#and in the novel when she uses the mind trick on him hes actually PRETENDING to be influenced

[rexscanonwife]

READING THE CLONE WARS NOVELIZATION AGAIN

[mbrainspaz]

It's been years since I wrote this short story for my old writer's group and I feel like sharing. I've said before that I hate writing short stories so with this one I cheated. It's actually a prequel to a bigger story about teleporting shapeshifters I've been writing since I was 16. Even then I barely resisted making it into a 200+ page prequel novel. This MINI prequel takes place at the end of WW2 so expect themes accordingly. Please don't expect much from the 'research' I probably spent 30 minutes on. The prompt from writer's group was "I'll go first."

Observe: some of my earliest OCs— the immortal idiots.

1945. April. Berlin.

“I can hardly blame Adolf.”

The chandelier rattled and dust cascaded into two cups of coffee as a Russian shell brought down the building next door. August sighed at the froth of rubble in his gilded cup and splashed the brew onto the carpet. He took his time selecting a decanter of schnapps from a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass. 

“He did start the war,” I said. 

“Not for—yes obviously. I meant for going mad.” 

“You want me to believe you didn’t have a hand in that?” 

August smirked over the edge of his glass and said, “It doesn’t matter now. It turns out you had the right idea when you defected to America. I think I’ll join you in Chicago soon. Despite everything I did for them the Germans have—” another cascade of shellfire blew out the tall windows. August coughed delicately. “—lost.” 

“You aren’t welcome in America after what you've been a part of here. None of the Allied Nations will have you.” 

August slowly lowered his glass. 

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” I continued without meeting my old friend’s eyes. Once I would have called him family—the older brother I never had. I swilled the muddy coffee in my cup but never raised it to my lips. I'd be a fool to try anything August served me. 

“Andreas,” August pouted my name, drawing hurt from all three syllables. “You know I don’t care if you work for the FBI now. The two of us, we’re bigger than all these squabbles between nations, yes? We’ve known we were brothers since the moment we met. Once the treaties are signed all of this will be in the past. Just like your unfortunate incident last year.” He reached out squeeze my shoulder. 

“Don’t!” I barked, rolling out of my chair to get away. I landed on one knee, pistol raised. 

“Oh dear, you’re still upset about that.” 

“Upset,” I spat. The sympathetic smile on August’s face tested the utmost limits of my restraint. “It was your fault! It’s your fault she’s dead! I didn’t defect to America because they were winning, I left to get away from you. The whole world has seen pictures of the internment camps now so stop pretending you don’t know what you were part of. You crafted this evil. You engineered it.” 

August whistled through his teeth and raised his hands. His schnapps glass hovered in the air near his right wrist until he decided to pick it up. The trick cost him nothing. I could remember a time when we both went red-faced trying to lift pebbles or slip coin purses from pockets. In those early days each new ability was a source of wonder that fueled our dreams. It took me too long to realize how very different his dreams were. 

I waited for August to retreat to the far side of the table before I stood up. I kept my pistol leveled at his head. 

“You’re being unreasonable,” August purred. “Haven’t you realized everything that happened was for the best? She wasn’t like us. She would only have held you back. You proved that when you came back.”

I lowered the pistol before August could see my hands tremble. The memories of that night were still as vivid as the crumbling city around me. They were the ghost of a bullet flashing through my head. The first sight from new eyes imprinted on my mind like a raw scar: Her dead eyes staring back at me. 

August laughed into his drink. There was less remorse in his heart than there was fuel for the German tanks. I had seen all I needed to see. 

“We aren’t as special as you think,” I said. “How closely were you involved with the Japanese?” 

“Not very. I never saw much promise in Japan. I was only ever interested in Germany. I thought that was what you wanted.” 

“So you haven’t heard of the Black Dragon Society.”

“Are they… ninjas? They sound like ninjas. Please do tell me they're ninjas.” 

I drew a photograph from my coat pocket. I flicked it across the room and August’s hand snapped up to catch it. 

“Meet me there in ten minutes.” 

August scoffed and said, “You’ve gotten slow.” 

“I might stop in Brazil for a decent cup of coffee.” 

A cannon shell screamed its final warning a second before the building came crashing down around our ears. 

I stepped out of a shadowed doorway near the FBI building in Washington DC. I slipped into the role of Andrew Stern while I was still brushing rubble from my lapels. The morning was cold and no birds sang over the low rumble of automobile traffic. I took a steadying breath and startled half to death when a hand fell on my shoulder. 

“So, is he dead yet?” John asked. 

“Ah—no. Hitler is hiding in his bunker and the Russians have taken most of the city. Goebbels has stepped in to direct the troops.” 

I let August think that I worked for the FBI but in truth it was blackmail. The sharp-eyed FBI director was the only one who knew about my ability to travel impossible distances in the blink of an eye. It was a secret he would keep as long as I was useful. Luckily he didn’t know my other impossibilities. 

No one knew about August. I couldn't warn the world about him without exposing myself. No, August was a spider pulling a thousand strings and when those strings broke he would disappear and build a new web. The threat about the Allied Nations was pure bluster. For now I was the only thing standing between an unscrupulous man who could reshape matter with his mind and the rest of the world—but perhaps not forever.

John thumped me on the back, took a drag of his cigarette, and said, “I don’t think I’ll rest easy until I finally see Hitler’s corpse. You’re doing a great service to this country, Andrew my boy.”

I exhaled a puff of cold air. At 33 I was technically younger than the director but I wouldn’t have chosen to appear that way. That was my penance as long as the FBI knew me by this face. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” John fumbled through his coat pockets until he produced an envelope. I accepted it after the barest hesitation. “They want you back on the Manhattan Project so your work in Cambridge will have to wait.” 

“I don’t—I have classes to teach.” 

“Andrew Andrew.” John’s hand thumped against my back again. “This is a matter of national security. Play teacher another day.” 

I scowled at John’s back as he ground his cigarette butt into the sidewalk and returned to his office. The Manhattan Project was what had first turned my interest to Japan months ago. I pulled back my sleeve to check one of my seven wristwatches. No time for coffee in Brazil after all. 

“This is quaint,” August greeted me from behind a Japanese face. We stood together on a bridge over the Ōta River just after sunset. A lantern-lit trolley rumbled past, carrying locals dressed in fine evening wear. Most of the pedestrians still wore their grimy work clothes as they rode bicycles or pulled carts. I didn’t miss the petrol-fueled thrum of DC. 

“This way," I said, using a tongue the locals would understand as their own if any bothered to overhear it. I led August to a dark temple on the riverfront. We entered by stepping through a solid wall, a detail that didn't phase him. He'd grown so confident in his own power. 

"Who dares approach the black dragon?” boomed a voice that would have made a sane man’s knees tremble.   

"Oh this is—this is very nice," August said, nodding his head as he crossed the black marble floor in confident strides. As he approached the regal figure on a throne in the center of the hall he raised a hand in a casual Nazi salute, then had to laugh at himself. “Sorry, old habits. I’m August, and you are?” 

Fabric rustled. Two katanas glinted in the low light as they crossed against August’s throat. He went still, not paralyzed but calculating. The warriors who held the blades wore featureless black masks and they had crossed the hall without ever taking a step. 

I coughed to break the tension and bowed my head, saying, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, great dragon.” 

The enthroned figure waved an onyx hand and the two warriors vanished from the hall as easily they had appeared. August stepped back from the throne to stand at my side. 

“August.” The powerful voice spoke his name as if to shake it apart and sift through the ruins. “You who call yourself ‘Aryan.’” 

August smiled a curious smile and said, “I am what I am.”

“You know not what you are, nor how you came to be.” 

I knew August was stung by that though he hid it well. A trace of the orphaned boys we once were would always be part of us. 

“Names and titles mean so little,” he hedged. 

“And yet you have given yourself so many, not least the name of an Emperor.” 

August flushed at that, his eyes blazing gold in a rare show of temper. The wooden throne creaked dangerously. The masked figure on the throne only tilted its head in response. August crushed the throne to splinters. The Dragon stayed seated on serenely on empty air, black robes hanging inches from the ground. 

“You are gifted but you are ignorant,” the Dragon boomed. August staggered a half-step back. It was enough to make my heart race. “It is time you learned you are set apart, but not above.”

“Of course I’m above them! I’m immortal,” August blustered, pounding a fist against his chest. 

The Dragon laughed. “Thirty-five years you have walked this earth and you think yourself eternal.” 

“Spit it out then. What do you say I am?” 

“You are Tsukumogami: He who lives for a hundred years. No more and no less. You are not a god, but a tool of the spirits sent to guide humanity along better paths until our time on this earth is past.” 

I knew how hard that revelation had hit me and yet August seemed to take it all in stride. He contemplated the hovering figure for a silent moment before turning on his heel and vanishing from the hall. I knew right where I would find him. 

August didn’t turn when he heard me clambering over the rooftop. He gazed out over the train yard, watching civilians and soldiers mill about like busy ants in a black forest hive. This was the Parisian train station where we’d first crossed paths in 1922. 

“You think he was telling the truth?” he asked. All the bravado had been stripped away along with the disguises. He wore his own face, probably for the first time in a decade. His tightly curled blonde hair suited him better than the slicked back style he’d worn for the Nazis.  

“He knows what he’s talking about. Their order has been around for centuries. You wouldn’t believe how I found them.” 

“Well you finally did it. Found out what we are. Tsuku—whatever. What a ridiculous name.”  

“I hoped it might help you see the world in a different light.”

“I know what it means to you.” 

I shook my head, watching all the people below without really seeing them. 

“I’ll go first,” August said. 

[hydropyro]

I was looking for some advice and ideas. However, the book that I am writing may be triggering for some individuals as it relates to domestic violence, abuse, and various assaults. So please keep this in mind before continuing with my post or reading responses to it.

If people would be more comfortable messaging me directly, I would appreciate any ideas and advice I can get.

Spoilers for characters and plot points in Desert Reign, Reign of Fire, and Unreigned

I have a character who is very evil. Just an awful, shit person. And while evil things he's done have been talked about, when you actually meet him, I wasn't initially comfortable having him do evil things actively.

CW: He's a really bad guy, just all the CWs Here is an overview, but I need some ideas for things that will help show his absolute fucking insanity

He is a king. He hates his closest ally, the emperor of another country, because he thinks the emperor is soft. The emperor hates him because hes fucking insane.

He forced the emperor (who was 17 at the time) to brand POWs when they were allied in a war. It wasn't a particulalry violent war, and the POWs were captured while ensuring that it would be safe for their Prime Minister to meet with the king to bring some resolution to the conflict.

He also tricked the emperor into branding the king's son. The king hates his son because he was conceived when he SA'd a servant and isn't of full noble blood.

He celebrates his birthday with an orgy called 'The Event' wherein all must participate. Everyone in the castle. Must, including the POWs who were present during the previous war.

During the time with POWs in his castle, he took two women and SA'd them. They attacked him, killed one of his harem maidens, and tried to kill him. He survived and executed all five women who had been moved from the dungeons to the harem on pyres and forced the emperor to watch. (not aware that the emperor wasn't on his side at that point)

After the war, 13 years before the "present day," a 15-year-old girl raised in a cult came (long story, it makes sense story-wise), and he raised her into being a soldier for him. Grooms her. Partially because she will be a good tool, partially for the control, partially because the attempt on his life put him off 'non-consent', and thus he manipulates her into loving him. He eventually uses her to start a war between the emperor's country and another. When that doesn't work in overthrowing the emperor, he sends her undercover to abduct the empress.

This brings us to the current novel.

King has abducted Empress. Empress's friend (brother of one of the POWs that Emperor was forced to brand) goes to the castle under cover (convoluted plot point convoluted plot point lore lore lore).

Prince hates his father (King), but puts up with him to survive. King was sterilized during an attack and thus is stuck with Prince (who didn't know he was a prince until after the War that left his father sterilized).

Prince wants to protect Empress as much as he can. Pretends to 'request' her from the harem so she will be safe. Friend pretends to have an issue with Emperor and that he was helping Kings Secret Agent in abducting her in the first place. Friend and Prince join forces to protect Empress, having to pretend that they are brutalising her behind closed doors. King is personally uncomfortable with participating in non-con, so that is not an option, though would otherwise be in character.

Things that have happened:

Empress is kept in the Harem rather than in the dungeons (in the room of the Secret Agent who was killed during her abduction) aristocrats play a card game, but rather than betting money they are betting time with a trafficked person (buy in is rent of the person). Friend narrowly avoids being forced into participating because he didn't understand/believed images of women to be of Harem Maidens and thus consenting. Prince saves him from that.

Prince and Friend join forces, and King believes that Friend is exacting revenge against the Emperor (for some grievance against his sister during the war 13 years prior) by brutalizing her. He's fine with it.

King 'requests' empress for a dinner. Friend finds out and tries to intervene, is asked to paint a portrait of her to hang in Emperor's cell when King has him. Friend and Empress are lead to believe that King expects Friend to SA Empress in front of him. Doesn't, but would not necessarily be opposed. Only issue is King 'gave' Friend to Prince and is reluctant to go back on that given his son's recent 'turn around' of 'appropriate' behavior.

The Event happens later. The empress is forced to attend, and the King watches but pulls her out of the throng because the idea of the Emperor believing that it happened without it having happened is more exciting for him.

I hired a beta reader who expressed that while my villain is very intriguing, only hearing how bad he is and has been is not as impactful as seeing him be this awful person. So I'm looking for more ideas.

I hope my post made sense. Thanks

[geminil0vr]

something you shouldn’t have been doing (part I) | fred weasley

see part 2 in my masterlist

summary; with all your dormmates away, you finally have time to get out all your pent-up frustration alone. the universe must despise you, because when your thoughts drift to fred, your best friend's brother, he bursts through your door in need of help with potions homework. safe to say, he's not gonna let you get off so easily.

word count; 3.1k

content; sexual themes galore, masturbation, lying (reader you're a shite liar i'm sorry), teasing, anticipation, fred being hot, being besties with ron because why not (victoria justice said it best when she said BFB) homework (i know, i'm so sorry), no proper smut here… check out part two

a/n; wanted to edit this because i just finished part two, and i really love this fic but i didn't quite like how it was written before. and my post organisation back then... if i think abt it i'll sob. happy reading (or re-reading) loves !!

for the first time in over a month, your fellow gryffindor dormmates were all busy, and you thanked merlin that you could finally get a month’s worth of pent-up frustration out before they came back. with surprise tests, irritating classmates, and the stress of making sure your best mate, ron, stayed out of trouble, you were constantly a bundle of nerves and fury; even your other friends, harry and hermione, had been noticing how you lashed out at very minor things. when ron made a comment about how you ‘needed to get laid’, you promptly whacked him over the head with the hardback book you were holding. what would he have known — he was a bloody virgin! but… he wasn’t actually wrong.

snapping shut the mystery novel you’d been pretending to read as each girl left the room, you didn’t even bother to remove your school clothes before hopping straight into your bed and under the quilt, ready to ‘jack off’ all your worries. it was certainly a temporary solution, but foolproof nonetheless. you laid your head on the propped up pillow, hair splaying out around your head like a halo (yikes, what irony, considering you were doing something that was meant to be so 'sinful'), and flipped up your skirt to dip your fingers into your underwear. oh, how you longed for the time in your life where you'd have someone to do this shit for you. all the girls in your dorm (well, except hermione) bragged about their partners, and never having had one yourself, it made you bitter.

you meant, it did feel good by yourself, but it got boring very quickly. with just your fingers, and a lack of inspiration, there wasn't much to experiment with. and you certainly weren't going to use a hairbrush.

deciding to make the most of your time, you pressed your middle and index finger firmly against your clit and let out a quiet whimper at the contact. it had been a long time. without any erotic novels nearby (though you were sick of reading about victorian girls getting railed in stables), you had to rack your brain for topics as you strummed your fingers against your clit, arching your back a little for even better contact and causing your school skirt to hike up even further.

you didn’t have a crush at the moment, but a cute guy from class could have perhaps done the trick? nevermind, nevermind, definitely fucking not. your mind flitted to ron with that, and you struggled not to let out a cackle at the idea of being anything like that with him — you two had been tied to the hip since second year (it would have been first year, but he teased you relentlessly for being a year older than everyone, then later confessed that he was jealous that you were older and he wasn’t — what a dick), never leaving each other's side and even making harry and hermione jealous on occasion.

shit, you had to stop your mind from wandering. you weren't even really turned on, but you had to get done. it was now or never. surely not the best stance to have when you're about to pleasure yourself, but whatever. your brain scanned through people at school, ones you could think of with no serious attachment. but you couldn't really find any. until your mind flitted to a particular redhead. no, shut up, not ron — fred weasley. that wasn't good. you had to find someone with no serious attachment. fred, well, he was your friend and your best friend's brother all in one. that'd be disastrous.

you shook your head quickly, gnawing at your lip and trying to touch yourself without any particular people in mind. oh, merlin, scenarios. those were fun! no weird attachment, just things you found hot. well, despite being a virgin, your mind consistently drifted to some pretty raunchy ideas. specifically, being fucked against a wall. your clit pulsed at that, and so you ran with it, thinking of someone pressing you up against your dorm room wall, running their hands over your waist and hips, hiking up the school skirt you were wearing.

getting wetter, you drew circles over your clit, running your finger up and down your folds, getting more into it. merlin, he'd fuck you so good. you meant they. they would fuck you so good.

and then they'd pull down your panties, which would pool around your shoes, and you'd take one foot out, and they'd slide right inside you, hitting every spot so well. and you'd wrap your legs around fred's their waist, panties hanging from one ankle as they pounded into you, leaving hickies on your neck.

eyes closed, you threw your head back, sliding a finger into yourself, now using your other hand to tease your clit. but, picturing the scenario, you began to see flashes of pale, freckled skin, and golden-brown eyes, and ginger hair. shit. and now you could see fred sheathing himself in and out of you, making you bounce against the wall. fuck, you shouldn't have been thinking about him, but the little devil on your shoulder told you not to stop, so you gave into the pleasure and bucked your hips up. merlin, the idea of that red-head’s hands gliding all over you was making you soaked. you moaned as you added a second finger, whispering out his name, testing it on your lips.

and now, surely you'd have a bloody crush on him. but enough about the future, you were in the present, and the present felt too fucking good to stop. you whined a little, making sure to not be too loud.

continuing for a little while, gasping every now and then, desperate to fall over the edge, you barely had time to react when your door was swung open by none other than fred weasley himself, king of having absolutely zero respect for anyone's privacy.

you pulled your fingers out, wrenching your hands out of your underwear and wiping them quickly on your bare thighs, propping yourself up to a sitting position. your hands were firmly pressed into the mattress, whole body stiff as he closed the door behind him.

"y/n, the others said you’d be here." he barely even glanced up, "i need some help with potions and you’re way more intelligent than me so i need you to do my homework or —" fred finally properly looked up from the book in his hands, and took in your features. you looked like a bloody deer in headlights.

your cheeks were flushed red, your hair a little ruffled up, some strands stuck to the light sheen of sweat covering your forehead. you knew he would notice, you were just praying to find an excuse before he caught on.

"you okay?" he furrowed his brows, standing at the end of your bed, grasping the potions book with his long fingers. how fucking humiliating. you prayed he hadn't heard you moaning, though you'd made a special effort to keep extremely quiet.

"uh, yeah, sure! was just — actually, you know what, i feel a little sick. think i have a fever, think you could come back another time, maybe?" your mind racked through excuse after excuse. and this was a good one.

"you were fine at dinner, that was just an hour ago, y/n." who did he think he was, sherlock?

"it all happened so quickly, really. my nose is blocked, and i'm really hot and i feel nauseous, you know, not so good!"

"why aren't you with madame pomfrey, then?" you chewed at the inside of your cheek.

"uh, don't like infirmaries."

"but... you said the other day that you really liked madame pomfrey." he was beginning to put two and two together, cogs turning in his head. he just couldn’t click it yet. if only the dickhead would stop asking so many questions.

he swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning as his eyes flitted around the completely empty room, until his eyes widened, and the ghost of a smirk came over his features. no, no, no, no, no, merlin, please, no —

"y/n." he was grinning cheekily now, and the way he said your name in such a teasing way caused your insides to churn with anxiety.

you gave a toothy grimace in response. "freddie. how's it hanging?" oh, shite, you really shouldn't have said that considering the situation. he knew that, too, fighting back a laugh and shooting you an incredibly suspecting look. he closed his potions book, finger still wedged in between the pages to save where he had been reading.

"dunno, you tell me."

"already told you. sick." you replied curtly.

"well, you definitely look flushed. but, i think…" he paused, "you were doing something bad."

"well, being sick isn't a crime." you swallowed.

"i think you were doing something shouldn’t have been doing." he smiled teasingly.

"since when am I not allowed to — i mean, be ill?" your cheeks were on fire, hands clammy, still practically holding you up on the mattress considering you hadn't relaxed any of your muscles since he came in. he swiped his tongue against the inside of his cheek, grinning.

"you're really gonna make me say it?" he said in a sing-songy tone.

"fred!" you whined, this time not out of pleasure, but pure embarrassment. the whole time he spoke, he had been stepping closer to your bed. this whole thing was only to make fun, and it was definitely working. shit, would he tell his friends?

his tone dropped a little lower as he placed the book on your bedside table, finger still keeping his page in place, meaning he was basically leaning onto it, way too close to you for comfort. though, you weren't thinking that when you wanted him to fuck you up against the wall. you had to crane your head to look up at him. "say it," he said, "say what you were doing and i’ll quit teasing." somehow you very much doubted that, but his voice still sent a shock of pleasure right underneath your skirt, which was still hiked all the way up underneath the covers.

"i wasn’t doing anything, just reading." you tried.

"but, i thought you were terribly sick. that's why your hair's all messy, and your face is all pink, and your hands are under the cover, and you're sweating." he tilted his head, even closer now.

your fingers grasped at your bedsheet. "multitasking. with my sickness."

"hmm, of course, of course, y/n." you shut your eyes tight, turning your head to the side as his spearmint breath fanned over your cheek and ear.

you relaxed your hands, sitting down properly, body still tense. "what are you playing at, fred? you already know exactly what i was doing. i think the more important thing is how you thought it was okay to just barge straight into the room without knowing if anyone was in here and without considering how i was, uh… alone." you started your statement off powerfully, turning to look at him now that he had retreated the tiniest bit, but you finished the sentence quietly.

"i’m sorry i interrupted you. how about i let you get back to what you were doing? i can just wait here." he said cheekily, staring straight into your eyes as his smirk returned.

"quit it. really, why are you doing this? i’m sure you’d understand, don’t you do this when all the boys aren’t in your room?"

"you can’t even say the word," he snickered. it was kind of cute of you, actually, "and no, i masturbate in the shower like a normal person." the word made you wince, and you physically shook your head free of the images entering your mind. him in the shower, all wet —

"w— well, it just isn’t the same for girls, okay?"

"how?" you didn’t notice what he was trying to do; you were too flustered trying to find your words.

"it’s not comfortable standing up, and — merlin, fred! why are you making me tell you this?" you crossed your arms over your chest.

"i’m not making you do anything. i could, if I wanted to." you blushed profusely, even redder now. "so, you’re telling me you’ve never touched yourself in the shower? not even with the shower head?" your eyes widened, "well?" he insisted, picking up his book to fold the page and put it down, before coming closer to you like before.

of course you had. but you never did it when your dormmates were here, which was always, because the water pressure was way too much and you could never hold in your moans.

"well, yes, but —" he shifted, one large hand holding the bed frame by your head, the other beginning to fiddle with a strand of your hair, leaning over you.

"did it feel good?"

you almost choked on air, but still answered meekly, unable to focus with him towering over you so close. "yes."

"and," he paused, tilting his hand and glancing to the strand of hair that was still twirling between his fingertips, "what if i told you i could make you feel better than that?" he grinned playfully.

"you what?"

"you heard me."

"no, i don't think i did."

"yes, you did."

"no, i did not."

"yes," his mouth was mere centimetres from yours, hand reaching out to cup your jaw and brush his thumb along it. he glanced from your pink, bitten lips, to your eyes. "you did."

"fred…" you paused, frozen as he brushed his lips against yours for just a second. you leaned forward instinctively, looking only at his mouth, but he smoothly pulled back and acted like nothing had happened, letting go of the bed frame and your jaw. it wasn’t even a kiss. a brush.

frustated (sexually) with all the mixed signals, you tucked back your hair awkwardly.

"so, can you help me with the potions work or not?" he tapped the book beside you twice, impatiently. your voice was caught in your throat, leaving you unable to speak. fred was expertly holding back a smirk. 

"i — uh, I c— could, uh…" he began playing with the edge of your red, patchwork quilt as you stuttered and squirmed nervously under his watch.

"i don’t speak gibberish." he smiled innocently.

your voice came out clearer now, much to his dismay. you were quite cute, stumbling over your words. "yes, what do you need?" he stepped further away from the bed, and taking ahold of his book, bounced it between his hands. 

"i need you to explain this page to me." he said, grabbing a chair from a desk and sliding it over near the end of your bed, sitting casually with his legs slightly parted, looking over the work.

"right. sure, give it here." wiping your clammy hands anxiously on the bed covers, you made a gesturing motion but he didn’t budge.

"nah, i think you should come over here. we should probably work at a desk for this." your mind spun back to your hiked up skirt, half-unzipped, and your thigh-high socks which had ended up rolled down at different lengths after all your squirming.

"no, i think it’d be easier if you just passed me the book."

"you should come over here. i don’t see any reason why not to." your skirt. your socks. the weakness in your knees just from how he was acting.

"why are you doing this, fred?"

"i just need help with the work. that's all." he shrugged, lips quirking up slightly.

you laughed out of shock and frustration, "well, fine, i don’t feel like helping you."

"so i’ll have to come get you myself, then?"

"certainly not!" you exclaimed as he got up and walked beside you, teasingly tugging at the covers with one hand, putting down his book at the end of your bed.

"hmm…" he started.

"i’m serious."

"i don’t know…" he pretended to think.

"don’t…" you spoke so weakly, looking up at him pleadingly through thick lashes, and his heart jumped. nonetheless, he slowly began pulling the covers, just at the side. and he stopped every few movements to gauge your reactions. just as he could catch the tiniest glimpse of your thigh, you gripped his wrist with your hand.

"please.” you weren’t really sure what you were pleading for anymore. because your clit was pulsing with excitement, but your heart was racing with humiliation.

"y/n." he spoke, "do you really want me to stop?" fred asked seriously, looking right into your eyes. if you had asked him to stop, he would have immediately. but, you paused. you paused a little too long. you stared down at the tight grip you had on his wrist, then stared back up at him. and you loosened your hand.

"that’s what i thought." in one slow movement, he pulled away the covers only to be met with your smooth, flushed skin, black underwear peeking out from under your skirt, legs slightly opened, knees slightly bent. "fuck." he muttered under his breath, and you breathed in sharply, slowly closing them in embarrassment.

he acted as if he wasn’t affected. but fred wasn’t expecting you to look this pretty, legs pushed together, staring up at him cautiously. you thought he knew what he was doing, but as experienced as he was, in this situation you were both as stunned as each other. he cleared his throat.

"you’re a mess. ought to sort out your uniform." he said, voice raspier than you expected. you blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and gasped quietly as his warm hand met your skin. just above your knee.

but he simply pulled up your sock, snapping it down around your upper thigh. then, he leaned over to do the exact same on your other one, this time his fingers lingering a little too close to exactly where you wanted him to be, making you inhale sharply. "there you are," he pulled back and smoothed his hands on his pant legs, "all better."

the tense silence between you ebbed and flowed until he spoke once more, grabbing the book. "maybe i’ll ask george about the potions work when he gets back. thanks anyway."

walking around the bed and opening the door, you widened your eyes as he began to leave.

"hey, fred?" you knew exactly what you wanted.

he whipped around, eyes darker than usual. "yeah?"

"…you’re —" you swallowed, biting your lip anxiously, "you're welcome." you just didn’t know how to ask for it.

and so he nodded curtly, stepping out, and before shutting the door, he spoke once more.

"have fun, y/n."

shit.

[awkwardgtace]

Foxes Are The Best Pets

Hey wrote a bit about Vitus getting some of his kids that are my ocs, starts with his son Rhys here.

TW: For dehumanization and mentions of abuse.

I have no chill lately, I'm waiting on burn out lol

Foxes Are The Best Pets

He promised to do one interview with these people and it was turning out to be too much. Every other word made him sick. It had been five minutes and now he’s being dragged to come see their new pet. He hopes it’s an actual pet this time. If he has to pretend he’s happy to see another person caged because of animal traits he might lose his mind.

“Mr. Vitus, sir,” the interviewer said. She said her name at some point, but when the next statement was about how using pets in his novel was genius, he forgot it. “You’ll adore my little fox. It’s the cutest yet. You’ve heard the fad right? That foxes make the best pets, easy to train and smart too.”

Vitus grunted, he was glad people found him intimidating at times like this. The interviewer lost the attempt to enthrall him with her pet fox. She kept them going, apparently the fox was part of a segment and kept in the studio. He’d rather go back to the room they gave him and wait until he got to pretend he thought it was funny to hear people talk badly about weres. She finally stopped in front of a room that looked more like a closet.

“Here we are, I hope it's been behaving. We almost had to chain the poor thing. It kept biting and trying to run away,” she explained. The door opened and Vitus was ready to scream.

Inside was the farthest thing he could imagine from a pet fox that needs to be disciplined. A small creature that wasn’t even the size of his pinky stood and stared at them. Their eyes were pink, but there was no life in them. Their salmon hair was dull and unkempt. It seemed like the fur on their ears and tail should have been vibrant, but it had faded as well. He could see the hints of bruising on the skin they were forced to show. The small fox looked up at him and flinched. He must be glaring worse than before, he couldn’t help it.

“Will you behave yourself now?” she asked. The little fox looked at her, their demeanor changed instantly. They were less human, their stance more animalistic. They let out a small bark. “Aww so you decided to listen, Biscuit, I’m so proud.”

He watched barely keeping his temper in check as she reached in grabbing the small were. They were already shaking as her hand came near. He bit his lip staring at the way their ears folded over. He lost himself grabbing her arm to stop her. She looked back up at him, concern clear in her eyes. They didn’t want to anger the new up and coming author. He had to play these damned games every time.

“I’d like to return to my dressing room before we rehearse,” he said. He couldn’t try to lower his volume or appear concerned. He saw the look in her eyes, she wasn’t happy to be dragged away. Good.

“Of course, of course. You don’t want to see any of the tricks our cute Biscuit can do first?” He grit his teeth, of course she wanted to show off the ‘training’.

“It would be better to have a fresh experience for rehearsal wouldn’t it?”

“Oh I suppose. Ok Biscuit be good!”

He had to shove his hands in his pockets as she slammed the door. She didn’t even consider his smaller ears and sensitive hearing. She gave him a fake smile and started to ramble as she brought him back the way they came. He took a more careful look around, where were they planning to keep the fox after this? There weren’t any places set up for them to get around safely. He had a feeling of dread filling his stomach as he got an idea.

“Thanks for watching. And thank you Vitus so much for joining us today. Don’t forget to keep an eye out for our up and coming best seller!” she said as they finished rehearsing. It felt like years answering mundane questions as they avoided bringing up the species of his protagonists. Then they brought out the little fox. That degrading name playing on their lips as they had the fox do tricks. More than one time he saw the little one wince and he had to fight back the need to step in.

“Cut! We’re good!” the director called.

“Thanks again Mr. Vitus, so I didn’t get to ask this, but the giants aren’t really the bad guys right?” She gave him the same conspiratorial look every other interviewer had. In the end the evil giants will be good and the weres were misguided the whole time. He chuckled, flashing a fake smile.

“You’ll just have to wait like everyone else,” he recited. It was a sickening feeling leading people on to think he’d do that. His editors knew the plans and they loved it. They said it would start conversations that needed to happen. He sighed as the interviewer pouted and left. A rehearsal today and the real thing tomorrow.

He started to get up when he saw the little fox had been left behind. No one seemed to care or worry about them. They looked up at him and didn’t even care this time. He furrowed his brows, how could he do this? He needs to get them out of here, but anything right now is too obvious. He wanted to crouch down, get a little closer, but that would draw attention. There had to be a way to at least find out the kid’s real name. The closer he looked the worse it all felt. This wasn’t just a fox were, it was a kid. At best thirteen and being treated like this. The kid flinched and he knew he’d scared them again.

“Biscuit!” the shrill voice of the interviewer called. “Oh thank you so much Mr. Vitus I can’t believe I forgot him. You bad boy not even barking to remind mama.”

He raised an eyebrow, that’s true the fox didn’t speak. An awful idea popped in his head that made the interviewer flinch away too. She wasn’t letting a literal child speak. He stood and walked away, he couldn’t face this he had to think of some way to get the kid out of here. He entered his dressing room again. There wasn’t much here, just a lot of unnecessary electronics. He smirked as an idea finally popped in his head. He just needed a little help from his manager, and she’d be happy to do it. He called her and started getting the plan together.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Rhys hated this. It was the fifth time this month someone sent him to another person claiming they loved weres and wanted to give him a good home. Now he’s a pet that barks named Biscuit. He tried to keep the dead look on when she was around. He knew even if someone recognized him they wouldn’t care. He wasn’t worth their time. Plus foxes were great pets.

He grimaced again quickly, going neutral as his ‘owner’ looked at him. She kept grabbing him tightly and causing more bruising. She tsked each time she saw a new one form blaming him. He would be making plans to run away if she hadn’t already made it clear he’d be getting tossed soon. She didn’t like damaged products and he was only good for a segment. He bit his lip as she grabbed him and shoved him in a pocket. She could at least pretend she cared.

“Don’t worry Biscuit, today is the last day you’ll come to work with me and then we get you out of my house. You’re such an awful mongrel why would anyone want a pet like you. Sad that foxes are all the rage right now,” she mused.

He wanted to scoff and call her names. He knew how all the rage they were, it was why he kept getting grabbed and sent to new places. He actually thought the family he’d been with at the start would come after him. He’d been a fool, he was a kid who wasn’t wanted by his own parents. No one would be coming to find him if he disappeared from their lives. He curled up as best he could in the pocket. She didn’t pick one with a lot of room for him…ever.

He jolted awake as a hand grabbed him again. He was placed on the table where they made him do tricks yesterday. There were giants all around, but the worst one wasn’t here yet. His grimace was bad, but those emerald eyes were the worst. Not to mention he towered over giants. The table beneath him started to shake and he had to bite back a yelp. The worst one was coming, his eyes locked on Rhys immediately. The white haired giant was always staring at him, he wanted to make it stop.

“Morning,” the biggest one spoke. Each time it made Rhys feel like there was a storm next to him. He had to try desperately to keep from his ears folding back. His ‘owner’ would punish him. “So we’ll be having the real thing today? More tricks from Biscuit?”

“Oh yes, little Biscuit will do wonders. Much better than yesterday, no tripping or stumbling,” she threatened. He knew the giants would think she was being sweet, but he knew the truth. A trip or a stumble would mean no dinner tonight. Not like he had any food yet today. Suddenly everything went dark. “Shit!”

He could see better in the dark than the giants. All of them were running around, a sudden power failure. Of course they had to fix it quickly. This could be his chance to run. He took a quick look around when he froze. The white haired one hadn’t left, he stayed where he was and kept staring at Rhys. Fuck it, he was running. He made a move, but the white haired giant did too. In less than a second he was wrapped in gigantic fingers and being picked up. He thought about panicking, but he wouldn’t be stuck as Biscuit anymore.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the giant muttered. Was he apologizing to Rhys? Weird.

Rhys was dropped in a pocket like this morning. Except there was food in it? Also some pain killers? Was this giant just a hoarder? Is he going to be put on display? He shivered, at least that meant he’d be kept looking nice. He started to sob quietly, another person grabbing him even if the current place was shit. He hoped he could sleep through the deep voice that would rumble around him. At least it smelled nice here, like spring.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Vitus tried to stay still and look calm as the lights came back on. He watched his manager apologizing for her mistake. She shot him a look and he gave a brief nod. The kid was getting out of here, he just had to wait. Everyone would come back and as far as they were concerned he’d never even shown much interest in ‘Biscuit’. He grimaced, the first thing he would do is find out the kid’s name. He’d get him home after that, to where they took him from.

“Oh such a relief that it was just a mishap,” the interviewer laughed. “Your manager is a bit of a mess isn’t she?”

“Now and then,” he answered. He smiled slightly, the woman grinned. She was sure she won him over now. He watched her smile and sit without even checking the ground for the fox boy. A look of realization and poorly masked anger.

“Biscuit’s gone! He must have run during the power outage, my poor baby got scared. You didn’t happen to see where he went, did you Mr. Vitus?”

“I thought you took him. When the lights came on he was gone.”

He smirked as the rage on her face came forward. Wincing when hard stomps hit the ground. He watched her eyes darting around the set as though she’d see the salmon colored tail poking out of a hiding spot. The kid was about to run before he grabbed him, she wouldn’t have found him either way. She sighed before standing and starting to move set pieces around. He bit his tongue, he couldn’t say anything about how little she seemed to care. Not right now, they might think he has the little fox. That would backfire on everything.

“That little…” she grumbled. He stood and tapped her shoulder. She faced him with a fake worry again.

“It may be better to just leave him, if the power outage scared him after all,” he tried to sound neutral. He doesn’t care about the fox child and just wants to get his interview done. “I assume a host like you has a backup in case he wasn’t ready to perform.”

“O-oh of course. I should get that set up.”

She ran off quickly. He wanted to check on the child in his pocket, promise that he’s safe. He couldn’t though, any attention drawn to him like that could get him back in their hands. He smiled as she came back with a weird appliance. That was better than a kid covered in bruises performing little tricks. He’d do this, report her for how she was treating a were. Even if people knew some got treated as pets, she was making sure on camera never to say the word. She’d at least get punished a little, nowhere near enough.

He had been zoned out for most of the segment about him. He opted to leave quickly claiming he wanted to let them search for Biscuit without worry. He rushed to his car, planning to stop at a store on the way home. He didn’t have anything a were might need, he’d need to buy a lot. He waited until he’d driven for a while before finally checking his pocket. The little fox fell asleep, it was probably better than being awake for all of that. He let go of the pocket opening, giving it a small pat before heading out. He heard a small sound and froze. Had the kid woken up?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rhys stretched a bit, enjoying the smell of spring as he woke up. He had a nice dream, laying in the sun surrounded by flowers. Slowly he remembered what he was supposed to be doing today, he never got to sleep so peacefully since she got him. He stretched more, feeling the fabric around him. There was more room than usual, that didn’t make sense. Did someone new… someone had grabbed him. That weird angry looking giant, crap he needs to find a way to run.

“Are you awake?” the giant asked. Rhys nearly screamed, the voice was deep and loud. He felt the sound rumble through his whole being. This one was huge, he’d be the worst he was sure. He couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out as he curled in on himself again. “Oh no.”

The little light Rhys had was snuffed out. Huge fingers came in and he had nowhere to run. He tried to stay still, it was always better when he didn’t try to run. The fingers wrapped around him, they weren’t tight yet. He was being good so they would stay loose. He didn’t want to learn how this one would punish him. The fingers were huge, he knew he was smaller than others his age, but still. He wasn’t even nearly half the size of one. His world shifted and the fabric surrounding him was gone.

Slowly the hand flipped and he was let go on a palm that felt way too big. He didn’t want to look at this giant, but he wasn’t getting a choice. The hand he was on was brought up in front of those emerald eyes. There hadn’t been a giant willing to bring him this close before, it was terrifying. What the hell was this one thinking? He couldn’t read anything from that glare. He just kept staring, it was worse than when he was on the table.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Rhys felt his eyes go wide, why was this giant sorry? “I’m sure I scared you, but I couldn’t leave you there. You aren’t a pet and I couldn’t ignore the bruises you had. Let alone the fact she was making you bark…”

“Bark…” Rhys said. He couldn’t help it. This giant sounded so sincere, he wanted to annoy him. He’d find out Rhys was a problem and send him away. Those piercing green eyes just looked kind of sad. He wasn’t falling for it.

“Ok, no talking yet.” The giant sighed and Rhys hated it. He didn’t want fake concern. “I’m going to stop at a store, get some stuff you can use while you stay with me. We’ll get you back home once you’re ready to talk.”

Rhys didn’t even consider arguing. He waited for the inevitable return to the pocket, but after a few more seconds of staring the giant moved his hand to his chest. He curled his fingers over Rhys to keep him safe and went back to staring at the road straight ahead. It didn’t make sense, giants always shoved him in pockets. That was his normal. The fingers stayed still around him, each twitch of the massive digits only when the giant had to slow down. It almost seemed possible he cared. That would change.

It didn’t seem long before the giant stopped again and was bringing Rhys up to his eyes. He stared again as if trying to read his mind. Rhys just kept up the dead look, it was easier. If this was from pity he wanted the pity to last as long as possible. The giant eyes kept scanning over him. He wanted to poke one of them, but that didn’t seem smart. He was hungry, maybe he should have eaten the food in the pocket. Would have been better than dealing with this on an empty stomach.

“Ok, we’re going to head into a store that should have stuff for weres. Just let me know if you see something you want. I guess pat my hand if you don’t want to talk…” the giant said. He just kept looking at him. He was sure he’d hate this giant more than the others. He just had to be annoying, abandoned in a store could be good. Easier to find worthwhile people…maybe…

The giant holding him started to move and he grabbed one of the fingers near him. It was worse on an open palm, at least the other times he didn’t have to worry about falling. Those awful eyes stared down at him again, he hated it. The giant kept moving, but it was slower now, almost like he cared. The first step was probably the worst. Heavy and loud even from the hand of the one walking. He was sure his ears and tail were alert. The giant would probably get annoyed soon, simple movements making Rhys nervous.

The second the doors opened to the store Rhys was shocked. The giant held his hand with Rhys a little closer while grabbing a basket. He didn’t pay much attention to what the giant was grabbing, just stuff he assumed he wanted for his pet or trophy. The giant said he could get what he wanted…maybe he should test that. He saw something that looked fancy, a special bath for fur like his. He started patting the hand he was on, he wasn’t getting tricked into talking.

“You saw something you wanted?” the giant asked. He sounded hopeful. Rhys hid a smirk, we’ll see if he keeps that hope. Rhys pointed at the bath and the giant followed the direction he designated. He went over to the display and held Rhys up to it, almost like he was checking the size. “This is it?” Rhys nodded. “All right, I think you could use a way to pamper your fur.”

Rhys nearly choked when the giant put a box in his basket. That thing had to be expensive and he was getting it. Rhys let a grin spread on his face. The rest of the time Rhys would look for the most expensive thing he could see and point at it after patting the hand. Each time the giant listened, went over, and held Rhys up. He only turned down something that was designed to clean feathers not fur. Once the giant was checking out Rhys was sure he just found someone who wanted to show off a cute pet. He’d stay for a while and bail later.

The walk back to the giant’s car was calm. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to be out in the open like this. There were always hands about to grab him. He didn’t trust this giant at all, but he would enjoy the bits of freedom he got. The giant put the purchases in his car then got in himself. The giant looked down at Rhys again, he didn’t like the way he kept getting looked at. He was brought in front of those eyes, he hoped the giant would do something soon.

“It would be safer if I put you in my pocket, are you ok with that?” the giant asked. Rhys was sure this giant was crazy. He didn’t want to get hurt from a giant car though. He nodded and the giant gave him a sad smile. "Ok, uh, it won’t be long we’ll be home soon. I don’t know if you did, but the stuff in this pocket is for you. I tried to make sure you wouldn’t have to be starving while we acted like you were lost or ran off.”

Rhys nodded again and the giant moved to place him in the pocket. He expected to be dropped in, but instead the hand was placed in the shirt pocket as much as possible. He slid off slowly and landed at the bottom with almost no falling time. He couldn’t believe the giant was so careful. There was pressure from outside the pocket, was the giant trying to comfort him? This one was weird, but he’d get to play with some fun toys before he got traded away this time.

He curled up in a ball, he probably felt like nothing to this guy. He almost wondered if he preferred that or not. He wondered if the giant might forget he’s there. He could wind up crushed pretty easily. At least he would leave a pretty nasty stain, a good way to show giants he fucking matters. He was getting bitter at the scent he was surrounded by. The images of flowers and fields going through his mind and the calm thumping near him. He hated that it made him sleepy too, this giant would probably be the worst yet once he was home.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Vitus was anxious by the time he pulled up to his house. The little fox just said bark, he didn’t get any information. It seemed like he was trying to make something happen in the store with the amount he picked out. It didn’t matter, he just wanted the kid to feel safe. Once he started talking he could look into getting him back to his real family. Although a part of him wondered how hard they even searched for him.

The boy had been quiet since the car ride started. He took a quick peek in his pocket once he had the bags in his hand. He was sleeping, he hoped that was a good thing. He tried to be quiet as he went inside, planning to start setting up everything. Maybe get something better for the kid to eat too. He was a fox and foxes ate meat right? He’d order something once enough of everything was put together.

He sat on his couch pulling out the little bed set that he’d grabbed. The boy hadn’t picked out one for himself. He let out another sigh as he opened the box, everything was so small. He hoped he hadn’t gotten one that didn’t give him enough room. He pulled out each piece and worked carefully putting it together. He had a few mishaps as he did, but after a few minutes the bed frame was together. He pulled out the mattress and sheets, carefully wrapping the small object with them.

He set it down and sighed, it didn’t feel big enough. He pulled out the small pillows placing them down, each piece just seemed to cement how small the were was. The last thing to place was the blanket, he put that down on the table. He wanted to put the boy in the bed first. Carefully he slid his hand into his pocket, the small boy didn’t flinch. He wrapped his fingers around the were and lifted him out. It would be so easy for someone else to forget the small weight, Vitus felt like he couldn’t if he tried. He slowly moved the boy down to the bed, sliding him off his fingers. The little fox shivered before he slid the blanket over him. He grabbed it tightly curling it around him.

He sighed, grabbing the bag and planning to go set up some more of what they bought. It seemed like he’d need to hire someone to do a decent part of it, but that was fine. For now he’d do everything he could, he’d make sure this fox had a good place to stay until he went home. Each thing he pulled out was smaller than he expected. How was this supposed to work well? He couldn’t put most of it together on his own… Maybe the were can help if he talks him through it.

After a fifth poor attempt at installing the bath the fox picked out he gave up. He didn’t have the tools he needed to work with something so small. He lifted himself up off the floor intending to go check on the little fox. He jumped as he turned and found him standing there watching him. He leaned forward, the boy jumped back like he was in trouble. Vitus sighed, leaning back again. The fox looked almost shocked that he didn’t keep moving towards him.

“I’m going to get dinner soon. Is there anything you want?” he asked. The little fox stared at him like he had six heads. An awful possibility came to him, had this kid ever learned to speak. “Can you speak? Had they been stopping you from learning to speak?”

“Steak…” the fox said. The voice was so quiet he almost missed it. He asked for something that had to be good. He could speak and they could work up to learning his name.

“I think I have some here actually, do you want to come with me while I cook?” Vitus offered a flat hand to the little fox. There was a pause while they both just stared at each other. “Would you rather not? That’s fine.”

Vitus was slow as he climbed to his feet. His eyes locked on the fox boy. Nothing seemed to happen so he took a step forward. He felt awful as he saw the boy have to catch himself, he hadn’t walked around weres before. He was more careful now, his next step had to be light. The fox didn’t have an issue this time and he took that to mean he was succeeding in the attempt. He took a bit more caution as he neared the fox, the small form stationary as he walked.

He took a long stride over the young were. Before he could take another the boy ran to his leg starting to climb quickly. He froze, unsure what to do that would keep the fox safe. It was seconds before he felt a small pat on his hand. He flattened his hand in hopes that’s what the kid wanted. He felt the small weight climb on and relief overcame him. He brought the boy up to his eyes, looking him over slowly.

“Please don’t do that again, it’s dangerous to climb me so suddenly,” he said. The fox looked at him with a dead stare again. He sighed watching the salmon hair get blown back, he’d have to figure something out sooner rather than later.

He made his way to the kitchen and searched his fridge. He wasn’t finding anything even close to steak like the kid had asked for. He looked down at him, those pink eyes just watching him. He moved away, letting the door shut and pulling out some takeout menus. There had to be somewhere he could get what the were wanted. He deserved at least whatever he wanted to eat after what happened to him.

—-----------------------------------

Rhys was in shock. The giant didn’t seem to care that he climbed him, followed him, or asked for something insane. This had to turn bad quickly. Now he’s just sitting here in the hand while he reads over different menus. Every now and then he’d be met by those green eyes and a sigh. Then the giant would go back to looking over menus. He saw a small smile on the giant’s face, which didn’t seem good.

“I found a place that has steak, looks like we lucked out after all,” he said.

His voice seemed quieter now, probably just didn’t want to break his new toy. The giant leaned over grabbing a phone off the counter. Rhys just wanted the bad stuff to start, he was a fox and they were great pets when trained well. He tuned out the rumbling noise, using the fingers near him to block his ears. He almost yelped when they responded by curling over him more. This giant seemed to respond to everything he did. Rhys jumped when the phone was put down.

“We have about thirty minutes to wait,” he was told. The giant got up bringing him over to the huge couch. He placed his hand flat and looked at Rhys. “Why don’t you wait here? I’m going to see if I can’t set up anything else until then.”

Rhys stretched and listened, watching him hadn’t been fun. The giant was actually trying to be careful with everything. It made him feel bad seeing him struggling. He just stared as the giant walked away, the steps were lighter again. This giant almost seemed to care, but that wasn’t possible. Even if he opens up and tells the guy his name he’ll get taken again and that’s that. He won’t have a long term home until the fox fad dies. Or he dies, whichever comes first.

He curled up, he’d rather pretend to be sleeping than experience that stare anymore. Those eyes didn’t match the face, always looking angry while the eyes were warm. He hated that smell of spring too that existed lightly over so much of this place. He hated the gentle way the giant held him and how he talked to him like a person. He hated being listened to, and cared about, and he hated wanting to believe it.

Over the next few days things continued to be strange. The giant, Vitus as the guy eventually told him, was doing a lot. Giants and weres came through to put together the things Vitus couldn’t and he made sure Rhys got his fur cleaned. It was the nicest it looked in years. He even used a brush with giant tweezers to help get his fur and hair under control. He also took the time to treat the worst of what his last owner did. Even kept close while he was sleeping. Almost every morning he woke up to that same smell of spring giving him a false sense of safety and home.

He knew it wouldn’t last. A lot of them were nice like this at first. Then they got sick of him. Wanted a more ‘normal’ were. He wouldn’t stop acting out though. He only spoke when he thought of something crazy to ask for and kept climbing up the guy. The climbing drove him nuts; the act would break soon enough. He stretched as Vitus wandered around, he seemed worried about something. Maybe he was worried Rhys would catch on and leave. He jumped when Vitus turned and came close crouching so he was at least closer to Rhys’s level.

“Hey kiddo, there’s someone coming by today. I don’t want to deal with this person..at all,” Vitus said. “It’s best if you stay out of sight while they’re here. I don’t trust them.”

Rhys wanted to scoff, but held back staring up at Vitus. The giant sighed and stood back to his full height. Rhys couldn’t believe he’s allowed to run around on the ground with such a big giant walking around. He had no intention of hiding during this meeting or whatever. Vitus probably just didn’t want his untrained pet showing up. He’ll finally get the guy to break, he’ll climb up his guest while he’s busy. It’ll be perfect.

Rhys stayed mostly out of sight as Vitus kept wandering around. It was only about an hour before there was a loud banging on the front door. He watched the giant scan the area, a relieved look settling on his face. It wouldn’t last long, Rhys would make sure of that. He watched on the side as a new giant walked in, at least two heads shorter than Vitus. Why was that guy so big?

This new giant looked mean, maybe he wouldn’t mess with them. Their features were sharp and the look in their eyes made him shiver. Vitus changed once they came in too, his stance seemed more tense. Who could this be that even someone that big was nervous? The new giant just waltzed in like they owned the place. Rhys definitely wouldn’t be messing with them. He backed away, hoping to be more out of sight than he already was.

“So Vitus, it’s nice to see you,” their voice sounded cold. Rhys pinned his ears down, he didn’t like them at all.

“Myra, please let’s get the discussion over and you can finally leave me alone,” Vitus said. His voice was harsh, but it was still softer than when he’d first heard him speak.

He watched the two walk away, but didn’t follow. This Myra person gave him a bad feeling and he wouldn’t be playing any games. He’d find another way to make Vitus finally break. Rhys decided to just rest on the couch again, a nap sounded good anyway. He would just sleep there until Vitus said the new giant was gone and he could mess with more things. He climbed up the side of the giant furniture, his claws leaving small marks. He could make that add up eventually. He leaned against the arm of the seat closing his eyes, it still smelled like spring here.

“No way this backwards creep has a fox,” he heard. Rhys shot up, terrified as he met the eyes of that new giant. She had an awful smile creeping onto her face. Rhys turned to run, but he was caught by his tail and held up in front of her. He had to hold back his cries, a fox tail wasn’t meant to support his body weight. “He won’t mind if his little fox runs away…”

Rhys froze, he was already getting taken again? He hadn’t even broken this one yet. This Myra person dropped him in their bag and all he could do was stare at the disappearing ceiling. He didn’t have a way out of this, and something told him he wouldn’t be getting away from this giant. The bag swung as they started moving and he heard a door slam. He was off with a new giant again, with no one to come after him.

He curled in on himself as the truth hit him. He wouldn’t be smelling spring all the time anymore. He wouldn’t be able to ask for crazy things and actually get them. He wouldn’t get to hear the footsteps sometimes be heavy only to switch on the next one. He wouldn’t get to see those green eyes that seemed warm instead of fierce like his face. He wouldn’t be held gently and cared about in a way that let him think he was more than just a pet. He just wanted someone to care.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kiddo you can come out now, she’s gone,” he called. The kid had been shockingly good the whole time. He didn’t appear out of nowhere or climb up his leg. It actually made him nervous, he was looking all over for him. “Kiddo at least give me a hint…”

He didn’t like this, he had looked pretty much everywhere the second Myra was leaving. He went to check the couch where the kid liked to sleep. Nothing there either. He was getting worried, the kid hadn’t hidden like this before. Myra left pretty quickly too. He waited a bit longer to see if the kid would appear before running out of his house. He must have been somewhere she saw him, maybe the couch like he just checked. He’d get the kid back.

He ran out and saw her mostly down the street. He started running as fast as he could. If she got home or in a car he’d never get the kid back. That’s not true, he’d never get the kid back easily. He caught her and spun her around. He didn’t even process what she said, her hands were open and she didn’t have pockets. He glared at her bag before glaring back at her. She dropped a kid in a fucking bag.

“Give the kid back before I really lose my temper,” he seethed. Myra opened her mouth before deciding against it. She ripped herself free before opening her bag. He watched as she pulled the kid out by his tail. He wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around him, his tail shouldn’t be used like that. “What the fuck is wrong with you, holding him like that?”

“Vitus it’s a were who cares. Foxes are all the rage right now and once they’re not I would have gotten rid of it,” she explained. He pulled the small boy close, sticking her with a fierce gaze. “You’ve always been like this, it’s why we had to take so long dealing with our parents’ belongings. Fighting about who gets their weres for all these years, just so you could send them off on their own. It makes sense they considered disowning you.”

“I’ve told you before, I have no interest in letting people get treated like pets. Come near my home or touch this kid again and you’ll regret it.”

He didn’t give her time to answer, turning and stalking away. He held the kid as tight as he could without hurting him. He can’t imagine how much being held like that must have hurt. He tried to be careful as he walked inside, the door slamming more than he meant it too. He went to his coffee table, sitting on the ground and holding his hand flat there. Slowly he uncurled his fingers, pink eyes stared at him with life for the first time since they met. The kid started shaking, but stood and tried to seem confident.

“G-guess I finally b-broke you huh?” the kid said. Vitus didn’t understand, broke him? “G-going to punish me for not hiding? F-for being out in the open a-and getting taken?”

“What-?” he started. The boy shook more when he spoke. Deep breath, quieter. “Why would I punish you? She was the one who was wrong. How are you feeling from how she held you? I can’t imagine being picked up by your tail was a nice experience.”

“Do-don’t pretend you care.” He could see how hard the boy was trying to seem angry. The shaking betrayed the fear he must feel. Vitus put his head on his arm, looking at the boy on as even a level he could.

“I do care. I took you in the first place because of how you were treated. Kiddo, I want to get you back to your family.” The way the boy just stopped felt wrong. It was like that shattered everything he expected to happen next.

“Hate to tell you, my first family gave me away. Second one didn’t care when I was taken. The cycle usually repeats. I’m a bit of a hassle if you haven’t noticed. I’m not wanted, apparently not even by the guy with a permanent frown that just stares at people.”

Vitus couldn’t believe what he heard. He was given away and kidnapped and no one cared. He pulled the hand close, ignoring the way the boy seemed more scared as he was brought closer. He sat up straight and brought the boy to his chest. Pressing his hand gently against himself and the boy to give him the best hug he could. He waited for a bit, just holding the kid instead of talking. Soon he heard small whimpers and knew it was time. He cupped his hand so he could see the boy and used his other hand to rub his back with a finger.

“Then I guess now you have a guy with a permanent frown who stares at people and cares about you. You can stay here, I never planned for weres to live here, but there’s plenty of things set up here for you now. I won’t let anyone take you or hurt you again. You’re safe now.”

“Yeah I’m your pet now right, or am I a trophy? The cute fox were here to show off…”

“Hmm I think it’s more like I just adopted a son, but we can work out the details later. You’re not anything less than a person here kiddo.”

“You don’t even know my name…” Vitus let out a small hum, he’d learn it when the kid was ready. “It’s Rhys…”

“Well Rhys, I’d guess you’re in a decent bit of pain from that idiot and worn out from this, maybe you should head to bed.”

He tried to sound warm. He would take care of him no matter what. He’ll change as best he can for Rhys so he feels safe here, too. He felt his small body stiffen, of course he’s still afraid. Vitus had to think of a better solution, maybe if he stayed in the room he gave Rhys, or at the door. He could have him on his nightstand, but that can’t be comfortable. He looked down and saw those small pink eyes staring at him like he could destroy him with a word.

“...can I sleep in your hands?” he asked. Vitus smiled, that was probably the easiest thing the kid asked for. He got up and laid on the couch, carefully placing Rhys over his heart and laying a hand over him. He felt the boy snuggle against him. “....you’re warm…and you smell like spring…”

“I hope those are good things,” he chuckled. He got a small yip from the little fox before there was silence. If he held his breath he could hear small snores near his hand. Seems like this could work out after all.

It was only a few weeks before it felt like he’d always had Rhys. He was still a troublemaker and climbed him with no warning, but it was calmer. He could grab him when he did that and was met with laughter, often followed with a crazy request. Today’s happened to be running around in the backyard. He watched as his son jumped down the stairs, prickles of fear that he might get hurt. The laughter helped that subside.

“Be careful Rhys,” he said. He’d gotten a lot better about his volume already, it helped that Rhys played up like his eardrums were destroyed if he was even a bit loud.

“Do I need to be careful with dear old dad watching me like a hawk?” Rhys laughed.

Vitus sighed, he was not old enough for a kid like Rhys. He saw a shadow of wings and stood quickly just in case. A raven were landed on a branch nearby, just out of his reach. He stared at them for a while before they seemed to be ready to approach. They flew down and stopped just before his face. Long ebony hair and red eyes immediately captivated him.

“I’m watching you giant, if you hurt that boy I’ll make sure you pay before I take him away,” they said. He jumped, but smiled a bit.

“You may want to ask him before doing that, I’m Vitus by the way,” he said. He wouldn’t mind if this were decided to stay around. They flew up again landing on his head, he stiffened unsure how to act.

“I’m Dabria, and I swear you’ll pay. I may be small but did you know raven mothers are fierce when it comes to protecting their young.” He laughed, this little were was something else.

“I guess we’re co-parents then, feel free to come inside once we head in. We have plenty of room.”

[xplrvibes]

So, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I actually liked the Mizpah Hotel video of season 2, just as much as I did the Zak Bagans Museum Episode.

Mind you, this video was absolutely a filler episode, but sometimes fillers can be the secret bangers of the series, so...good for them.

Anyway, my review and thoughts are behind the cut, but before we get to that:

Disclaimer: everything below the cut is my opinion, and opinions are not law. The definition of opinion is: "a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge." Please keep that in mind as you proceed.

Here are the areas I want to wax poetic about this week:

We need to talk about Amanda

How to kick game to a ghost prostitute, featuring Colby Brock

The investigation/evidence

As you all know, I am not Amanda’s biggest fan.  I consider her to be what I always call a “boardwalk psychic:” which is to say, someone who really over-inflates their psychic abilities and uses a lot of psychological sleight of hand and tricks to make themselves look more psychic than they really are. 

The biggest and best example of this, with Amanda, is her constantly waiting until someone says something about an experience they had with something paranormal in whatever room they are in for her to suddenly step in and go, “I was just about to say I saw this thing you just described verbatim!”

She’s always just about to say, you know?  

Anyway, in her first appearances on the snc channel, I railed against this and her need to pretend like she was some kind of all powerful being that could control demonic entities with her words (I’ve written novels on the stupidity of the whole “left vs right” thing).  I found her to be kind of rude, at least 80% full of shit, and not credible in the least.

So, it’s been...surprising to me that the last three times she’s been in an snc video, she hasn’t been like that as much.

I don’t know if she’s read some of the criticism against her and decided to tone it way the fuck down, whether the boys have read some of the criticism against her and decided to tone her way the fuck down in editing, or whether she just suddenly lost all of this supposed flashy over-the-top abilities she possessed and is now just a run of the mill medium, but...whatever happened, I am vastly preferring her now. 

I’m also massively confused as to how, all of a sudden, she barely sees anything, but- whatever.  I’m picking my battles, and letting shit slide.

Let’s move on to more pleasant things: namely, our old friend Colby Brock and his on-fire paranormal love life.

Before we get to the love life- I just want to point out how objectively funny it is that Colby got nauseous to the point of almost puking, but his first thought was, “Keep filming, cause if I do puke, it’ll be great content.”

Now, I love me some snc content, but I’m not watching either of them release any kind of bodily function on camera, so I’m glad that never came to fruition.

Now, I found Colby’s demeanor in this entire video to be quite interesting. Of particular interest to me, is what was going on with him when he spent 15 minutes in the bedroom by himself and made contact with Rose.  The fact that he even said he felt relaxed, calm, safe, etc...and then was exhibiting signs of extreme relaxation (at certain points, he almost seemed stoned) was fascinating to me.  Five minutes prior to this, this man was contemplating puking on camera, and was talking about how he was feeling really hot and kind of feverish, and now he’s in a bubble of peace and serenity, with a warm back and a sleepy voice and he's feeling none pain.

Also, Colby’s way of flirting with a ghost prostitute is *chef’s kiss.* Some of my favorite lines include:

“Rose, I heard you like single men...I’m a single man.”

“Do you ever wish there were more clients that came your way? ...I’m down to be your client.” *instant regret*

(*my personal favorite) “I’d love to get to know you, I’d love to talk to you...I’d love to hear everything about your life, what you’ve been doin-” *realizes that he’s asking a ghost about their life and starts laughing* “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

When he opened the door to Sam and the girls afterwards, he almost looked like he was in a trance.  He legit looked like he was about 5 minutes away from falling asleep and taking one hell of a sweet 🍃 induced nap.  

Like, whatever Rose did to him, she did him goooooood.

He seemed to carry that relaxation with him to the Estes Method, because that was the calmest I have ever seen him during one of those.  I’ve spoken about Colby and the Estes Method before, and how it always feels really heavy and kind of freaks me out when he is the one doing it, because of the way he always exhibits signs of being anxious or almost in pain, and the way he almost adopts the tones and inflections of the voices he is hearing.  But this episode- man was cool as a cucumber the entire time.

And then he went and slept (naked) in that bed that night.  That whole room was Colby Brock catnip, and he was rolling in it.

Anywhosies, speaking of the Estes Method- let’s talk about the Investigation/Equipment. 

First of all, one tiny little thing that bugs me about these hotel investigations: if you know there are other guests in the hotel, any noises you hear from behind hotel room doors that you don’t have access to should be immediately discounted.  Yes, someone could easily be behind a door at 12:00 jiggling a door handle.  They could be doing anything. You’re out in the hallway with a spirit box at 12:00 at night, who are you to judge? 

Anyway, onto the main investigation.  I want to start by saying that I think their little REM pod thing is shot.  I truly don’t even understand what that thing is supposed to be detecting, and I don’t even necessarily know if I buy it- but the way it was hyper malfunctioning in this video really gave me “there’s a short in the system” vibes, not “there’s a ghost doing the hokey pokey all around it” vibes.  I think it’s time they use that Amazon affiliate link they have in their video descriptions and buy themselves a new one.

Also, as far as equipment goes: what happened to their thermal camera?  I actually like and am interested by that thing, but they hardly ever bring it along.

I found Mackie and Amanda’s experience here to be kind of interesting.  They both said from the jump they didn’t feel welcome there (meanwhile, Colby’s is happier than a pig in shit the whole time, lol), and they alternated between feeling their hair pulled constantly, or being completely ignored and not getting any substantial evidence. 

One thing I’d like to point out is, when they were in the basement and Amanda got her hair pulled- the tour guide (who btw, was exhibiting quite a bit of nervous energy) claimed there were finger prints on the shelf behind Amanda that weren’t there before.  That isn’t true- they were there before. Debunked.

They had some interesting things with the spirit box- for example, when Amanda said she heard hello, and Sam said maybe it was just her who heard it, and they immediately heard, “Just you,” through the spirit box- that’s some interesting stuff right there.  You don’t need to jump through hoops to connect those dots.  I like it.

The whacky flashlight tricks- eh.  I’m not a big fan of those (as you all know, lol), but they were at least coinciding with a lot of what they were asking, so that’s cool.

The teddy bear- also eh.  I don’t get it, don’t believe in it, don’t really need to see it again. 

Their alone time: I already talked about Colby’s, and not much happened during the girls’ time, but what I really want to know is, did Sam do any kind of research afterwards into who Terry was/could be?  I’m assuming not, since they didn’t say anything about it- but if they had dug some digging, and turned up a Terry at some point in the history of the hotel (or even in the legends), that would’ve been awesome.

The Estes was also kind of interesting- like I said before, Colby’s extremely uncharacteristically calm demeanor during the session was kind of jarring, but I think it actually made for a decent session.  He certainly got a lot of interesting answers, some that actually did match up well with what was going on throughout the night. It was also interesting that the girls eventually had to dip so Sam could continue to get substantial answers. 

I also don’t blame the girls for moving floors.  Who wants to sleep in a room where you’ve been made to feel unwelcome all night?  Colby seemed to be living it up in that room, so at least someone got use out of it. ����

Anyway, a few miscellaneous highlights:

Not having a “What’s up guys, it’s Sam and Colby” at the beginning kind of throws the whole thing out of whack, so -1 point for that.  Sorry, boys- you’re stuck doing that until you’re 80, at this point.

Colby equates amazing smelling areas with grandmas. *jots that down for future reference*

Sam trying to be serious and invite a bunch of miners to the Hotel, meanwhile Colby is having ptsd flashbacks to 2020/2021, when he was getting hardcore cancelled on twitter for such cancellable offenses such as *checks notes* going for a walk on Jan 6th and wishing women a Happy Women’s Day.  “Don’t cancel me on twitter.”  

The sexual innuendos in this one- 😘

I love how proud Colby was that he had a whopping $75 bucks in cash on him. 

Colby, to the other 3: “You guys all have the same hair color, it’s kinda beautiful.” This man.

Colby, to Rose: “Rose, we’re inviting you specifically to the 3rd floor, if you wanna come” 😏 No wonder she was all about this man, lol.

Sam should chill on the caffeine before these investigations, cause damn was he jumpy, lol.

Overall, I’m giving this one another solid 7.5/10.  So far, I’m definitely enjoying this season quite a bit!

Of course, that is going to change next week, because judging by the preview alone, I am going to haaaaate the special guest stars, so you may not hear much out of me on the next one, lol.  But still.  Solid start!

[boneshine]

Jack Stauber’s “Opal” Theory

Last night, I stumbled across Adult Swim premiering Jack Stauber’s “Opal” and got to enjoy it in its entirety. I’m a huge fan of his work, and seeing his latest and biggest animation to date was quite the treat in this season of tricks!

I really enjoyed the lore and thought I would (try to) explain my personal theories regarding the story.

If you haven’t watched “Opal”, I highly suggest you do so. It’s available for free on Adult Swim’s Youtube channel. Go ahead. It’s quite the ride.

SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

The first time you watch “Opal” and the second time you watch it, the story completely changes. The atmosphere changes. The characters change.

What you thought was a surreal tale about a young girl exploring a forbidden house and being consequently terrified by the residents inside transforms into a story where a young girl suffers in a neglectful and abusive household and tries to escape into her fantasies to cope.

You’re led to believe in the beginning that the girl’s name is Opal and that the residents mistake her for someone named “Claire”.

At the end of the story, you realize that “Opal” is actually Claire.

“Opal” is Claire’s fantasy. She pretends to be this happy and bright girl on a billboard in the distance (Opal’s Burgers), surrounded by a family who love and “see” her.

The story begins with “Opal” sitting in her kitchen with a burger while her “family” (the family depicted on the billboard) sings to her.

We see you, Opal

Your troubles are miles away

We see you, Opal

And in our eyes you’ll stay

These lyrics are important because no one in Claire’s house sees her.

From the dialogue/lyrics, each character that Claire interacts with in the house showcases how they never truly see her.

The grandfather watching television is blind. (“And the girls are singin’. They dance too, I assume.”)

The father spends all of his time in the Reflection Chamber staring at himself. (“Why do people look at me like the way you probably are right now?”)

The mother is always intoxicated and lying in bed and sees through a drunken haze. (“Who’s that?”)

None of these characters actually see Claire, which is why she delves into a fantasy persona where she’s given positive attention and love and affection.

The fantasy portion in the beginning, I believe, shows that Claire spends most of her time at or on the billboard until she has to go back to the house to sleep.

In Claire’s fantasy, “Opal” sneaks into the mysterious house next door (which her Billboard Parents warn her to “don’t mind the house across the street”), but she hears cries coming from the attic and goes to investigate.

The realization at the end is that the cries are coming from Claire herself, and her inability to escape her abusive household as she’s locked herself in the attic.

Let’s take a look at the rest of the household in detail...

There are three other residents in Claire’s home, which are represented by the billboard: The Mother, the Father, and the Grandfather.

The Grandfather

Claire’s real grandfather is a blind, obese chain-smoking man addicted to television. He struggles to breathe, coughs up blood, and scolds Claire for hiding his cigarettes, claiming that “it’s evil to help someone that doesn’t need help”.

Claire appears frightened and nervous around him.

When he demands that Claire give him his cigarettes, he soon grows concerned that she “smells weird” (because she had been outside) and won’t say anything.

Due to his blindness (and possible dementia), he mistakes her for a stranger, panics, and lashes out, yelling at her to “get out of his house”. In his panic, he falls out of his chair and screams as Claire runs away.

The Father

As Claire continues on toward the attic, the Father stops her. He sits in his Reflection Chamber in the bathroom, surrounded by mirrors. He is unable to see anything but his own face.

(It’s implied that he is delusional, as you can supposedly see the Father’s True Face at 11:09, which is distorted, grey, and horrifying)

Claire appears perplexed by him. It’s obvious that she isn’t used to him speaking to her. However, it becomes apparent that he doesn’t truly speak to her, but rather projects his own insecurities and feelings onto her.

He appears to be extremely narcissistic and unaware of the world around him. Religious themes collide with his self-reflection, as he rambles and talks about how “God is in his skin” and he considers himself in the process of becoming the world’s next “savior”. He spends all of his time fixing his appearance because “they turn me down so I live my nightmare”, and his need to be “seen by somebody somewhere”.

When she tries to leave, he raises his voice at her, only to calmly remark that “you could spare me a little time, you know; you act like I’m a complete stranger.”

Which, to her, he most likely is.

The Mother

Claire’s mother resides in a dilapidated room, surrounded by wine bottles, pills, and romance novels.

She lies in bed (or on the floor) underneath the sheets and grabs Claire’s leg.

She speaks with a slur, heavily intoxicated.

At first, she doesn’t recognize her daughter, but comments that “you’re being a person today, huh?”, implying that Claire often spends her time away from the family-- and for good reason.

She speaks morosely and in confusing tangents that reveal her inner turmoil about the family and her circumstances.

“Goodness exists. If I wait, Claire, and sit still... it will arrive.”

“You should be more considerate, obviously, but I forgive you. I forgive every single one of you... every night. It’s a virtuous cycle.”

“How did this get so bad? I feel terrible for all the things I... I feel terrible.”

“You and I don’t live, Claire. We survive.”

“Our adversaries are in denial. They don’t know the wrong they do. And they never repent how I want them to.”

(To Claire) “And you, you’re just like me. You’re just as powerless as I am, Claire.”

She lies back into the bed and drunkenly sings a lullaby.

The Mother’s Song

Mama needs a little girl to land on

Mama needs a little girl to fall in her arms

Mama needs a Mama’s girl to take good care

Mama needs a baby girl to hold her hair

After this, the camera zooms into the Mother’s rolling eye and a flashback is rapidly shown, including a hand dialing 9-1-1 on a phone, a child(?) being struck and falling to the ground, and what appears to be the Mother (or, perhaps, the Mother’s Mother) screaming in terror (or anger).

This is either a flashback to the Mother violently attacking someone, or a flashback of the Mother’s childhood where she herself was abused.

(It should be noted that the side of the Mother’s head appears to have a dent, implying she may have been the child.)

Claire appears absolutely terrified in her presence, most likely having suffered before from her physical abuse and escapes as soon as the Mother lunges at her, fleeing up to the attic and locking the door.

The truth about “Opal” is shown, and Claire quickly surrenders to her fantasy in her mind as her family beats on the door, where the camera zooms out and the story ends...

In conclusion, the world of “Opal” is a sad tale. Its themes center on fear, neglect, isolation, and abuse in its many horrific forms-- physical, emotional, and psychological. It focuses on Claire’s escapism in her mind, to imagine a happier life, far, far away from those who hurt her.

A forbidden house across the street, filled with dark and foreboding figures, and a little girl that just wants to be seen and loved.

[trillian-anders]

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more. 

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking. 

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something. 

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine. 

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight. 

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation. 

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life. 

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera. 

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in. 

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller. 

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying. 

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe. 

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say. 

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves. 

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully. 

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. 

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him. 

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that. 

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet. 

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending. 

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk. 

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then. 

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk, 

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was. 

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue. 

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published. 

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house. 

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced. 

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch. 

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door. 

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all. 

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment. 

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave. 

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there. 

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.” 

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked. 

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone. 

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall. 

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth. 

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account. 

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway. 

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate. 

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before. 

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins. 

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly. 

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down. 

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed, 

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.” 

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed. 

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you, 

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit. 

“Dick.” 

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway, 

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.” 

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one. 

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week. 

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass. 

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something. 

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved. 

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump. 

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year. 

Disappointment. 

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come. 

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you. 

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.” 

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his. 

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no. 

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?” 

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears. 

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out. 

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink. 

That was the day he began writing his first novel. 

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket. 

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely. 

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam. 

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new. 

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding. 

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him, 

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head. 

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that. 

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile. 

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand. 

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal. 

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine. 

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.” 

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side. 

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive? 

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house. 

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing. 

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair. 

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it. 

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh. 

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now. 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed. 

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh. 

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you. 

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning. 

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs. 

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs. 

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even. 

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you. 

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking. 

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard. 

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him. 

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared. 

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him. 

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck. 

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee. 

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip. 

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts. 

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement. 

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting. 

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you. 

“Ransom-” 

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further. 

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like. 

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release. 

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body. 

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum. 

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago. 

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face. 

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” 

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 12

~ The following day, Saturday ~

"Do something, Wesker! These fucking imbeciles at the papers are starting to question my competence as chief all because of a pathetic group of boys you can't seem to dispose of." Irons seethed, slamming his cup of whisky on the desk, knocking his nameplate to the ground.  

Wesker gave nothing away of his emotions, save for a tick in his brow. His hands craved to wrap around Irons’ neck, giving it a swift snap. It's how he felt most of his days at the station. Irons was replaceable. The man didn't realize just how worthless he was to Umbrella. His replacement could arrive this very afternoon.

"We are working on finding the gang's nest. The big players keep using young boys for the jobs but tell them nothing about insider information. There are too many eyes watching us right now. We cannot use any special means to dispose of the group in order avoid questions."

"Just Do your fucking job right. I can't stand the news conferences anymore. the journalist's questions make me look laughable." Irons clutched his glass, throwing it hard against the wall. Tapping a finger on the armrest, Wesker didn't bat an eye at the behavior of the chief of police. One couldn't expect much from such a lowly creature.

"You seem to forget why Umbrella put me as captain of STARS. It isn't to keep up your public appearance but to protect theirs. I'm not the one who isn't doing his job. Deal with the journalists while I handle the little boy scouts." pushing back his chair, Wesker made sure to leave deep grooves on the freshly varnished floors. The scraping sound was like music to his soul. He didn't miss the deathly glare on his way to the door like hot iron rods.

Returning to the STARS office, Wesker ignored the gossiping of Chris and Jill about the newest trouble between their captain and Irons. Shutting the door to his office, he took a seat behind his desk. Through the office blinds, he eyed each present member of STARS. of course, no one was getting any work done, lazing around the office, making meaningless bets.

This simply will not do.

It was time they did some undercover work, gathering information about Raccoon city's newest crime family. These boy scouts wouldn't last long around here, especially since they fell on the radar of the real monsters in the shadows of Raccoon.

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

She sat alone on the staircase, elbows resting on her knees, wondering how the hell she got here.  The house was familiar to her. How many times has she looked after Sherry here? Still, it felt strange. It was his space, and she was invading it.

This was now supposed to be her home. The place gave no hints as to who lived here, lacking any personal touch. It was likely the work of an anterior designer following the most fashionable trends. The home of a bachelor.

Speaking of Wesker, he left after dumping her here last night and vaguely pointing her towards the guest room with a 'help yourself' to any food. As always, he gave her the bare minimum of info, not that she asked what he was up to. She didn't care whether he spent the night hiding bodies or doing legitimate police work. She was too terrified to sleep under the same roof, only a few walls apart. Does the man ever sleep? Shower? Eat?

She won't lie. She was glad Wesker left. But even with him gone, she couldn't stop thinking about what happened. More so the kiss than almost becoming a guinea pig. It was a lot to process, and she couldn't even begin.

For the nth time, she forcibly pulled her fingers away from her lips, scolding herself for replaying the memory again. This man was absolute bad news. She needed to get out of the house, and an incoming call from Claire had her scrambling to answer as quickly as possible. Her friend presented an idea, and Cara was all too grateful to join in.  

Pulling up Wesker's name in the contacts, Cara's fingers hovered over the letters, unsure of what and how much to tell him.  Where did they stand? Did he really mean everything, or was it a trick?  Was she free to leave? Did he give up completely on the idea of killing her?

"Going out with Claire. I will be back late." she texted, fully knowing a lot of info was missing. But it's not like he ever gave her a ton.

"Stay out of trouble.' came a replay moments later.

The words were unsaid, but Cara definitely heard them.  'I don't have time to drop everything and run over to the rescue each and every time you get in trouble,'

'I asked for help only once. The other time's nobody asked you to come.' Cara grumbled but deleted what she wrote. she could've gotten herself out of those situations...with a little bit of thinking. Actually, a lot of thinking.

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

Cara had to walk several blocks away from Wesker's house to prevent suspicion. If by any chance, Claire knew the address of her brother's captain, it would be a hole she did not want to leap into.

Standing in front of an old bookstore, she waited for her friend. The building was slightly rundown, its walls covered in graffiti, but the owners were a kind elderly couple. They pushed discounts her way, and she was guilted to buy something. She ended up buying a useless cat plushie toy after seeing that most books were non-fiction or raunchy romance novels. She would rather die than have Wesker coming across an erotic novel lying around his house.

She stared at the plushie as she leaned against the wall outside the shop. Cara considered giving it to Sherry the next time they met. This would be the first present she ever gave the young girl, and she could almost imagine the excitement on Sherry's face. It made her smile.

A helicopter passed overhead, sleek black and adorned with the Umbrella white and red symbol. Cara watched the chopper get smaller and smaller until it disappeared, heading in the direction of the Arkley mountains. she wondered about their business up there was. Looking around, no one else seemed to notice nor care. Maybe it was best to keep all knowledge to herself.

Seeing a familiar redhead and a motorcycle, Cara waved as Claire pulled up, handing her a helmet.

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

The barn smelled of sweat, dust, and old wood. The unmistakable smell of alcohol was thick in the air as it was passed around freely in cheap red plastic cups. She recognized kids from school, but many more were older, likely from Raccoon university. A light disco machine was nailed to the wall, casting the barn in a series of flashing lights. Tall Straw piles of hay distributed across the barn ensured there was no shortage of dark corners for people to disappear to.  For a moment, Cara considered hiding in the straw and then going home when the party was over. But seeing the sparkle in Claire's eyes about hanging out with her best friend threw the idea out the window. With a sigh, she followed her friend.

Over the course of the night, the girls danced and drank, carefree. A blond-haired boy was staring at her, Cara noticed. He attempted to walk up to her but turned around before getting within ten feet. He tried multiple times but always chickened out despite his friends constantly cheering him on. Claire thought it was cute and refused to stop openly staring at him and giving a thumbs up.  Cara swatted Claire's hands before holding them behind her back in a pretend arrest, pushing her against the straw pile.

"Sorry Officer! I was just trying to help you get laid," Claire giggled. "I hope you're into blonde's though,"

"This is so embarrassing. Stop, or I'm leaving," Cara snapped, feeling a blush heat her face as Wesker crossed her mind. Fuck, why now?

"Oh? so you are into blondes," Claire's smile was cunning. "Let me help you,"

"No. Bad Claire, bad, bad girl. No treats for you tonight." Cara scolded, Stealing the can of beer her friend stole from a guy before cracking it open and downing its contents. She wouldn't yet consider herself drunk, just pleasantly buzzed.

The boy ran off again. Cara felt bad for him and was actually tempted to go up to him instead. His friends kept a steady stream of alcohol into his hand.

"H-hey, " And then he did it, with the help of liquid courage, of course.

For the effort, Cara decided not to openly embarrass him with rejection but not lead him on either. Walking away backward, Claire gave her a thumbs up along with a suggestive motion of the eyebrows, making horrid shapes with her hands. Cara covered her face, hoping to purge the image out of memory. She'll get her back in no time.

Ben was a bit shy at first, but soon they got talking and enjoyed themselves. His hair was a few shades darker and shorter than Wesker's. She didn't have to look up at him as they stood at a similar, comfortable height. Slender and skinny, he would shrink to nothing beside the captain. Cara grimaced, realizing she had been comparing the poor guy to a demon. It wasn't his fault that her mind was occupied with someone way out of her league... the legal kind.

The barn was becoming more and more crowded, and the dancing crowd swallowed them. Sticking out like two sore thumbs, they did their best to dance. Cara felt awkward but seeing the dimples in his smile made her feel better even as it became a tighter fit among the crowd. They had to dance closer lest they got separated.

She wondered what it would feel like to dance with Wesker. He seemed like the sophisticated type. The awkward moves of a teenager would never be adequate for him. Did he ever do anything that was remotely recreational? What do villains even do in their spare time? Manipulating the feelings of underage girls looks like. What stupid, stupid thoughts.

She prayed all these ideas would go away soon, as the thrill of the kiss wore off, and everything went back to normal. Did she want to go back? Why in the world would he like her? she knew who he really was, and he still let her live. Why take the risk with her? she was just a seventeen-year-old. Useless to everyone, with no connections and no money.  

Fuck it. Cara refused to think about Wesker anymore tonight. There was a perfectly alright guy in front of her, someone her own age, someone in her league, someone she wouldn't have to hide. Someone who was looking at her with a soft expression, blinking slowly.

Cara placed her hands on either side of Ben's face and pulled him towards her, connecting their lips. He reacted instantly, kissing her back. His hands awkwardly hovered over her arms before stroking them softly.

He was a nice guy, not a terrible kisser, but she hated it. Hated every touch because it wasn't as good as with Wesker. She couldn't stop comparing, and it was frustrating, spurring her to kiss Ben harder.

She continued, out of spite, to kiss the boy who looked at her with affection. in the background, she heard a few boys cheering, likely his friends. This was wrong, very wrong.

A firm hand gave her waist a painful squeeze before it was gone, and she thought it was Ben. Her eyes flew open as she felt a warm breath by her ear. It wasn't Ben.

"If I was not undercover right now, this lesser specimen of a boy would've made some unforgettable acquaintances a lot sooner. You could've done so much better, yet you have chosen to this..." Wesker seethed by her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her body froze, but Ben didn't pick up the cue.  Wesker's muscles were tense as he pressed against her back. She could almost hear the exhale through clenched, grinding teeth.

Then he was gone, slipping through the crowd just as he came. No one notices anything. Cara broke the kiss and shoved Ben away. "I'm sorry, it isn't going to work out." She hurried after Wesker, but he was already lost in the crowd.  

She shoved her way through the throngs of people but only managed to find other members of STARS in civilian clothes. None seemed to notice or recognize her. They must've been here on undercover work, but why? she put that question aside as there were more pressing things to worry about.

She felt sick and wanted to throw up, but nothing was coming up. she burst through the doors of the suffocatingly hot bran, raking her hands through her hair. The cool night air hit her heated skin, but she couldn't find relief. She wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

She needed to find Wesker. But then what? Apologize? Apologize for making her own choices? They weren't a couple.

She continued to look for him nevertheless. She walked further from the barn towards an old car junkyard. She thought perhaps a fuming man would need some privacy. A strong feeling in her gut told her this was the right way.

Cara walked far enough from the party that the music was nothing but a distant noise. It was dark and quiet, the perfect place for an assault. If Wesker decided to murder her, no one would find her for at least a week, stuffed in the trunk of a car. If ever.  

Grabbed from behind, she was thrown against a car. Sliding to the ground, she cradled her aching arm, squinting in the dark to see her assailant. Wesker kneeled beside her, his civilian clothes dark and expensive.

"Why cut it short? You should've kissed him more while you still can because he will be the last boy you will ever kiss." squeezing her cheeks harshly, he dragged his thumb with heavy pressure over the flesh of her lips, still swollen from kissing Ben.

As Wesker let go of her face, she felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple. Her heart skipped a beat, but she glared at him straight in the eye. Daring.

"I don't know what you want from me! You told me to keep out of trouble, and I did. Yet here we are," Cara lied. She knew what he wanted but didn't know why he wanted it.

"Were my intentions not clear enough? Do I have to spell it out for you? But I suppose intelligence was never your strength,"

Wesker pressed the gun harder against her temple, her glare unwavering. "Go ahead. Shoot me. why do you even bother?"

Neither moved, naked eyes locked with no shades between. Cara reached up and pulled the gun out of his hands with ease. He didn't resist, glaring at her with a tense jaw. Looking down, she almost laughed, seeing the safety was still on. This man couldn't bring himself to kill her. It was all a show of intimidation, and she wasn't falling for it. Not anymore.

As she made to stand, his hand pushed her down. Thinking he wanted the gun back, she returned it to his hand and tried to stand. again, he pushed her down. "Can I get up now?" she scowled, staring up at him.

Things happen too quickly for her to process. The hands on Cara's shoulder grabbed her legs, lifting her off the ground as Wesker wrapped her legs around him before slamming her against the car. She was winded, gasping for breath as he watched her with a smirk. She grabbed his arms, digging her nails into his defined muscles.

"You're up now," he whispered before his lips kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth immediately.

Grabbing both her hands, he pinned them against the car. "I need to clean your mouth of all traces of that boy,"

"Are you going to rinse my mouth with soap or something? This is childish and-" Cara's words settled in a moan as Wesker began grinding a very defined length against her growing sickness. She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

Trailing his nose across her skin, he followed the curve of her neck to the ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. She melted against him when his hot tongue entered her ear. His tongue plunged in and out repeatedly like a preview of what he could do to her. Her heart went on an overdrive.

"Just kiss me," Cara breathed, a tension building in her belly. She wanted to taste him. in addition to sparing any additional marks on her neck to hide.

"No,” nuzzling into her neck, he grinded harder against her, earning a series of moans.  

"You know who else wouldn't mind kissing me-" Wesker slammed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly, their teeth clashing. Cara melted further, a smile on her lips as her tongue danced with his. She savored everything, The taste of him, softness of his lips, his warmth, and the building friction between their bodies. There was nothing more she wanted.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three gunshots were fired.

Cara was barely steady on her feet when Wesker dropped her to the ground, his eyes scanning their surroundings. What little they heard of the music was drowned out by distant screams of the partygoers.

"What's happening?" she questioned, grabbing his arm, but his attention was fixed on the barn.

"Stay here," Wesker warned, already talking to someone by an earpiece she hadn't noticed before.

With his gun ready, he took off, running towards the barn. Cara made to follow him but was pulled back towards the car by her hand.

The fucker handcuffed and left her in the middle of a junkyard in the dark.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Trust No One: Aaravos as Plague

This is a messy and convoluted and branching set of headcanons and theories so I’m going to keep it to bullet points as much as possible. But if you ever want to know more about something on here, just ask!  My thanks to @kotikala​ for brainstorming with me for a few hours one night last week (and for making the gif below). It was a whole ride, and we had crazy amounts of fun.

It all started when I got to looking, yet again, at these two pix:

1000 years ago, the Sunfire and Moonshadow rulers held their own staffs

but 300 years ago, they had diversified into warrior and wizard

in the first pic, Aaravos’s eyes are glowing

in the second, the two staffbearer elves’ eyes are glowing

glowing eyes means using big magic

Aaravos’s eyes glowed when he was controlling Viren

so what’s he up to in the pic? Controlling someone else?

is that even Aaravos or do we just see his spooky astral form while he’s actually possessing some other poor elf there, like he did with the Sunfire mage at the Sunforge?

Theory: Aaravos hacks people with his magic. He’s is a hacker, and he can spread his influence from person to person this way, like a plague.

It’s what he did with the elves after Xadia was split.

It’s what he’s doing with Viren.

He’s going to keep using the same tricks.

It’s what Viren was trying to copy with a dark magic workaround.

And it’s what Aaravos is doing to others in the show already.

It’s what he did with the elves after Xadia was split

The most terrifying thing about Aaravos isn’t his powers. It’s that you never know who Aaravos is, so you don’t even know when his powers are being used. Who can you trust, when more than one person around you might be Aaravos, or Aaravos-manipulated?

Basically: TRUST NO ONE (ghhhh I love shows like this so much)

Aaravos sent a caterpillar to Viren because a worm is a type of virus

Dark Callum was an attempt to hack Callum’s mind while he was sick, and he was only saved because of Harrow’s influence on him

the plan to split Xadia interfered with Aaravos’s own plans, so he set about foiling the elves by hacking them and puppeting and/or impersonating them, and then making important decisions of state in disguise, by manipulation, and by creating an environment of isolation and mistrust

at some point, the elves finally realized what Aaravos was doing and had to band together to stop him

enter the Sunfires and the Moonshadows, defenders of the border and the peace, such as it was

the book pages involving Aaravos all show Sun, Moon, and Stars on them, but no other identifiable primal symbols

so what did they discover? Aaravos can turn into other people, using their primal magic, in perfect copies of them. The elves had no way to tell which among them were the OG elves and which were Aaravos

It’s what he’s doing with Viren

the pod that’s growing at the end of S3/in TTM has a black-eyed Viren inside it--eyes black like Aaravos. Yet the Viren we saw Claudia resurrect has normal skin. Maybe Aaravos stole Viren’s magic--and his gray skin with it--and plans to impersonate him, while Claudia resurrected Viren’s corpse using enough vitality to restore him to his original appearance after Aaravos pulled his magic out. Each of them only intended for there to be one Viren, but now there are two, because Claudia took a shortcut

the pod is the final step in copying a person, but it starts with the blood ritual, and the caterpillar needs primal magic to grow (see: Viren getting irradiated by the Sun staff and spitting out a much larger caterpillar than he swallowed)

that means it would be a lot easier to grow elves than humans, because they already have primal magic in them, and they’re in Xadia which is also full of primal magic. Aaravos had to lure Viren to Xadia to get the caterpillar to grow

not knowing who to trust among the ruling elven leaders changed things up

the elves split their rule, from having a single ruler who also wielded the primal stone staff to having two. 700 years after Xadia was divided, the Moonshadows are led by a mage and an assassin, and the Sunfires have a queen and a mage. That way, if one of them gets podded or possessed by Aaravos, they can’t make unilateral decisions and use their power or magic to create chaos

but not everyone Aaravos manipulates has to be a ruler. If he can whisper in a baker’s ear, or a servant’s, or a certain soldier at just the right time, that person can do the influencing on rulership for him. There are always myriad targets for Aaravos to choose from. How can the elves possibly protect their people?

cue the Sunfires and Moonshadows again, as basically the Order of the Phoenix--oh hey, Phoe-Phoe!

we saw what Queen Khessa did with the Sunforge, using it to attempt Viren’s murder. She’s probably killed other humans this way over the years. We see the device as cruel and the practice as racist.

but once upon a time (and this is what gives this theory some actual weight for me) the Sunforge could have been a tool of detection in a world of lies and deceit

the Sun arcanum is about revealing truth, just like Viren’s true face was revealed

300+ years ago, Queen Aditi used the Sunforge to test her fellow elves for truth or Aaravos-level deception. Any false pod elven pretenders who were placed in its scorching beam would be destroyed, while true elves who had not touched dark magic would not be harmed

the Sunforge was one of the only ways the elves could truly trust each other: they all had to submit to the bodyscan, just like in Among Us.

maybe the Moonshadow elves had to turn a bit KGB in this part of the story, using their stealth to sneak in and drag people out of bed in the night to take them to the Sunforge by dawn so they could be tested by Aditi

possibly Moonshadows were sent on pod hunts back in the day, to take out creepy pod people who weren’t finished growing--or who had become nothing but batteries for Aaravos’s schemes--a dark mercy either way, but very Moonshadow

but if the Sunforge was a detection device, the Wonderwall was a prevention device. A firewall, run on Moon power

Nyx said that the Wonderwall keeps out soulfangs and husks. Each of those is an unnatural creation: either too much soul or too little. Either way, the Wonderwall seems to let living things pass only if they have one soul and one body (that match, if it can detect that)

Aaravos couldn’t step in there inside another elf without getting burnt out of them

the oasis isn’t just a safe haven from the desert, it’s a safe haven from uncertainty and mistrust, the one place Moonshadows know they can trust someone to be who they seem, possibly used as a meeting spot to plan Aaravos’s capture, and maybe even execute it

Aaravos had to take Aditi out somehow - she ran the Sunforge and it was ruining his plans. The way he destroyed Khessa looked like he was burning her Sun magic out of her, and that’s super karmic not only because she was trying to kill Viren that way, but if that’s how Aditi ran the Sunforge the last time he knew her

He’s going to keep using the same tricks

the first place that Aaravos took Viren in Xadia was back to the Sunforge, to disable it. Now the Viren body he’s growing in his pod cannot be detected in the usual way, and he can go about doing whatever he wants. Except that Claudia totally resurrected OG Viren, so... Claudia actually becoming a problem for Aaravos? Hmm.

The next step should be the oasis then, since it’s specifically meant to keep out Aaravos’s puppets (a term used in the art book, and possibly meant literally as well as figuratively). He should be looking for a way to bring it down, which means more Moonshadows and Nyx

since we haven’t seen pod Viren hatch yet, I’m not sure whether Aaravos needs the original alive as a tether for his copy, or if he discards them like he did the Sun mage. Maybe he did want Claudia to resurrect Viren after all because he needs his life force to power pod VIren. Or maybe he was genuinely done with Viren because he had all the power he needed (ahaha Viren quote) to grow his own Viren, and it can live on its own now

It’s what Viren was trying to copy with a dark magic workaround

remember when the creators said in an interview about Harrow that yes, he’s dead, but that we would see him again?

maybe Viren was trying his darnedest to make that happen in S1

yes I’m back on my Dadbird bullshit okay, it’s a really fun theory, bless whoever came up with that one

here’s the new hot take: Viren did swap Pip and Harrow’s souls via the soulfang, and once he had Runaan imprisoned, he did indeed plan for the elf to “walk out of here” once he cooperated...as Harrow

in the novelization of S1, Viren used a black candle to aid in transferring Runaan into the coin, whereas the red candles are used for making smoky creatures come to life

in the show, there was a black candle in the dungeon cell on the table

That bowl of ash could be Harrow’s ashes, his DNA basically, Viren never throws anything away, too pragmatic

the second that Runaan gave up the goods on the mirror’s secrets, Viren would’ve “repaid his wise counsel” in a different way than he did for Lain and Tiadrin: by using Harrow’s ashes and the black soul-transfer candle to scoop Runaan’s soul out of his body, morph it into Harrow’s form using his DNA imprint from the ash, and then fetch Pip from the cage to put Harrow’s soul back in a body that looked exactly like his old one. Runaan’s body would’ve walked out of that cell, but it wouldn’t have looked like him anymore, and he wouldn’t have been inside it

looking at that mirror and knowing he was being watched by an elf who’d crawled inside other people and ridden them around Xadia must’ve been so freaking creepy, especially to a Moonshadow, no wonder Runaan got skeeved and called it worse than death--and he barely avoided the same fate himself, even if neither he nor Viren knew the connection

And this whole plan of hopping bodies and souls? It’s the dark magic version of what Aaravos does with his pod people, just like the coining spell is a dark magic version of how Aaravos is trapped

It’s what Aaravos is doing to others in the show already

once you realize that a character has the ability to flawlessly imitate other characters, all bets are off on who’s who

that goes for anyone else Aaravos might already be talking to in caterpillar form or possessing astrally, since he probably can’t make pods of people in Katolis due to a lack of primal magic

I started wondering if there was another poor person Aaravos was already puppeting in the background, and I found one: Saleer

in S2E1, Councilman Saleer advocates against retaliation in a council meeting and Viren isn’t pleased

what do you do with those who defy you to your face? You persuade them to join your side

in S3E1, Ezran’s banther just up and growls at Saleer, as if it can sense that something’s off about him, hmmm animal instincts

Saleer is the last to bend the knee to King Ezran

later in the same episode, Saleer reacts differently than everyone else to some surprising news, seeming to murmur about it toward his own right ear

at some point I think Wormavos bit Saleer, and he’s been puppeted by Aaravos ever since, just like the Sun mage was--except that Aaravos is keeping Saleer alive because he’s not done with him yet. This is extra scary because it means Aaravos could be controlling Viren, Saleer, and the Sun mage all at the same time, or be able to switch at will amongst them, a la Horde Prime or Ultron

Saleer orchestrates Viren’s release from the moment he hears that Rayla and Callum are taking the egg back to the Dragon Queen, but our eyes are usually on Viren so we don’t really notice that he initiates everything including working the crowd

basically every time other people are shocked, Saleer isn’t

when Viren does the Hearts of Cinder spell, Saleer moves to stand on his right to avoid getting bespelled

then back to back shots show that Aaravos replaces Saleer on Viren’s right. Even though Aaravos has 4 inches on Viren in height, he’s shown shorter than Viren

since the HoC spell takes place after the Sun mage’s possession and death, it seems Aaravos’s sudden appearance is a direct hint that Aaravos is currently possessing Saleer’s body like he did the Sun mage, and by inference has been for some time, what with all the calm collectedness and the smirking he’s been doing most of the season

Saleer survives the final battle unscathed and is arrested without anyone knowing of his connection to Aaravos or his extra connection to Viren. This raises the question: what will Saleer’s fate be in S4 and onward? Will he die mysteriously, abandoned now that he’s of no use? Will Aaravos keep using him to cause chaos in Katolis? Will anyone figure out that he is/was a puppet?

I sure hope Jonathan Holmes is having fun voicing his complicated messy evil guy with Jason Simpson! The boys deserve to have fun at work.

the fandom is contractually owed one (1) conversation between Barius and Runaan as balance now, I don’t make the rules

So, to sum up

Wormavos functions just like a worm virus, establishing itself in a host and then seeking out additional systems to infect via bite, and everyone that gets bitten becomes an at-will vessel for Aaravos to use, expanding his system exponentially

it’s impossible to tell who is under his control without extraordinarily powerful primal magic tests, which he’s disabling

he’s already spreading and no one knows he’s even there yet. Saleer might not be the only character Aaravos is operating, and we might not know who he gets a hold of in the future until it’s too late

in short, trust no one, and fix the Sunforge asap.

[atinybitofau]

[ateez] H O N G J O O N G ➩ the reason why

“A DARE”

—a series involving every day objects that either force you two together or force you two apart.

• “Truth.”

• the boys glance around the room,

• analyzed the emotions and the weary.

• no one seemed peeved.

• so they dared themselves to ask the question of, “Okay, y/n. Do you like Hongjoong?”

• you analyze the atmosphere.

• read the room to make sure no one was hostile.

• to reply the honest veracity, “Yes. Yes I do.”

• Hongjoong bites the insides of his cheek,

• yours flaming in peril.

• so it’s gonna be like that huh?

• “Okay, Joong.” you smirk eyes casted upon the victorious man. “Truth or dare?”

• his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Dare?”

• afraid to speak the truth.

• predictable.

• “I dare you to kiss me.”

• no one needs a pair of glasses to see the growing relationship in the room—

• a truth or dare game unnecessary really.

• it’s not a secret you two liked each other.

• but the boys like games.

• 5 months later and it’s just a game to him.

• the relationship feels like a game.

• you feel like you’re getting played by the many times you’re pushed away.

• but you shouldn’t be.

• you’re his goddamn girlfriend and this is not how things should be.

• “Why were you with her?”

• your voice is shaking through passive aggression,

• hands balled at your sides.

• but Hongjoong shakes you off.

• like the vibration of a PS controller during a cut scene.

• “Hongjoong, why were you with her?”

• his throat croaks before he’s glaring at you claiming, “I wasn’t with her.”

• “You’re lying.”

• “Y-you— hold on. You think I’m lying?” he makes you flinch when he whips around.

• cause he’s never abrasive.

• he’s neither aggressive, he’s loving.

• your romance was novel and honest before things started getting long..

• maybe he was too used to you already.

• maybe he was getting tired of you already..

• “I saw you with her,” you look down at your hands that picked at your dress. “I saw you this morning by the cafe and you were sitting with her. But you told me you stopped seeing her. You told me you’d never lie to me again.”

• Hongjoong groans throwing his hands up in the air. “Y/n, I don’t need to tell you who I meet. Or why I’m meeting them. And no one was fucking telling you to follow me. Why were you?”

• “Why are you lying to me?” a tear falls from your eye when you ask. “Answer me that and maybe I’ll tell you why I followed you.”

• “When was I lying?”

• you choke a scoff of disbelief.

• because is he kidding?

• he can’t be serious.

• he was cheating.

• this wasn’t a game that took cheating lightly.

• hell you aren’t a game in the first place and you sure as hell aren’t gonna stand here being treated as one either.

• “You said you weren’t with her.” you pick at your keys. “That’s only lie number 1.”

• “There’s more?” he laughs in sneer amusement. “God, y/n, you really think I’m—“

• “You still love her. Don’t you?”

• he’s quiet.

• shaking harder than before fists barred to the counter.

• “Don’t you?”

• “I-I’m not answering that.”

• you scoff wiping at the tears that felt wasted..

• even though he’s telling the truth because he can’t completely lie to you.

• “I’m not gonna stand here and pretend that doesn’t bother me, cause it does.” you pack your bags as if you were waiting for this moment to come. “Honestly? It bothers me a lot. Cause you said you stopped loving her the moment you started loving me. Or don’t tell me that’s a lie too, Hongjoong.”

• his jaw clenches to hold back the lies. “I do love you.”

• that’s the honest truth,

• he does.

• but his mind’s playing tricks on him.

• his hearts playing games.

• how can he love more than one person?

• no, he should only love you.

• “Y/n, I never lied about loving you.”

• “Have you ever said anything to me? Anything true other than that?” you face him with pure despair heart hanging by a single thread falling out your chest. “I don’t know if I should believe you or if I should believe myself. That I’m just a game to you.”

• “Don’t say that.” he pulls forward to hold you but you’re hostile. “Please don’t—“

• “This relationship was built on lies, Hongjoong and I’m not gonna stand here and tell you I’m okay when I’m not.”

• he’s never done anything wrong.

• other than not tell you the whole truths, yes.

• but he’s never wanted his ex girlfriend back.

• only sees her to clear up that he’s with you.

• and he’s just abrasive because he’s confused.

• frustrated that someone he once loved keeps lying to him, saying she wants him back.

• but the truth is, he loves you.

• takes him one month to figure out how dumb he was for letting you go just like that.

• “You need to get out.” Yunho finds broken bottles on the floor, cleaning up as best he can. “Hyung, you need some rehab.”

• Hongjoong’s shaking more than usual.

• he’s got a hand tremor, that’s no lie.

• he’s tired and he misses you.

• of course he’s out of his mind.

• “I’m fine.” he lies straight from his teeth. “I just need some sleep—“

• San chokes on his spit rolling his eyes. “You need to stop drinking your ass off is what you need. And hiding here by yourself like a pity party when you’re not gonna get it.”

• truth hurts man, truth hurts.

• “What am I gonna do?” Hongjoong’s voice cracks. “I’m a liar. I’m a no good rotten excuse of a man. I don’t deserve anything but to rot in hell, is what.”

• Yunho’s jaw clenches.

• eyes shut hoping the others are doing well enough with you.

• but you’re just as bad as Hongjoong.

• if not worse.

• sleeping in bed all day and getting fat.

• what was work again?

• “I’m surprised your ass isn’t fired yet.” you hiss at Seonghwa who sits at your bed side. “Okay anaconda, relax. We’re here as detox, not intox.”

• “Funny.” you lie through your teeth in sarcasm. “Leave me alone to die please.”

• “Dude, you look pitiful in there.” Wooyoung kicks at a random milk cartoon. “When was the last time you took a shower?”

• “Last night.”

• “With what, ramen?”

• you sigh before muttering, “What are you guys doing here? And I want the truth, Seonghwa. Why are you guys in my apartment.”

• “We’re worried about you.”

• you scoff hiding you’re face in your blanket once more. “I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”

• “You need to get up, eat real fucking food, and take a goddamn shower is what you actually need.” Wooyoung smiles sinisterly. “And don’t make me drag your ass myself and take a shower with you.”

• you do as they ask because you’re just tired.

• you just want to be alone.

• confused nonetheless.

• cause shouldn’t breaking up with your lying boyfriend feel relieving?

• why is it you feel simple white lies would’ve been better than the honest truth?

• “You miss him.”

• your jaw clenches when you cry against Seonghwa’s shoulder in the car, “I don’t know..”

• “Be honest, y/n. We want the truth.”

• your sobs sound more louder than the words that escape your lips.

• “I miss him. I do.”

• “Even if he told you he loved you. Let’s pretend he said he didn’t, okay?” Seonghwa whispers finger lifting your chin up to look at him. “Wouldn’t it have hurt more if he was really lying to you? When he never really cheated on you.”

• you can’t look at him.

• because Seonghwa’s the walking definition of hurtful truth.

• it’s like facing god.

• how can you lie to Park Seonghwa the way you’ve been lying to yourself.

• “If you really loved him the way you say you do, the honest truth,” he blinks softly at you. “Then you shouldn’t be beating him and yourself up for lying a little bit in attempt to save the relationship between you two.”

• you’re so dramatic.

• you both can be so dramatic.

• like a romance game for teenagers—

• a game based on a novel.

• hey remember?

• how you and Hongjoong’s relationship used to be novel and true.

• now you’re back in his arms.

• as true as it is, you just can’t help it.

• “I love you.”

• Hongjoong holds you up against the wall, hands curled around your neck.

• you sob louder under his shadow,

• under the troubled waters.

• how crying was pretty much useless at this point when you were pretty much ready to give yourself up again.

• ready to make this game have the happy ending you want.

• “Y/n, I love you.” his fingers shakily trace aimless lines over your skin. “I’m not gonna stand here and lie to you. Say I never did when I did. Till now, I still do.”

• you kiss his lips like it’s a sin,

• like it’s cheating.

• running back to him can’t be this easy.

• there’s got to be a trick.

• “B-but how about her?” you’re afraid of loving him back this time. “What if you still love her?”

• “Maybe I do.” he whimpers cause even this hurts him. “Maybe I do but it’s you I choose. Why would I be crying here with you if it’s you I choose?”

• “Hongjoong, I don’t know what to do.” your hand grips on the collar of his shirt. “Joong, I don’t know what to do.”

• desperation hits and he’s gonna have to cheat a little.

• tell you some white lies to hide the hurtful truth from you.

• “I don’t love her.”

• “H-how can I believe you?”

• “Then don’t.” he snakes you over his arms and drops you in his bed. “Dare me to make you believe me. Dare me to get you to fall in love with me again.”

• it’s kind of cheating.

• cause, “No matter what I say, I’ve already fallen in love with you. I dare you to fall in love with me, Kim Hongjoong. Only me. Let’s do that instead.”

• fuzzy is all he feels.

• white noise an interlude to part two.

• “Just fucking stay with me, y/n. And I’ll make sure of nothing like this ever happens again.”

@atinybitofau

[violetlunette]

Hello~ In the Eri Critical post you mentioned you almost made Toru a makeshift OC and could I ask you to elaborate on that? She's a side character and imo Horikoshi hasn't given much to work with, so isn't any depth or expansion added by other writers gonna make her different to the canon? What metric do you use to judge if you strayed too far? I ask cause I'm writing a fic where Toru is more prominent and thus I will have to expand on her character.

This was a hard question for me to answer because you’re right. We have nearly nothing to work with when it comes to Toru, which sucks when you want to write a story with her. Therefore nearly anything we do is in a way “fanon.” I have run into this problem myself as I’ve tried to write her in a main role as well. So, this where I have to apologize to people who try to write for Eri. It’s near impossible to write for a character where we’re given only crumbs to work with without shifting them into Ocs. So how do we combat it? I dunno. But here’s how I try; The first question I ask myself is this, “is the character performing this action or feeling the way they are because that’s how they would in this situation? Or it because it’s how I want them to respond or feel?” If the answer is ever the latter, then I go back and think some more. For example, Toru likes Caramel. It’s her favorite food. If she turns it down, there has to be a reason; sore tooth, too depressed to eat, etc. She can’t turn down the candy just because I, the author, say so.

Don’t fall into the trap and make a character react the way you would. Make sure to ask yourself if this is how the character would do it.

Next what I try to do is take what little we do see in canon and expand on that. As for the metric for when I've gone too far—it’s complicated-ish? Below is what I know about Toru off the top of my head. If I’ve strayed too far from any of these points without a reason, then I either need to go back or make a reason that would make sense for her to act differently from “canon.” For example, Toru isn’t very strong in canon as she’s the third-worst in class. If I want to make her strong I would have to provide a reason why such as training montage or science magic. Keep in mind all my knowledge comes from the manga as I haven’t watched the anime. Hopefully, it’ll help when writing Toru.

*The biggest thing to keep in mind is that Toru loves her quirk and is very proud of it. In fact, she places a great deal of confidence in it, even when we see over and over that it’s not perfect. She’s vulnerable to cold, she can be revealed easily, etc. Yet she never tries to overcome these flaws, instead, she seems to ignore them. Thinking about it, she seems to have put all her eggs in one basket by focusing sorely on stealth in the story. (It’s said she can fight, but we don’t see anything impressive.) When she discovers her light manipulation, she works on that, but that’s because it's a part of her quirk. This can be a big weakness for her arc, refusing to admit that her quirk isn’t flawless and she needs to focus on other things like agility and strength building. **This would explain why she doesn’t get a real costume (outside of the meta reasons). In her head, she’s thinking she doesn’t need to waste time with armor, she just needs to get better at hiding/sneaking. (And being naked isn’t a big deal to her.) *Something that differs from fanon is that in canon she’s actually fairly confident. She’s usually portrayed as insecure about herself in fanfics because she “doesn’t have a face.” However, in the story, Toru seems to have the most confidence of all the girls. I have never seen an instance where she’s down about herself. This is most likely because her quirk allows her not to be judged by appearances. Actually, now that I seem to think about it, she might be putting her whole identity in her quirk, which is seen as pretty cool. *She seems to like to poke fun and tease others. She’s aware that she’s naked, but she doesn’t see it as a big deal. She sees it as funny—or at least people’s reactions to her being naked. When she strips she usually brings it to attention, then pretends to be shy or upset. **The fact her favorite thing is hidden prank shows adds to this. **She uses the lack of appearance to troll others too by saying she looks like a Geisha and an old saint. ***May have some knowledge in history. *She’s optimistic and always looks on the bright side when she can. *Usually easy going. Doesn’t seem to like dwelling on things. If she’s mad, she’ll huff and puff, but will then move on with her life. Though she may occasionally attack an offender. *She’s very friendly and bubbly. *She’s a bit of a ditz. An example is how she forgot to put a rage away in the light novels and knocked Aizawa out. *VERY SMALL, but I noticed she’s one of the few to get annoyed with Bakagou (for two seconds, but still). She was the only one to call him out when he told Izuku he should have fought Shigaraki and grumbled at him when Bakagou was happy no one else was going to be able to do the internships. YMMV, though. *She’s not a great student. This could be out of laziness or depending way too much on her quirk to get her through school. I think it’s the latter. As I said, she has WAY too much faith in her quirk. *She likes cute stuff, but in the manga, she dresses very casually. **Seems to be fond of no sleeve shirts and knee-high socks. *She worked with the Gadget Hero as an intern, so she may have a SMALL knowledge of robotics. **This feeds into the theory of how she got into UA, which states she found the off button. *She likes caramel candy the best. *She is confirmed to have two parents. Also, a trick I do is that when Canon doesn’t give me enough meat on a character, I look at their astrology! (And blood types for anime as Japanese have fun with the idea that personality can be affected by our blood types.) A lot of authors like to try and make things match for fun.

That’s all I got. I suppose the only thing I can say is that as long as you don’t stray too far from what we see in canon without a reason, write her however you want. Most readers will be forgiving with characters like this.

If anyone else can help, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it!

I really hoped this helped anon. Like I said, I wasn’t sure how to answer this, so there’s a chance I babbled and did everything but answer your question. Thanks for the message!

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 11.5

What Does a Moth Sound Like?

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time: the party returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends while their hired muscle dealt with the biggest, scaliest loose end. Between that session and the next, we had a brief mini-session to wrap up one of said ends we'd left unwrapped- what exactly is up with the Kanthalga family?

(Also included: a conversational omake between Looseleaf and Saelhen, pictured courtesy of @drazelic, Looseleaf's player.)

After their encounter with Kensa, Oyobi tries to talk the party into going to the tower and helping the Deathseekers kill the dragon. Her brilliant plan of "stab it in the brain before it can cast any spells" has some flaws, though, and they patiently explain the plan's many flaws and strike a blow against Oyobi's sense of invincibility.

They also ask Malath a few questions, trying to get to the bottom of her odd discomfort with the idea of the dragon as a culprit and the presence of Deathseekers.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "When we spoke before, you asked us whether the dragon was green. I regret that I still cannot answer, as I have not seen it, or heard any news on the topic from the deathseekers. But you seemed... concerned that it might be a green dragon. Is there any reason that such a dragon might pose a particular threat to your town?" Benedict I. (GM): "Mmm. I don't know if you've heard, but... going on thirty years ago, there was a town to the east called Grain." "It was attacked by a green dragon, and the elders... as the dragon had words with them, they had to be remanded to the custody of their gods." Looseleaf: Oooh, that is harsh. Benedict I. (GM): "In the ensuing chaos, the miscreants who now inhabit Wheat set fire to the town and fled further east." "The survivors of the disaster fled west, and established Barley here." "If that same dragon still has its sights on our people, we could be in grave danger." "We refused to submit once, and it very nearly destroyed us."

As far as they can tell from their questioning, Malath isn't hiding any dark secret- she's just sort of a control freak, who's nervous that her control over the people might slip. Plus she's worried that if the dragon is provoked and comes to town, she- as the current elder in charge- might suffer the same fate as Grain's elders.

Saelhen... isn't satisfied with this. Something seems wrong about Malath Kanthalga- Thalath wouldn't try to enlist their help rescuing Kensa for no reason. She takes the party to the general store, in hopes of catching Kensa on her nightly delivery.

Kensa arrives as expected, but when she sees Saelhen there, she makes her delivery and tries to leave, rather than sit at the loom as is her custom. She seems afraid of Saelhen.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I don't intend to keep you from your work. Though I did have a question I wanted to ask you, dear. If you'll permit me one." Kensa Kanthalga: "...A question?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Of a sensitive nature, possibly. Something vouchsafed to me by... someone you might know." Kensa Kanthalga: She looks less afraid and more confused, now. And after thinking a moment... "...oh." She actually looks a little angry, now. "That makes sense." "He sent you, didn't he?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Okay, the conclusions she's reached here... may or may not be correct! "Under what I am starting to think may have been false pretenses." Kensa Kanthalga: "What did he tell you? Did he say I was being brainwashed?" "I don't need to be rescued from my duty by someone who abandoned his!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "More a very general concern for your person than anything --" Ah, there's the word that raises her hackles, duty.

Having somewhat misread the situation, Saelhen is unpleasantly surprised to find that Kensa seems just as devoted to the teachings of Diamode as Malath is, and has no interest in fleeing. She seems contemptuous of her older brother on the basis that, uh...

Well, the Goddess of Family, who's all about having kids and living a very prescribed sort of life path inside strict gender roles, is- as might be unsurprising- a bit of a homophobe. The party never met Thalath's boyfriend (who works the night shift at Wheatley Inn- they never stayed the night there), but there are several reasons why the place isn't popular with the locals.

Saelhen is caught kind of flat-footed here- she can tell something's still not quite right, but she doesn't have the kind of cultural context to unravel this level of baggage.

Luckily, she brought along an ersatz cleric of Diamode, and so... Orluthe is able to spot the missing piece of the puzzle.

Orluthe Chokorov: Orluthe, in the back, has been looking increasingly uncomfortable. So far, he's had his stole and cap stowed away, so as not to be recognized as a cleric of Diamode. He's now taking them out and putting them on. "Hey, um, miss?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen... legitimately forgot he had those. Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa turns and notices him- possibly for the first time. "Oh, ah- Mr., um..." Orluthe Chokorov: "Chokorov," he says. "I'm..." He holds up a hand, and points at a tiny circular scar around his pinky finger. "You have one of these, right?" Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa looks down at her hand, and you can see- yes, she has a matching scar. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Well. That's novel information about Orluthe. Religion check to... I mean, we know the finger-cutting thing. I guess a "what does this mean, it's not like these two have disowned anyone" check. 13 - RELIGION (2) Benedict I. (GM): With a 13, you know that only a parent needs to cut off their finger- but you're not sure what happens with sibling relationships. This might be something related- like you don't have to cut your finger off all the way? Some sort of signifier that the connection has been severed, though you don't know the finer doctrinal points. Orluthe Chokorov: "My older sister," he says. "Four years ago. We all had to get the mark." Kensa Kanthalga: "Wait, but..." Orluthe Chokorov: "You didn't want that to happen to you, too, right?" "You can't stand up to a power like that. You'd never win, right? If I tried to defend my sister, my parents would have two missing fingers." "You have to pretend, right?" Kensa Kanthalga: "Why... no, it's... I really...!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Feels that way, doesn't it? For a long time." Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa looks terrified- like for the first time, someone's seen right through her. Orluthe Chokorov:"It's not a betrayal of your family- of your duty- to... have love." "There's nothing in Diamode's teachings about the mark, you know? Neither of us had to take it." Saelhen du Fishercrown: ...well. That's a... new consideration. Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa's on the verge of tears, looking like she's about to bolt. "N-no, I- I really... want to... I have to..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen is right back to Steal This Child Town. "...wait, do you seriously mean that the finger-cutting thing came after the scripture?" Orluthe Chokorov: Orluthe nods. "I mean, the finger-cutting is... it's a punishment. You're not supposed to disown your children. It's not like you can do it and then you lose the finger and then you're all square and it's fine." "And when parents scar their kids' fingers to make them share in a punishment for a sin they didn't commit... Diamode doesn't want that." "I should know," he says, gesturing to his vestments. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...well. Thank you, Orluthe." Saelhen's face is hard. "I was previously under the impression that I had misunderstood a culture which is strange to me." "But now it sounds as if... I haven't, quite." Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa's makeup is starting to run. "What... what do you know? I- I wanted to... if I could've... I couldn't..." "What do you want with me?!" "I had to, okay? I have to!"

Orluthe having successfully exposed Kensa's fear and dissatisfaction with the situation, Saelhen proceeds to talk her around to trying to leave. It's pretty touch-and-go for a little bit, but Kensa's mind is made up when the party mentions that they're going to be passing through Corolos. Apparently, there's something there she really cares a lot about...?

So they're going to need a few days for Kensa to prepare to, uh, run away with a bunch of strangers. That's- this is technically kidnapping, right? This isn't something you should do in real life? This is kind of bad? Hm. Well.

-

Anyway, they've got some downtime here in Barley while the Deathseekers do their work and Kensa prepares to leave. And- well, later in the campaign, there was a flashback to this time period, so I'm going to cover that scene here.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: So: days in the past (but not many)... It's Cassie Zeishus's inn, and Saelhen is brushing up on her card tricks; she's let herself get rusty, just a bit, ever since she left... Well, since she got to Oyashio, anyway. She's cutting a borrowed deck at one of the inn's tables, downstairs, flicking cards from hand to hand, then up her giant poofy sleeves. Where's Looseleaf? Looseleaf: Probably sitting around outside, doing her whole 'fix-things-up' gimmick! After the early burst of things-to-fix, though, business has dried up a little. There's just not that many broken things left to fix that people need help with after a while! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen is... bored, she decides, for a reason. She can't evaluate how impressive her card tricks/cheating techniques are without a proper audience! She knows how they work already! So she leans out the door. "How goes the repair work?" Looseleaf: "It isnnnnn't," Looseleaf says back. "I think that there's not much repair work left in Barley at all!" "I've done too good a job and my business has dried up. This is why you never peddle perfect cures, innit." Abruptly, she gets up from the carpet she'd gotten Orluthe to roll out for her- the one from Lumiere's tower. "Boooored." She rolls it up. "I demand entertainment."

Saelhen decides to entertain Looseleaf by performing a card trick... and proceeds to roll a natural 1 on her sleight of hand check. She completely fucks it up, and Looseleaf- who had to be convinced to put money on the wager- earns herself a silver piece.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I lost the card." "So I'm going to have to replace that for Cassie. On account of her deck being a card short." "Your card, specifically." Looseleaf: "Hhhhokay." "Wow, you're actually serious, aren't you." "I thought this was still part of the bit, but, if you're serious, you know the card's on the underside of your shoe, right?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I just want to reassure you that I'm good at this, Looseleaf --" Looseleaf: "I thought you'd stepped on it because, y'know, part of the trick." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "No, I already checked there --" Saelhen finds the Hierophant stuck to her instep. There's a beat. Then she blushes furiously, in what looks like actual mortification. "Oh damn it." "I haven't done that since I was sixteen, what the hell..." Looseleaf: Looseleaf laughs. It doesn't sound like her usual laugh, and you can only tell it's a laugh because she's bowled over laughing. The actual sound of the laughter sounds like- trilling chirps with a hint of vibration, a distinctly insectile sound. "Oh gods," she says while somehow still laughing simultaneously, "that was- I'm so sorry about how much I'm laughing, Saelhen-" She's still moth-laughing. "Please understand that your status is no way diminished in my eyes and you are still every bit as much of the cool conwoman you always were in my eyes- oh my gods I'm going to die laughing."

Saelhen, intrigued, attempts to use her preternatural skill at impressions to try and copy the laughter, which Looseleaf finds freaky-deaky.

Looseleaf: "Yeah, if you really want to imitate mothspeech what you actually need are the standard instruments. Your throats are not cut out for the kinds of vibes we naturally talk with." "No offense- your throats are perfectly nice, I mean." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I'm aware my throat is lovely." "What do you mean, standard instruments? Some kind of... pipe, or flute, or something?" Looseleaf: "The Standard Instruments," she says, this time with an intonation so that Saelhen can tell it's words with Capitalized Letters, "are... sort of like a flute, yeah, except instead of working like a woodwind it's more like, a bunch of little flutes with flaps of springy metal at the end, so when you blow through the flute the flaps vibrate and you get a sound that's way closer to the range of sounds we make, and it doesn't hurt your throat nearly as much. The Standard Instruments for imitation mothspeech." "Alternatively, if you knew spirit magic, we could have just taken you to the Archive of the Ever-Living Voice, but that's not really an option..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen attempts to imagine this. "So, ten harmonicas glued together." Looseleaf: "Yeah pretty much." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...that last comment sounded alarmingly practical, in its concerns, Looseleaf." "Are you proposing to teach me, here?" Looseleaf: "How dare you imply that I would ever let slip the magical secrets of my people to an outsider who knows nothing of our ways or our culture why I am absolutely offended and ha ha I'm just messing around." "If you want to learn mothspeech," Looseleaf hesitates for a moment. "...Well, we should get started by trying to put together, as you put it, ten harmonicas!" "...Does this town have harmonicas?" Benedict I. (GM): This town totally has harmonicas.

So it looks like Looseleaf is going to be teaching Saelhen the language of the mothfolk!

Looseleaf hesitates, though. "...You know, learning mothspeech is- well, it's not likely to be useful, you know?" "There's, like, no chance you're ever going to get to really put it into use with anybody other than me." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...it is a bit obscure, isn't it?" Saelhen looks contemplative for a moment... then cracks a grin. "Which means that absolutely no one will know when I insult them." "Beyond their range of hearing, even! Oh that'll be such an easy way to blow off steam, dear, I love it."

After a shopping trip to assemble the device that substitutes for having moth mouthparts, they have a nice time bonding over linguistics. Building the thing is tricky, but... Saelhen gets a good roll!

Looseleaf:"...Y'know, trying to reverse-engineer an instrument just from how you saw it once is... more difficult than I thought it would be." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen expertly pulls two pieces together. "This and this, yes?" Looseleaf: "Yeah, make sure you leave extra length on the tubes- I don't know exactly how long they have to be so we might have to cut them down a little to fit... The day continues. Looseleaf teaches Saelhen a whole plethora of fun insults in mothspeech. Things like, "You must have had a hole in your cocoon while you were pupating, because your brain clearly leaked out during your metamorphosis." "Remind me what instar you are again?" And, her favorite of all, a surprisingly terse noun that apparently translates to "immature child who sticks two feathers on their forehead and thinks that means they have the antennae of an adult."

Saelhen manages to nail the pronunciation pretty quickly, and adds Mothfolk to her list of languages.

The conversation turns to Elvish (Looseleaf is shocked to learn that Oyobi has been being rude this entire time!), and Saelhen's upbringing in Kanzentokai.

Looseleaf is shocked by Saelhen's quick mastery of the language- and of Tabaxi, and Halfling, which are apparently languages she speaks.

Eventually, Looseleaf decides to make a wager with Saelhen. The stakes: if Looseleaf can fool Saelhen with a card trick of her own, Saelhen has to teach her Thieves' Cant. If she loses, she'll have to tell Saelhen how she did the trick- a standard "is this your card" situation.

Saelhen gets a 21, and Looseleaf then has to explain that she was able to track the card via... spirit-linking. Which she then has to explain she's been doing to the bracer.

Looseleaf: "I'm trying to use this as a, uh, lighthearted segue, to confess to the fact that I've soooorta actually had a tracking magic thing set on you, like, since we met." "I'm hoping that's not, un- discomforting for you, since you said, you liked the whole suspicion thing I had?" "But, yeah, uh, I was totally suspicious of you the whole time, and my first response to seeing someone I pegged as a conwoman trying to con the university out of a magic item was, to, put a tracker on the magic item." "Which is that bracer. I know the position of that bracer, at all times, as long as it's within ten miles of me; further than that, and I know the direction it is relative to me." "I'm coming clean because- well, I guess, we're friends now actually, and you should know about the fact that I'm technically tracking your movements. And also because I want to give you the option to tell me to fuck off with that shit, if you want to." "I think that keeping the tracker's still a good idea, on a practical level, though, because of the, uh, use-case, where, a scary badguy chops your arm off to take the bracer, like that way we could still get your arm back and get the bracer back and I'm also rambling because I'm nervous that this is the end of our friendship aha." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen has gone very still. Like the hackles-up bristling from earlier, except... a lot less movement. "......" Looseleaf: "Look, if you want me to turn it off I'll turn it off!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: And then she very deliberately settles back into motion, with barely even a little bit of shaking hands! Deep deep breath. "...you make a good point. "About the, bracer tracking." "I am..." "Fine, with it." Looseleaf: "Iiii am not convinced you are fine. You seem like you are in fact very emotionally distraught about it," Looseleaf says with caution. "I could... put a tracker on something that's not the bracer, for you to hold, of your own volition?" "Really, at this point, I'm less scared of you running off with the bracer, and more scared of something happening to you because of the bracer." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...with a condition." "Which is that you do not tell anyone that you can track things, or, if you have to reveal your hand, that you don't tell anyone that you can find me." Looseleaf: "...You don't want to be found, by... something or someone that wants to find you?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "In general, no." "...I'll tie something around the bracer. Or place a coin between my skin and its surface, or something. You can track that." Looseleaf: "Okay. I'll try my best to not tell anybody about my ability to find you. Except unless I have very good reason to believe that, I dunno, a dragon has abducted you and if I don't find help for you then you're dead, or something like that. Is that fine?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "That would be fine, thank you. And I forgive you for... the initial... situation."

It seems... Saelhen really doesn't want to be found, by someone. I wonder who?

Still, the two of them manage to talk the issue over like adults, and grow closer as friends- so that means everything is probably fine, there's no secrets anymore, and absolutely nothing else is going to go wrong in the town of Barley.

NEXT TIME: END OF DAYS!!! HOMICIDAL INTENT!!! THE SINISTER MACHINATIONS OF THE SHADOW-MAYOR OF WHEAT!!!

[fgodestinyawakenings]

FGO Destiny Awakenings: Fujimaru Ritsuka and Fujimaru Ritsuko bio

My procrastination on life, writing my story, anything I needed to do is bad enough I’m surfing web day by day so.... Might as well get my ass to work on this

This is pretty long since it’s two people bio, so everything is under the cut! 

Note: In regards to their Magic Circuit quantity, neither FGO wiki or material gives any information about them. I’ve estimated them to be around Emiya Shirou’s level of circuit, but can be lower or higher... But more likely lower as they are only receiving magecraft training in the story

Note 2: Foreign languages in here are courtesy of google translate, if you’re able to improvise its grammar, please drop me an ask so I can edit

Note 3: Some of the info are quite spoilerly but not that much spoiler since it’s a base information for me on their personality, background, magecraft

Note 4: After reading the bio, I know some will be enrage with me at the sensitive topics I’m about to touch for this story. Some are imagination, some are based on what I experience, and I won’t revealed which of what is imagination or experiences in reality. The bio will contain sensitive potential topics such as Depression & Family abuse, you’re entering this at your own risk to read.

Reminder: Yes this is fiction, but you need to separate in from reality. I’m not your babysitter to cater your needs, I have put up 4 notes to remind you of the content you’re entering. And yes, I’ve pacing back and forth on their backstory knowing the backlash I received since this is Fate lore we’re going in out of consideration.

Fujimaru Ritsuka

Character Type: Human, Master, Magus

Affliliation: Chaldea Security Organization

Gender: Male

*Lineage: TBA

Birthday: December 6th

Height: 1.72m

Place of Origin: Japan

Alignment: Lawful Good

Likes: Meeting and getting to know historical figures, Magi*Mari, Reading and Researching about history

Dislikes: Needles

Talents: Stage Magic 

Circuit Quality: D

Circuit Quantity: D

Magic: Projection (Illusion), Hypnosis

Elemental Affinity: Air, particularly closest to Mist

Profile

Background

Ritsuka’s father divorced with his birth mother for unspoken circumstances and remarried to Ritsuko’s mother at the age of 11. At their first meeting, Ritsuka’s body was completely frail with his bones visible in plain view, wearing a dead emotionless face that shocked Ritsuko completely. His family situation was only described to young Ritsuko that Ritsuka’s father is doing everything it takes to ensure his mother will never come near him again.

But after spending more time with his new sister, Ritsuka gained back not only his weight, but his ability to speak, where first happened to yell at her for being reckless in fighting against their bullies. Though, he immediately regretted doing so and apologized afterwards when he knew all she did was to protect him.

Whenever someone brought up about his mom, Ritsuka immediately pushed the subject away to another topic. However when prodded further a little, he’s often described to be showing his real self by a broken look with a heartbreaking smile whenever he mentions about her

Personality

Intelligent, compassionate, self-conscious and rational with a reserved personality holding a snarky mouth, Ritsuka is considered the “brains” and leader to his sister and contracted Servants in their goal to restore humanity  

By many Servants and Chaldea Staff who are Mages, he’s often described as someone “born with a heart that’s unfitting to be a magus”. Ritsuka would often bring his tablet along in each Singularity to inquire and take photos of the historical in each singularity. His scrupulous attention to detail comes in handy when he is off creating strategies to win against the enemies in the Singularity. And his ability to learn magic quickly helps in fasten his pace to be a better Master, but sometimes his answers in avoiding his friends to find out his meeting with Merlin within his dreams leaves others questioning his credibility for his talent. 

Because of his strategic mindset, Ritsuka is highly perceptive to the others' feelings, and can figure out the source of most people's inner turmoil in a matter of a few important conversations.

“The last time someone falls in love with somebody, they had either--created a stepping stone to an illegitimate son to bring his father’s kingdom fall into ruins, trapped themselves forever in a land of utopia or even knocked up with his Master’s sister because why the hell not. No offense to you, Caster.”

-- Ritsuka to his sister while mentioning about Arthur’s, Merlin’s and Cu Chulainn’s love life  

However his lack of experience in love and holding low regards about it from reading tons of historical and mythology books, had made him completely oblivious to his own and other people who had fallen in love with him. Though this is mainly of his own low self-esteem of his own worth as a person may have stemmed from his childhood, despite being considered an ace in everything he does by his sister. Ritsuka usually hide this but immediately quickly putting back up the façade of “a reliable and dependable but also ridiculously goofy person” when someone notice.

Understanding how critical their situation is, Ritsuka often refuse to sit still when there’s a given chance to do anything to help Chaldea. He also seems to get a little annoyed sometimes when people think he's cute or adorable, as he wants to be taken seriously like a grown-up from people around him as at most times Ritsuka is more mature and wiser than others. 

When Ritsuka and Ritsuko are on their adventures in the Singularity, Ritsuka is the one to act as the leader because he is shown to be very brave and smart. He can be very protective of his sister, whenever she is in danger he is always there to help and will do anything to get her free.

It is also well mentioned that unlike his sister whom is open about her problems and sociable, Ritsuka is much more reserved and emotionally distant often avoiding talking about his past and himself. Even though he admired Heroic Spirits greatly and wished to understand them more, some would notice he often forced himself to draw a line from getting too close for some reason. But as the journey goes, Ritsuka has become greatly attached to everyone in Chaldea amd considered them strongly as his secondary family.

With his strong knowledge in history and novels, Ritsuka thinks much like an actual detective.

Despite his serious personality, living with Ritsuko his whole life (who is famous for her silly attitude) has caused him to indulge in childish activities with her. As such often either jokingly teased he’s forced to join with the shenanigans with the Child Servants, or mostly being the butt monkey teasing by them.

He also holds a huge soft spot towards children in particular to Jack and Mordred. When asked why in particular, Ritsuka easily gives his true smile that children like them deserve the love and acknowledgement they needed. But, he does a huge comedic soft spot to Alexandar and Ko-Gil, making his heart thumping when both used their charm while calling him “Onii-chan”.

He also seems to not mind breaking the rules in order to have some fun, which often having him to be scolded by Emiya when he does so. In particular habit is often staying up late or staying over at Romani’s room to watch Magi*Mari.

Abilities

“Merlin: After all, you and I are very similar, Ritsuka-kun. There shouldn’t be a problem for you to learn my tricks. Ritsuka: By similar, if you’re talking about having the same sexual reproductive organs... That’s captain obvious, Merlin.”

-- Ritsuka to Merlin on his first lesson with him

Illusion Magecraft

With his experience in entertainment magic, Merlin had taught him in magecraft of deception and proficiency in Projection. A magecraft that relies on fooling a being’s psyche to win, a magic which Ritsuka concluded only a mage like Merlin befits this magic for his notorious mischievous behavior.

Misdirection

Under the incantation chant “maintenant tu me vois maintenant tu ne”, Ritsuka will fool his enemy thinking that he had disappeared by their five senses. Rather than concealing his presence, Merlin described this spell as “Putting one’s attention focused strongly onto another. Like falling in love at first sight, where your world focus on that person alone!”

This spell Ritsuka commonly mostly to hide himself from enemy, and also additionally do a surprise attack from the back

However due to his quantity and quality of his magic circuits, Servants and enemies with strong sense and Clairvoyance are able to notice his whereabouts.

Projection (Illusion)

Unlike Emiya’s projection, Ritsuka’s projection creates objects based on his memories and imagination. A skill he’s able to do easily as though it’s strangely natural from his muscle memories, he currently lacks the learning to reinforce his projected works to a reality

Under Merlin’s teachings, Ritsuka is able to create an illusion of manipulating to fool his enemies five senses during battle. But, it may not work if one is able to see through eventually  

To perform this magecraft, he need to act/pretend of an action in order to project the desired item from his mind into reality. However because it’s like an illusion, not only it lasted for seconds to minutes, that item may not even appeared in his enemy vision if the latter noticed the truth.

Combat

Even if magic circuits is weak, Ritsuka makes it up by physical combat via kendo. In combat, Ritsuka will give commands to his Servants while fighting against the lower mobs summoned by enemy Servants. Lacking any fear towards death, Ritsuka won’t hesitate to step forward to deal against enemy Servants if needed to buy some time for his allies Servant to summon their Noble Phantasm

As such even facing against a professional magus, Ritsuka treats it as an experiment test nearly at the cost of his own life to find a weakness within them.

Role

Ritsuka acts both support and fights with their Servants in Chaldea. He has no specific Servant in mind as being dragged into the World of Magus. Ritsuka admired all Heroic Spirits, often near instantly switched into his fanboy mode when meeting those he admired. 

While he enjoys their company and wishes to personally know each of them better, he does get exasperated by some of the extremely colorful and chaotic Servants summoned in Chaldea.

But, Ritsuka instantly draws a line between him and the Servants from getting to close by often avoiding talking about himself and his own true feelings. Despite making himself distant from them, he cares a great deal about them and strongly hated the idea of treating them and anyone as tools or weapons to use.

Unlike his sister, he’s the one who supplies mana generally to most of the Servants via a technique Merlin taught him when he requested earnestly for his help.

Fujimaru Ritsuko

Character Type: Human, Master, Magus 

Affliliation: Chaldea Security Organization 

Gender: Female

Lineage: TBA

Birthday: May 29th

Height: 1.58m

Alignment: Lawful Good

Likes: Sports (mainly excel in softball and basketball), Morning workout as early as 4am, Sweets

Dislikes: Studying through reading of books, Anyone who hurts her brother and even attempting to bring up his family problems, House chores

Talents: Accuracy in throwing and quick learning speed taught via hands-on

Circuit Quality: D+

Circuit Quantity: D+

Magic: Nine Hand Seal Magecraft

Elemental Affinity: Fire

Profile

Background

Ritsuko mentions to Mash in Fuyuki Singulary Section 9 Part 1 that her real father disappeared on both her mother and her when she was a baby for reasons unknown. As such, it’s noted her mother has been raising her single-handedly by herself before remarrying Ritsuka’s father when she was 10.

At their first meeting, Ritsuko was completely horrified at Ritsuka’s body was completely frail with his bones visible in plain view, wearing a dead emotionless face that barely even respond to her when she first greeting him warmly. His family situation was only described to young Ritsuko when she asked was that Ritsuka’s father is doing everything it takes to ensure his mother will never come near him again, and will only explain to her when she grew older.

She mentioned though he was quiet, he was still receptive if not hesitant in answering to her. But after spending more time with his new sister, Ritsuka gained back not only his weight, but his ability to speak mainly to yell at her for being reckless in fighting against her bullies. Though at that time, Ritsuko chuckled she was unsure why she was crying while he apologized; whether it was the bullies, her brother scolded her, or the happiness she felt when she saw life in her brother’s eyes after months of wondering if the effort was futile to get closer to her new older brother. 

Personality

On the surface, Ritsuko is fierce, independent, and pugnacious, but beneath her tough exterior, she possesses a strong loyalty toward her friends and duty as the Humanity’s last Master with her brother. She also has an admirable compassion and devotion, demonstrated when she expresses love toward things such as her family and friends. Unlike the calmer and reserved Ritsuka, Ritsuko is similarly quick witted and impulsive, especially in heated situations. And, she lacked perception towards her rash decisions often resulted in her accidentally insulting others.

Ritsuko is tough, impatient, headstrong, sarcastic, and assertive. Due to her crush on Mash, she tends to pull her away and shield her from others who showed interest in her. Like her brother, Ritsuko fully embraced her position as the Humanity’s Last Master, but lamenting her weakness how she isn’t calm and level-headed as her brother. A trait of Ritsuka she admires greatly when they were kids, as she’ll always be grateful during the times she was in near trouble. Mainly Ritsuka’s willingness and accepting of her secret towards her interest in woman, as she didn’t want her mother to know out of fear of disappointing her.

Because of this, Ritsuko also tends to be protective and even more so than her brother when it comes to his own well-being. Her mother never told anything about Ritsuka’s parents, except as she quoted: 

“Mom said I was too young understand. Telling me Ritsuka’s mom did something really bad to him so Dad ensured his mom will never come close to meet Ritsuka again.”

As such, Ritsuko often keeps an eye on Ritsuka’s reaction whenever someone asks about his mom; ready to deflect or even pull him away at the uncomfortable situation.

Initially frightened and frozen with fear at Fuyuki Singularity, Ritsuko lamented with regret greatly how if her strength to save Mash from Artoria Alter’s Noble Phantasm could do the same for Olga Marie. But, she knew better she can’t wallow in grief, vowing to grow stronger and requested Emiya’s and Sadakuni’s aid to train her in combat and magecraft respectively.

Abilities

"Boomer-Dagger”

A pair of dagger crafted specially by Emiya after considering her skillset. It can be used for both physical combat and her magecraft. When thrown to her enemies, it returns to her via an invisible string connecting to her magic circuit. Also, it’s used as a placeholder on her talisman before conjuring her Nine Hand Seal Mudra Magecraft

Talisman

Her catalyst to invoke with her magecraft. Taught by Sadakuni, she needs to place it on her target before doing her Mudras to attack her opponent. Ritsuko often brings her mat of magic circle drawn by her blood to imbued powers into the talisman daily through meditation.

Onmyoudo Kuji-in aka Nine Hand Seals Magecraft

Taught by Section Chief Agano Sadakuni, Ritsuko mainly uses this magecraft for combat. This magecraft relies specifically on specific hand gesture and pattern to conjure her spells. From reinforcing her weapon and physical strength, to summoning fire magic for combat

Rin-Pyo-Toh, ready for battle: Enhancing her physical strength

Kai-Jin-Retsu, release: Conjure an explosion burst of flames

Jin-Pyo-Zai, bind: With ranged of 10 talisman connected by a burning magical rope to bind the target

Zai-Sha-Kai, heal: Transfer her mana for healing or empowering her Servant

Combat

Like her brother despite having slighter better circuits than him, Ritsuko sides along with her brother via physical combat. She often pairs with her brother, acting as a bait to go against the enemy, while Ritsuka pulls off a surprise ambush via his illusion magecraft.

In the face of an enemy Servant, Ritsuko steps back to give orders to the Servant she contracted with.

Role

While she treats Servants who are Kings or Queen with respect by their title, Ritsuko treats everyone equally with respect and as a friend. She’s shown to be more than willing to teach them about the modern technology and slang, also joining them in their crazy plans often resulted in chaotic humor, much to Ritsuka’s chagrin.

Like her brother, Ritsuko detested the idea of anyone treating Servants as tools or weapons as she view those who contracted her as their friend. This feeling also extend to her enemy Servant, believing they are living beings with their own free will and emotions.

While her brother generally supplies mana to their Servants, Ritsuko acts second-in-charge right after he finish mana transferring to their Servant which resulted him immobile and carried around by Emiya or Caster Cu Chulainn.

[courageouslyfearless]

Dream World (Part 2) ☾ Baekhyun

Dream World (Part 2) ☾ Baekhyun

Genre: Fantasy AU

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested Tags: @itsbaekhyunsbutt​ @strawbaeri-s​ @bbyunz​

| Part 1 |

The Kingdom of Akron had changed drastically in a few months time. When news from the royal court spread through the lands asking the elves to come back home, most of them hesitated. It must be a trick, they thought, the queen must be up to something. Baekhyun knew better. The queen's sudden change of heart was Y/N's doing. She had written the happy ending she had promised. "Happy" was relative. He was content that he could ask his people to come back to Akron, begging them to trust this to be real and not some sort of plot. But deep down, Baekhyun was devastated, as this was only possible because of a woman he was never going to see again. He did his best to push these thoughts to the back of his mind so he could get through his days. But he couldn't chase away the memories that plagued his brain at night. He questioned his own sanity often; he missed her so. More often than not, he dreamed of her as well. It was his own personal prison, inside his head.

It was getting burdensome for him to pretend he wasn't completely and utterly heartbroken. His people looked up to him for guidance, he couldn't afford to show his weaknesses. But truthfully, he was finding it difficult to care as well. So eventually he made one of the toughest choices he's ever had to make; he resigned from his position as ruler of the elves, to someone far more capable, his best friend and mightiest warrior in their army, Chanyeol.

After the crowning ceremony, as his people  celebrated, he had tried to make a quiet exit from the festivities. Elves enjoyed drinking ale and playing dangerous games once inebriated. He wasn't in the mood to play them. Unfortunately, as he worked his way through the people, he kept being stopped by folks who wanted to thank him for bringing them home and ruling them after his father's death. He waved their words away, simply responding with "I didn't do much." Which was the truth, he hadn't actually done much, but he couldn't tell them that. So he kept pushing his way through to leave but once he was almost out, Chanyeol appeared in front of him. Baekhun sighed.

"I just need to get out," he said, looking up at his tall friend, hoping he'd understand.

Chanyeol's eyes studied the prince with careful thought.

"You're leaving, aren't you? It wasn't just about ruling, you don't want to be in Akron."

Baekhyun was surprised that his friend had read him so well. He gave him a small smile.

"That was a pretty good guess," he started, then his smile faded, "Everything about this place reminds me of her. I can't do it anymore. I'm going back to the mountains. I heard there's still a group of elves staying there because they don't trust the Queen. I will try to convince them that it is safe to come back." An excuse he knew, but it felt better to think of his journey as a mission and not as him giving up and running away from the memory of her.

Chanyeol read the truth in his face as clear as if he were telling him. "If that's what you need to do to feel better then do it. But you've never been a man that loses hope. Not once have I seen you surrender. Why start now?"

"What are you trying to tell me, Chanyeol? I told you there's nothing I can do. She's gone... forever." That last part hurt to say, he almost felt like he couldn't breathe every time the truth hit him.

"You were set on keeping her here once, remember? You searched high and low for a spell to do it. Then finding the ingredients," Chanyeol shuddered at the memory, "getting the troll's heart was some nasty business," he shook his head, "anyways, what I'm trying to say is, you found a way once. If you really can't live without her, then do it again. Just find another way."

Baekhyun stared at his friend. Could he do it? Could he defy the laws of nature.

"I used up all the magic," he said, defeated.

Chanyeol groaned, exasperated, "Magic doesn't just vanish from existence. It's all around us, in the trees, in the river, in every fiber and molecule of life, there is magic. It is sown into the very essence of the world. You just have to learn how to harness it. I'd start with the nymphs, if I were you."

Baekhyun thought about it. He had nothing to lose by trying. He was set on leaving Akron anyways, why not leave with some hope as company?

Finally, he smiled. At this, Chanyeol was relieved, because it was the most genuine smile he'd seen from him since he lost her. He took this as a good sign.

"Now go get your princess."

~

Meanwhile, you were wrestling with the tape that had sealed and kept safe your possessions inside the cardboard boxes. Unpacking had become quite the chore as you couldn't find the box cutter or literally anything with an edge to cut through the tape. Your new apartment looked like a war zone and you expected to come out as the victor. If only you could find something to...

"Keys, of course!"

You grabbed your set of keys dangling from the hook by the door and searched through the label on the boxes to find the ones that you wanted to open first. The one with "bedroom" written on it with a black sharpie caught your eye first. After cutting through the tape, you opened it to go through your belongings. It was mostly books and novels. You smiled, that is, until you spotted a familiar blue cover with stars on it. Your dream journal. You hadn't opened it since... well, since that time. Writing after losing him was unthinkable. There was no way you could ever write another character to life, let alone love them as you had loved him.

You reached for it now with trembling hands and a racing heart. The journal was in pretty bad shape. You had tried getting rid of it once, throwing it in a lake during your spring break vacation, hoping the tightness in your chest would subside. Watching it sink under did the opposite. You had rushed into the water to save it. To save him. Or the memory of him. That afternoon you hurried back home, to find a way to dry and save it from being completely ruined. As painful as it was, you didn't want to forget him. He wasn't part of the real world, but he was real to you.

You opened it now, for the first time, flicking through the wrinkled pages. It was still readable but only to you, the one who had written every word and sentence on it. The tightness in your chest had become a permanent resident and you no longer let it have that much control over you. You ignored it this time as well.

With tears burning in your eyes you started reading. Akron. The Queen. Baekhyun. You smiled at the part where you guys met.

The dress was too revealing, you worried, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You kept pulling up at the fabric over your bust , hoping it would show less cleavage. Your maidens hovered about with jewelry and powders and anything that could make you look more regal. The shortest one, with the dazzling smile and gentle fingers, placed a gold crown on your head. You weren't used to the weight of it. It felt awkward. You thought it made you feel off balance.

Three knocks at the door announced a new visitor.

"Come in," with the words, you also breathe in deeply, maybe a little too quickly as you become dizzy from the action. Your're still in a daze when he walks in.

Plain brown pants. Plain brown tunic. And that's all that is plain about him.

As you finally fix your eyes on his face, your heartbeat picks up its pace. His smile was the first thing that drew you in. It was playful and kind at the same time. You were confused as to how he managed that. His eyes were an ordinary brown at first glance, but the way they held your gaze was anything short of extraordinary. It felt like he could see right through you all the way down to your soul, where you kept the most private things about yourself hidden. You found yourself at a loss for words and at the widening of his smile you knew he could tell he had an effect on you.

"Your majesty," he finally spoke, "my name is Baekhyun, I was told I will have the pleasure of working as your servant from this day onward."

You will never forget the way he spoke then. As if he knew you, your heart and he was ready to take it for himself. You should've known then that he'd succeed. How could he not? He was confident, funny, kind and sometimes a little naughty as well. There was nothing predictable about him. He challenged you almost every occasion he could.

There was only one time you could recall when he was none of these things. Just one time, when his confidence left his shoulders, and his  eyes couldn't seem to find yours. You remember how quiet his voice was as he reached with trembling fingers to hold your hand for the first time. You'd been crying, reminiscing the scene at home. Your parents had been arguing. But the situation had escalated quickly. Words turned into shoving, shoving turned into objects being thrown. The next thing you saw was your mom slide across the dining room floor and into the kitchen, her body hitting the refrigerator. She'd dislocated her arm from the force. You were compelled to go to the hospital with her and lie about how she got hurt. They always made you lie for them. Once back home you'd had to clean up the broken glass and the blood stains on the floor from someone's bare feet who had walked over it.

He'd cried with you as you told him, holding you in his arms like you were his to hold. And you let him, because when everything in your world felt wrong, the warmth of his embrace was the only thing that felt right. His strength was the only thing keeping you together. Just that once did he hesitate. Only that time did he hold back. The next time you dreamed of him, he stole his first kiss from your lips. He never hesitated after that.

So how could you have stopped the beautiful force of nature that was Baekhyun from taking your heart? Just as the sun comes out every day and the moon reflects its light at night, just as everything that happens without fail, it was inevitable to fall in love with him.

But now all that was left of him was this dreadful looking journal and the memories in your head, which will wither away with time until you question if it even happened at all. His eyes will fade like the ink of your favorite purple pen on these wrinkled pages. His smile will become jaded by reality, distorted by the smudged words on a piece of paper. But the worst part was that if he felt for you as he had confessed the last time that you were together, then he was feeling as hopeless and heartbroken as you were. That thought made you sadder than anything else.

You closed the journal gently, as to not cause more damage to it. Then you walked to your room and stored it in the top drawer of the night stand by your bed. You needed to stay focused on the task at hand, which was to unpack everything still stored away in boxes. Pushing thoughts of him out of mind, you went back to work.

Once you are more or less done putting away the stuff in the kitchen, you lay down on the carpeted floor of the small living room. You had no furniture for this space yet, so it was empty. You closed your eyes slowly as they had become heavy with exhaustion. You knew if you kept it up for too long, you'd fall asleep right there. That's how tired you were. So instead, you force yourself to stand up. You decided to take a warm bath and then head out to bed.

You rarely did nice things for yourself, but candles had always been a frivolous need of yours. You lit one in the bathroom as you watched the tub fill up. Once the water was high enough, you undressed and got in the tub. You laid down, resting your head back on the wall as the candle spread the sweet aroma of coconut sunrise in the air.

At this level of relaxation, it doesn't take long for you to drift off into a soft dream.

You were surrounded by tall trees that towered over you like some kind of mythical giants. You glanced up at them, wondering if they would suddenly come to life. They didn't, but the thought that in a dream it was possible, kept you alert to your surroundings. Looking away from them, your gaze comes down to what's in front of you, a vast lake. There were tiny lights shimmering over the water, flying into the air and swirling in perfect unison like small tornadoes. It took you a few seconds to realize they weren't lights.

"Fairies," you whispered. But as if they had heard you speak, they stopped moving, and this made it easier to see their tiny little wings flapping to keep them in the air. You kept quiet and eventually they continued their flight ritual.

"Pixies, actually."

Your heart stopped. Literally, skipped a beat, painfully reminding you that it was still in your chest.

You recognized the voice. You'd know it anywhere. But you were afraid of looking back. You were afraid of hoping it was him and not see his face. You hadn't dreamed of him since the pen incident. So you stayed like that, frozen in place, fear rooting you to that spot.

After a few seconds passed by, you felt it. A hand, resting on your arm, the touch light as a feather, bringing goosebumps across your skin.

"You said writing was the only thing getting you through tough times, how have you survived this long without it?"

You took a deep breath, still unable to move but ready to respond anyways.

"I can't write another you."

That was all you could say. You knew he'd understand the implication of your words. You couldn't risk loving anyone else. You couldn't risk forgetting him. Or replacing him. You wanted your heart to be his and no one else's.

"Then write me again. Write about all the moments we should've lived together. Write me into life."

What was he saying? Why did he want you to torture yourself by writing about him?

"But it hurts," you find yourself saying, tears welling up under your eyes.

"I know, princess, I know. But I need you to write me as if I was never gone."

You turned around then, half expecting to find him standing there, but you were met by a rush of wind that carried his last words as a whisper.

"Write me."

You woke up from the dream in a start, looking around your bathroom like he might appear there from thin air. But as reality set in, your heart sank. Of course he would never be there. Even in the dream you couldn't see him. You brushed away a stray tear from your cheek. He wanted you to write him. About him. You didn't know if it was really him or just your brain playing games with you again, but it was the only sign you'd received from him in months. You wanted to believe it was really him. Your broken heart needed to hope it was him.

So that night you wrote him. Every detail. Every habit. Every look. The way that his lips taste. The hint of gold in his eyes when sunlight washed over his face. The feel of his hand on your cheek. Anything that you could remember about him.

You also wrote about moments that never happened. You wrote him as someone who walked in the real world, facing your kind of problems. Working a 9 to 5 to pay the bills. Running to the corner store to get you that chocolate ice cream you'd been craving since the week started. Eating ramen several times a week when money was tight. Sitting on the couch, the T.V. on in the background as he watched your face  instead of the screen. You wrote about anything you could think of. Anything that you wished you could do with him. You painted his image with vivid and ordinary description, because you wished to live the simplest and most common every day moments with him.

You lost track of time again, as you often did when you were writing. Your hand ached by the time you stopped. You could feel the beginnings of a blister on your middle finger from where you'd been holding the pen with fierce purpose. The shot of adrenaline that hearing his voice gave you had fueled you for hours. But now exhaustion was pulling at your eyelids, making it hard to keep them open. With a sigh, you laid down in bed and hid your body under the covers. You fell asleep then, staring at the ceiling, hugging your journal close to your chest and with a wish in your mind to meet him in your dreams again.

But no such thing happen. You had a dreamless and uneventful night. When you woke up, it was from the sunlight hitting your face because in your tiredness you had forgotten to close the blinds to your windows.

"Stupid sun," you mumbled at your pillow. Covering you face with a blanket to give your eyes time to adjust to the brightness.

"What did the sun ever do to you, princess?"

You froze. Literally, stopped moving in your bed at the sound of his voice.

I've finally lost it, you thought, I've finally lost my mind.

That must be the only explanation. His voice, had been so clear it almost sounded like he was next to you. Writing about him last night must have driven you over the edge. You laughed at yourself and where your imagination had taken you. It wasn't funny, but still you laughed, because there was nothing left for you but to do so, or you'd end up in tears.

"I missed your laugh," you heard the voice again.

This time you didn't laugh. You couldn't. The voice was closer and with the tone you were able to visualize what his face would look like as he spoke. He'd be cupping your face in his hands, his eyes holding yours as if to project his honesty through that one look. It was such a beautiful image the one in your brain, that you could couldn't move to confront it. If you indeed had lost your mind, at least you'd have his words to keep you company.

"Y/N." This was the second time you had ever hear him call you by your name and upon hearing it, your heart did somersaults. You pulled the blanket down, ever so slowly, afraid of meeting an empty space besides you.

But it wasn't empty. Baekhyun laid there, on the side of the bed that was always unoccupied. Until now.

You felt your eyes widening, but you couldn't open your mouth to speak. You didn't know what to say. You were speechless.

Baekhyun smiled as you stared at him. Reaching a hand to touch your face. His touch was warm against your skin. You almost closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation, but you were afraid that he'd be gone when you opened your eyes again. So you kept staring at him, but finally found the will to speak.

"Is this a dream?"

He smiled wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he moved closer to you. He only stopped when his face was an inch away from yours. Your breath caught in your throat with the proximity. He was so close you caught a whiff of a woodsy scent that you remembered as exclusively his from your time in Akron.

"Baek-"

Before you could finish saying his name, he trapped your lips with his in a kiss. You didn't want to close your eyes. You didn't want to end the fantasy. But he kissed you fervently and you found yourself losing the will quickly as you kissed him back as desperately. His hand moved under the blanket that covered you and found your waist, pulling your body closer from there until it was completely against his.

As quickly as he started the fire, as swift he was about putting it out when he stopped kissing you. You almost whined in protest and he chuckled in response.

"Does that feel real enough to you?" he asked.

You opened your eyes to meet his beautiful brown ones. The sun was hitting them just the right amount and you could see your reflection in them. You pressed a hand to his face, touching him for the first time.

"How is this possible?" You wanted to ask other questions too, but this was the most important one. "You told me... you told me you used all the magic in Akron. That I would never return once I left."

He smiled, that smile of his that you loved. The one that made him look years younger than he is. His playful smile. "There is always more magic to be found and to be created. A friend reminded me of that. You couldn't come back to me, so I came to you instead."

Your heart was beating so fast that you wondered how it didn't just stop working. There was no way it was healthy for it do that every time you were with Baekhyun. You were still confused and he was being very vague.

"But how did you do it?" you pressed.

He reached for your hand, the one still touching his face and intertwined your fingers with a look of awe in his eyes.

"I didn't. You did," he paused, his gaze meeting yours, "you actually wrote me to life".

You thought he must be kidding, so you waited for the punchline. But his one never came. He was serious.

"I did what?!"

He smiled at you with so much fondness, seeing you as confused as you were.

"You wrote me to life, Y/N. First in your dreams and now here."

"You're real? Like real real?" you knew you sounded idiotic, but it was something hard to wrap your head around.

Baekhyun was a character to a story that you poured a lot of love and time into. Some writers like to say that their characters have a life of their own. But it's just an expression, it's supposed to mean they basically write themselves. They come without effort. But what he is saying is very different. What he is saying sounds so incredibly crazy yet wonderful and though you don't want to let yourself feel hopeful, a seed had taken root in your heart. A seed that you hoped would bloom into reality, a reality where you could live a life of happiness with the one you love.

You knew he could see it on your face, what you were thinking and what you were feeling. So he finally stopped being cryptic.

"I am real. While you wrote me and created a connection between me and the real world, I had one created from Akron to here. The field with the lake where I spoke to you last night, well, the water pixies conjured a portal from our side and you fabricated one from this side, through your journal. Now I can come and go as long as you don't destroy the journal."

He was being truthful, not a note of humor in his expression. You couldn't believe it. It was something out of a fantasy novel. Before you knew it, tears were clouding your vision. Baekhyun reacted as quickly as usual, out of pure instinct, arm draped protectively around your body. You hid your face in the crook of his neck to hide your crying face from him.

"I can't believe I get to live with you." You words are strained with emotion, but you say them anyways.

"I can't believe I get to love you," he says in return. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you forever." His voice cracked at the end. This made you pull back to look at his face. You were surprised to see him crying as well. You knew his pain and that sense of loss because you had felt it yourself.

"Baekhyun." You didn't know what else to say.

"I love you, princess. In Akron and here, in a world I know nothing about."

You smiled at this. The most genuine smile you had ever smiled before. You finally let yourself think about a future with him, because for the first time, it was possible.

"I love you too. I can't wait to teach you all about it. There's a lot you'll love and... well, like you told me once, it's not all rainbows and butterflies."

He smiled at that and you did as well.

Overcome with emotion you kiss him again. Because you can. Because you thought you would never get to do it again. You kiss him and he kisses you back. You both try to project how much love and devotion you have for each other. Your love is literally one from stories. Made up. But more real than anything you had ever experienced in your life. And now you will get to live it and test it and maybe even get that happy ending people like to dream about.

____________________________________

* Masterlist *

____________________________________

A/N: So that came out very meh. But also I always think that about the stuff I write so it’s probably me being a perfectionist. Anyways, hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you so much for the support and love you showed for this random idea I had that turned into this story. Love you guys!

[transcendence-au]

r!Pacifica tricks Dipper into running a booth at a TwinCon. He comes across an r!Mabel and an r!Henry who meet at his booth. (Also, brownie points if it’s a Mizcor booth)They both talk about how much they love Alcor and want to date him, and Dipper helps them realize that the traits they’re projecting onto ‘Alcor’ are actually traits they can find in each other. SO WOODZAR HAS BLOSSOMED IN THE PLACE OF MIZCOR

Mod F got really excited about this and ended up writing a thing! (Here it is on AO3 too)

===

Dipper looked toward the entrance of the convention center, at the large banner proudly proclaiming “WELCOME TO TWINCON 2896″, and slammed his head face-first onto the table.

Damn Aubrey. Damn her to the deepest pits of the Nightmare Realm for making him run a booth at TwinCon. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get taken in by her evil tricks and wily ways; couldn’t believe he made a bet with her and lost. That was the last time he trusted Pacifica’s soul. And he totally meant it this time! Way more than the last eight times Aubrey had tricked him. He definitely wasn’t going to immediately go back to being friends with her. This was the last straw.

A loud creak announced the opening of the main con doors, and the room was quickly filled with a flurry of excitement. Dipper picked his head off the table with a sigh and prepared himself for a long day of peddling garbage. He considered how he must look – a sad demon sitting under a sign reading “MICOR MEMORABILIA” and surrounded by perverse figurines, body pillows, and graphic novels.

And then his curiosity got the better of him. He conjured a mirror in his hand and immediately noticed his top hat was askew, so he reached up to straighten it out. Perfect. He actually looked pretty good that day if he did say so himself. His hair was fluffy, his suit was pressed, his teeth looked sharp. Nice and presentable. He was so busy making faces in the mirror that he almost forgot he was at a convention, until -

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Ack!” Dipper yelped in surprise, his hat shooting high into the air. Despite this, he didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “What do you want?”

“I hope I didn’t frighten you! You’ve got some lovely merch here. I was just wondering how much this comic would cost.”

“Check the price tag,” he responded gruffly.

“I- I tried, but it doesn’t look like there is one.”

Groaning, Dipper flicked his eyes away from his own beautiful reflection so he could see exactly what depraved nonsense the voice wanted to purchase, and -

Mizar smiled sweetly back at him.

The mirror shattered in his hand. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Why was she here? What was going on?

“I’ve heard about this series before,” he suddenly realized Mizar was saying, “but I never had the chance to check it out before. It’s a coffee shop AU, right? It’s so inspiring that fans can take the framework of Twin Souls and make even more beautiful stories based off of it.”

Dipper’s head was too filled with buzzing to really make much sense of what she was saying. All he could think about was how his sister’s soul was apparently a fan of the worst book series in the universe. It didn’t even seem like she was doing it as a gag like Mabel did – the girl in front of him was radiating nothing but enthusiasm and sincerity in her aura.

“Oh, I’ve read that!” another voice piped in. “It’s dope as fuck, although the first volume’s got a bit of a Woodzar focus. But if you can power through that, it’s high key Micor there on out.”

Okay okay okay. He could do something about this. Maybe he’d take Mizar aside and have a talk with her about why being a Twin Souls fan was a sin of the highest calibre. Dipper tore his eyes away from her for a moment to tell the newcomer to go away, but no sooner did he get a good look at them than he felt all the air kicked out of his imaginary lungs.

“Don’t get me wrong, man,” Henry’s soul continued, a sly look on her face. “Woodzar is a fine ship. There’s a lot of good Woodzar fic out there and I don’t fault anyone for writing it. But if we’re gonna be honest with ourselves, it’s pretty obvious that Alcor and Mizar belong together. Their romantic chemistry is off the goddamn charts. Remember when they finally kissed in the first novel? Oh, fuckin’ heart palpitations, man.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. What in the world was happening? Why were Mizar and Henry both Twinners? What was the universe punishing him for this time??

“I know, right?” Mizar replied with a giggle. “My name’s Minty, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Henry’s soul grinned back. “Halley. Nice to meet you too. I knew coming to this con would be a good idea – it’s the perfect place to find like minded people.”

“What about you?” Minty asked, and it took Dipper a minute – so embroidered was he in querying his omniscience to see exactly what traumatizing thing had happened to Minty and Halley that made them turn out this way – to realize that she was talking to him.

“I, uh, I’m… not a… Micor is bad,” he said finally.

Halley frowned. “What, don’t you love Alcor too? You’re running a booth at TwinCon and your cosplay is on-point! That suit must’ve been expensive, and the wings look almost real!”

Puffs of steam shot out from Dipper’s ears and he flared his wings. “It’s not a cosplay, I just look like this! And I’ll have you know that I would’ve never in a million years gone to a TwinCon if my friend Aubrey hadn’t pretended to be really bad at hula hooping and then made a bet with me that she could beat me in a hula hoop contest and then absolutely kicked my ass into the stratosphere with her nutty good hooping! Graggh!” He slammed his forehead into the table again.

“Awwww,” Minty cooed. “Stage fright is the worst. I know I sure was nervous the first time I went to a con in full cosplay. That was awful nice of your friend to convince you to go anyway!”

Dipper’s head shot up and he stared slack-jawed at the two of them just as Halley nodded. “You’ve got this man, you know? Like I said, your outfit kicks ass. And hey, thanks for opening up to us. That can’t have been easy.”

“B- but I- you WHAT-” Dipper stammered.

Minty squeaked and clapped her hands together. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve made some great friends at this con already.”

“I’m- n- no you’re WILDLY mistaken- this isn’t-”

Both Halley and Minty turned their backs to the increasingly flustered demon and leaned against the stall, looking off into the rest of the hall with pensive expressions. “Friends are nice,” Halley murmured, “but what I wouldn’t give to meet Alcor at this convention. He’s everything I want in a partner. And then I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.”

Minty put her hand on Halley’s shoulder. “I know what you mean! He’s so confident and protective. Loyal to a fault. If Alcor was here, I’d ask him on a date!”

“What makes you think Alcor wants to date any of you humans?” Dipper grumbled. “Or anyone at all?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, man!” Halley responded. She patted Dipper on the back, surprising him into coughing out a little cloud of yellow sparkles. “Alcor is real and he’s out there. As long as there’s the smallest spark of hope that he might love me back, I’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth!”

Minty slapped her forehead, startling Dipper out of the silent terror written all over his face. “Oh, duh! He’s cosplaying as Alcor because he’s here to find his Miiiizar! That’s why he’s not interested in Alcor’s love! I connected the dots!”

“No, you haven’t connected anything!” Dipper tried to cut in, terror returning in full force because the situation was spiralling rapidly out of control, but Minty kept going.

“Ah, if only I was Mizar,” she trilled as Dipper watched her soul dance traitorously in her chest. “Then it’d only be a matter of time before Alcor came to ask me out. We’d go to the coffee shop he works at and someone would cover his shift. I’d get a hot chocolate; he, an iced latte.” She sat on the table, sending a set of Mizar action figures toppling over onto Dipper’s lap. “I’d tell him all about how art school’s going and he’d confide in me some dark secrets about how the 2801 moon landing was faked because giant aliens were playing golf with the planets and accidentally knocked the moon into a black hole. And then, finally, he’d give me a dainty kiss on the cheek, and I’d make a little squeaky noise, yknow, and he’d blush and ask me if it was alright for him to do that, and then I’d say I’d rather you kiss me on the lips instead. And then -”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough of your fanfiction!” Dipper shouted, cheeks going completely scarlet, claws making deep gashes in the table from how tightly he was gripping it. “I didn’t- I’ve never- No one needed to hear that, it’s- I feel lightheaded.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Halley spoke up, an obvious wobble to her tone. Dipper and Minty looked up to see her staring off into the distance, eyes red and puffy, hands crossed over her heart. “I’m feeling it too. That was so beautiful, Minty, you sure as hell have got a way with words. And yknow, I- I work in a coffee shop, actually. I’d totally take Alcor there. We’d talk and laugh – damn, he’s gotta just have the most heartwarming laugh in the world – and I’d straight up offer right there on the spot to be his Mizar. I wanna protect the world, but I also wanna protect him, I know he’s got a sensitive side, I just know it. I’d chew steel for him.”

No no no no. This had to stop. Mind racing, Dipper struggled to find something they’d said to latch onto. “Hey, uh, Minty!” he interrupted. “You like coffee shops, right? Halley… works in one! You should go there with her. Instead of being here.”

“That’s a great idea!” Minty squealed. “We should all meet up for coffee after the convention!”

“No!” Dipper blurted. “I meant, you two should go. Together. Without me.” All he got in return was blank stares. He ran his hand through his bangs nervously. “Listen, Minty, Alcor doesn’t work at a coffee shop, because no one in the country will hire him. His claws make awful screeching noises on the mugs, and also he’s a demon. But Halley does work at a coffee shop. Maybe… there’s something there?”

Minty and Halley traded glances. “I don’t understand,” the former finally said.

Dipper facepalmed. “Okay. How about… Halley, you want to protect Alcor. That’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need protecting, he has so much magic. But Minty goes to art school, she probably needs someone to, I dunno, support her during tight deadlines. That’s like… mental health protection.”

Minty shrugged. “I guess that sounds nice…”

“And, uh, Minty, you want someone who’s loyal, which sounds to me like what you really need is a dog, not a romantic partner, and I’m not- Alcor is not a dog. Also, again, he’s a demon, he’s only loyal to himself. But if you’re really set on getting that kind of loyalty and trust from a sentient creature, well, Halley’s offered to chew steel for love.”

“Hey man, don’t put words in my mouth, I said I’d chew steel for Alcor,” Halley countered, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dipper down. After a moment, though, she looked back at Minty, who had a starstruck look on her face, and drew back. “I- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you Minty. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. How can I trust someone other than Alcor not to get tired of me?”

“Kinda toxic, but also big mood,” Dipper muttered. “Trust isn’t something you can or even should have for people you don’t know. Not just for romance – in any kind of relationship, trust is something you build up through getting to know someone. I should know; there’ve been so many times when I made the mistake of trusting someone – say, not to snuggle body pillows with half naked pictures of me on them – without even knowing them, just because of my preconceived notions about who those people are. Relationships are always a risk, but they’re worth it when they work out. You’ll miss out if you’re too afraid to take that risk.”

He beamed at them, extremely proud of his little speech he’d managed to pull together. Minty and Halley stared back, mouths agape, probably blown away by his emotional maturity.

Then they launched themselves at each other and started furiously making out.

“Oh my stars!” Dipper yelled, recoiling from the mass of flailing limbs. “You literally just met each other! Go get a coffee or something first, holy shit!”

They broke apart, faces red but grinning. “Wow,” Minty breathed.

“Yeah. Wow,” Halley echoed. “Um, would you maybe want to walk around the convention with me? And maybe go get some coffee together afterward? I do work at a coffee shop nearby.”

Minty squealed again and grabbed Halley’s hands. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yo, dude,” Halley said to Dipper, who was clutching his chest and hyperventilating. “Thanks for the advice. You’ve got some dope emotional maturity. Your friends are lucky to know you.”

Dipper, still trying to calm down, opened his mouth to make some words and only managed to emit a weak gurgle. He settled for giving them a nod.

The two of them started to walk away, but Minty paused and turned back. “Oh wait. We never got your name.”

“I’m Alcor the Dreambender,” Dipper grunted without a second’s pause. “Go away.”

Halley laughed. “Sure you are. You’re really committed to the character, I love it! Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Dipper gave them a strangled half-smile and waved them off, to which they finally made their departure. Finally alone, he collapsed onto the table out of exhaustion. He was relieved that he’d managed to turn Mabel and Henry’s souls away from being Micor shippers, but after a few minutes of lying there the reality of what he’d just done started to sink in.

“Oh stars, I just shipped my sister and her husband,” he moaned. “What is my life. Please, universe, let me get through the rest of the day without anything else happening. Please.”

Naturally, someone immediately started talking to him. “Yo, sleeping guy, wake up.”

“Whatever it is, please just use the credit card swiper and move on,” he responded.

“Dude, what swiper. Help me out.”

With a groan, Dipper picked his head up, and then he froze, his every hair standing on end like a terrified cat.

“This body pillow rocks,” Soos’s soul said, hugging one of the models that had both Alcor and Mizar on it, half naked and blushing. “You gotta hook me up.”

“Ohhhh, I have that pillow! You won’t regret it!” came another voice, and Dipper looked over to see Melody’s soul walking up to the table. “You’ve got good taste. Micor forever, am I right? Bro, there’s some really good smutfic I could recommend you if you’re interested.”

Dipper slid out of his chair and curled up into a ball under the table. “Damn you Aubrey,” he whispered. “I’ll fucking get you back for making me do this.”

(As it turned out, giving Aubrey a dream about being stuck at a convention where everyone was attracted to her did not adequately “get back” at her, and it was a full week before she stopped laughing about it.)