling more emotion being added to his line of questions. “Bear what? Tell me. I can bear anything.”

Mhm, you are interesting. Orobas has lived long enough to feel like he’s met every soul in existence. Not literally, but he could categorize certain souls into the same type and group them. He couldn’t help but want to know how his kin reacted, where their lines were, what they were capable of. He desired them to be strong, to be ruthless, to be cunning, and dangerous. Fear was power if you held it in your hands, and Orobas was a puppet master with it. Graham was someone he didn’t know, and yet he always felt a fight was a decent test to see what they were capable of. His eyes danced over and his smile was there, almost painted on like a porcelain doll. “No, I do not lie to my kin-- what I say is what I mean. It is a question that has an answer, it really is that simple. You shouldn’t feel like a ‘dumbass’. You are beautiful, rash, and seem to hold a lot of pride that makes you easy to get along with.” His truth and words were usually literal when it involved those of his own kind, but it could be difficult to believe it with Orobas stoic expressions and singsong tone. “The fact you feel frustrated by my inquiry tells me everything else I need to know.” Orobas extended his hand holding a key. “Would you like to see Bloodhaven then?” Well, nothing Orobas had used to describe him was wrong, per se and while he didn’t relax at the older vampires answer, Graham let a smile of his own onto his face once more, choosing to take the words at face value instead of spending time obsessing over what intricately-hidden meaning Orobas’ words could’ve meant; he used to do that before, when he had things to worry about and relationships he didn’t want to ruin with his reputation. Now, he WAS ruined and ruinous; that reflected in the rush through him, the pulse to consume and tear something apart. “No offense man, but I’d really like to see something living in front of my face so I can bleed it dry first,” He decided to be honest himself, the aggression towards Orobas leaving his tone and leaving only excited trembling, as if every word was being pulled deeper and deeper from the well of self-control. The restraint was starting to hurt. “It’s a thing and I know it’s really stupid and I’m sorry but I just… GOTTA.”

A soft laugh. “This one is almost dead, nothing much left. Come, let's find something. The outskirts always have treats around.” His eyes briefly fell on the woman dying in the bush, she was already unconscious, something else would probably eat her-- it was no mind. “Before the sewer creatures slipped out to grab her,” Orobas took off almost gleefully, his body disappeared from view and appeared in another spot up the road waving lightly. In his arms another person-- a struggling male with Orobas’ arm wrapped around his chest, the other over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. His chin playfully rested on his neck. “He’s gotta,” he purred into the man’s ear, teeth just scraping behind it. “Can’t help it. You understand right? You live here, you know why this is happening. Why you are going to die.” The man struggled more, screaming behind the enclosed hand. Orobas’ eyed Graham before he pushed the man forward. Graham didn’t mask his disappointment at the mention of his first option being nearly dead; slowed heart rate, the blood wasn’t flowing as healthily. Boring. He did, however, express mild curiosity when Orobas suggested finding something else - good, he needed something, anything, an addict desperate for the next hit. He followed the older vampire until the latter disappeared in a haze then reappeared elsewhere, and Graham whipped to find him quickly, only looking at the vampire for a moment before his eyes became fixated on the human he’d found. He approached in what could’ve been described as a prowl, almost bestial in nature as his long, razored tongue slid out of his mouth expectantly. His fingers twitched, his nostrils flared, the pulse rang in his head and the second Orobas let go, he was on the man like a dog being given permission to catch a treat that had been balanced on its nose. The two were on the ground in a heavy thud, Graham covering the man’s mouth just as Orobas did as his own mouth burrowed into his neck. He used his knees to secure his prey in place and his other hand tore at the skin around his chin and throat, getting blood on his fingers and drinking deep from the wounds in a much less refined manner than he was sure other vampires in the group did. Where a moan of pleasure might’ve been heard through the feeding, instead Graham purred with a guttural, otherworldly sound and it was quiet, reverberating through his Adam's apple, twisting around the squelching of blood against his lips and chin. As he fed, he could feel the pressure and anxiety dissipating; this was his only available target at the moment so he knew it would have to do. He burrowed deeper into the man’s neck like a gator to a fish, snapping tendons and chewing veins to destroy everything he could touch with his teeth. He wanted it to last forever so when it ended far sooner than he was wanting, he pulled back with a satiated gasp as though he were holding his breath, his face covered in the red liquid. “God, that was good.” He exhaled, tongue reaching under his chin and up to his lower eyelid. “Okay. Okay, NOW I’m ready for Bloodhaven,” He looked up to regard Orobas, eyes still burning red but no longer shaking with the manic energy that consumed him previously.

Orobas took a step back so his expensive clothes didn’t get splattered with blood. He couldn’t help but marvel at the messy way Graham attacked the other. So personal it was to bite victims, to use your teeth as the weapon to tear through flesh, tendon, and artery. Orobas knew the feeling intimately, but he’s always preferred a blade even to his own fangs. The face-- contained so much information. From pleasure, shifting to fear, to surprise, and Orobas enjoyed seeing everything happen in a fast shift. Pupils dilating, their gasps holding their mouth open. Ah-- it was-- just so much better than the carnage of burrowing his face into flesh. Just different, and that was what made their kind difficult to deal with it wasn’t it? So many types, so many ways to die by them. Orobas couldn’t deny it was a little erotic, the position, the sounds-- but his pleasure in it was hidden and savored as he smiled down at Graham. Countless ideas for him filled his head, like a loaded gun Orobas could point if he earned their trust. “There are not many rules, but I will warn you. My master is an Elder-- and Bloodhaven is under his protection. Should you cause problems-- problems being that you give our location away, or kill our blood dolls-- he is the one that deals with you. But it’s a place that is safe to crash if you need it and learn about your kind. Carrington--” he gritted his teeth with a tsk, “we are working on an archive. I just need to find him-- and if he’s killed I will find the one who did it. But welcome to our small club.” The younger vampire stood up with a small jerk or two of his body as he felt the rest of the tension sufficiently return to its dormancy. Graham wiped his face on the back of his hand and licked the residue off, glancing at Orobas with a sharp gaze as the latter spoke. A vampire lounge run by an Elder, huh? And apparently Justin Timberlake was there, too. All they were missing was Coldplay then it could turn into a cute little hipster hideout. “Thanks,” He said first, addressing the last sentence Orobas said first rather than trying to go forwards from the start. “I won’t tell a single soul about it; that’s not my style. Also I’ll leave the whole ‘blood doll’ thing to you guys - I’m not really the ‘playing with dolls’ type.” This would’ve been a nice segue into the topic he didn’t want to bring up but felt it necessary to mention. “Since your master’s an Elder, I’m sure he’s told you what an Upior is?” He asked, biting his nails to clean them, almost catlike in how he preened himself after his feeding.

“Being told and seeing is very different,” Orobas mused lightly with a shrug. Haxian and him have witnessed many dangerous vampire in their long life, some, they had to run from themselves or to find backup if they decided to come after them for being in their country. Not all vampires were friendly together, which was expected, and Orobas and Haxian were a duo that also very easily caused hostility against others if they chose. “I’ve seen many of our kind in the traveled world. How we all feed and kill isn’t important to me so long as it's not leading trouble to others who live here permanently. Outsiders will always be given a stronger warning for that very reason. Your bloodlust is quite intense. Long ago I’d have killed until I had to be carried off by my master in exhaustion-- so I understand the feeling. I’m too old now to feel that anymore, I’m a little envious.” “Oh good, then you know how much of a pain in the ass it is,” Graham replied, finishing cleaning his face off and checking his clothes to see how much blood got on them, surprised to find that it wasn’t that great of an amount, only having spilled some near the collar of his shirt - he could either take it off as he went home or, if he wanted to be more boring, he could zip up his jacket. “I get it, I get it; I gotta adjust to the rest of the group, not the other way around. I know how to play nice. Just don’t be surprised if you call a group meeting and I can’t make it or whatever - I know you can tell but it’s not exactly my choice to do what I half to do sometimes. I can’t be that super fancy-pants old-timey vampire sitting in a chair admiring a fire sipping wine from a goblet.” He was wondering why it was so hard for him to just be so honest as to say what his actual problems was… and he wondered if it was because deep down, he knew it WAS a problem but that would show weakness and he didn’t want to do that in front of Orobas. “BUT-- but I get the rules, no problem.”

“No, you do not actually have to adjust to the group,” Orobas found himself chuckling at the visual of Carrington and himself in that very position in their small archive, two old creatures with many lifetimes to their names. A pang hit him strongly in missing him. Younger vampires were always such a treat, not newborns though-- he loathed them without their masters hands, hence the dust blowing down the road. “Just be yourself, this isn’t a situation of imposing on you. The dolls are, well. With my age, compulsion can be strong even when I don’t mean it to be. They are obedient and I like that very much. Less deaths do help in the grand sense, but I have no qualms about killing. I quite enjoy it.” Orobas reassured best he could, but with the younger kin he knew they all needed a hand in something. This was why he wanted to have Bloodhaven. Teeth was the best place to go to chill, drink, and enjoy time together-- but their clubhouse could be a place to come when you needed help from an Elder, or from those older enough to protect you. “Come, I’ll show you the place so you know where it is.” It was too soon to tell how much faith Graham put in Orobas’ word; he had to admit, part of him ached when the older vampire spoke so highly and seemingly fondly of the relationship between himself and his master, always wishing that his own hadn’t suggested he leave when they deemed his training ‘complete’. He felt sometimes that he had so much more to learn but they both realised early that the loneliness he experienced at leaving his own life behind so abruptly combined with his challenging nature and utter inability to experience primal fear in the face of death would be a difficult problem and not one she could fix, not without drastically changing him and he wasn’t ready for that transformation; something had to give and they knew he was unable. The invitation to Bloodhaven was a nice idea in theory for him but he found himself still thinking and having trouble finding a potential for him to fit in given his precarious relationship with even the sight of blood. Then again, the word ‘challenge’ sprung up in his mind again and he was curious to see how that’d work out. ‘Just be yourself’. Well, Orobas HAD said that so. He nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “Sure thing. Lead the way, Orobas.” He gave a smile of respect to the older vampire. This might be good for him.

#x: meet in the ashes #x: graham #body horror tw

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blackcatanna · 5 years ago

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Playing Kazama's Route Because I Guess I Hate Myself Part 1: Kyoto Winds

So, I'm going to play through everybody's routes on Hakuoki and vent my feelings and frustrations on here! I've already done Saito and Iba but I will play them again soon, too. Next up is Kazama, mostly because I'm curious to find out if this fucker has any redeeming qualities. Maybe if you're into nonces. Idk.

Wow, I had forgotten how gloriously campy this intro is :') I love it so much!

Playing through the prologue because it sets the tone of blood, death and assholes. This game is much more violent, tragic and much less horny than I had predicted and I guess I'm into that.

Aw, Chizuru bae is so lonesome and vulnerable <3

Kodo flashback! HIIISSSSSSSSSS!!! >:(

Just taking a moment to appreciate how beautiful and romantic the nighttime environment and music is <3 At least, until people start getting slashed up X_X

OKAY GAME, WE GET IT: CHIZURU IS HORNY FOR HIJIKATA. GOD.

Okita is enjoying this waaay too much X_X

Chapter 1

WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE

Thank you for untying me, InouBAE!

THEY'VE BEEN DISCUSSING THE SITUATION SINCE MORNING BUT NOBODY THOUGHT TO SUGGEST MAYBE NOT REVEALING MORE SENSITIVE INFORMATION WHILE I'M IN THE ROOM?! I'm surrounded by idiots -_-

Apparently, "They are all truly gentlemen." Uh-huh.

Hooray for Chizuru calling out Okita for being a douche. And Hijikata for calling everyone a bunch of kids! Where is the lie? :')

Um, why has the camera zoomed in on Nagakura's crotch? Chizuru, please control your thirst. This is a life or death situation.

Now Saito's telling Okita to stop being a prick and Okita's response is, "hehe." X_X

Casual suicide jokes... Reminds me of my friends at uni X_X

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE 8O I can't see how this could possibly backfire...

OMG Kondou describing not recognising a girl as "The shame of a lifetime!" XD

"Maybe it's time you spilled your guts, kid." Is he... Is he telling me to commit seppuku?! O_O "I looked at him and nodded." GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD.

Although, with Harada threatening to strip me, suicide doesn't look like such a bad option X_X Tell me, Inoue, WHERE ARE THESE GENTLEMEN YOU WERE TELLING ME ABOUT?!

Feminist Hijikata wants to kill me regardless of gender :') We stan a woke queen.

Feminist icon Sanan also thinks that gender is irrelevant but doesn't want to kill me because THEIR JOB IS LITERALLY TO PROTECT PEOPLE.

You search so hard for Kodo and he turns out to be such a treacherous snake :'(

Bad feminist Hijikata calls the Shinsengumi "sons of bitches" for feeding me to him as his page. The Shinsengumi are strong, independent bitches in their own right.

Escaping execution but being quietly upset about having to wear ugly boy clothes for the foreseeable future is a mood.

More of Hijikata threatening to cut off Okita's tongue, please!

What does Chizuru have against afternoon drinking :P Clearly she has never enjoyed a long glass of Pimm's on a warm Summer afternoon! I guess she is pretty young...

Hijikata isn't here so can I please sneak out with you guys instead of staring at the wall all day?

Reeeeeeally want to pick the yes to dressing like a girl option but apparently that's not what Daddy Nonce wants :( HE'S NOT EVEN SHOWN UP YET AND HE'S ALREADY RUINING MY FUN! >:(

Well, now we're literally running away from Nagakura and Inoue. I'm getting High School flashbacks.

Wait, why is Heisuke being weird about Saito being in my room? Did this happen last time too? Maybe I just forgot or maybe it's because I was hanging out with Heisuke and Harada before...

This dinner is terrifying.

Survival of the fittest? More like survival of the FATTEST! Amirite? Anyone? No? I'll stop.

Takeda admittedly has a point about you not earning your place in the Shinsengumi. And he has great hair. So I can almost forgive him for being a mega bitch.

"His swordsmanship is decent, BUT he is well read and possesses a cunning mind for military science." Not sure if a translation error or Hijikata just hates nerds?!

Does accompanying Hijikata as his page get me bonus Kazama Sexy Points purely because it pisses Hijikata off?

Chizuru once again being in mortal peril but getting distracted by Iba's beautiful face is relatable af.

"Takeda huffed smugly to himself and WADDLED out of the store." What a majestic image we have been blessed with :') The bitchiest penguin ever to waddle this Earth!

Iba happily munching his bean jelly is a MOOD.

Chapter 2

Okita telling you that you're here to keep him company on his rounds is exactly the kind of bullshit that I'd expect from him X_X

Guess I'm just running into a battle...

Oh, it's Kazama. Sitting on the windowsill like the edgy bastard he is.

Aaaand he just killed a guy on his own side. Classic edgelord move.

And apparently I have to thank him for this display if I want him to be my waifu.

Seemingly, Chizuru is thirsty for this slut and is being REALLY FRICKING OBVIOUS ABOUT IT X_X

OH HE DID NOT JUST CALL ME THE SHINSENGUMI'S BITCH. Although, it is somewhat accurate XD STILL A DICK MOVE AFTER I THANKED HIM SO NICELY, THOUGH.

AND HE SAYS THAT I HAVE MANNERS, BUT WHERE ARE YOUR FREAKING MANNERS, YOU EDGY THOT?!!!

I have a feeling that a lot of this will be typed in caps from now on -_-

Oooh he winked! I cannot handle this intense eroticism!

Surprise Saito! My favourite flavour of surprise (see, "Shinsengumi's bitch")!

The Shinsengumi are grateful for my efforts and, thus, have gifted me with the great gift of sweeping <3

Hijikata and Iba are so cute <3

Kazama's being edgy again X_X and murdering people. Classic Kazama.

Oh wow, he's actually calling us peasants.

Aw, we're talented peasants <3 How generous of him!

HOW DARE HE TRASH TALK OKITA LIKE THAT! Wow, I'm actually defending that asshole X_X

Hijikata baring his teeth like an angry doggo XD

I'm super mad at Kazama for killing that poor Shinsengumi guy :'( Such a thoughtless waste of life :'(

Now he's mocking Nagakura's obedience to the Shogun. What are your lofty ideals, Kazama? Ah yes, you want to subjugate and enslave the human race. How... noble...

Okay, so, apparently, Kazama is being a huge, murderous pain in the ass because he's just OH SO CONCERNED for the pride of his human allies. I don't buy it.

Ah, Hijikata called Kazama a petulant child :') Truer words were never spoken!

Okay, now Hijikata is saying that they don't deserve an honourable death?! Wow, Hijikata. That comment is not going to age well, I can tell you.

So maybe I agree with Kazama here!? He still shouldn't have murdered that guy, though.

I seriously don't understand why Hijikata is so keen to slaughter these guys and potentially lose more of his men just to force them to suffer a shameful death?! Maybe he doesn't see dying that way as dishonourable but I have no patience for people forcing their ideals onto others.

Aaah! Kazama throwing Hijikata's insult back in his face is pretty brilliant!

Kazama just sliced me in the face! Sexy?!

Sexy Points with Kazama because he's confirmed your full BROOD MARE potential.

Kazama likes calling people bitches so we have that in common.

So, now Hijikata respects them for committing seppuku?! I am CONFUSED.

Oh, now I'm getting Itou's origin story?! This is unexpected!

Wait, have I broken the game and accidentally romanced Kondou?! What is happening right now?! X_X

Oooh! I'm getting sword training! Yes please! This is better than sex :D

Feminist icon Kondou isn't going easy on me just because I'm a girl :D

Chapter 3

Aka: Sanan's breakdown!

"Those were his last words." O_O I... hope that that's not true...

Okay, now he's throttling me! I take it back! Somebody fillet this crazy fucker!

OMG WAS THAT CRUNCHING SOUND MY NECK?!

But why is he choking me when he could be sipping on my delicious blood? O_o

The awkward moment when your creepy brother is a hotter woman than you X_X

Apparently, Kazama's gazing at me with bloodlust. How romantic.

Haha! Apparently Kazama's hand is "pale and grasping like the tentacle of some hideous subterranean monster." X_X Hot.

Yay! Rescued from tentai boi by HajiBAE and SanoCUTEY! And Harada is calling out Kazama for being a creep :') This is a good day.

Kazama's response burn is weak. The culture and the nose of a dog? What does that even mean? Even if Harada's nose looked like a dog's, that'd still be pretty weak, imo.

Ha! Saito's response is basically just an Uno reverse card but I'm always here for calling Kazama out on his hypocrisy.

Omg, now Yamazaki is kidnapping me and Shiranui's calling him out! None of these hos have any chill!

Amagiri is taking a break from fighting to read Shiranui for being a hotheaded pain in the arse.

Hijikata is rightfully calling me an idiot for drawing my sword on Kazama :')

Kazama's insults are so blunt and childish but it's so funny! He just called Hijikata a weak shit! Apparently, fighting him is an honour and Hijikata isn't giving this diva the attention he believes he deserves.

Hijikata needs to stop calling me Kid X_X

"Sleazebag" = accurate.

Ooh, Sanan is paying me a late night visit! How risqué!

Of course I want to learn more about the water of life but The Grand High Nonce would apparently disapprove so I guess I'll have to wait until another route to find out :'(

Apparently Kazama's not going to abduct me TODAY. How reassuring.

I relate to Kazama admiring the beauty of the temple but he lost me by being a hypocrite again. Apparently, he doesn't understand how humans can destroy their creations with their wars. KAZAMA IS FIGHTING WITH THE PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO BURN KYOTO AND THEY PARTIALLY SUCCEEDED. Kazama can only destroy things, as far as I can tell.

Now he's ranting about how they lie, deceive and kill. Pot kettle black? "If they want something, they'll steal it." UGH, KAZAMA, YOU HAVE REPEATEDLY TRIED TO STEAL ME YOU HYPOCRITICAL FUCKWIT. HE'S SO FRUSTRATING. SUCH AN INSUFFERABLE COMBINATION OF PRETENTION, HYPOCRISY, CRUELTY, HUBRIS, I could go on XD I should stop... For now...

AAAAAH HE JUST SAID NOT TO TRUST THE SHINSENGUMI BECAUSE THEY KILL THEIR OWN MEN WITHOUT BATTING AN EYELASH. THAT'S WHAT KAZAMA DOES WHEN YOU FIRST MEET HIM! BUT I GUESS IT DOESN'T COUNT TO HIM BECAUSE THE MAN WASN'T PART OF HIS SUPERIOR RACE!

Sen = <3

Chapter 4 (This is where I went to sleep)

I feel like we could have got away with killing the guy who was SENTENCED TO DEATH if fricking Sanan hadn't shown up and revealed his alive-ness!

Aw, Itou is concerned about my arm!

Aaaaand he's ruined it by being a cunt XD "Would you like to know?" "Yes." "I won't tell you." X_X

Heisuke, Saito... HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME... WHEN I NEEDED TO... POSSES YOU... I HATED YOU; I LOVED YOU TOO... BAD DREAMS IN THE NIGHT.... *Continues singing Wuthering Heights and dances around the room dramatically*

"And then they were gone" :'(

Tbf, I'd be pretty mad if my comrades had been doing such dangerous, fucked up experiments behind my back.

"I am more concerned about the soldiers being left behind." - lies!

Wait, Sanan knew Itou "really well"?! Their only interaction until now was Itou being a mega-douche to him. I have so many questions!

Aw, Sanan trusts that our friendlings will return <3

Ooh! Going on a manju adventure with YAM!

Kazama strolling down the street and everybody being pushed out of the way by the douchebag waves rolling off of him.

Okay, so Kazama has come here alone to get pissed amongst humans?! That seems implausible...

"I might even allow you to pour me a drink." BLEUGH BLETCH BLUUURGH.

I CANNOT WITH THIS THOT AND HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT. HOW DARE HE BRAG ABOUT HOW COOL AND DOWN WITH THE KIDS HE IS TO BE DRINKING WITH HUMANS AND THEN SLAG ME OFF FOR ASSOCIATING WITH HUMANS?!

If I'm supposedly so curious about the demon lifestyle, can I PLEASE just run away with Sen? :'(

WHY IS NOBODY ASKING WHAT I WANT?!? X_X I WANT TO GO WITH THE COOL DEMON LADIES!!!

"Yukimura. What do you have to say about this?" FINALLY!!! THANK YOU, KONDOU!

I really want to go but the game won't let me XD

Souji is correct. I clearly have rocks for brains XD

"Gosh" Appropriate reaction.

AAAAAAAAND MY BELOVED SHINSENGUMI IS IMMEDIATELY ENDANGERED BY MY POOR DECISIONS.

Ooh! Physical contact with Kazama! Sure, he's violently grabbing me but this thirsty bitch will take what she can get XD

Harada has the best put downs :') "Barging in here to get yourself a wife! You think you'd get the point by now after all these rejections..."

"You fools have no idea of her worth." BITCH I AM A well, not human but SENTIENT BEING! THEY TREAT ME WITH MORE RESPECT THAN YOU EVER DID YOU MASSIVE CREEP. I AM MORE THAN JUST A WOMB, YOU HO!!!

"She is most valuable when used by a fitting partner." THA FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!???! NOPENOPENOPE. A FITTING PARTNER WOULD NOT "USE" ME, BITCH.

"HA! So you decide to take her against her will just because you're too scared of the rejection you'll get from flat-out asking her out, huh?" YES HARADA!!! YOU CALL OUT THIS FUCKING NONCE!!! ALL RAPISTS ARE COWARDS!!! "You're so lame and creepy." WHERE IS THE LIE?!??

Meanwhile, Hijikata just makes it clear that he'd happily slice through me. Good to know.

I shall WIGGLE my way out of this situation! What do you mean it didn't work?!

YAAAS KONDOU! YOU FIGHT THAT BITCH!!!

OMG I JUST FELL ON TOP OF OKITA AND NOW HE'S SLUT SHAMING ME! XD

"Tell me... How is it? On top of me. Does it feel good?" O_O O_O O_O This game just got a lot more spicy!

Just fuck already! If only to piss off Kazama X_X

Aw, poor sick Okita <3

How dare they mention that the new HQ has a huge bath for warriors to bathe together and not have another thirst scene :P

Now Harada and Nagakura are slut shaming each other for having their tiddies out in Winter :')

Does this count as sexposition? Politics + tiddies?

"Itou dies." This is what happens when you base a game around true events! Problems aren't solved with the power of love and friendship! X_X

YES SAITO, PLEASE PROTECT ME FROM THIS MURDEROUS NONCE!

Chapter 5

At least in the normal route where nobody loves me, I don't get shot at by cannons O_O

There are a lot of typos in this chapter already. Perhaps the developers didn't expect anyone to be INSANE enough to romance Kazama.

DON'T TELL THIS RANDOM GUY YOUR PLANS YOU FOOL!!! IF THIS GETS INOUE KILLED, IMMA BE SO MAD!!!

NO INOUE!!! DON'T DRINK THE CRAZY JUICE!!!

NOOOOOO!!!! INOOOUUUUEEEE!!! :'(

Yes Queen, you call out those murdering cowards :'(

FFS I just got hella shot X_X

NO YOU GUYS ARE THE MONSTERS!!!

Apparently, I'm a "Noble Demon specimen" BITCH WHERE?!

"Why was Kazama helping me?" UM, HAVEN'T WE BEEN THROUGH THIS?! BECAUSE HE WANTS TO "USE" YOUR FERTILE WOMB TO BREED A NEW LINE OF DEMON CHILDREN.

"Shoot me? To death?" XD

"Kazama glared coldly at the pile of dismembered corpses on the floor" :') So romantic!

OMG IT'S THE BETTER DRESSED VERSION OF ME!!!

"Actually a man." UM, A CHILD, SEEMINGLY.

The whole creepy demonic family together at last :')

STOP CALLING ME ADORABLE AND LITTLE YOU CREEPY DEMON CHILD.

"What you're doing is disgraceful." YOU TELL HIM KAZAMA.

"Mind if I kill your family, right here and now?" O_O Kazama has zero chill! Thanks for asking, though, I guess. Go for it, Kazama XD

Oh, apparently I'm going to "talk to them" X_X

"Kodo, I could murder you over a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough for me." This is the most I've ever liked Kazama.

Doesn't Kazama work directly with Kodo in various routes?

Why can't I vanish like smoke? :'( Where are MY cool demon powers? :'(

"Turns out the only one capable of keeping you safe when you needed them most was me -- not them." HOW DARE YOU!!! INOUE GAVE HIS LIFE PROTECTING ME AND YOU'VE NEVER PUT YOUR OWN PRECIOUS NECK OUT THERE FOR ANYONE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE YOU POMPOUS ASS!!! YOU'VE NEVER HAD TO WORK FOR ANYTHING IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE, HAVE YOU?! YOU WERE BORN A DEMON PRINCE AND THAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?!? BECAUSE YOU HAVE POWERS YOU DIDN'T EARN?!

"If your idea of a good time is seeing the rotting corpses of your friends, be my guest..." 8_8 :'( No, they can't all be dead! Surely not! Kazama don't say things like that!

The Yodo are going to betray the Shogunate?!? I must warn them D:

Wow, this just got heavy and real sad.

Wait, did he just admit to meddling in the war?! He is such a hypocrite!!!! Aaaaaaah!!! Somebody call him out on his bs!!!!

SEN AND KIMIGIKU <3 SAVE ME!

Even Shiranui sees that humans have a variety of complex motivations X_X

I AM NOT YOUR FUTURE WIFE!!!!

Do the Shinsengumi just assume that I'm dead?!

Great, now I'm on a road trip with this cunt.

"I've never actually been this close to a man before..." Calm down! That horse is third wheeling so hard right now. And what about that time you fell ON TOP OF Okita?!

Welp, that's it for Kyoto Winds! Onwards to Edo Blossoms! I still don't like Kazama but at least murdering the ever-loving FUCK out of Kodo is a cause that I can believe in. Although, one of the reasons that I hated Kodo in Saito's route was because he was helping the same sex pest I'm now galloping across the country with. Huh.

This is the most that I’ve ever used the word, “nonce” in my entire life and this is only the first game.

#hakuoki #hakuouki #kyoto winds #kazama chikage #watch me lose my marbles #Spoilers #sorry kazama fans #so many words

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aurorapillar · 5 years ago

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Title: the most wonderful time of the year Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai Osamu, Mori Ougi, Elise Summary: Snowball fights are hard to resist, even for teen mafisos

For most of Chuuya’s remembered life winter had not been a time of fun or happiness, rather it had always been a time of hardship and jealousy; winter brought the cold and for kids living on the street that could be a death sentence. When your very life depended on finding shelter and warm clothes, it was hard to find any joy in the season nor feel anything but envy for those who could go home to a warm house and didn't need to worry about anything beyond their holiday plans.

There had been plenty of years spent huddled in abandoned buildings with other street kids, a temporary unspoken truce built between them by the cold wind that broken windows did far too little to keep out; plenty of years gazing longingly at passerby’s with their presents and through the shop windows at the colorful displays and delicious-looking food, knowing that none of that was anything that could be his.

He remembered one night that one of the older street rats, one who’d had the chance to experience a home and family before losing everything, had told the younger ones the story of the little match girl; he told how she’d imagined herself living the life she saw through windows, how she lit each of her matches in an attempt to keep warm, and how come time that her matches had all burned up she’d died in the freezing cold, only to be taken away by an angel to heaven. He had never really been sure why the guy had told the story, whether he’d been trying to offer some kind of weird reassurance that ‘hey, if you freeze to death this winter, you’ll go to a better place’ or if he was trying to scare them, but it had made Chuuya wonder if one day some of them would meet that fate.

He’d never found out though, as by the next year he’d become part of The Sheep and things were easier; with a big group of kids they could send some to cause distractions while others stole stuff, and as a result, things like warm clothes and food were a certainty rather than something that relied on chance. More people also meant a base was possible as they had the numbers to defend it, they didn’t have to worry about someone attacking and stealing their things, or at least not successfully doing, people had certainly tried.

Of course that hadn't meant everything was sunshine and rainbows, they had had no heating in the building they called home, relying on blankets and layers to keep them warm; they'd also had to be careful to avoid unnecessary wear and tear on their clothes, just because they could easily steal new clothes didn’t mean it was wise to draw attention to themselves by doing it too often. There were never any presents either, if someone were to find something worth having they certainly weren’t going to give it to someone else, something like that you hoarded for yourself.

Overall, winters spent with The Sheep were a definite step up from winters spent on the street but did nothing to make the season an enjoyable time.

At 16 though, and as a member of the Port Mafia, things were different; he had a nice warm apartment, even if it was one he had to share with Dazai; he had plenty of warm clothes and the means to buy more if he needed to; and for the first time in his life if he wanted to he could provide gifts for the people who were important to him. It was strange really, all of those were relatively simple things that most people took for granted, and yet just having them had changed the way winter felt.

The snow didn’t seem grey and dreary, but rather bright and cheerful; the cold wasn’t biting and cruel, but crisp and refreshing; the lights - his thoughts were cut off by the impact of a snowball on the back of his head, and he whirled around with a snarl to see Dazai already packing more snow together and looking far too pleased with himself.

“What the h*** bastard?” Chuuya growled in annoyance, holding back a shiver as wet slush slid down his neck and into his shirt, it felt disgusting and he was more than prepared to throttle Dazai as revenge for it. The teen in questioned laughed and pulled back his arm in preparation for letting another snowball fly,

“Chibi needs to work on his...OOF” Dazai’s taunt was cut off as a snowball of Chuuya’s own snowball hit him smack dab in the face, knocking him onto his butt and making Chuuya wish he had a camera with him.

“What was that Dazai?” He questioned, his grin bordering on feral and Dazai gave him a disgruntled look before grabbing a handful of snow and flinging it at Chuuya without even bothering to pack it together. Naturally, the loose flakes were easy to dodge, but the few seconds spent getting out of the way were enough for Dazai to stand up and duck behind a tree, where he began to scoop up snow to form a proper snowball.

The sight of it made Chuuya’s grin widen, he’d only ever really been in one snowball fight, back when he’d still been part of the Sheep; some of the other kids had been having one when he and the other teens were coming back from a supply run and a stray snowball had hit Shirase in the ear, prompting him to start lecturing them about paying attention to their surroundings and how they needed to be more careful. That hadn’t lasted long though before Yuan had gotten annoyed and slam dunked a pile of snow onto his head, which had resulted in the start of a free for all that only ended when they were all soaked and exhausted.

Of course, a good portion of them ended up getting sick and that had been a nightmare to deal with, but it had been fun and was a happy memory he didn’t think he’d ever forget. It had also been a very therapeutic experience to just let loose and throw snow at people he was annoyed at; because despite what the rest of the Sheep had thought and what Dazai probably thought as well, he hadn’t been totally unaware that he was being manipulated, and while he’d been fine letting it happen most of the time there were times he got ticked off at some of their pushiness.

Because of that several of his snowballs had ended up aimed towards some of the more frustrating Sheep members and by the time the fight was over he’d felt much better, he was hoping that this fight would turn out similar. Although Dazai had turned out to not be quite as bad as Chuuya had thought based off of first impressions, in fact, he could be fun company on occasion, he was still a frequently infuriating person and there were plenty of times when he wanted nothing more than to punch him hard in his smug face. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that because Dazai was such a beanpole of a teen that even someone without Chuuya’s abnormal strength could probably snap him in half, which meant even when they sparred he had to hold back and be careful not to hurt him too badly. He didn’t have to worry about that with a snowball fight though, so long as he didn’t pack them with rocks or ice the worst Dazai would get was a nasty bruise.

Of course, things would be different if he could use his ability, a heavy enough snowball could probably break bones, but No Longer Human negated any chance of that; still, it was something to keep in mind for the future, it would be rather humiliating for enemies after all if they were defeated by a snowball.

The time Chuuya had spent ruminating was enough for Dazai to have finished his snowball plus a small pile of more and the teen found himself quickly having to jump behind his own tree to avoid being hit.

“You’re being rather slow today Chuuya, is the snow too deep for someone your height to move around in?” Chuuya’s eye twitched at the taunt but he forced himself to ignore it and focused on packing snow into a ball which was then aimed directly at the other teen's head. It missed, thanks to Dazai moving his head slightly at the last second, but the glare the near hit earned him made up for it.

The two of them carried on like that for a while, throwing both snowballs and insults at one another and just being the teens they were. It was fun, and enough of a distraction that Chuuya didn’t register the sound of footsteps behind him, not until he’d dodged to the side to avoid getting hit and saw Dazai’s eyes widen with horror at the same time he heard the sound of snow impacting against something.

Turning slightly to glance behind him, Chuuya froze at the sight of a bemused looking Mori carefully brushing snow off of his coat, as the last of the flakes melted under his touch he turned his gaze on the two, an unreadable expression in his gaze.

“Chuuya, Dazai.” He greeted mildly and Chuuya felt his mouth dry up because they had just hit the boss of the Port Mafia with a snowball and they were probably going to be in so much trouble. Admittedly, of course, it was mostly Dazai’s fault; he’d been the one to start the fight and he’d thrown the snowball that had hit Mori, but it also wouldn’t have hit him in the first place if Chuuya hadn’t dodged. Not to mention the two of them were executives and really should be setting a better example than playing around in the snow, it wouldn’t be surprising if Mori was upset or disappointed in them.

Still, he was trying to come up with to say to defend the two of them, when suddenly Mori smiled and stepped to the side to reveal Elise standing behind him, a wide grin on her face. In the years to come, Chuuya would maintain that he had been too caught off guard by the fact that their boss had joined in the snowball fight, even if it was via proxy with his ability, to properly react; and he’d remind Dazai when he tried to claim otherwise that he too hadn’t reacted in time, but the fact remained that both of them ended up on the ground with snow down their shirts.

What had previously been a one-on-one fight between Dazai and Chuuya quickly turned into a team-up between the two as they faced Elise’s onslaught; despite what her cute appearance suggested, she was a vicious opponent. All the while Mori watched in amusement, never interfering except for a comment here and there.

“Elise, don’t aim for the face.”

“Chuuya, no matter how tempting it may be, don’t try and shove Dazai’s head into a snowdrift.”

“Dazai, don’t you dare throw that in this direction.”

Of course, Mori had been a doctor long before becoming boss of the mafia and so the moment the two of them had started shivering they were forced inside and ordered to change into dry clothes before they caught a cold.

It was only later, sitting on the couch in his warm apartment with a mug of hot chocolate, that he realized what the unreadable expression he’d seen on Mori’s face earlier was.

Fondness.

#my writing #chuuya nakahara #Dazai Osamu #Mori Ougai

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weaverlings · 5 years ago

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(so this is super long and mainly about WTNV because that’s the part I understand, or... at least have spent a lot of time thinking about, but there’s definitely a heavy component of comparison between the two series in this)

@vildflower said: I’ve been thinking how wtnv and tma approach similar concepts of vaguely otherworldly entities who are only somewhat connected to the universe that they seem to operate in vs. the universe that they seem to exist in

so this is all super interesting stuff thank u!!!! I just needed to get to the computer to go over it properly bc tbh it deserves it

vildflower said: like,, tma has the whole concept of rituals and avatars whereas wtnv could arguably have. a hierarchy? like when you think about it;; huntokar, the distant prince, the woman from italy, even the great golden hand, are ancient and possibly the closest to ‘gods,’ who dont interact w nightvale often but either have vested interest in it or are able to interact w it more easily due to number of reasons as compared to, like, the rest of the world?

Part of the reason I listened to The Magnus Archives in the first place was because I’d heard hints of the connection between belief (fear specifically, as it happened) and reality, and the tangible effects that this connection has. I have pretty much always interpreted Night Vale along similar lines, but now having listened to TMA... I don’t feel like the execution is all that similar?

While the lines are super fun to draw, WTNV doesn’t have such clear divisions or, well... I guess TMA didn’t, either, but I don’t think WTNV does have such clear organizational structure?

I think the/a key difference between WTNV and TMA is that not all of the entities of Night Vale necessarily tie back into an overarching force, or at least... the same overarching force. Which you go into, but that’s just such a core aspect of TMA that it at least feels pretty distinct.

And the gods of Night Vale, I think, all have a much clearer and even more “relatable” sentience than the Powers. The gods have trouble communicating with other people, in various ways, but they also, say, express regret or ask for coffee when they do communicate.

vildflower said: and then theres the smiling god who could be said to be in a category of his own, or even perhaps in the same category as cecil- the way the smiling god’s existence seems to be in direct connection to desert bluffs/the joyous congregation and cecil seems to ‘depend’ on nightvale and its residents. or maybe it would be more accurate to equate station management and the smiling god, both finding ways to communicate w their respective towns through 'avatars’: cecil & kevin.

Yeah! If being a “Voice” means anything, I do think it would be related to these gods... I guess it would’ve been Huntokar, once, for Cecil. (And now, well... I don’t know. But if bloodstone worship is just happening, that’s a lot of undirected faith, and I feel like it needs to go somewhere... or to something.) And yup, for Kevin, it would be the Smiling God.

However, one thing I’m hoping we’ll see from this arc is addressing the fact that what the Joyous Congregation THINKS is the Smiling God is apparently really different from what it actually is. Even some of the church elders - the actual pastor - believed that it was the centipede, and this would seem to indicate that’s not true.

I mean, if nothing else It Devours! was pretty clear about the fact that the centipede was just an animal, so I don’t see it or anything like it having plotted or directed someone to exploit people’s brains for labor in the future

So I wouldn’t put the Smiling God in the same category as Cecil, or even Kevin, but I think Cecil and Kevin occupy the same category like you said...

For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought of Cecil more like an “oracle” (even before Alice Isn’t Dead!!) - giving advice or answering questions, kind of a guide, if in a sort of opaque or enigmatic way, whether he wants to be or not. And then Kevin is more like a prophet - offering a vision of how things should be, giving commandments, etc, regardless of what people might ask for or what would help them.

vildflower said: continuing this heirarchy the next lower tier would perhaps be city council and the librarians which have pretty fixed, smaller areas of direct interaction w nightvalians. there’s also the spire! which sounds quite similar to the spiral, i think….

I think that’s a good example of how it’s different... “Barks” sounded like the kind of thing that could have been related to the Spiral, that sort of distortion. But the purpose was different - the Spire wanted to bargain, and from the sound of it it’s a lot more open about its demands (iirc: Night Valian “Thanksgiving” involves going out to thank the Spire for its “mercy”). It’s also a known destination.

People in Night Vale know what it is to them. They may not know what it is exactly, but they do know the role it plays in their community. So while it absolutely fits into the structure of Night Vale, I don’t think it’s that similar beyond some (admittedly major) aesthetic elements?

All of those forces in Night Vale, the librarians and the council etc, while indeed forces and while they definitely relate to the human citizens in weird ways... they’re still citizens.

The Powers are TIED to the world of TMA, but an explicit part of it is that they’re fundamentally alien to it, too, and basically need to be forced in.

vildflower said: but yeah,, hope you don’t mind the long rant rip aksk but at this point I’m pretty sure one could draw up a list of some 15 nightvale entities too lmao

(fdsdgh no you don’t need to apologize, I loved it and I’ve been thinking about this kind of thing a lot anyway too!!)

vildflower said: HOW COULD I FORGET! the glow cloud interacts w an even smaller group of people (the PTA) than the city council + angels!! I’d say they’re actually at the lowest rung cause they seemed to only be interested in josie; maybe their attachment to them in turn lead to be attached to nightvale even after she died?

actually the Glow Cloud works w/ the school board and seems to end up in conflict w/ the PTA and I only remember this because I was checking on it for something recently oops.

ALSO THE ANGELS... YEAH THAT’S NEAT because!! they’re the only part of this that has an explicit connection to belief in canon!!

“They are all named Erika with a K. All angels are equal to all other angels. They share all memories and all physical sensations. They experience everything simultaneously. Their minds are overwhelmed with enlightenment and pain.

“They have no centralized leadership, but they do have committees, lots of committees. These committees do not have titles nor objectives. The committees simply emerge as needed...

“Angels have no bodies, only visual projections of winged, barely humanoid forms. These forms are dreamed up by those who see and acknowledge them, and may vary based on the viewer.

“The secret hierarchy of angels is an ethereal mass of feelings and thoughts made manifest by necessity. They’re only individual beings because we imagine them so, but they are collectively beings.”

But I think, yeah... Night Vale is, at its core, a community. And the worldbuilding of WTNV reflects that, even to the extent that belief is involved. I mean, really, the world does run on “belief” it’s just not a supernatural thing... We believe in the necessity of our social structures, so we create and act on them.

And that’s what happens in Night Vale, it’s just that in Night Vale, a divine Glow Cloud runs the school board and the librarians will eat you. All the “forces” that we expect are there. Even though they’re strange (to us, at least), it’s all centered around the maintenance of a community. TMA has a much larger scope.

theres that whispering forest too and omg the desert otherworld, and the black star in ‘a story about you’ & other episodes; entities that manifest more as locations than sentient beings?

So yes!! Night Vale as a place is definitely a gathering point for the weird. I think of Hiram’s favorite memory in this context, too - Hiram was happy in Night Vale because he could just live, for a while, anyway. Or at least, when people were upset, they weren’t upset by his nature as a five-headed dragon (who cares, right?) but because of what he did)

It does have a clear structure, but it’s not the same kind that the Powers operate under - WTNV (depending on interpretation, and none of it is canon tbh, as much as I love it) and TMA are both very different explorations of the connection between belief and reality.

Like the Whispering Forest is... well, apparently it’s its own town now. But it was sort of the local weird forest; it was... a citizen, maybe. In the way, indeed, that the Glow Cloud still is! It just wants to live (and grow. and expand) and Night Vale is a place it can do that.

The Desert Otherworld seems to be connected to the Smiling God, although we don’t know much about how or why or if it’s always been that way. Dana saw some things, though, like when she almost forgot herself in the image of a triangle (iirc), not to mention the rumbling and whatever’s up with the Mudstone Abyss... And then it does have its connection to Night Vale, too, through the Dog Park... There’s a LOT going on w/ the Otherworld; that’s basically its own post dsfdgfdg

And the dark planet lit by no sun is like. I admit I’ve never thought of it in the same light as the other things before! So I’d want to do that before going into it but that raises some SUPER interesting possibilities and if you have more thoughts I’d love to hear them! It definitely merits that further consideration.

So in summary: TMA has rituals and avatars, and WTNV has community. I think.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #the magnus archives #wtnv spoilers #tma spoilers #spoilers #kevin //#smiling god //

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mariaarnt · 6 years ago

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Rhythm is a Dancer

Ship: Sesshomaru/Kagome

Rating: T

Tags: Dancing, grinding

For: @wintermoon25 (sorry I abandoned that fic in 2007 lol)

Words: 2068 (I got carried away)

Setting: AE where the well never reopens for Kagome and she goes on with her life, gets an internship as an office gopher at a high-end antiquities dealing company that has ties to the shrine, only to discover the company owner is Sesshomaru. They’re both shocked, but eventually end up something like friends because they’re both terribly lonely.

Kagome stared out at the flashing lights and moving bodies on the dance floor and sighed, sipping her nearly empty drink. She really wished her date hadn’t bailed, or that she was at least here with Yuka and Eri so they could go out and make idiots of themselves. Instead, improbably, she was here with....

“Would you like to dance?” Sesshomaru’s voice was somehow still calm and collected even as he nearly shouted to be heard over the music. When she’d made the mistake of mentioning that she’d been stood up, he’d graciously offered to take her out and she hadn’t been able to come up with a nice enough excuse to refuse.

She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to!” she half-shouted back. “I know this place probably does a number on your ears, and it’s even louder out there.”

“Nonsense,” he waved a hand elegantly. “You didn’t want to come here to watch other people dance.”

Well, it was hard to argue with that. It was always hard to politely argue with Sesshomaru. It was like playing go when you barely knew the rules - he was always ten steps ahead. It made her long for the days when she would have been brave enough to shout the bare truth at him, chance of dying be damned.

He held out a long, slender hand, and she smothered another sigh by downing the last of her drink and leaving it on the table. As they made their way out into the crush, she prayed that no one from the office was there. She’d never hear the end of it. He wasn’t her boss, exactly, because he didn’t really run the company. He was more of a figurehead, offering advice and guidance but only when it was asked for.

Kind of like the emperor, she thought, glad his back was to her so he would see the goofy smirk on her face. She’d just imagined him wearing the emperor’s traditional regalia and for some reason found it hilarious.

Sesshomaru found a relatively open space on the floor and turned to face her just as a new, high-tempo song came on. Despite her reluctance, she smiled - at least it was one of her favorites. She determined to have a good time of it and just ignore the fact that Sesshomaru was there making it weird.

Before long, though, that proved difficult, although not in the way she expected. As it turned out, Sesshomaru was a pretty good dancer. No, that wasn’t fair, she admitted to herself. Sesshomaru was a fantastic dancer. As in, rather than just sort of bouncing to the beat as most guys did, he knew actual moves, and beyond that didn’t look like a complete idiot doing them. But then, it was hard to imagine Sesshomaru looking like an idiot doing anything. Except maybe wearing the emperor’s regalia. With a laugh, she did her best to match him, comfortable in her usual incompetence.

“What’s so funny?” he asked over the music.

“You’re really good at this! I didn’t expect that!” she shouted back.

That earned her one of his rare, mysterious smiles. A small one, which was either a warning or a promise. The kind she had used to fear, in another life. But now she was just glad to see him happy.

The music changed into something more driving and intense. She’d only intended to humor him for one song, but she realized she was having fun, and didn’t feel like stopping yet. This song seemed popular - the dance floor was quickly crowded, and they were forced to move closer. Not that Kagome minded, exactly, it just changed the sort of dancing they were doing to something a little more... personal. And honestly, she was starting to really get into it. It wasn’t until she felt Sesshomaru’s hands brush her hips that she realized he was too. She glanced up at him, surprised, and found that same dangerous smile. He tilted his head a fraction and raised his eyebrows. The unspoken question was clear - did she want him to stop?

Did she? Some rational part of her brain argued there was probably some reason she should, but between the noise and the alcohol and the way he was making her move, she couldn’t really think what it was.

So instead she closed her eyes and took the half step to close the distance between them. It felt amazing to let go and just exist in the moment. When was the last time she had felt like this? It brought back memories of the wind rushing past her as she soared high above the ground on Kirara’s back, of the moment of tension before the arrow was released, the thrill of victory. And for once, the memories didn’t make her want to cry.

But then the music shifted again, this time slowing down until the bass thumped like a heartbeat. It was the kind of song Yuka irreverently called a ‘grinder.’ Not the sort of thing Kagome ever danced to. But Sesshomaru adjusted his tempo to match effortlessly, and suddenly the effect of their bodies pressed together was entirely different. Her face felt hot, and she opened her eyes and looked up to tell him that they should probably stop... only to be struck speechless.

His yellow eyes blazed like molten gold. She recognized his intense expression as if she had seen it yesterday instead of years ago - it was the look he got when he was about to kill somebody and enjoy it, and with a shiver she recalled that it was not the first time the look had been directed at her. She tried again to say something, but nothing came out.

He seemed to sense her distress, and it brought back that dangerous smile. His fingers tightened on her hips for a moment, but then he released her, stepping back. For a moment she felt adrift, suddenly out of synch with the music and off balance. She had meant to leave the dance floor, but now her feet wouldn’t move. She was frozen as Sesshomaru brushed past her, and for one humiliating second she thought he would leave her there.

But then his hands found her hips once more, and he pulled her back against him, back into the rhythm of the music, and he moved her body in a way she’d never experienced before but instinctually recognized, his hips tilting against the curve of her rear in a pattern far older than either of them.

The flush on her face suddenly spread to most of her body, and she might have let out an undignified squeak. But while most of her was utterly, unbelievably mortified, there was a rather significant portion that absolutely refused to back down. She had fought tougher demons than Sesshomaru - by a narrow margin, admittedly, and never alone, but still - and she wasn’t going to run away now. Not to mention that considering Sesshomaru’s instincts running away was probably a very bad idea.

So she stood her ground, put her hands over his, and arched back against him with abandon. She refused to be embarrassed, and she was going to enjoy her night out, dammit. His grip tightened on her hips, and he seemed to sense the challenge because he turned the intensity way up. She let go of her embarrassment and let the music drown out the part of her brain that was nagging that this was wrong, and just danced. And for once, it was effortless. With the subtlest twitch of his fingers, Sesshomaru let her know which way to move, and they melded into the beat as if it were part of them. Her hands wandered up her own body, relishing the intoxicating feel of the music moving through her. Taking a risk, she reached up and threaded her fingers into his silver hair, finding it exactly as soft as it looked. She traced the edge of his ears, and despite the illusion he wore to look human, she could feel the points of them. Her fingers wandered down his cheeks, tracing the invisible stripes she remembered.

As if following after her touch, Sesshomaru dipped his head and tucked it into the crook of her neck, brushing his nose against her ear so she could hear the pleased growl that rumbled in his chest against her back.

Oh gods, Kagome thought helplessly. The music swallowed her moan, but she suspected he could hear it anyway. This was... this was more intoxicating than anything she’d ever felt. She wanted more, wanted him, and the shock of it was a mix of terrifying and liberating that set her head spinning. One of his hands drifted slowly from her hip to her stomach, splaying there to press her back, his thumb just brushing the swell of one breast. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a moment nothing existed but the music and his hands and the feel of his breath coming fast against her neck.

And then the music shifted again, but this time it was to something light and peppy. Suddenly she became aware of the world around her, of the sideways looks the other dancers were giving them, ranging between disapproval and voyeuristic interest. She stiffened and pushed away, and to her surprise he let her go without any resistance. She whirled around, and nothing could have prepared her for the flush of color across his high cheekbones. He wasn’t playing her then - he’d felt it too.

“I--I--” she stammered, not sure what she meant to say. “I can’t,” she blurted, although she didn’t know exactly what she was referring to.

He tilted his head in the endearing manner of dogs everywhere, and in that moment he looked so damn much like his brother that she felt something inside her tear wide open. Without another word, she turned and ran. Even though she knew it was stupid, knew you should never run from a predator, she did it anyway. She didn’t stop until she had pushed her way through the exit and could draw in a deep breath of the crisp winter air. After a few gulps, she hugged herself and then realized how stupid she had been. She’d left her coat inside, and her phone was still in the inside pocket.

“Dammit, Kagome,” she muttered, and her breath puffed out in a cloud. It had gotten much colder, and the low-hanging clouds threatened snow at any moment. She glanced at the door, at the man checking IDs. How could she get back in? Turning her back to him, she watched the traffic and tried to think what she should do.

Suddenly, a familiar warmth fell over her shoulders. She looked down to see the edges of her own coat.

“You forgot this,” Sesshomaru said quietly, his voice as emotionless as usual.

She looked up to see him studiously pretending not to be interested in her. He was wearing his wool peacoat, belted tightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her face hot again.

They stood there a moment, studying the bustle of late-night Tokyo. “I apologize if I was too forward,” he said at last. “It was not my intention to frighten you.”

Kagome let out a breathless laugh. She couldn’t exactly claim that he hadn’t, but how to explain that she had enjoyed it? “I think I frightened myself,” she said instead. “It’s been so long since I felt... anything, really.”

He nodded as if he understood perfectly. “Would you like a ride home?”

She turned to face him, remembering how to gather her courage and screw it to the sticking point. “I don’t want to go home,” she told him.

He looked at her finally, and his gaze cut right through her, seeing her as she really was, as no one else in this time really could. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he pulled the keys to his car out of his coat pocket. “My place, then?”

Draw the bowstring back, and then let it go. “Sure.”

#minific #requests are open #Sesskag #Sesshomaru/Kagome #Sesshomaru #Kagome #InuYasha #fan fiction #dangit #now I want to write a whole story for this

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wellhellotragic · 6 years ago

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Devil’s in the Details 1/?

Summary: It’s a well known fact that angels and demons exist. No one is saying that they don’t. Hell, you’ve all met your guardian angels before. But some of the facts, well you humans seem to be a little murky on those. Take Emma for example. Blonde, witty, beautiful. She must be an angel right? Wrong. She’s as wicked as they come. And she’s about to have the time of her life tormenting a certain English bloke

A comedy of errors....

A/N: Okay, lemme start this off with a huge disclaimer. This fic is nothing like anything I’ve ever written before. It is offensive. Sooooo offensive and I know it. There are three lines near the end that I actually cringed at when I wrote them, and I strongly considered changing them but I couldn’t do it, because the story needed it. The thing is, this story is pretty much told from the perspective of a demon, so some of the religious facts are going to be a little off. Just think about how different the Wolf’s side of the story was from the 3 Little Pig’s recounting. So, with that said, know that I have the utmost respect for all religions, cultures, and beliefs, and this fic has nothing to do with my own view points. It’s just silly and weird and highly sarcastic. I hope you’re all willing to give it a shot and stick with me. If you can’t make fun of yourself, who can you?

AO3 Link

A Prologue:

Heaven and Hell. God’s words falling on deaf ears. The angels had revolted and when God found out, he cast them aside into the mouth of hell. Demons and possessions and all that jazz. Blah. Blah. Blah.The rumors had been circulating for eons. The Hinduists, the Buddhists, the Jews, all wrong. Hell (pun intended of course) even the Greeks had it all mucked up, but at least they were cool about it. Here, take this goat. Oh, not enough, well have my virgin daughter instead. Man she missed those days.

The Catholic church certainly hadn’t done their kind any favors either. Her first exorcism had been something else. It’s not like she had taken over the guy’s body. That would have been ridiculous. Seriously, if she was going to inhabit the soul of a human, she would have picked someone with bigger balls. And preferably without the syphilis. She did have standards after all.

No, she hadn’t taken the man over. She’d just whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he’d gone a little mad. All in a day’s work for a demon. The twitching, well that was just the guy being super dramatic. But the priest hadn’t known any better, taught from a young age that holy water was a cure all. Ya, because God has nothing better to do than listen to an old guy in a cloak talk about how he needs his water blessed. Sorry father, but he’s a little busy today. Maybe he can see you next week?

The whole thing had been a mess. He’d thrown water in the guys face and some of it went in his eyes. They turned bright red, in turn freaking out the priest more until he was pushing a cross to the guys forehead and chanting, “the power of Christ compels you!”

Oh honey, no.

The poor guy died of a heart attack and the priest felt that it had been a job well done. Sure, he’d lost part of his flock, but that was the price of expelling a demon from the mortal world. His words, not Emma’s.

And don’t even get us started on the Christians.

But in retrospect, that’s what made humans so much fun. They weren’t that bright. Don’t get me wrong, they were capable, but also arrogant and gullible. Prime for the picking. Okay, so ya, the dinosaurs had been a hit with angels and demons alike too. They were basically huge puppy dogs who liked to fight a lot. And historians can say what they will, but it was a well known fact that brontosauruses liked chasing trees and stegosaurus loved having their bellies scratched. Of course, God hadn’t been such a fan of the way demons played with the dinosaurs though, so he took them away from them like a toddler getting placed in time out. His favorite toy left on a shelf too high to reach. Truth be told, she’d always felt that meteor had been a bit vindictive for a guy claiming to be so damn benevolent.

But dinosaurs couldn’t talk back the way humans did. They didn’t have that higher level of thinking that made them so irresistibly fun to mess with. Take Adam and Eve for example. This woman, made from the rib of her lover (how is that even a thing people believe) listens to a serpent and eats an apple. Simple enough right? Except that’s so far from what really happened. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been there personally, but she had the real story on good authority. For starters, the was never an apple. Ya, for all of you arguing it’s called an Adam’s apple for a reason, well you can just go to hell. The truth was, it wasn’t even a tree. The forbidden fruit, well it came from a vine in the form of a grape. Or a bunch of grapes if you want to get technical. But that’s not really the point now, is it? So, there were these grapes, and God was like, don’t eat these or you’ll die. Poetry, right? Anyway, Adam and Eve were actually really good about not eating the grapes, despite the fact that they were completely blind and didn’t actually know what a grape was.

Take note! This is actually a pretty important part of the story.

The two of them spend their day’s frolicking around in the garden of Eden, dancing and eating tomatoes or something. The guy who told Emma the story wasn’t really all that into details. So for the sake of assumption, and to keep this story moving along, they ate tomatoes and kiwis, and whatever else God had randomly decided weren’t off limits. But here’s the deal. Grapes, they don’t stay on the vine forever. Sometimes they fall off and roll away, and turn into something better. With a little help of course, which is were the serpent comes in. Remember Emma’s friend?

It didn’t take much really. A few grapes rolled in the right place so that Adam and Eve stepped on them while dancing. A small glass for the serpent to collect the juices in. A quick sliver into a nearby lake. Come on people. You know how many grapes it would have taken to fill up an entire glass? Even in the modern era wine makers like to water that shit down for profit.

Oh, maybe that’s where the human’s came up with water into wine?

What was that? Oh, ya. The story!

So the serpent, now having a full glass of wine returned to Adam and Eve, making sure to place the glass of wine near a glass of water Eve had placed out already. When she drank, it was from the juices of the forbidden fruit, and then, well you know. Everything went batshit crazy.

Now I know what you’re thinking. This is Adam and Eve. There were no glasses. Seriously, people. This isn’t the part where you should start questioning things. God mad men and butterflies, coffee beans, yet you draw the line and highly crafted glassware in an non industrial age?

Fine then. Don’t believe the story. It’s not like the bug guy upstairs would ever lie. Nope. Never.

But it’s the truth, at least as Gabriel told it. Gabe had been her mentor way back when she was still shiny and new. Most people believe that demons are all fallen angels, but that’s just laziness on the part of human storytelling. The actually history of hell was a bit more complicated. Yes, the Devil and God used to be tight. And yes there was an uprising, but God never sent the Devil away. He left on his own. Something along the lines of peace out, I don’t need this stress. And, yes, a few angels followed him, but most of them were created with the snap of a finger. You see, lurking around the eternal fiery pits of hell with six of your brothers can get a little monotonous.

It’s not like it was hard. He’d watched God do it before. He had powers given unto him by a supreme being. Admittedly, his first tries hadn’t been his best work, but no one gets it right one the first try now do they? Why do you think God flooded the earth? Sometimes you just need a redo. The devil kept them around of course, but all they were really good for anymore was dressing up as cherubs and shooting married people with their love arrows. Ah, the birth of adultery. Take that Cupid.

Eventually the Devil got better though. His creations resembled that of men with physical bodies when needed. Emma had been a crowning achievement. A blonde vixen with doe eyes and and a killer smile. But it had been her hunger for chaos that really had the other demons take notice. Gabe took her under his wing early on, as I said before.

He taught her how to seduce men, to make them gloat, how to send them into a fit of rage. Your garden variety of cardinal sins of course. And for a few thousand years, that’s exactly what she did.

Hey, Adolf, I think you missed some over there.

Oh Jack, have you met my friend Marilyn?

Ted. Look at this one. She’s beautiful!

Awful. Horrible. Unforgivable. I know. I don’t need you to tell me. The thing you have to remember about Emma is that she was trained for this. She was created for this. It’s in her blood. She’s never known love or compassion. But this is what you need to understand going forward, because everything is about to change.

#Devil's in the details #ditd #wellhellotragic #a comedy #satire

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teethandclawsxx · 6 years ago

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We’ll Come Back

Warnings: listen. listen it’s just gore. it’s @windycube‘s adri. there’s also vore.

Word Count: 2176

You step slowly, silently, confidently through the sidewalks, streets, and alleyways. You have no specific purpose - simply prowling the city, not looking for prey, but, y’know. You know this place about as well as any other you’ve haunted - barely at all. The building you live in is tall, and you can easily get home from almost anywhere. Besides, this way you get to discover new things, when you’re in the mood!

Irreverent of your presence, the day goes by without a whiff of adventure. You don’t do anything else, don’t need to do anything else, so you spend all of your time wandering aimlessly and indulging in your repetitive hobbies.

It is late afternoon with the sun low in the sky when you smell something strange. Not really “smell” exactly, but you sense it. As best as the rest of your senses can tell, though, the man you see is just a human. ...With a particularly bad taste in fashion.

But you can smell the tang of blood that follows him, and you know by something about the way he moves that he’s not human, or at least he hasn’t always been. An almost too-perfect fluidity. You begin to slowly follow behind him, once you decide he’s alone, and start to think of what you actually want from him. While you could just try your hand at, well, having him for dinner, his cooperation would be ideal. You help him, he helps you, sometimes you share a meal. It’s not likely that he eats what you eat.

You carefully keep your eyes on him as he lazily loops around, not seeming to be going anywhere specific himself, trying to gain any further sign of what he might be. There’s no way he knows what you are (you are absolutely nothing) but knowing what he is could provide you an upper hand if things go south. Whatever he is, he’s admirably skilled at imitating the form he uses. Aside from the occasional slip up, a movement too fluid for a human here or there, there is nothing truly out of the ordinary about how he moves. You haven’t heard him speak, or make any sounds, but you don’t think you’d be surprised if he opened his mouth to reveal a perfectly human voice. But what else?

Just as you are starting to come out of your thoughts enough to see the sun finally giving up and falling fully beyond the horizon, you notice where you are. His destination is obvious. He must have noticed you at this point, and he is currently leading you out of town. At least, you’re fairly certain that’s where this road leads.

You aren’t too worried though; you can take him. And if not, it’s not like it matters. He’ll shred your host and you’ll move on to another one. A stronger one.

Getting torn apart is not your absolute least fun thing (and frankly? you can just skip out and let this guy tear up your host without you in him), so the possibility of that outcome doesn’t make you want to turn tail either.

You follow him, not really trying to hide at this point, out into the woods, and out into a meadow, far enough out to talk without fear; or kill without fear, if that is what this comes to.

By now it is completely dark, you’ve probably been following him for hours. You bite your knuckles in a nervous habit for half a moment before he slowly turns around to face you - his posture making him look bigger than he actually is, though, he is actually quite large, you realize, at least a half foot taller than you.

As soon as his face comes into view it’s already changing - soundlessly, wordlessly, his form shudders - becomes out of focus for a moment and once it is back into focus his hair is white, and his eyes are different, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets to show off talons, held low but pointed toward you in warning, fangs bared, and a tail slowly swiping back and forth behind him. Smoke drifts out from his neck and covers him like a cloak, or a mane.

You smile - the list of things he could be is at least shorter now. And there’s no way he thinks you’re anything other than a human at this point - you look just like one (because you are wearing it). He probably expects you to be scared, judging by that confident smirk.

“What’s up?” he asks to your silence, sounding only mildly inconvenienced (but his excitement spills out into his tone, probably at the prospect of what he thinks will be an easy meal).

You smile at him, casually baring your own teeth; only human at the moment, getting excited yourself. You place your hand on your chest and call upon your most flattering voice, “A pleasure to meet you too. I couldn’t help noticing you, and, I’m afraid, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to introduce himself, can you?” You aren’t really a guy, but your host definately best passes as one. “Especially to a hunter as handsome as you.” You have no reason to believe flattery won’t work here. And judging by the narrowing of his eyes, and the acceleration of his tail, you think it is working.

You adopt what might be an almost unnervingly wide smile and continue, lowering your tone suggestively, “And considering I was here first, I think it would be reasonable to simply ask you hunt with me, hmm? I’m careful about what I do here and I’d hate to have to clean up any messes.”

You do honestly hope he’s willing to take you up on your offer, but the slight flare of his smoke-mane and the deadpan annoyed expression on his face tell you you’ve only insulted him by asking.

He takes a menacing step toward you, all traces of his earlier excitement gone. He draws his lips up into a proper snarl, “Or, I could just eat you now and do whatever I want after.”

“Well at least let me show you what you’re missing out on,” you wink, and change your form, just a bit, just to show off. Your eyes go bleeding black, irises a bright orange. Tar falls from your eyes like heavy tears, and leaks from your mouth like drool. Your mouth rips open into a smile that shows off teeth at least as sharp as his, and the ends of your fingers harden into thick black claws. You form a tail out of a bit of extra mass that isn’t too unsimilar to his own, and almost pose in your attempt to show off, fingers splayed in front of your obscene smile.

At this display his excitement comes back full force, he seems practically giddy about the fun he’s about to have as he begins to change again, clearly putting on a show in return. This time it’s loud - dizzyingly so, and the sounds are wet and meaty; and bones, breaking and reforming perhaps, the snap of tendon in changing limbs and another altogether off-putting sound as the smoke rises further from his neck and his form grows in size to meet it. Now he stands on all fours, like a perversion of a dog, the smoke still drooling out and forming an appropriately sized mane, covering most of his face and chest.

His teeth, large, sharp, and, most importantly, close shine through the haze clearly as he chuckles, the sound not moving his chest or opening his mouth.

You clasp your hands in front of yourself, this is much better than you anticipated! He’s wonderful! He’s just like (he’s just like) -

He doesn’t wait for you to finish fantasizing before he takes the first swipe with one paw - half the size of your entire body, easily. He attempts to press you into the ground with it, but you are lighter and more nimble than you might appear - a consequence of spreading your mass so thin, and you can easily get out of the way. You notice his eyes widening as he begins to consider what your speediness might mean. An impressive predator indeed.

You crouch, preparing to pounce, and brush your tail across his face, a distraction (a show of affection). He isn’t suitably distracted by it, though, and absently snaps at it, like a bored cat.

You stand back up, deciding to put it on a bit thicker, letting your face get a bit further from looking human, and letting more of the tar drip down your face. You let your voice drift a few octaves down and let your cheerful tone give your voice an ideally disconcerting overall sound, “Have you ever eaten anything like me before?”

You can tell you are simply getting on his nerves, but this time you were trying to draw his ire, and you are more than ready when his paw comes down over you again. You reach out with your claws, trying to deal any amount of damage you can to his impressive form. He knows you move quickly, and was ready for you, too - he draws his paw back.

Your claws, though, reach further than they look like they ought to, and they make contact with the bottom of his paw regardless, leaving none-too-shallow cuts. He lifts his paw in dismay for a moment, perhaps not used to being struck, before slamming it back down, managing to pin you this time to the ground and knock the air straight out of your lungs.

He leans down, his mouth right over you, and breathes out over you, forcing you to take in some of that smoke as you try to catch your breath. He growls as he pulls back, but you only realize something is wrong when you continue breathing in more of the smoke - against your will.

And then you stand up. And then you understand. It’s a part of him, the smoke, and he must be able to manipulate it freely, even if it breaks off from the main cloud.

You stumble around a bit before he uses the smoke to throw your body into a nearby tree.

This is...well this is unexpected (terrifying). You are used to possessing people, but you’ve, admittedly, never given the other side a chance. You can’t say you like it. And with this pain wracking your body, you can’t gather the focus to jump ship. You aren’t used to this, you don’t know how to deal with this, you don’t know -

He starts walking sideways toward another nearby tree and drags you along with the smoke, smacking you into that tree as well moments before arriving in front of you, now back to his more humanoid form.

The smoke stands you up when you aren’t sure you would have been able to on your own power. This is what you do to others, to have it done to you is - (terrifying) unnerving to say the least.

You are (terrified of this thing) impressed by his power. You have to admit you underestimated him. His near-perfect imitation of a human made you think he was weak; made you think he was like a human. Not in body necessarily, but in feeling. (You thought he could be manipulated.) Most things can be manipulated, you reason, so it wasn’t so terrible of a mistake. And you can find him again once you get a better host. (You almost can’t bear the thought of being apart from him now.) He’ll come around.

You only have a fraction of a second of freedom to struggle before he grabs you by the throat and slams you into the tree, holding you up off your feet against it.

He holds you still and takes your hand in his before flicking a snake-like tongue over it, as if trying to decide if you might make him sick to eat.

With a shrug he digs his teeth in above the wrist and you hold down a scream, suppressing it into a low groan.

“Just tastes like meat,” he decides, clearly unimpressed and a bit let down. “Oh well.”

He unceremoniously begins to dig in, ripping out your heart for later and taking chunks of flesh out of your chest with his teeth, his face occasionally adjusting to get the best possible leverage.

The pain flares, going hot and nauseating for a few long moments, your thoughts scattering as you let out weak, wet screams, pleads, that are as much your host as you at this point, before it hits a peak and the connection with your host snaps, leaving you an unseen third party as this thing lazily picks at the meat left on your host. (We’ll come back). We’ll come back, you agree with yourself, leaving to find a new host before you lose your grip.

#text #teeth writes #windycube #adriel #:3c #its not perfect but it's gift #we lov windy in this house

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