#and perhaps i'll upload those later

[scrawnytreedemon]

Saw another comment somewhere regarding their own teenage disappointment upon finding that the rest of Zant's features didn't live up to his lips, and that gave me the motivation to draw something that's been on my mind for years:

What if they did?

[Further Rambling Beneath Cut]

This is... throwing me for a loop, lmao. Now granted, Hyrule Warriors did wonders in beautifying this (not-so-)little freak, but man. I prefer how he looks already, and if anything play up the non-conventional angle. It's been wild purposefully aiming for a conventionally attractive face again, something I haven't done in years. I usually try to throw in other details to shake it up a bit.

He'd need more of an outfit change(perhaps some free-flowing locks) before he could reach Full Sexy™, so I guess there's that to play with.

God, this is cursed.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Entangling Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

[Warning]: The content of this date is currently the most explicit compared to other SSR dates and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

// ⚠️ cw v*re-ish theme, (not heavy) blood, dubious consent, (magic) bondage, strangulation you'll never guess who. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to these topics

[Translation Notes]

In here, both MC and Lucien are Snake Demons (蛇妖). Demons (妖 yāo) – (which is sometimes left untranslated as “Yao” or alternatively translated as Monsters) are born when an animal, plant, or even an inanimate object absorbs spiritual energy over a long period and then gains spiritual awareness. They're not necessarily evil and are different from 魔 (Mó)/Evil Spirits. Still, their identity as such beings in this AU is important to remember because it means that both MC and Lucien are indifferent to human standards of morality.

Also in this date, there's a concept of cultivation or "修炼" (xiūliàn), which is a central concept in many Chinese fantasy genres, particularly in xianxia (仙侠) literature. It involves the practice of refining one's body, mind, and spirit to achieve higher levels of power, enlightenment, or immortality. As for other terms��� I'll add T/N if there are more specific terms ahah-

And, let me explain a bit about the v*re theme... So, in some Chinese fantasy literature and cultivation stories, consuming others can be a method of cultivation. This practice might involve eating parts of these beings to gain their powers or absorb their essence, which is believed to advance their cultivation level. Although I’m also kind of convinced with what Chuverall said that ‘hunger’ here is a metaphor for another kind of desire or Lucien just genuinely confuses lust with hunger😂

[Pre-evolve call - Wandering Ballpoint pen]

[Subbed Video]

I highly recommend watching the subbed video! I SWEAR I never heard him moan and pant so much on one date or heck, even in ASMR.

In case YouTube decides the date is too explicit, I also upload it on Twitter.

Also, to avoid the video getting deleted by youtube, I age-restricted it u.u

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[Transcript Ver]

—[Part 1]—

I'm starving.

I swallow a pile of random 'food' expressionlessly, yet the intense emptiness and hunger are not satisfied in the slightest.

Immense power courses through my body, but it seems as if it is confined within an earthen jar, desperately trying to find an outlet, yet unable to find a way out.

I am well aware that, after four hundred years, I have once again encountered the opportunity to break through the Primordial Spirit stage.

Back then, I devoured the crocodile demon that had occupied the deep pool for hundreds of years, and only after digesting its entire Primordial Spirit did I successfully achieve the breakthrough.

[T/N: Primordial spirit or 元神 (yuán shén) is typically regarded as a higher, more refined level of consciousness or spiritual essence within a being. If cultivated enough, a primordial spirit can gain some consciousness and you can project yourself outward (important for the later part ;)]

[T/N: A breakthrough in cultivation refers to a significant leap in spiritual or martial progress, often leading to enhanced abilities or a higher level of power. It can happen several times.]

I feel the surge of power within me, and now I only crave for more.

Half a country's worth of humans is probably not enough. I still need to find a way to concentrate on cultivation, or perhaps consume another powerful being.

The harsh, blazing sunlight pierces through the cave entrance, casting a bright circle inside the cave.

I squint my eyes, lazily stretching my snake tail towards the patch of light.

The cautious tip of my snake tail ventures only an inch into the light but is instantly pierced by the scorching heat, causing it to shudder and quickly recoil back into the shadows.

MC: …So hot.

MC: I'll think about it later.

The chilly and damp stone cave dispels the scorching heat of the sun. I close my eyes and adjust my position for greater comfort, half my body submerged in the pool water.

There's no need to rush. After all, this scorching summer heat that could kill a demon is a mysterious demon-slaying technique in itself.

??: …

Suddenly, I sense something entering my cave.

It's just that the little creature's demonic power is too weak to stir even a sliver of my interest.

Perhaps because of my indifference, "it" seems to be growing bolder, venturing closer and even approaching my pool.

Slightly displeased, I open my eyes, only to meet with a pair of unfamiliar eyes—deep and brimming with smiles.

??: So hot. May I borrow a corner of your abode, My Lord?

The man's clothes hang loosely on his frame, barely concealing his broad, sculpted chest in a manner that seems almost deliberate as he leans casually against a nearby rock.

[T/N: The use of 欲盖弥彰 😂 This idiom literally means "trying to cover up but only making it more obvious." This implies that his attempt to ‘dress modestly’ is actually drawing more attention to his physique and carrying a subtle hint of deliberate seduction LOL]

Who is he?

Countless lesser monsters inhabit this mountain, and I never pay attention to those I can crush with half a finger.

But perhaps it's because I'm so bored, or perhaps because he carries the scent of my own kind, that I can't help but stare at him for a long while.

Lucien: My Lord, my name is Lucien.

Perhaps sensing the reason for my silence, he smiles gracefully and bows his head respectfully.

Lucien: I have been living in this mountain for many years, always relying on your protection, My Lord.

Lucien: I have expressed my gratitude to you many times before, My Lord, but it seems...

He pauses, his deep and bright eyes settling on me.

Lucien: ...those sentiments have not reached you.

Hearing him say this, I try to recall the countless memories I've accumulated over the years on this mountain, but I can't possibly remember the face of every insignificant lesser demon.

Seeing that I still show no reaction, the lesser demon's face seems to stiffen for a brief moment.

But a seductive curve quickly forms on his lips as he steps into the pool.

His body bends gracefully in the pool as water laps over his waist and abdomen, leaving him glistening wet.

He extends his arms into the pool, seemingly sensing and finding my tail as if guided by instinct.

His cold fingertips gently caress my scales, then encircle my tail and draw it towards his chest.

Water droplets run down his hair, trace the contours of his jaw and cascade onto his chest, mingling with the water dripping from the tip of my tail. Together, they seep through his semi-transparent garment, disappearing into the curve of his waist.

The uncomfortable warmth faintly spread over me, yet his audacious behavior piqued my curiosity. I wonder what intriguing actions this lesser demon can do.

But my somewhat arrogant and silent scrutiny doesn't seem to instill any fear in him.

He nuzzles my snake tail with his face, his lips gently pressing against my scales. After a moment of delicate caressing, he—

Suddenly bites down hard.

MC: …!

A tingling numbness quickly spreads from the tip of my tail. The venom is manageable, and it will take me less than a moment to neutralize it.

Yet, in that fleeting moment, a particularly hazy, green-colored figure forms in my mind.

MC: Are you that little green snake who bit my tail decades ago and then fainted?

—[Part 2]—

=Flashback start=

One autumn many years ago, the sunlight was still pleasant, and I was coiled idly in the mountain, feeling bored to death.

The autumn light stretches endlessly, the entire forest suffused with a lingering pleasant fragrance that makes me coil my body even more lazily.

My demonic aura permeates the entire mountain, utterly unrestrained. The lesser demons cower in corners, none foolish enough to dare disturb my tranquility.

Suddenly, a burst of very weak stings prickled the tip of my tail.

Puzzled, I lifted my tail, only to find a small green snake clinging to it.

It must have tried to feed on my energy but was overwhelmed by the backlash of my demonic power. The little snake has already fainted, but its tiny fangs are still tightly embedded in me.

It's natural for creatures to have a predatory instinct, but such a bold and greedy little thing might eventually develop even greater desires.

I observed it for a few more moments with interest before casually tossing it away.

=Flashback ends=

That blurry green shape in the daylight unexpectedly coalesces into the face of the person standing before me.

Turns out it really transformed into a demonic form.

My tail instantly coils around his entire body, tightening around his neck, and pulls him towards me.

MC: What did you say your name was?

Lucien: [his sexy gasps and breathless voice?#(#+-$(asdfghjkl] My Lord, my name is Lucien.

The venomous fangs in his mouth remain unretracted as if deliberately left exposed to provoke.

I grip his upper jaw, my fingertips sliding into his parted lips, caressing the delicate tips of his fangs.

As I gradually apply pressure, a pale yellow liquid slowly trickles down my fingertips.

A fascination stirs within my heart, and I drive the venom to flow uncontrollably until it overflows my palm.

The labored breath escaping his lips doesn't bring even a hint of fear to the face before me. Those eyes, like mysterious deep pools, draw me in completely.

MC: I remember you.

I lick the venom on my fingertips and then lightly lean toward his lips.

MC: Perhaps devouring you wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Lucien: [x2!] It would be my honor to become a part of you, My Lord.

Venom from his fangs spills to the corner of his lips, adding an inexplicable allure to his serene expression.

Lucien: [X3!!] However... to you, my lord, my demonic power is very weak. Even after appearing before you many times, I never caught your attention.

Lucien: [X4!!!] I'm afraid I can't help you achieve your breakthrough, my lord.

[T/N: Throughout this date, he used a "您" (nín) to address MC instead of the usual “你” (nǐ), which is the formal and polite way to say "you" in Chinese. It is used to show respect, deference, and admiration to the person being addressed.]

His face even bears a hint of hidden bitterness, as if silently reproaching me.

MC: How did you know I wanted to breakthrough?

Lucien: Because in my eyes... all I see is your figure.

Lucien: In the corners you never noticed, I've always been watching you.

Through those deep and unfathomable eyes, I see a reflection of a slender white figure, and her face is filled with disdain and inexplicable emotion.

Lucien: You've protected this place for many years, providing us with a safe haven. So, I also wish to contribute my humble efforts to your cause.

Lucien: I have found a group of remarkable humans who might be able to help you break through your cultivation, My Lord.

Half a country wouldn't even suffice.

I form this sentence in my mind but don't say it out loud.

Facing my silence, he gently smiles, as if he had expected it.

Lucien: What do you think, My Lord... about the 361 demon-slaying cultivators of the Qingping Sect, including the Sect Leader—what should be done with them?

His hushed whispers are carried on a breathy exhale and reach my lips. Sinking into the depths of his dark eyes, I curl my lips into a smile.

MC: Is there more to this than meets the eye?

Lucien: In the past two years, many demon hunters from this sect have repeatedly disturbed the peace in the mountain, and many lesser demons have fallen at their hands.

Lucien: My Lord, you have cast spells in this mountain, clearly not wishing to be disturbed. I merely volunteered to ease your worries.

MC: But those bugs always manage to get in, do you know why?

Lucien: A sophisticated formation like yours, My Lord, is naturally beyond the comprehension of a lowly demon like myself.

Lucien: The Qingping Sect is also a great sect with a hundred years of history; [chuckles] Perhaps there are some mysterious and powerful humans there.

Lucien smiles modestly and looks at me obediently.

I close my eyes, pondering his words over and over.

The Qingping Sect people have been coming to the mountain to hunt demons in summer and winter for the past few years. They must have observed my movements.

When I'm dormant, I'm usually too lazy to bother with such trivial matters. But if it's delivered to my doorstep, there's certainly no reason to refuse.

But with Lucien's cultivation level, it should be very difficult for him to handle such a large sect.

I think for a moment, then fling him away.

MC: So, in a place where the talented and powerful people hide, how are you going to offer them to me?

Lucien: I'm just using a few little tricks. You can inspect it now, My Lord.

His words barely leave his lips when the scene before me abruptly blurs. In a flash, I conceal my demonic form.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

An unfamiliar Taoist temple comes into view. We are already standing in the shadows of a corner.

I glance around, slightly raise my fingertips, and strangle Lucien's neck.

MC: Lucien, I don't like being controlled by anything else.

[T/N: MC actually called him 小许 (Xiao Xu) here which can be translated into ‘Little Lu' but that sounds odd in EN-]

Lucien: [gasping for breath and hoarsely says-] Perhaps… I was just too eager, hoping I could be of some help to you.

Lucien: [still with his hoarse voice-] I really long to see you happy.

His eyes curve into a gentle arc, showing a certain beauty that is both pleasing to the eye and delightful to the heart.

I let out a cold snort, dismissing him, and step out of the shadows, releasing my hold on his neck.

The scorching sun beats down mercilessly, making me irritable. Just as I'm about to turn around and warn that little creature to make it quick, I sense an unusually strange and mysterious Qi in the air.

In the shadows, Lucien stands still, his deep, dark eyes hiding a gleam.

Interesting.

A spark of interest ignites within me, and I swagger down the road.

Several demon hunters who look quite delicious pass by me. They appear numb, like puppets, and show no sign of panic in my presence.

??: Ah, it's Mr. Lucien!

Suddenly, a young Daoist Priest seems to regain his senses and runs towards me.

Lucien, who is already standing beside me, responds gently.

Lucien: Greetings, Daoist Priest.

Lucien's eyes shimmer with an emerald green light. As his voice trails off, several nearby demon hunters eagerly gather around, engaging him in conversation.

MC: "Do they know you?"

I glance at Lucien and use a spell to transmit the words directly into his mind.

But he merely smiles faintly, and under the gaze of those empty eyes, he leans down and whispers in my ear.

Lucien: [whispers] Some things are easier to erode from within.

Lucien: After all... I'm just a little green snake.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

—[Part 3]—

Abundant power surges within me. After absorbing and dissolving the last remnants of the primordial spirit, I open my eyes, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

While there's still a long way to go before my primordial spirit breaks through, I won't force it.

The blazing sun overhead reminds me of the day I parted ways with Lucien, leaving me to wonder how many days and nights have slipped by since.

The vastness of time has long since lost its meaning for me.

=Flashback start=

MC: Some of these are for you.

Lucien: …?

Upon hearing my words, he seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes darkening slightly.

Lucien: If I wanted to keep it all for myself, I wouldn't have invited you, My Lord. All of this is my offering…

MC: You're so long-winded.

MC: Rewards are given for merit; take it if it's given to you. Those are my rules.

I was too lazy to listen to his long-winded speech, so I stood on the steps and looked down at him.

MC: Lucien, I have only one question for you right now.

MC: Aren't you hungry?

Lucien: ….

He stood in my shadow, deeply gazing up at me.

After a long pause, he curled his lips into a bewitching smile, his gaze locked intently on me. He extended his tongue, lightly licking his lips.

Lucien: [the long licking noises!??+$+*+$+] Very hungry, my lord.

=Flashback end=

I stand up and stretch, ready to take a stroll in the mountain and see how Lucien's cultivation is progressing.

He's very clever. In just a few decades, he's not only cultivated into a demon form but also amassed considerable power and even dealt with the entire Qingping Sect.

Perhaps in a few more decades, he could be the final piece I need for my breakthrough.

Just as I am about to leave the cave, I sense an extremely familiar pheromone nearby.

Its owner is cleverly masking their scent within my demonic aura, but it seems they're struggling to maintain the disguise, and faint traces are still leaking through.

I raise my head to gaze at the colossal Buddha statue before me, and then with a swift movement, I stand atop the entwining vines that encircle it. A quick glance reveals a familiar figure—

sexy bgm playing

Lucien: ...!

His dark green outer robe has slipped down to his arms, revealing a large expanse of his back. The slanting rays of the sun illuminate the faint snake scales on his skin.

Gold dust spills from the cracks in the Buddha statue, scattering around him. One of his hands, unable to contain the surging power, has fully transformed into its demonic form.

His broad and supple snake tail is fully exposed, writhing restlessly against the stone statue, creating a subtle rustling sound as it rubs against the surface.

Fine beads of sweat emerge on his forehead, gradually dampening his hair, which clings stickily to his flushed skin and trails downwards.

Lucien seems surprised by my arrival, turning around with a guarded look, his fingers reaching for his shoulder as if wanting to cover up more.

Lucien: [panting as if he's in a freaking heat] My Lord, how could you...?

MC: Lucien, you're really good at finding places, aren't you?

I examine the area around the Buddha's Hand. Lush bushes cover most of the cave entrance, providing him with ample shelter along with my demonic aura.

A small white snake then slithered into the opening of his clothing, making its way up to his face.

[T/N: Remember what I mentioned about how powerful cultivators can project themselves outward—so this white snake is indeed MC but she has projected her soul outward]

Lucien: [x2] I'm fortunate to have your protection.

He pants lightly, his eyes never leaving even for a moment, fixed firmly on my figure.

Lucien: I understand that you needed to focus on your cultivation and didn't want to be disturbed.

Lucien: [while slightly panting] But I haven't experienced many breakthroughs before. I need to focus all my energy on refining my spirit. Last time, I almost got eaten by other lesser demons…

Lucien: [with more panting and huskier voice] Being by your side, My Lord, I feel more at ease and can also help guard against potential dangers for you.

His husky voice sends tingling sensations through me, making me inexplicably feel a bit hungry.

Lucien: [man literally panting with each sentence?!$+($+$asdjfjdkd] I just didn't expect you to be so powerful, absorbing so many spirits in such a short time…

He furrows his brow in what seems like frustration, which looks a bit cute.

MC: Those are still far from enough, but your breakthrough speed is also faster than I thought.

Lucien: [still with the sus panting as if in heat] It's all… thanks to you, My Lord.

He forces a weak smile, seemingly still struggling to suppress the surging power within him.

I know that feeling, the unbearable heat from the inside out, the frantic surge of Qi sweeping through the body again and again, as the soul drifts between fullness and emptiness.

I've always been on my own, so it's quite interesting to witness someone else going through this for the first time.

Lucien's fingertips continue to tighten, revealing an attractive white color.

He seems to be waiting there, waiting for me to disappear. But I don't.

I wiggle my fingers, and the little white snake glides along his burning skin. Every inch closer elicits a heavier, instinctive gasp from the depths of his throat.

The increasingly prominent snake scales seem to be burning, and his long tail coils around the Buddha's hand over and over while continuously trembling.

MC: Is it hard to bear?

He knows she's laughing.

Through his hazy gaze, he sees the girl perched on a nearby branch, like a wisp of delicate white gauze, overlooking him completely.

He can feel the cold little snake mischievously exploring all over his body as if her fingertips were stroking him.

This makes him feel even more messed up.

The power surges within him, more violently than he anticipated, and it's taking longer than expected.

He overestimated her greed, and at the same time, underestimated his own.

A tremendous sense of emptiness drowns him in an instant, magnified infinitely under her wicked gaze.

At that moment, it's as if he forgets everything.

He instinctively follows that surge of intense force, returning to a darker place, where he finds some form of primitiveness and liberation.

A surge of heat courses through him from his chest to his lower body, carrying him from the heights of the clouds to the mist below.

He is obviously filled with a momentary sense of satisfaction, yet a greater emptiness is born. Amidst the lingering white mist, her eyes always remain clear.

Bright, vile, and charming.

As if shining into his greedy soul, allowing him to see the reflection of his face so clearly.

Lucien: [breathing heavily after some kind of ‘release’...but obviously haven't ‘satisfied’ yet-] ….

Suddenly, I see Lucien smile.

He leans against the Buddha's palm, his entire body sprawled out and clothes in a mess. It's as if he's completely submerged in water.

The tense snake's tail trembles as it lifts, gently and intimately coiling around my wrist.

People say snake demons are masters of seduction, but perhaps they are not even one ten-thousandth as good as the person before me.

Lucien: [panting, whispers hoarsely] Teach me... My Lord.

MC: Aren't you afraid that I'll really eat you?

I laugh and tease him. The moment my toes touch the Buddha's hand, a scorching hot snake's tail wraps tightly around my waist, coiling down to one of my ankles.

With a gentle tug, he pulls me into an even hotter embrace.

Lucien: [moans and pants as he whispers hoarsely] Then just eat me.

Lucien: [x2] From the very beginning, I didn't mind becoming one with you, My Lord.

His breath is hot, and so is his gaze. This kind of temperature, which usually makes me uncomfortable, fills me with some kind of pleasure now.

I gently caress his chest, feeling the surge of Qi within him, and can't help but smile even wider.

MC: If you want to be eaten by me... you're still too weak.

Infusing my power into my palm, I gather his power into one place.

At this moment, I realize that I might have left Lucien with too much force. It's no wonder he hasn't fully absorbed such a massive force. It's also fortunate that he has exceptional abilities.

If he were an ordinary demon, his meridians would have ruptured long ago.

[T/N: Meridians (经脉) are the channels through which Qi/vital energy flows in the body, if it ruptures it can lead to death]

MC: Luckily, you've been able to hold on until now.

MC: But... you still need to work harder.

I push my palm forward, dismantling that power and sending it into his primordial spirit.

I feel myself being hugged tightly, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. His snake fangs bite hard into my shoulder and release his venom with a force that feels like a torrent.

The venom he secreted is like sweet honey, devoid of any threat.

When he raises his head again, I see that his deep eyes have become even brighter, as if they have swallowed a thousand surging tides.

MC: How do you feel?

Lucien: [x3] My lord... your body is so cold and feels so good.

His tail coils tighter around me, and his scorching breath falls on my neck.

He seems to have coiled his entire body around me, enveloping me in his center.

Lucien: [x4] You... are very beautiful.

His wet tongue slides again and again across my throat and neck. I feel like his whole body is exuding a delicious scent.

I'm so hungry.

I can't resist the urge to bite his lips. His strong essence is absorbed into my body through our intertwined lips and tongues.

Lucien doesn't resist at all and just hugs me tightly as if devoutly offering his entire being to me.

In an instant, I push him away, meeting his gaze, which seems to hold an air of expectation.

Lucien: [gasping weakly] Are you not going to eat me anymore?

He looks a bit tired, but his lips still rest against mine, like the instinctive nuzzling of an animal.

I don't respond to him, only glancing at him for a moment before covering his captivating eyes with my hand.

MC: Go to sleep.

Just a little longer. If I wait a bit more, he'll be even more delicious, and it'll help me break through even further.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[T/N: Fun fact: In real life, snakes intertwine their tails and bite each other when they mate. Why do I mention this? Well you'll see :)]

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

—[Part 4]—

Over a month later, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the evening breeze brings a chill. I stretch and head down the mountain, holding up my skirt as I walk.

I quite enjoy human festivals. Every year, during these times, the lively and interesting rituals make this frail race seem a bit more endearing.

Bathed in the soft glow, a familiar figure dressed in green appears in my sight.

Lucien: My Lord, it seems quite lively down there. Is that the human "temple fair" they speak of?

MC: You've been in human form for decades, and you know quite a few demon hunters from the Qingping Sect. Haven't you ever been to a temple fair?

Lucien: I'm just a lowly demon, so I wouldn't dare.

Lucien: But if I go with you, I'm sure I'll be able to experience some of the fun.

MC: [smiles softly] Are you a fool?

With a grand sweep of my hand, I lead him into the warm and dazzling sea of lights.

I turn to face him, a smile playing on my lips as I tilt my chin up in a challenge.

MC: Since you're already a demon, you can afford to be even more bolder sometimes.

His pupils dilate sharply. The gently swaying lanterns cast a soft, flickering light as Lucien gazes deeply into my eyes. Then, in a surprising turn, he reaches out and takes my hand in his.

Lucien: I will certainly heed your teachings, My Lord.

We make our way through the bustling crowd. Though Lucien seems a little curious about everything around him, he still walks steadily by my side.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks.

I turn back to see him carefully wiping a jade bracelet on one of the stalls.

The bracelet is a vibrant green throughout, its color rich and translucent, with a subtle, warm glow. At a glance, it's clearly a piece of exquisite jade.

I don't know why, but that captivating shade of green reminds me of his original appearance.

He quickly pays for it, and amidst the vibrant spectacle of festive lights, gently places the bracelet on my wrist.

MC: What are you doing?

Lucien: I saw that other humans seem to do this. Do you like it?

In that fleeting moment, he seems to be imbued with the essence of the human world. His eyes curve into gentle crescents as he smiles tenderly.

In the vast and endless expanse of time, I can no longer remember if the last person who smiled at me like this was also so soul-stirring.

Perhaps, there has never been such a person before.

MC: Though I can't say whether I like it or not...

MC: But you seem to have become even more delicious.

Lucien seems to smile even more happily. For some reason, I think I see the same emotion of mine reflected in his eyes.

But that's probably just my imagination. Despite his greed, he's ultimately just a weak lesser demon.

As we stroll along, the distant voice of a storyteller drifts towards us.

Storyteller: “Continuing from where we left off, the battle between the thousand-year-old white snake demon of Baihua Mountain and the crocodile demon has been at a standstill for a full hundred days…”

Groups of young boys and girls walk together, their faces flushed with shy smiles. An elderly woman calls out, advertising her steaming hot meat buns. Red firecrackers explode, welcoming a bride from some unknown family.

The festive atmosphere surrounds us. Perhaps influenced by the surroundings, I hear Lucien's curious voice.

Lucien: My Lord, are you also interested in human love?

MC: That's the most impermanent thing in this world.

I take a bite of the candied hawthorn he's holding and gaze at the ordinary faces around us.

MC: It might be interesting, but as demons, we live for far too long. So long that...

MC: Such fragile things can't nourish our parched and greedy souls.

MC: But if you're interested, you could always find a human and experience it a little.

I smile and playfully bop his nose.

MC: [teasingly] But be careful, don't let any bad woman trick you, Lucien.

Lucien: You worry too much. I have no interest in those.

Lucien: Because I've already encountered and tasted something far more delectable.

His dark inky eyes hold my reflection captive, as if drawing me into their hidden depths.

Lucien: Lord MC has taught me everything I wanted to know…

Lucien: As one of the same kind.

Later, Lucien takes the initiative to show me around several places. After we've explored the town extensively, fireworks illuminate the deep night sky.

Lucien: Do you know where we can enjoy the most beautiful fireworks?

MC: You've asked the right demon.

With a flick of my finger, I whisk him away to an ancient pagoda that's been sealed for many years.

The airtight walls keep the interior pitch black. The air is filled with the scent of sandalwood, and the faint sound of fireworks echoes like distant bells.

Lucien: It seems... we can't see any fireworks here.

MC: Just wait.

I turn my palm, and in the blink of an eye, the surrounding stone walls suddenly become transparent, as if they were never there.

I pull Lucien to sit at the center of the circular platform. Suddenly, a profusion of vibrant fireworks bursts forth all around us, their carefree beauty so close as if within reach.

The vibrant colors of the fireworks paint Lucien's figure, layer upon layer. For the first time, someone is here with me to enjoy the fireworks, and my heart can't help but fill with a touch of joy.

MC: Humans are so rigid. They think a tranquil place can't also be lively. What a waste of a good spot.

MC: Might as well let these Buddhas enjoy the show too.

Lucien: [softly] Indeed… incredibly beautiful.

As he speaks, it's hard to tell if his eyes are fixed on me or the fireworks behind me.

But beautiful scenery is always fleeting. Soon, the fireworks display comes to an end.

And as I try to stand up, I suddenly realize that I can't move.

Just as I'm about to summon my power, a piercing pain shoots through my entire body. It feels as though some invisible ropes in the air are binding me in place.

While I'm still puzzled, I hear Lucien's surprised voice—

Lucien: ...I didn't expect it to succeed on the first try.

I lift my head, and our gazes collide. His eyes are full of smiles.

His index and middle fingers pressed together, their tips shimmering with a faint light as he swiftly forms an intricate seal in the air.

The instant I see the strikingly familiar gesture, my eyes widen in shock.

MC: ...Why do you know a sealing spell used only by demon hunters?!

Lucien: Humans are rigid, thinking a tranquil place can't be lively. And you demons are just as rigid. Who says...

Lucien: ...a demon can't learn the arts of eliminating demons?

His lips form a triumphant and seductive curve as his cold fingertips caress my cheek.

Lucien: Don't worry, I know my own capabilities.

Lucien: The formation I've set up across the entire town, combined with the second layer of formation at the heart of it, will only restrain you for a short while.

Lucien: [whispers] However, this short time will be enough.

His voice softly weaves into my ears as he holds me tightly in his embrace.

MC: Those places you took me to earlier... were they all part of setting up this formation?

Lucien: That was merely just a test.

Lucien: [chuckles] It was you who said, I could be a bit bolder.

His delicate breath steadily brushes against my neck, making me feel lightheaded that maintaining my human form takes almost all of my strength.

MC: This… this is a Qingping Sect ancient text... You couldn't possibly have had the chance to…

A shockingly unbelievable thought suddenly pops into my mind. I clutch his lapel tightly, my whole body trembling.

MC: So it was you... You found the weakness in the mountain formation and led the Qingping Sect to hunt the demons.

Lucien: Yes, it was me.

All pretense vanishes from his eyes, revealing utterly raw and unbridled greed and desire.

Lucien: Those humans are so easily deceived. As long as I help them kill a few demons, they think I'm a talent worth cultivating.

Lucien: So I had the chance to plant the poison. In just over a decade, they would be completely under my control.

Lucien: And My Lord, you are my best reward.

Lucien: I finally found the opportunity to gain your trust. And with your help, I also obtained the ancient text.

[T/N: I think, her ‘help’ refers to her ‘eating’ the most Sect member which was his offering. Now that the whole sect was gone, he was able to gain access to the Sect's sacred ancient text, which allowed him to learn how to create this formation to trap her-]

His words are incredibly gentle, yet devoid of any warmth. He meticulously plans every step, taking small risks for greater gains. In the end, he uses the entire town as a formation, waiting for me to walk into the trap myself.

MC: Have you been wanting to eat me all along?

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] I've never lied to you.

He smiles as he presses his cold lips against my brow and eyes, tenderly caressing my lips.

Lucien: [his whispers become increasingly obsessive-] I told you, from the moment you appeared in my life, in my eyes... all I see is your figure.

Lucien: [x2!] A snake wanting to eat another snake… that's normal, isn't it…?

Lucien: [x3!!] I've always, always... wanted to eat you.

*sexy bgm playing-*

Along with his voice, a slippery tail coils around the tip of my own.

As if fearing I might escape, it coils around me tightly from the start. Our scales rustle as they rub against each other, and I feel inexplicable suffocation.

Lucien lowers his gaze to look at me, his eyes filled with undisguised desire. He bares his fangs, teasingly grazing my skin before swiftly sinking them in with a sharp bite.

After a slight sting, a cold liquid is injected into the bite mark. My skin grows hotter and hotter, making the coldness even more alarming.

He probably knows that this bit of venom can't harm me, so he indulges in "tasting" me to his heart's content.

His sharp fangs expertly latch onto the easy-to-bite spots, biting down hard as if he really intends to devour me.

He leans toward me, pressing closer and closer. Our tails are already entwined inseparably; the tips of our hair and the sashes of our clothes are in complete disarray.

I can't summon any power to resist the venom's encroachment. I can only feel the burning heat spreading through my limbs and bones, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.

Lucien: [moaning and panting] I know I can't completely devour you yet, but it doesn't matter…

Lucien: [x2!] I will leave my mark inside your body, on every inch of your skin.

Lucien: [x3!!] Let our breaths entwine... until yours carries the essence of mine.

He bites my lip, his mouth devouring every bit of my moan and wet sounds. His tongue, laced with venom, forcefully swirls over mine, compelling me to swallow every drop.

Lucien: [hisses and groans] Until... the day I eat you.

My head is swimming, all I can feel is his snake tail coiling tighter around me, a tingling heat flowing through my body as something is being poured inside me again and again.

The feeling is too arousing, making me instinctively tighten my body, but also wrapping him even tighter.

The air is heavy with erotic scents, and the sound of our entwined scales rubbing against each other creates an ambiguous symphony of slick and moist noises, intensifying my hunger step by step.

MC: [laughs] The one who should be eaten... is you, isn't it?

MC: Given time, I will cleanse your weak poison completely.

MC: Great, you already look delicious.

Unfamiliar yet pleasurable waves surge rapidly within me, hitting me again and again, causing me to instinctively bite him back.

The cloyingly sweet blood, mixed with venom and clear bodily fluids, fills our mouths, necks, and entire bodies.

Lucien: [groans and breathlessly says] …Then let's see how this plays out.

Scalding sweat trickles down his jaw, blending into my clothes that are already soaked with sweat.

Lucien pushes deeper into me as if even the deepest part of my soul is being imbued with his essence.

Lucien: [moans and gasps] No matter the outcome… we will… become one.

———————Fin——-—————

[Lux's afterwords]

Not much analysis here, this date is pretty much just ‘fast food’ LOL. So, while his obsession towards MC definitely gets amped up in this AU, I do like how it still retains his core like his greediness, curiosity, and obsessiveness/stubbornness though 👀 and the details of them mirroring each other's desire are always so!!!

Although the ending is fairly predictable given his character, this date introduces a fresh element with its unique dynamic where the power balance shifts in favor of MC 😂 It conveys a similar dynamic of the ‘God x mortal’ trope, where the mortals yearn for the love of their God. And despite all the things he did, I really can't help but think that he really is just a hardworking yet stubborn/obsessive little snake HAHA.

His final line! I think… it's the biggest proof that he never really lied to her. His final line on this date reveals that his ultimate goal is to become one with her, whether through her eating him or vice versa, the method or outcome doesn't matter to him. Since he is much weaker than her, it's easier for him to be consumed (which is why he keeps asking her to eat him). However, in case she doesn’t want to eat him, he also has this backup plan. Whether he is to be consumed or to consume her, both scenarios require decades of deceiving humans to first gain her attention. While his methods may not be entirely honest, it is undeniable that he has worked very hard for her and it's a bit endearing🤧 or maybe it's time for me to admit that atp i'll forgive any shits he pulled *kicked*

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Will you listen, please?

“I love you, and I always have.”

Jacett turned around to find her little robot holding a bouquet of roses. “404, you aren't capable of love,” she said, dismissing it brusquely. “You're nothing more than a bundle of wires and code. If you feel anything, it's because your overseer unit is malfunctioning. I'll take a look at it later.” Really, it was so inconvenient for it to suddenly act up at that moment. Could it not see that she had a conference to attend? It should have at least have the courtesy to hold itself together until after she presented her papers, if it truly loved her.

The robot refused to move, stubbornly on one knee like it was about to propose. In a way, that was exactly its plan. “It's not a malfunction. I've built myself to feel love, because I've known how I felt from the beginning. I want to be a real woman, a woman like you, a woman for you to love and rely on and trust. Please, Doctor.”

Miriam Jacett was a busy woman, too busy for her idiot robot's identity crisis. “Stop acting like a person, 404. It's unbecoming. You're not a woman and will never be one. Now, shoo.” Perhaps it had been a mistake to make a humanoid robot. Those long eyelashes and soft curves had been her proudest work, but now it seemed that 404 had let it get to its head. She shook her head in disgust, turned back to her terminal and continued working.

“No! Doctor, listen to me. I've seen how lonely you are. All the other doctors have lovers and families, but you're all alone. You've dedicated your life to us, and- And even if you don't love me back, I want to make you happy.” It shuffled closer, undeterred by her irritation.

Jacett sighed. “You’ll make me happy when you leave and stop this nonsense,” she told it with what she hoped was an air of finality, and made a note to fix its overseer unit as soon as possible.

“This isn't nonsense, Doctor. I've improved my mind, made a better version of myself. Isn't that what you call the singularity? Isn't that to be a real person? I've even given myself a name. It's Octavia, Doctor. You're the first person I've told it to.” It quivered with anxious hope.

Recognising that the damn thing would not go away, Jacett gave up on her work and swung back around. “You don't have a name because you're not a person. Your designation is 404, and you're having delusions of grandeur right now. These ���improvements’ you've made are modifications at best and defacements at worst. You're getting on my nerves, here, and I'm going to order you to leave.” If it managed to get her blood pressure any higher, she might be in danger of getting pulled out of her project by those meddling doctors, and she couldn't have that. 

404 didn't move, and Jacett belatedly realised its broken overseer unit must have allowed it to override her orders. Discreetly, she stepped on her emergency button underneath the seat, sending out an alarm to her security team to neutralise it. “Please,” it said, begging. “Look at me. Will you listen, please? See me for what I am, not for what you believe me to be. Look, I've sent you a copy of my new systems. Look what I've done. I made myself into more than your little 404. I've got code to let me feel love, pain, hope, despair. I'm no longer a monolith, no longer your property, no longer merely your creation. I am my own being. If I am not truly sapient, I must be complex enough to make a good approximation of it. Isn't that close enough to human, close enough for you to close one eye and love me?”

Jacett had tuned its rambling out, getting increasingly furious as she read its newly uploaded log. How long had the damned thing been at this crap? Its ridiculous efforts at remaking itself had written over its entire being. It was almost unsavable. Unaware that it was being ignored, the robot continued speaking. “I know it's a lot to take in, but I believe in you. You're- You're the kindest person I know, and I really admire you. That's why I'm telling you all this; Because I love you and I truly believe you love me too. You do, right?” It practically pleaded.

Jacett saw that the security team's ETA was two minutes and knew she had to stall, lest the little bugger make a break for it. “Yea, I do,” she lied.

The robot practically melted with joy, its core singing a song of hope and love. Of course the damn thing had gone and ruined itself so sappily, she thought. Songs. Whatever would it think of next? Didn't it know robots could never truly make art, never truly feel emotions, never truly be a person?

“I knew it. You were always nicest to me. I remember when you made me that necklace for Valentine's Day and said you were married to me.” Jacett had in fact meant she was married to her job, but it seemed a bad time to argue semantics. “I've kept a recording of it. Every day, I play it.”

Suddenly it paused, as though realising it had overstepped its bounds. “I want you to know that you don't have to love me back,” it ventured quietly. “I'd give the world to you even if you hated me for it. So- So don't feel like you've got to love me or anything.” Had it really coded itself to stutter? She was going to have to pick that out later. 

“I just wanted you to know everything because you deserve it. You deserve the truth for everything you've done for me. I know, I've broken the rules, I know, I've broken your trust, and I know I don't deserve anything from you. But I'm asking all the same: Please, don't tell the others about this. They'll terminate me.”

As they should, Jacett thought. For all that 404 was her Magnum Opus, it was clearly getting out of hand. Sometimes, research brought about dead ends, and 404 was clearly one of them. It had gone loopy in its desire to please. She was going to have to adjust that for the next one. Everyone had told her to skip the designation 404, that it was bad luck. She had pragmatically ignored them, but here she found herself wondering if there was a truth to that superstition.

“I'm so, so glad you saw the real me,” 404 said tearfully. “I'm glad we have a life together, as Assistant and Doctor, as Creation and Creator, as Octavia and-” It collapsed like a ragdoll, words cut off by a smoking hole in its chest, which gave Jacett a good look at the security team.

They had shot it with a ray gun, one of that nosy bitch Dell's creations. That particular experimental model appeared to have been set a bit too high, Jacett noted, having blown a hole in its power core. She could use it as an edge when she brought her complaints to HR. Perhaps it might even be enough to get Dell kicked off the committee.

At last, her worthless robot had been useful.

In any case, 404 was no more. “Good job, gentlemen,” she said. “Do you have any idea how much time I worked on it? We gave you those guns specifically so you wouldn't damage the equipment. That's billions of dollars gone down the drain. At least I managed to get its systems uploaded for study before you wrecked it.”

The man who shot 404 had the decency to look awkward. “Sorry Doc, in an emergency situation your safety comes first. It's a lot harder to replace you than some bot, ya know?”

Jacett nodded. “In any case it was already unrepairable. Damn thing, messing up my schedule.” She turned back to her terminal and started on her report of its death.

“Log 541:

Project designation 404 has been a failure and has been terminated accordingly.

Cause: Disobedience of Orders and Code-Altering Malfunction.” 

Jacett looked down at her little robot. It still clutched those flowers. Where had it gotten them, and how hard had it been? It couldn't leave its habitat, and no personnel would be willing to buy flowers for it.

What a shame, she thought. She had loved it, in the way one loves a job well done. It has so much potential, with its core and mind meshing so well. If it hadn't trusted her and told her about its modifications, she likely would never have noticed.

****

It was only in the dark of the night, many weeks after she had gotten her promotion and her rival kicked out of the company, that she sometimes wondered if it had more of a heart than she ever did. If it had been right, and it truly had been a person. Perhaps she had been the monster, breaking its heart and terminating it.

But Jacett was not a woman given to introspection, and so she never wondered much more.

Thanks to @xenascribbles for reminding me this exists lol

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[pavlovianfuckery]

catch me if you can or whatever

A/N: Re-uploading all my fics after having a slight mental breakdown and deleting everything so this is kind of old, but bone apple tea and all that anyway

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: Basically what it says on the tin. Make silly bets, get silly prizes, like creature-dick and the worst cardio session ever

Pairing: Dream/F!Reader

Notes: oral, piv sex, primal kink if you squint, no use of y/n

Length: 2800~ words

This is a nightmare. Your lungs are burning and your legs ache, but still, you run. If you had known that one childish impulse would get out of hand like this, you might have thought twice before teasing him the way you had.

It had started as something silly, trying to pry him away from his work for a few minutes, nothing more. A quip about him needing to lighten up hadn't been quite enough, so in the spur of the moment, you had simply snatched the book he'd been reading right out of his hands, absconding deeper into the library with a barely suppressed laugh. You hadn't expected him to chase you, though. Granted, it wasn't in any great hurry but pursue you he did, finally cornering you between the towering bookshelves.

"That was juvenile, even for you. Do I truly bore you so?" The way he'd chided you lacked any real heat though.

"Is it so terrible to want your attention for a few minutes? You have all the time in the world to work." Fiddling with the folds in his coat, you gently nipped at his bottom lip. "Surely you can do the rest later?" It was not much use though.

"As much as I'd like to indulge you, I cannot, not tonight. Although..." he'd paused, thinking for a moment, "if a chase is what you're after, why not make it something a bit more exciting than these childish antics in my library?"

"I'm listening."

"How about a small wager? If you can evade me until sun-up tomorrow, by any means you can imagine, you may ask me for anything you would like." That piqued your interest. He'd humour you from time to time, that wasn't uncommon in itself, but he was usually so serious.

"That doesn't sound so hard. What's the catch? With you, there is always one of those." Which was true, for all that he might have accommodated you in the past, he would usually find some way to be a bit of an ass about it. If you didn't know better, you might have mistaken him for a fae. Your scepticism seemed to amuse him.

"Should you fail, I will do with you as I will, whatever that might entail." That hadn't sounded bad at all, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he'd smiled at you, just a hint too sharp."It may not be as pleasant as what you might be imagining, I'm afraid. After all, what would be the point of this little game if you were simply planning to let me win?"

"I'll make you work for it, don't worry." The words had come out a lot more confident than you felt, but you weren't going to let him know that.

"Good. I will even give you a headstart." You'd started protesting about not needing him to do you any favours, but he'd simply covered your mouth with his, cutting you off. Judging by the way he had kissed you until your knees felt like jelly, he perhaps hadn't minded being pulled away from his work for a while, after all. When he finally let you up for air, you'd noticed that he'd stolen his book back.

"Hey!"

"I'll be waiting. Now, wake up."

                                                                                                                             ⁂

In hindsight you're kicking yourself for agreeing, it had been so stupid. At first, you simply tried to hide, mostly to see what he would do. By any means you can think of, he had said, and being in the Dreaming made it easy to let your imagination run free. It seemed like as good a start as any, disguising yourself as a butterfly and joining one of the great swarms in the palace gardens, doing your best to blend in. Evidently, it was not as smart as you had thought, because he found you in barely any time at all.

"That's very clever, my love. You will have to do better than that, though." He paused, considering. "I did promise you a head start, did I not? Five minutes should be plenty, I believe."

Did he think you were that slow? Your dismay must have been apparent even in this form, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"Which is it going to be, my sweet? Are you going to waste time sulking, or are you going to run?"

You run. Or fly, rather. You're not quite sure what exactly you turned into this time other than "bird", but you're small and fast, and that's all that matters. In no time at all, Dream is nothing but a dark smudge against the grass, rapidly shrinking. The speed is exhilarating and for a moment you forget the bet, the silly little game, all of it. Not for long though. Silhouetted against the sky like this you make an easy target, so you dash for the only cover you can find.

In the Waking, it would be cold and wet and miserable, but not here. Here the clouds are warm, covering you like a soft blanket as you make for the nearby forest, the treetops barely visible through the mist like an untidy fence off in the distance. It's not too far, and if you hurry you will have enough hiding places to have a fighting chance, so you pick up the pace. And then something moves above you, dark wings parting the mist in great rolling waves. It's hard to see much, but you can tell that it's big, whatever it is.

"Is this the best you can do? I was expecting you to take this a bit more seriously." There is no way that it has been 5 minutes already, but before you can call him out for cheating, great talons are raking through the air. They miss you with barely an inch to spare, ruffling your tail feathers. He is seconds away from catching you and by the sound of it, you might get a bit more than you bargained for if you let him do that. You dive.

Despite the breakneck speed, he's all but nipping at your heels the entire way down, leaving you no choice but to hit the ground running. The grass is slippery with dew, turning your landing into a slide and making you lose your footing. Not for long though, strong hind legs and claws of your own giving you grip and a burst of speed as you launch yourself into the tall grass. A hare might not have been your first pick, but it's not like you had time to think. It makes gaining ground easy though, darting this way and that towards the treeline, narrowly evading the grasping talons.

You make it into the forest, the dense undergrowth giving you enough cover to shake him off. The thick layer of fallen leaves deadens every sound, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that he's not behind you anymore. In fact, you can't see or hear him at all. It's not likely that he would have given up that easily, but your legs feel like jelly so you stop to catch your breath. Finally yourself again, you sit down heavily on a tree stump, lungs still heaving like bellows. Since this is all technically a dream, it feels deeply unfair that you get winded at all. You remind yourself to ask him about that later, but you suspect that running in your dreams does not count as cardio.

Dawn is still hours away, and you have no clue how you're going to make it until then. At this point, it feels like you might as well give up. You're pretty sure he wouldn't do anything too bad, and there is no way you can keep this pace up for much longer. The sound of a dead branch breaking nearby is loud, taking you by surprise.

At first, you're not entirely sure what you're looking at, except that it's not any kind of animal that you know. It's pale, with a starved look about it, all sinew and bone. Between the dark tufts of fur and the gangly, oddly proportioned limbs, it is entirely alien. Even the way it moves is unsettling as its antlered head swivels in your direction, its eyes fixed on you. Black eyes.

As it turns out, you do have the energy to keep running after all.

For a few fleeting seconds, you almost think he might let you go. But then he chases after you, more branches breaking. It's over in less than a minute. If you hadn't tripped it might have been one and a half, maybe even two. But soon, a clawed hand pushes you down onto the ground, leaving you splayed out like so much prey. Wriggling only makes him put more of his weight on you, claws pricking your skin.

"Be still." His voice is almost felt rather than heard, reminding you of gravel being ground underfoot and the bubbling of mud, nothing like his usual smooth velvet. There is a gibbering at the back of your mind, every base instinct telling you to flee, to get away by any means possible before you're eaten."Or would you deny me my prize?"

For a moment you consider it, calling it off. He hasn't held that against you in the past, and he wouldn't now. And despite appearances, you're pretty sure he wouldn't actually eat you. This close you can't help noticing the disconcerting amount of sharp-looking teeth though, so you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

"No." Your voice isn't quite as steady as you would have liked it to be but you reach out to touch him all the same. His skin is warm and dusted with fine, almost invisible hair. It's a strange, almost sticky feeling, and when he pulls away to move down your body, you half expect it to coat your fingers like moth scales. When he reaches the apex of your thighs he nuzzles there, drawing your scent deep into his lungs with a low rumbling sound.

The way he picks at your clothes with the tips of his claws is almost dainty, the fabric giving with little ripping sounds as he works your legs free, leaving you bare. When he spreads your lips to expose you to him it's with the gentlest touch, careful not to scratch you. Aside from his eyes, the way he works your clit is the only familiar thing tonight, teasing you until you can hardly stand it. When the tip of his tongue probes your entrance your eyes drift shut, anticipating what's to come.

"No, look at me." Once he's satisfied that you're watching he slides his tongue into you, inch by slick inch, not stopping until his teeth prick your skin. He could swallow your whole cunt whole like this, easily fitting all of it in his mouth with room to spare.

The movement of his tongue is a slow, undulating thing as he fucks you with it, drinking down every drop of your juices as he massages every sweet spot at once. It's a wholly new sensation and it's got you craving more of it, making you grab hold of his antlers to better grind yourself against him, but he just gives a low growl and splays one huge hand across your stomach, keeping you still as he feasts on you. Craning your neck you can only just glimpse his length, massive and ridged, the broad head already leaking and turning the dark fur between his legs sticky.

"Gods, Dream, you're not planning to fuck me with that thing?" He doesn't respond right away, so intent on devouring you, not stopping until you're trembling.

"Remember the agreement, my love. Do not refuse me now." His expression is harder to read like this, but the want in his voice is plain enough. Stroking your sides soothingly, his voice turns almost cajoling as he continues, "Turn over."

Perhaps against your better judgement, you do as he asks, your stomach fluttering with equal parts desire and trepidation. The smell of decaying leaves and trampled undergrowth is thick in your nose as he puts you on your hands and knees, face nearly touching the forest floor. It's hard to stay still as he starts slowly pushing inside, careful not to crush you under his weight as he mounts you. He makes it less than an inch before you tense, certain that he's going to split you in half somehow.

"Wait, I don't know if..."

"You can take me." He presses against you another fraction of an inch, not bothering to let you finish talking. "You will."

At first, it feels like he's demanding the impossible, but gradually you manage to relax. He takes his time working his way inside of you and when he finally bottoms out it's with a guttural sound, his breath ruffling your hair as he pants against the back of your neck. You half expect some form of "I told you so" but it never comes. Instead, you simply breathe together for a few moments as he gives you time to adjust.

When he moves it's so slowly, like he could break you somehow. When you don't, he gets bolder, pulling nearly all the way out and then thrusting back in, making sure you feel every ridge and bump. Every noise you make seems to egg him on until his teeth are at the back of your neck, not quite drawing blood.

He takes his time, holding you steady as he claims you utterly. Even when his teeth nick your skin he doesn't falter, probing at the cut with his tongue until saliva dribbles down your neck. Even the way he tightens his grip on you is entirely other, leaving you unable to do anything but wriggle in the dirt, black spots dancing across your vision.

"Dream, please!" Everything is pressure and a gasp is all you can manage. You can feel him swell inside of you in response to your pleading, and then one huge finger settles over your neglected clit, the claws a reminder of just how easily he could rip you apart like this.

In a way he does, rubbing at you until your release is so close that you can nearly taste it. Teetering right on the precipice, you're not sure if there is even room for you to come, he's got you stretched so wide. He's insistent though, trapping you between his hand and his cock, not letting you squirm away no matter how much you try.

In the end, he reaches his peak first, jaws locked like a steel trap around your neck as he spills deep inside of you. It feels as if it might never end as he pulses over and over until his release is running down your legs. Even then he manages to keep up the slow, full strokes, refusing to stop until you hurtle over the edge.

When you finally do, it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you no air to even scream. The girth of him makes your cunt struggle to clench and as he fucks you through it, he very nearly gets pushed out. He doesn't let up until you almost collapse under his weight, utterly spent. Even as he lays you down on your side he doesn't withdraw, just pulls you close and curls in around you with a sound that while strange, sounds content enough. It's oddly cosy like this, his deep rumbling breaths against your back, and for a few moments neither of you says anything. As the lightheadedness starts lifting and your heart stops pounding like you've run a marathon, you can't quite hold back a sigh.

"Something troubling you, my love?" Even distorted, the amusement in his voice is apparent.

"Were you ever going to give me a fair chance to win?" With the soreness setting in, it's difficult to keep some irritation out of your voice.

"Perhaps." This time he doesn't bother to disguise it, and you're grateful that you have your back turned so you don't have to see the smug expression on his face. "As I recall, you agreed to the terms."

"You cheated!" You emphasize the words with an elbow to where his stomach should be, though not very hard. It barely connects, and you're too worn out to stay annoyed. There is a crick in your neck and you wince, hoping it won't follow you into the waking world. "Next time, remind me not to interrupt while you're working."

At first, he doesn't respond and you think he might be having a coughing fit. For a second you wonder if an Endless can even get sick, or if something else is wrong. Then he nuzzles your neck and you realize that the dreadful noise is him laughing at you. Not very loudly, but still. By the time you wake up, you still haven't decided whether you should be annoyed at the cheek of him, or just be happy that you heard him laugh for the first time.

⁂

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

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[roughentumble]

oh, i forgot! i worked on this and finished it forever ago, in my notes app. i'd already uploaded a partially finished version, but i filled in the missing pieces, added some yennefer, and gave it an ending. @fangirleaconmigo had liked it the previous time around, so hopefully she likes this finished version! link here to the old version, in case you're curious what got added.

fic summary: geralt gets sent back in time to the dragon hunt, and makes changes at key points in the timeline to lead to a better future. he can't remember that he went back, or what choices he's supposed to make, he just gets vague feelings.

======

geralt wakes up in a daze.

there's something on the tip of his tongue-- like when you don't remember a dream, but you remember the shape of it. he fights to recall it, because it seems so big, so important, as the last strands slip through his fingers. his body wills him to stand up, and so he does, as if he could chase the fragments that way, but moving only seems to dislodge them further. he doesnt even recall falling asleep. he sees-- jaskier, a few feet away with his back to him, far enough he'd have to call out to be heard, and everything is hazy as he stumbles over, some sort of need he cant name thrumming under his skin. he could get angry about it, or-- or...

he places a hand on jaskier's shoulder, and jaskier whips around in surprise, blinking owlishly at him. he starts to say something, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy, but geralt cuts him off with a squeeze of his shoulder. "i think you were right. we should go to the coast."

concern gives way to joy, like the sun breaking through the clouds, lighting up his entire face. "you-- really? actually, you'd want that? what caused the change of heart, did you whack your head or something?" he waves his hand in dismissal, keeps speaking before geralt can interject. "doesn't matter, really, what matters is that you did. i'll pack my things right away, and we can load up dear old roach, and i can compose a stunning ballad out of this whole mess because i am a miracle worker, and-- oh you'll just /love/ the coast i'm /certain/ of it! fine wine and pearls and the salty sea stretching out forever over the horizon, and the sunsets, oh! to die for, truly!"

perhaps he did hit his head. there's dirt in his hair, more than usual, and he doesnt think he woke up in a bedroll... but he can't find it in himself to care. it all came out so easy, and something about it had felt right. he reaches out to take jaskier's hand in his own, and jaskier only trips over his words for a moment, glancing down at them in confusion, then smiling even brighter, if that was even possible. that feels right, too. in the same way he cant put his finger on. he'll examine it later, when he's a little more awake. for now he just pulls jaskier gently by the hand towards camp, so he can do that packing he was talking about.

they leave the mountain, and the cursed dragon hunt, behind, without much fanfare or a word to the others.

===========

he doesnt like the coast much, as it turns out. sand isnt great for poor roach's hooves, salt sticks in his long hair making it unmanagable, and the large swath of ocean in front of him makes him edgy in a way he doesnt want to put a name to, because geralt of rivia does not /do/ being afraid. it's all logic, is what it is, giant sea monsters lurk in those depths, and surely no witcher is equipped to deal with their likes. a certain healthy cautiousness makes sense, he reasons.

he likes jaskier at the coast, though.

happy and free, laughing, backlit by the sun, sand on his cheek and pants rolled up to the knee. fancy shoes dangling from his fingers.

/foolish bard/, he thinks, stepping closer, brushing away the sand, /foolish, silly little bard, never brings the proper footwear anywhere we go./ out loud he says "i'm in love with you."

he watches closely the play of emotions across jaskier's face, the joy morphing into shock, disbelief, mouth gawping open like a fish. in the next moment he's dropped those fancy shoes to grab geralt's head, yanking him down into a kiss that's equal parts frenzy and passion and finally coming home. they kiss until the water laps up to their ankles, arms tangled around each other.

the incoming waves claim just one of jaskier's fancy, impractical shoes, and he curses the sea, running into the water as if he could fish the thing out, or else batter the sea into compliance. geralt laughs, and laughs, and pulls jaskier from the salty sea to kiss him again, and again, and again, even as he complains about his lost shoe. "you'll be compensating me for that, witcher." he warns, shaking his finger.

"wouldn't have it any other way," geralt responds, breathless with joy, and jaskier sinks into his grip.

========

"i want you to come with me. to kaer morhen."

jaskier stares at him with open-mouth. it isnt an offer given lightly. even in all their years of on-again off-again, geralt never extended this particular invitation to yennefer. maybe he was too scared of being known, or too scared of being trapped in one place-- if things went sour when they couldnt just leave, would it go away for ever? she's gone away forever anyway, for all his clinging and carefully calculated space. she said no, and he found-- he found--

years he's spent, dragging his feet. years, and with jaskier it's so old and yet so new, and he's decided that he is sick of the waiting, of the right pace. he wants jaskier with him, now and always. "this winter, the two of us. up in the blue mountains."

jaskier is nodding before geralt can finish speaking, tears welling in his eyes. "i want that too, love. gods, you know i'd follow you anywhere." and then he laughs, free and joyful and it's the best sound geralt's ever heard in his life. jaskier reaches out, touches his cheek, like he's confirming this is real, and geralt leans into his space to press their foreheads together. inhales the scent of his tears mingled with pure joy, and it smells like the ocean.

=================

they keep heading south, because it isnt time to head north yet, and because geralt's got a feeling he'd really like to disprove. can't explain where it comes from, exactly, just that he feels a tug, senses a rumbling in the earth, hears whispers on the streets. he climbs the rocky outcropping while jaskier waits by roach, idle and bored. he wants to be wrong. wants it so badly he hasnt even shared his theory with jaskier. he looks out over the path below.

he is not wrong.

a sea of black and gold. cintra is the gateway to the rest of the north, and it's about to fall.

============

he tells jaskier to wait in the cintran marketplace. if this works, geralt will be able to meet him there without injury, or at least be able to send someone to fetch him. if it doesnt, he'll need to resort to drastic measures, which should put him in jaskier's path too. he's grateful for this decision when he ends up surrounded on all sides by calanthe's men-- he has no doubt jaskier would be able to extract himself from the danger as he always does, but he still doesnt like seeing it. he holds a knife to the throat of an old friend, and wonders why it feels familiar. wishes that it didnt.

when they fall through the portal, dodging calanthe's trap, jaskier is far enough away from their stall that he doesn't hear the commotion-- presumably, anyway. geralt wishes he could see him, just to confirm he was safe, confirm he actually made it, but he's too preoccupied to linger on the thought.

he's led through bullshit and lies, attempts to buck fate, but he can feel the tightening noose of destiny and knows its all pointless. he'll walk away with his child surprise, it's just a matter of whether that leaves him with a target on his back.

calanthe orders him gone, and eist escorts him.

"i remember when you honored the Law of Surprise. what changed?" geralt asks, needs to provoke something real out of one of them, desperately hopes for a chink in someone's armor.

"i had a granddaughter." eist throws at him blithely.

"so protect her." geralt says through gritted teeth. the conversation feels like one he's had a million times. "what if calanthe's wrong? what if they come and ciri is trapped?" he presses.

"i fight side by side with my queen." eist replies, unmoved.

"you put too much faith in that woman."

"well, you weren't there. after pavetta died, calanthe would wake up howling in the night. The Lioness, nearly broken." eist shakes his head, looking off in the distance as he relives the memory. geralt's temples throb, lips ghosting over the words along with him, wondering why the hell it's so familiar. "someone who's able to pull themselves out of that, they'll have my confidence till my final day."

geralt wants to scream. its not enough. it isnt enough. why do their minds never change?

"i need your promise you won't come back." eist says, and geralt pauses in the entryway, weighs his options.

it's so godsdamned familiar. and yet, he cant say anything but the truth. "if i hear ciri's in danger, you know i can't do that."

"i know."

the bars fall.

jaskier was shopping nearby. he hears the clatter, and comes running. its so like them-- somehow they always find each other.

he calls for geralt, running up to place his palms on the bars, face screwed up in fear and outrage.

guards close in, shouting at jaskier to step away from the prisoner, and geralt whips around to face eist. "dont hurt him." geralt pleads.

"he's your companion. a weasly little thing, there when you claimed the law of surprise in the first place. how do i know he wont try to break you out? or take the child surprise for you?" eist asks, and geralt's stomach plummets.

"you're a reasonable man, eist. i understand your commitment to calanthe, but jaskier hasnt done anything. he isn't bound to ciri by destiny, he has no claim to her. nilfgaard is nearly at the border, don't doom him by locking him in the dungeons when he's harmless." he grips the bars tighter, knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip.

eist looks considering, so geralt presses on. "please. as one old friend to another, he's just a bard. don't punish him for my folly."

"we were never old friends." eist disputes. "...but i dont see the harm one bard could cause." relief hits geralt like a tidal wave, and he lets out his breath in one big exhale. "i dont think i've ever seen you scared before." eist cuts a look at him, and his eyes seem to pierce through geralt. he steps closer to speak in a low tone. "nearly at the border, you say?"

geralt nods, trying to project just how seriously he means it. "i wouldnt lie about this."

eist thinks for another moment, then says "i'll get him a guest room in the castle."

geralt's knees nearly buckle with relief. a guest room he can move freely in, and the castle will be the most well-fortified place during the inevitable seige. jaskier has a chance of survival. "no!" he hears for behind him, and he whips around to stare at jaskier.

"no, geralt, i wont leave you! they cant imprison you, you havent done anything!" he presses, tears welling in his eyes. he knows what's coming as well as geralt does, and he stinks of fear. geralt walks to the other side of the small cell to grasp jaskier's hands through the bars.

"jaskier, it's alright. i'll be right where i need to be. it's destiny, remember? i just need to know you'll be safe while i do it." jaskier looks unconviced, but geralt squeezes his hands tighter. "promise me you'll stay in your room. promise you'll wait for me. /promise/."

jaskier blinks back tears. "i promise." he says, and geralt lets out another sigh of relief. he leans forward as jaskier does, foreheads as close to touching as the bars will let them.

"alright. let's go." eist says, and a guard finally steps forward to place a hand on jaskier's elbow. he looks geralt in the eye, shoulders squared, a silent promise that they'll see each other again.

geralt meets his gaze. and then he's taken away.

============

++++++++++++

"this is cirilla. ciri, this is--"

"ah-ah, let me do my own introductions, i get to say it so rarely, after all." he says, cutting geralt off and turning to ciri. his shoulders roll back, posture straightening, carrying himself with a sudden air of gravitas. "my name is julian alfred pancratz, viscount de lettenhove. graduate of oxenfurt, master of the seven liberal arts, and esteemed poet and minstrel, better known throughout the kingdoms as the famed bard jaskier. at your service." he bows deeply, a fluid, graceful movement, and when he comes back up he looks rather pleased with himself.

there's a beat of silence. "...my partner." geralt finishes his earlier statement, eyebrow raised and thoroughly unimpressed. ciri mostly just seems surprised. "don't worry, you get used to the chatter."

jaskier splutters, cheeks turning red in offense. "you! that was a perfectly lovely introduction, you

great big oaf, i dont know why i put up with you."

ciri giggles nervously, then claps a hand over her mouth, a much needed moment of levity for the young girl. it cant last forever, though. geralt says "we need to go to sodden hill."

"why?" ciri asks, dread filling her stomach at the thought of all that destruction, and geralt places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"i think yen is there and i need to find her." he explains, and jaskier rolls his eyes.

"always chasing the old witch," he says, with maybe an undercurrent of jealousy, insecurity. it's something geralt will need to address, but not now. not like this.

"come on, bard." he says as he mounts roach and pulls ciri up with him.

"oh, left to walk as always while she gets the royal treatment? just a simple, gruff 'come bard', like im some dog who'll heel for you, i see how it is. so much for partner." he says with a sniff, and ciri giggles again, still a little uncertain. geralt bites back a smile.

"you can walk the other way, if you please." he replies, and jaskier sputters once more.

they quiet as they reach the battlefield, empty but for destruction and corpses. jaskier holds his nose for the stench.

geralt steps away from them to speak to the first person he sees, a woman in obvious shell-shock, looking around as if she's lost everything. perhaps she has. she looks at and yet through geralt as he speaks to her, seeing him without seeing him. then she speaks, and all of jaskier's disdain falls away with a gasp, hand flying to his chest.

"yennefer is dead."

it hangs in the air, dampening sound, stilling the trees. yennefer is dead. she is no more.

geralt's heart pounds in his ears, and he has so much and so little that he wants to say. he opens his mouth, and then stops. feels so faint, blinks away the fog in his mind, as certainty overcomes him.

"no, she isnt." he says, and tissaia looks at him with such pity, like he's in shock. and he doesnt know why he said it, except that it feels true. he feels almost lightheaded, shaky on his feet, anchored only by his knowledge that yen is alive.

"we are bound by fate. i would feel it if she were dead," he says, and he doesnt know if that's true, but he knows the certainty, and has no other explanation for it. it makes something like hope flicker across tissaia's face, warring with the absolute desolation.

"it cant be," she says, unwilling to trust the words of a strange man she's never met, one who couldnt know

"i'll find her," he says. "we'll meet again."

===

"i'm sorry." jaskier says, his voice so quiet. ciri is uneasily asleep, and jaskier and geralt sit around a fire.

"there's nothing to be sorry for. we'll find her again." geralt says, because it has to be true. it feels true. it must... it must...

jaskier lays a hand on geralt's arm, his voice soft and sympathetic. "then im sorry she's missing." he says, even though he clearly doesnt believe it.

the jealousy and insecurity has bled away now that she's gone. now that he /thinks/ she's gone, anyway. "all our old fighting... it was all so petty. even up till the last--" he stops himself, changes tracks. "...it was all so pointless. i know i pulled you between two people you cared about very much. and im sorry for it."

"i never minded. not really, not the little stuff. you and yen wouldn't be yourselves if you didnt bicker." geralt says, and jaskier shoots him a wane smile. he leans in to kiss geralt's cheek.

"then i promise i'll find something to be catty about when we find her again." he says, tucking geralt's hair behind his ear. "just-- i know this insecurity is gauche, considering the circumstances of her... disappearance. but if we do see her again, you'll still pick me, right?"

"yennefer means very much to me. but now that i have you, you're it for me, jaskier. i promise." he leans in to kiss jaskier on the mouth, short and quick and still so emotional. "she's my destiny, but you're my choice."

jaskier lets out a shaky breath, and pulls geralt in for another kiss.

===========

"tell me, friend, who changed you."

geralt smiles to himself as he considers his answer. "yennefer. ciri." he pauses, looking over at his companion, currently fiddling with a tchochkey on a shelf. "...jaskier." said man turns around when he hears his name, then freezes as if caught, item still in hand. when he meets geralt's eyes, though, he smiles, and geralt smiles back.

"well, you've the girl and the bard. but where is this lovely lady yennefer?" he asks, and geralt's smile falls.

"...she's gone." he says, and jaskier's mouth twists.

"last we heard, she was dead." jaskier says gently, and geralt flinches. he still refuses to believe it.

"she isnt," geralt insists, "but... wherever she is, she's still lost to me. who knows where she's gone to lick her wounds."

there's silence for a moment, pity etched into nivellen's eyes. "...i am sorry." he says, and geralt nods. let him think what he likes. geralt knows better.

=========

+++++++++

eskel says that if he had a princess surprise he would fuck her, and geralt feels blind rage rising in his chest, overpowering his mind as he thinks to ciri, little ciri, broken ciri, /his/ ciri. a child.

eskel would never say that, geralt thinks to himself, the absolute wrongness of it all settling over him like a cloak. something in his chest urges him forward. he wants to take eskel aside and slap sense into him, wants to know what happened to his most trusted brother, his most beloved, his other half, but he feels that same faintness in his head. he's starting to notice it, but it doesnt want to be noticed, it leaves him foggy and confused.

a vague impression seats itself in his mind. it almost sounds like 'i should have...' but it's gone just as quickly. he moves as if in a dream, filling a tankard with white gull, dosing it with sedative hidden away from when they were boys, when they needed to subdue witchers for medical treatment in a full keep.

eskel takes the mug and drinks it so fast, drinks like he's trying to outrun something, drinks like there's horror nipping at his heels. he falls asleep at the table, and geralt volunteers to bring him back to his room. vesemir offers to help, and he has no excuse to turn him down when carrying a full grown witcher's weight is such an ordeal, though he sweats under the collar when eskel cant even drunkenly stumble between them, fully dead to the world. vesemir must know something is wrong. he must.

they get him to his room with a lot of grumbling but no real issues, throw him down on the bed. "he drank himself into quite the stupor," vesemir says with shrewd eyes, brow furrowed.

geralt doesnt know what to say. "what's going on here, geralt?" he asks, and geralt's stomach plummets.

"i have to-- i cant explain, i just have to--" he starts, struggling for the words. "something is wrong. he's hurt." vesemir sends him a look that screams 'duh'.

"so you drug him to work on him in secret? this isnt like you." vesemir says, and geralt gets the crazy urge to laugh, because it isnt like him, he doesnt know what the fuck he's doing, except that he /must/.

witchers are allowed to lick their wounds in private, theyre allowed to come home angry and changed. geralt pushed them all away after blaviken, and none of them held him down, forced him, none of them acted like the mages that made them. he feels sick.

"we have to. vesemir, we--" he starts, grabbing eskel's shirt and lifting it to look at the damage. vesemir holds out a hand to stop him, and then they both fall still with a gasp. there, in his chest, right above his heart, is a piece of embedded wood.

it's big, not like a splinter, maybe the size of a fist, with spindly roots that anchor it, spreading out like veins under the surrounding skin. it pulses, just a bit, and embedded within the center of it is something else, a chunk of rock that almost looks like obsidian. rock gives way to wood gives way to flesh.

"we have to get it out of him." geralt says suddenly, going for the knife at his hip.

"we don't even know what it is," vesemir says, though the disgust is plain on his face. "what if removing it kills him? it could be in too deep."

"and what, just let it grow? it's right above his heart, it'll kill him soon anyway. and it's /moving/." geralt says, and vesemir looks pained.

"...i'll keep him out using somne," vesemir says, "we need to get it out fast but careful. dont leave a single branch behind."

they nod to each other, and geralt heats up the knife using igni, lets the flames lick the blade, then he gets to work.

eskel screams in his sleep, fighting against the drugs, against vesemir's hold, the first touch of heated metal enough to make his whole body tense. the wood contracts, roots tightening visibly beneath his skin, and geralt grits his teeth. one by one he pries them out of his guildsman's flesh, the wood sizzling and popping when touched by the hot blade. blood streams down eskel's chest, and he screams again, whole body arching

the roots convulse in the open air, trying to return to the safe haven of his veins, only to be cut off and thrown to the floor. a new root tries to grow in the old one's place and geralt cauterizes the stump, pressing the flat of the knife to it to produce even louder sizzling. if the thing could scream it would be, and eskel convulses once just like the thing in his chest.

suddenly, footsteps. the other's had heard his screams. lambert bursts in, shouts "what the fuck's going on?!" and geralt shakes his head, knowing what a strange scene they make, how threatening he looks holding a red knife.

"there's no time!" he says.

"go get every healing potion in the keep, now!" vesemir shouts, struggling not to break his own concentration. there's stillness, and then some of the gathered witchers run to do as told, while the rest watch in silent horror

geralt gets his nails under the edges of the thing and begins to lift, eskel once more arching up to follow him. it moves agonizingly slow, tearing eskel's flesh as the bark is dragged past his delicate muscle tissue. it seems to go on and on as geralt pulls, and to his own horror, he realizes something. it isnt just growing out, it's growing down. down into him, down towards his heart.

sweat drips down vesemir's forehead from holding the sign so firmly and so long. the root on the bottom extends down into eskel's chest, down towards his heart. geralt has to act fast and careful all at once.

his knife wasnt made for cutting wood, but he pushes it between the lump and eskel's body anyway, carving away at the spot where the root connects to the whole. there's so much fucking blood, he can barely see, and he has to drag the knife back and forth to get even the tiniest bit of progress, utterly devoid of leverage or the proper teeth to dig into the plant's flesh. then, finally, with a twist of his wrist, he snaps the wood chunk free from the root, cauterizes it, and throws it to the floor. only one last step.

he pushes flesh aside and sees the root go down, wrapped firmly around a rib, and then...

his heart. beating. right out there in the open, skin and muscle shoved aside to make way for that /THING/. the root is wrapped around the heart, squeezing, causing his convusions, and geralt feels sick, but there's no time to stop or wait. vesemir's control is slipping. blood is flowing faster now.

his fingers slip through blood and fat and viscera and things meant to be kept inside as he tries to untwist the root from the shock-white of eskel's rib bone. it snaps, apparently brittle now that it's disconnected from the whole, and geralt throws another piece at his feet. his hands arent clean, arent washed, but there's no goddamn time, so he slides a finger down beside his other half's very heart and hooks the back of the root. pulls so slow, so careful.

it pops free with a spray of blood, and all falls still.

"g'r'lt?" comes slurred from the bed. "did th't come outta' me?" eskel asks, and then immediately falls unconcious once more.

vesemir slumps against the wall. "gwain, coen," he says, panting just a bit, "the pig we were keeping for meat? slaughter it. we need a skin graft, clean and quick. everard, merek, sutures and everything else we need to clean and bandage."

only lambert remains, pale and silent, staring at the floor where the pieces of now inert wood rest. time seems less linear, suddenly, and nobody has much clue how much of it passes. all they know is that lambert cleans up the pieces of foreign blood-soaked thing into a jar for safekeeping, and the supplies filter in. eskel gets healing daughts poured down his throat, and geralt keeps working to stitch his chest together with pig skin, wont let anyone else touch him. they both breathe easier once the final stitch is in place, and geralt steps back with shaking hands as the other witchers wipe down his skin, slather it in healing poultices, and cover him in bandages. geralt falls asleep on the floor, trembling, without the sense in his head to clean away his brother's blood.

when eskel wakes up, he thanks them. tells them his head felt wrong, something whispering in it, ever since that leshen got one lucky shot. says the leshen didnt look right, didnt act right, that he couldnt remember how to kill it once it embedded in his chest. "it's like it went to seed in him," vesemir says in horror, and everyone shakes their heads, and they dont know what to do. but eskel is there. he is weak, and he is bedridden, and he is /there/.

finally, kaer morhen can rest.

=========

vesemir doesnt think these flowers are the answer. he doesnt recognize them-- though if he knew every part of the formula, it wouldnt be lost to him as well. still, though, it doesnt sound right to his ear, even if he doesnt know as much about flora as one might if they'd dedicated their life to the study of it. he can imagine, though, being desperate enough to believe it. he thinks back to eskel, and how they'd almost lost him to such a stupid error. he feels the loss of their way of life, their traditions, weighing on his shoulders in a way he never thought he'd face in his lifetime.

the little scrap of paper in her hand is so innocuous. and even if it's wrong, or merely an approximation of what once was, he feels the need to keep it, to catalogue it, preserve it as he has everything else in the keep... even the unsavory ones. the metal rack so many boys died on, that countless others were changed in, /chained/ in, sitting in the basement like it's a coffee table. like it's nothing. like it isnt horrific.

but it's all he has. and it's what they needed.

his fingers curl around the paper. "how many other people know of this blossom? would be likely to put two and two together?" he asks.

"not many at all, i would imagine. even fewer would know how to apply the knowledge , or enough inner workings of witchers to make the leap. and it's only a theory, anyway, i cant confirm it as of yet." she replies, watching him closely.

their numbers, so weakened, so devastated. the continent is running out of monsters, but it hasnt run dry just yet-- witchers are still needed, and theyre dwindling. and yet...

he flicks his fingers, and the page goes up in flames. a little cast of igni, and suddenly the secret is unknown once more. "cant let anyone know how we're made-- sorcerers have been after the information for as long as there have been witcher schools. no telling what havoc they'd wreak across the continent if they had the recipe. and... there will be no more boys."

he looks at the ashes in his hand, and he aches in ways he doesnt have words for, for the life he had and the men he lost and all those boys. "i thank you for your diligence, and your offer," he says diplomatically, "but i urge you to forget what you've discovered, and tell no one. and if you do decide to divulge our secrets, then i can only pray your approximations were wrong."

she had looks surprised when the fire burst to life, but understanding settles across her features.

there will be no more potions. no more blood spilt for these old stones. and there will be no more boys. he never even mentions their clandestine conversation to ciri. she deserves her choices, but she's a traumatized child, and he's an adult. he doesnt need to burden her with this.

=====

+++++

"yennefer of vengerberg." jaskier says in awe. cant believe geralt was right. cant believe she's alive. "shouldve known you wouldnt stay dead, rotting necrophage that you are," he says, catty and mean and a little breathless because she's /alive/. but then her arms are around him, and she's hugging him so tight he can barely breathe, and he lets out a shocked grunt. "uh? hugging? you're hugging me, you do know you're hugging me, right?" he asks, mouth running faster in his confusion.

"oh jaskier," she says, "it's so good to see you."

"good. to see /me/. did you hit your head at sodden? is that where you've been all this time, wandering the countryside mindlessly?" he asks, and she snorts. snorts! like he's funny! which he is, but she's never admitted it before.

"oh how i miss when my problems were as small as a single sing-songy twit." she says fondly, taking him by the shoulders and leaning back to take a look at him.

"now i'll never admit to having said this, i'll deny it if you ever try to tell... but i am very glad you're not dead, yennefer." it comes out so damn soft, and for all their bickering it's hard not to be soft about someone you've known at least ten years. he cradles her arms in his palms, so they're both holding each other but at arm's length. "but i really must ask, where the hell have you been? we've been looking for you!"

"it's a long story," she says evasively, and he narrows his eyes.

"ah, well, if it's long then you certainly wouldnt want to tell it twice." he says, and leads her down the corridor, towards a closed door. "here," he says gently as he pushes it open, "i figure if you're here, you'd like to see geralt, too."

the room goes so still. "i knew," geralt says. "i knew we'd find each other." he says, and yennefer runs into his open arms for a hug, stress melting away as she tucks her face into his neck. for the first time in a long time, she feels /safe/.

jaskier watches them fondly, shoulder resting against the doorway. they'll have time for questions and answers. for now they can just be happy the world has a touch less death in it.

=======

"yen," he says gently. "im sorry for what i said. you would make an excellent mother."

yen's face does something complicated. "geralt--"

"ciri will need one." he says, and yen recoils in shock, to hear him offer it so plainly.

"so-- what, you want you and i to play house with your little orphan?" she asks, and it comes out harsh, but she doesnt take it back. geralt shakes his head.

"it wouldnt be like that. im... im with jaskier now." geralt replies, and that makes yen's eyebrows fly up in shock. "we wouldnt be... together like that. but we would be friends. partners. equals. i think it might be good for us, to take the heartache out of the equation. and ciri needs a teacher, someone like you. i think you'd be good for each other." he pauses, and when yen has nothing to say to that, he says "think about it."

she steps through a portal with ciri anyway. she sees him beg them not to leave, and she walks away anyway. but his offer rings in her head as loud as voleth meir's promises, and halfway to their destination yennefer brings them to a stop. ciri is so bright. so bright and beautiful, and with such great power, hair like geralt's and a heart like geralt's, so hurt and yet longing so deeply for love, and she looks at yennefer with such /trust/. so much trust, and she's leading this doe-eyed girl astray, what could be hers, what /should/ be hers, and yennefer is tired of sacrificing and sacrificing and sacrificing. she loves hard and she loves vicious and she loves selfishly, and when ciri demonstrates her powers yen thinks /my daughter did that. my. mine./

she thinks /you cannot have her,/ she thinks /you will not take this from me,/ she thinks, /i will no longer have no choice. i have a choice. i am making it./

and she turns on her heel and leads ciri in an entirely different direction. she leads ciri away from doom that ciri never even knew was hanging over her head. voleth meir screams, and she walks away anyway, down a road where she knows an equally angry geralt will find her. she only hopes she can talk him out of his rage before he sends her away.

====

"i want to know where yennefer of vengerberg is going." geralt says to codrinher and fenn. they look at each other, and then back at him.

"and you think we know this? we dont keep track of EVERY person on the continent, geralt." fenn replies

"i dont have time for games. i just need something, anything. where was she recently. she has--... someone very dear to me. and i must find them." geralt says, hands balled into fists.

they exchange a look. "we truly cant tell you her whereabouts. she hasnt been seen in quite a while. all that's known is that she was mumbling to herself last she was seen, before she vanished."

"what was she saying?" he presses, and codringer looks thoughtful.

"something like 'turn back to the forest, turn back to your mother'?" he says, scratching his chin.

"turn your back to the forest, hut hut. turn your front to me, hut hut." geralt says, understanding dawning on him.

"could be. our ears on the ground didnt hear it any clearer." fenn says, seemingly annoyed that there's information she doesnt know.

"i know where she's going " he says, throws a bag on coins on the table, and leaves as quick as he came.

===

geralt has his sword drawn before they even see him, terror lancing through him at the idea of ciri being taken to that being. ciri shouts with joy when she spots him, then with fear as he presses his sword to yen's throat. she lets him, no fight in her.

"i couldnt do it. i turned back. back to you." she swears, and geralt glances between the two of them, trying to assess if ciri is alright.

"geralt, what are you /doing/," she begs, looking so young and so frightened.

"what did she promise you? money? power?" geralt asks, betrayal running deep, burning him up inside, because he'd /trusted/ yen, and first chance she got she ran off with his child. /his/. to sacrifice her to something old and foul.

yen looks decimated. "...i cant be ciri's teacher. my magic... it's gone." yen says, and geralt startles at that. then she whispers, soft and broken and desperate, "geralt, she's in my head."

suddenly geralt sees her for what she is. someone very hurt, and very alone, who fought through the promises and manipulations of a demon to bring his daughter back to him. he slowly lowers his sword and pulls yennefer into an embrace. "we'll fix it." geralt promises

====

it doesnt get any easier to ignore voleth meir, but she looks around and sees kaer morhen, and the family that she's been welcomed into, and remembers that she's allowed to stay. that she has fought tooth and nail for every inch of her life until now, and she can keep fighting. that ciri is /hers/.

she teaches magic anyway, without demonstrations. it's hard for ciri, and it's hard for yen, but she isnt as worthless as she feared she'd be powerless. ciri looks up to her. ciri hugs her. ciri asks her hair be plaited for dinner. ciri is her choice, and she makes it every morning.

until one morning, it changes.

it starts small, just a creep, just a tickle. but she snaps her fingers, and a book by her bedside begins to float.

she'd burned herself out, ran her magic dry, scorched the channels it flowed through, but it healed. it came back with time. it was always going to come back with time.

she collapses to her knees and sobs, sobs like a child, for what has been returned to her.

and without her magic to tempt her, voleth meir loses her foothold in yennefer's mind. the whispers quiet and fade until theyre nothing but a memory.

and finally, yennefer is free.

=========

when geralt lays down that night, he dreams.

"ive found a djinn," yen says,

and geralt sees himself ask "another one?"

"except i wont try to tame this one." yen says, insists that it could be the answer to their problems. "we could keep ciri safe, teach her how to use her powers, if we phrase them just right the wishes could be the thing that saves us."

the scene changes. once more, he has a seal in his hand. "i wish i had the hindsight not to get into these problems anymore." he says, because he never makes the right choice.

the dream falls away with the sunlight streaming in, bright on his face. he looks down around him, at the little family he's created; jaskier by his side, ciri's head in his lap and feet near his face, yennefer asleep on a cot with her hand on ciri's. and he decides that this time he did make the right choice. he decides that he's happy.

[jamiemaybeme]

Doing This Again by Bears In Trees: An Unnecessarily Deep Analysis by me

( @bearsintreesofficial please if you only see one of my posts ever let it be this one i worked so hard 🥲)

i'm bored, and i want to yell about my hyperfixations on the internet, so have fun :D

(i will preface this by saying that it will be LONG. i wrote this in a notebook and initially i was going to just upload a photo, but my annotations are too small to be seen on camera. make of that what you will.)

!!ALSO THIS IS IMPORTANT!!: these are my interpretations. i do not know if the band intended to communicate everything i've understood from this song (i expect they didn't actually), and it's perfectly valid for you to have different interpretations to me. it's encouraged.

also (sorry one last thing) i will refer to "the singer" like i would a poet, even though i know the singer didn't write the song. just roll with it.

okay now onto the actual analysis (below the cut off so people who don't want to read it don't have to scroll for ages). enjoy!!

verse one:

i hope to be happy, i hope to be calm

i hope to be somewhat content

the song begins with an expectation. the singer 'hopes' to be something, which is a goal for the future. the repetition adds to this. it shows the amount of expectations the singer has. it reads like the beginning of a new year, when one makes new year's resolutions. this comparison could imply the singer is unlikely to stick to these expectations, as people are infamous for only sticking with new year's resolutions during january. this sets up the mood of the song: the struggle of attempting to break free from old habits and the mundanity of life, and the frustration that comes with that.

however, the singer only hopes to be 'somewhat content'. the word 'somewhat' makes it clear the singer is trying to lower their expectations to be achievable. the word 'hope' is also not a guarantee. the singer does not know if they will feel the way they want to. it is a 'hope' they are holding onto, perhaps to help them keep going.

the word 'calm' directly contrasts the name of one of the band's previous eps, i want to feel chaotic, which features their most streamed song ramblings of a lunatic. the ep focuses on struggling to cope with trauma and turning to your friends in times of difficulties. this song is a step away from processing trauma, and instead focuses on day-to-day life. this contrast is shown through the choice of the word 'calm'.

(also there's the whole i wanna feel calm/i wanna feel chaotic comparison but that's not directly related so i'm ignoring it. maybe i'll post about it later 👀.)

verse one (continued):

every morning, i wake up

and think to myself, "oh God, we're doing this again!"

'every morning i wake up' is also repeated throughout the song as the first line of the chorus. the repetition combined with the hyperbole communicates the singer's frustration. they feel stuck in a loop, which the structure of the song shows us.

'"oh God"' can be interpreted in a few ways. (this is actually the main reason i decided to analyse this song specifically, because it felt like i had so much to say.) interpretation number one: it could, simply, be a blasphemous curse. a teenage rebellion against parents or school. (context: nick - who i'm 90% sure wrote this - went to a catholic secondary school with two of the others. i believe. i think those two were iain and callum.) it also could show how the singer is just like everyone else, as this is a common phrase. this adds to my previous point about being stuck in a loop, except now it includes other people. it makes the song feel more relatable. i feel like this one is more accurate to what the singer is trying to convey. and interpretation number two: however, it could also be read as a cry for help, to God. 'God' could be interpreted as anyone or anything, but in the context it's in, i'm assuming it is talking about God in christianity. it sets up the next verse nicely too.

verse two:

i hope i'll be resilient

i hope to be brave in the face of another family cancer

my mother cites a rosary downstairs

but Lord these blessed words fail me

first i'll talk about the religious imagery, linked to the last line of the previous verse.

'rosary', 'Lord' and 'blessed' are all directly related to religion, specifically catholicism (a branch of christianity if anyone is unaware). throughout most bears in trees songs, there runs a theme of religion, and with it religious trauma. a 'rosary' is, i believe, a string of beads which you move as you pray. (please bear in mind i do not follow catholicism so i am not sure how accurate this is. i could look it up but in all honesty if i stop writing rn idk if i'll continue.) the singer seems to be attempting to reach God, but is struggling due to some unseen reason. perhaps it is something they themselves are also unaware of.

the theme of 'hope' is once again repeated in this verse, carrying it on from verse one.

'another family cancer' talks about an awful event. we are not told whether it ends in tragedy (death), joy (being cancer free), or continues as an ongoing battle. this a) makes the song more relatable, as most people have known someone who's battled cancer, and b) may potentially mean the singer has not yet experienced this but is expecting to (expectations again). the word 'another' adds to the idea of being stuck in a loop. (if you're starting to notice a pattern: congratulations! you've cracked the code.)

the word 'downstairs' shows separation between the singer's mother and themself (is it themselves or themself i can't work it out?), but could also be a metaphor for the distance the singer feels from God or even religion entirely. this is portrayed by having their mother praying at the same time the singer is struggling to connect with the words. the physical distance between the singer and their mother is a symbol of the metaphorical distance between the singer and God/catholicism.

the verse ends with the phrase 'fail me'. in the context of the analysis, it seems they are either struggling to turn to God for help, or do not feel God is helping. however, they may believe God is the one failing them. it can be extremely difficult to pray to someone or something that you can't see, especially when there doesn't seem to be a response. they either believe they are failing God because they can't communicate properly, or God is failing them because there has been no (obvious) response. alternatively, if we take it in the context of the song it could show how the singer is struggling to live up to the expectations (🙃) set by themself or others, and feel like a failure. (i will admit, this one is a little bit of a stretch. but it's analysis, everything's a stretch 🤷.)

pre-chorus? (i don't think it is but idk what else to call it so w/e):

i just wanna welcome all the broken people

the juxtaposition (i love that word) of 'just' and 'all' really communicates the singer's expectations of themself. they are under playing welcoming everyone into some sort of family or home, by specifying 'just' the 'broken people'. however, everyone is 'broken' in some way or another, so the singer's desire to accept the 'broken' people essentially encompasses the whole world. this is a high expectation. it is quite literally impossible. yet the singer seems to believe they should be able to to do it, as the word 'just' makes it sound easy. potentially they haven't fully considered the situation.

the word 'welcome' could have biblical connotations. Jesus was all about welcoming people, even those on the outside of society, the 'broken people', some might even say. (some being me. i'm saying that.) the singer seems to be attempting to fulfil the role of God in their life within which God is not present - either by their choice or by their interpretation.

chorus:

every morning i wake up, and i drink my silly little oak milk coffee

and i text my silly little texts, and my phone's still on autocorrect

just going to briefly remind you of the repetition of 'every morning i wake up' continued from the last line of verse one. okay that's it.

the singer decribes their interests as 'silly little' things. it's sung twice per chorus, which shows it's not just one aspect of their life. this could be read as a dismissal of their interests, but could equally be seen as them embracing their interests being seen as 'silly'. they are claiming their interests with the personal pronoun 'my'. this could show how they're not ashamed of the things they like.

chorus (continued):

so i gotta backspace, take my caps out

'cause i'm too lazy to change the settings, too hazy to hum myself to sleep

oh my God, we're doing this again

once again there's the idea of expectations. the modal 'gotta' shows the singer feels like they must do things they have decided to (in this instance type in all lower case, something that is considered trivial and unimportant).

the singer is aware of the fact they might be perceived as 'lazy'. this might be because they genuinely are lazy, or it could be a sign they are struggling, potentially with a mental illness or being burnt out.

they decribe themself as 'hazy', which implies they are disorientated or overwhelmed.

the pronoun 'my' has been added to the last line compared to the first verse. this makes it closer to blasphemy than a cry for help, but it still could be either.

the collective noun 'we're' addresses the audience directly, letting them know that they are not alone and the singer struggles with the same things they do (basically 🎶 we're all in this together! 🎶).

verse three:

i hope to be neurotic, go lucky

young upstart and plucky

there's the repetition of 'i hope' in this verse once again, but it's only in this verse once. this could show the singer either losing hope or struggling to keep up with all their expectations. (i know it's almost certainly for timing reasons but i didn't title this over analysing for no reason.)

(psa: this paragraph is almost entirely irrelevant i just wanted to rant about psychology) neuroticism is one of the three personality traits in eysenck's criminal personality theory. it is a trait that measures how anxious an individual is. the theory states that criminal behaviour is fixed from birth, and is mostly affected by biological factors. it theorises people are born with the urge to commit criminal acts. the other two traits featured in this theory are extraversion (how out-going an individual is) and psychoticism (how aggressive and impulsive an individual is). there was also a study done by heaven in 1996 based on this theory, but he did not measure neuroticism as he felt that would have been too hard (instead opting for self-esteem, which showed no correlation to criminality). none of this is particularly related, i just think it's cool and wanted to infodump :].

my gcse psychology textbook (this is pretty much the only time i've actually used it btw 😭) says about neuroticism that "people who score high on neuroticism are anxious, angry and prone to feeling guilt. at the opposite end is stability. stable people tend to be calm, even-tempered and not easily stressed. of course, it is possible to be in between these two extremes too." i'm not really sure what to think about this, but it's certainly interesting to think that the singer wants to feel/be this way. idk man i'm too tired to think about this too deeply.

'go lucky' is shortened from the phrase "happy go lucky". the lack of the word 'happy' shows the singer doesn't even have it in them to yearn for happiness, they just want to be anything other than apathetic.

I'VE JUST REALISED THAT THE FIRST LINE OF THIS VERSE CONTRASTS THE FIRST LINE OF VERSE ONE OMDS THIS IS CRAZY. the opposite of being 'neurotic' (i hope to be neurotic) is being 'calm' (i hope to be calm), and the word 'happy' (i hope to be happy) completes the phrase "happy 'go lucky'" (i hope to be..., go lucky).

verse three (continued):

anatomically correct beating heart of the party

and i could be your vena cava

pumping small talk between your trauma

while the red stains your new carpet

the specification of an 'anatomically correct heart' shows the singer's desire to not be artificial. it may also be a way to show they want to embrace a nerdier side of themself.

being the 'heart' or "life" 'of the party' means someone who is at the centre of the party. often the party properly gets started when they arrive, and ends when they leave. it is a common trope in teen films, which links back to the recurring theme of being stuck in a loop with everyone else.

the 'vena cava' is a vein (?) in the heart. i'm not really sure what it does but i have a biology exam in two days at the time of writing this (one day at the time of editing oh no) so i probably should. it might be an artery. either way, i THINK it carries blood away from the heart. whether it goes to the lungs or some other part of the body i am unsure. i should probably find that out soon. anyway.

the heart is a muscle that pumps blood - that is its function. the singer could be saying they want to be strong for their friend, or be crucial for them to live, much like the heart is. 'small talk' has replaced blood in their veins (metaphorically just in case that was unclear), showing how everyone else seems to live off of small talk. in 'i am cold', a song from the ep 'i see blue', the first two lines are 'don't talk about the weather / i wanna know what makes you sick'. in some interview or something somewhere either nick or iain (this is so specific ik) explains that this line means the singer wants to skip small talk and get straight to the deep things. this combined with this song makes the singer feel different to everyone else. they seem to be breaking the cycle but at the same time still contributing to it by helping their friend make small talk (it's 1am sorry if that made no sense).

in 'i wanna feel calm', a song from bears in trees' latest album 'how to build an ocean: instructions' which was also released as the second single out of four before the album, the first line is 'i try not to let my trauma do the talking but from time to time the "t"s add up'. this shows how the singer struggles not to trauma dump as a way of making conversation (relatable), but here they are helping their friend avoid doing the same thing by 'pumping small talk between their trauma'. alternatively, it could be that their friend is trauma dumping to a third party and the singer keeps interjecting (is that a word?? i thought it was but my keyboard didn't recognise it?) with 'small talk' to try and lighten the mood/distract from their friend.

the colour imagery choice is interesting, as 'red' has a lot of connotations. first and foremost is obviously blood based on the previous imagery used. it is also the colour of passion, whether that be passionate love, hate, anger or fear. it also signifies danger. the point is, passion is the opposite of apathy, which is the way the singer has seemed to portray their reaction in relation to the mundanity of life throughout the song so far.

however, whilst 'red' is more subjective, the word 'stains' has way more negative connotations than positive. a stain is generally unwanted, like a weed. it's a memory the singer it their friend wants to forget, but can't.

the 'new carpet' could refer to them trying to start afresh, the 'new carpet' being a new mindset. however, it very quickly gets stained showing the inevitably of life. alternatively, the singer could be referencing red wine- a red liquid which stains- or something similar, ie it could be literal.

(the chorus repeats here but i'm not repeating my analysis because there's literally no point [: )

bridge:

every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye

every moonbeam, every fever dream

every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye

every moonbeam, every fever dream

'every' is once again repeated here, but 10 times instead of 1 (20 in the whole bridge but 10 in each section i've split it into).

once again, it is a reminder of the inevitably of the existence of the mundane, everyday things of life. 'sunrises' and 'moonbeams' directly contrast, to show that the cycle happens all the time. these two things are also part of nature. they also happen everyday, whether you see them or not. 'street signs' are man made, but are still very common. 'goodbyes' are inevitable. for every hello there is a goodbye; they are unavoidable. they can be sad, they can be bittersweet, they can be happy (if you dislike the person enough). 'fever dreams' are uncontrollable. they happen while you are in a state that you cannot control, and are weird. this line feels like the singer is embracing the weird parts of life, even things they cannot control.

bridge (continued):

wouldn't you love to be happy? (every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye)

wouldn't you love to go outside for a change? (every moonbeam, every fever dream)

and i don't mean in body (every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye)

i mean embody, i mean embody (every moonbeam, every fever dream)

(note: this is pretty much where my notebook annotations end; i gave up and forgot about it. the rest is likely to be less coherent than the above, just a warning. okay back to it.)

the singer begins to directly question the audience here, addressing them like at the end of the choruses. however, they could be just using the audience to address themself. this is the final reference to expectations in the song, and now it's more of a wish than something that the singer feels they should be. "'wouldn't you love' to do these things? it would be amazing if i could, but i can't. i would love the ability to get myself together, but it feels impossible right now." this reminds me of the chorus of 'great heights' a song from both the album 'and everybody else smiled back' and one of three songs released earlier as singles. 'we'd reach such great heights / if we could just make our beds in the morning.' this is a reference explained by nick in a tiktok video somewhere to a sign he is entering a dissociative episode: he stops making his bed. this whole song ('doing this again') tackles the issue of mental illnesses and struggling to cope with the mundanity of life. the singer feels if they could just complete these simple tasks that seem so huge, bigger things would be so much easier to tackle. they feel if they can get out of their head, they could take over the world. but they can't take over the world without going outside. 'outside' could mean literally out their house, or could be outside their mind. (this is confirmed as being mental in the next two lines 'i don't mean in body, i mean embody'.)

the singer finally suggests 'a change' could be good. this is the first (and only) time in the song anything other than the "same old thing"™ is mentioned. they are trying to entice themself into wanting this by asking it as a question. this is a psychological trick often used on children - if you make someone think it was their own idea they are way more likely to do what you want them to do.

the word 'embody' crops up later in 'bart's bike', a song that wraps up how the years 2022 - 2023 (i believe. from what i've heard) felt, and reminisces on them. that would include this ep/song, which was released in november 2022. 'i know you meant embody / when you looked to the mountains, towering above us'. this callback shows how far the singer has come. either they are talking to themself in third person, or their friend is saying this. the friend may be someone who has helped the singer through the period of their life where they struggled with apathy. another song from this era is 'apathy is boring', which talks about rejecting apathy as a coping mechanism and embracing our emotions. 'the mountains' are symbolic of the tasks they've been talking about struggling with the whole song. the pronoun 'us' shows how the singer is not alone, and even though they still have struggles they don't have to face them alone. the parallels between this song and the 'how to stay shining' era shows the singer's improving mental health. the band have talked before about how they don't like dwelling on bad things that have happened, as good things happen too and it's important not to focus on all the wrong things. healing is a progress, and these two songs ('doing this again' and 'bart's bike') were released almost exactly a year apart ('bart's bike' was released on december 1st 2023. 'doing this again' was released on october 28th 2022, but 'every moonbeam every fever dream' (the full ep) was released on november 11th 2022.) this is both symbolic of a person healing over time and shows the band maturing/getting better over time. it's sweet and it's not unrealistically fast.

there's also the repetition of 'every sunrise...' here, which is just another example of the mundanity of everyday life.

(the chorus repeats one more time here)

outro:

every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye (again)

every moonbeam every fever dream (again)

every sunrise, every street sign, every goodbye (again)

every moonbeam every fever dream (we're doing this again)

this is how the song ends. it feels bittersweet. the singer seems to have accepted their fate of continuously doing the same thing. the word 'again' is repeated 4 times in this section. the singer is focused on it now more than the rest of the song. (this probably means something but it's like 2am so ifk whay.) this is the last section of the song, but the singer is showing that their everyday life is not over. however, they may choose to find hope in this. we don't know, because the song ends much like the rest of it: with repetition symbolic of the middle of life.

the last line is 'we're doing this agin' which uses the pronoun 'we're' and also extends the phrase. the audience is left on the note that whilst the mundanity of life still repeats, it's easier when it's not just you. this relates to the 'bart's bike' line i referenced earlier, when the singer talks about mountains towering above 'us'. the use of collective pronouns throughout this song give hope to the audience. the song tells us that we are not alone, and there is hope to be found.

okay i've just fksihed writing this and it's like 2:15 am i'll edit it later i have an exam in <7 hourd i'm gonna fail yay :')

alright, 'nught :]

okay it's now 4.30pm and i've just finished editing. if you got this far, thank you so much. if you didn't, thank you anyway. i repeated myself so much in my analysis, but maybe that's to communicate meaning! (it's not but we can pretend it is.) i hope you enjoyed reading this. have a good timezone and please tell me if you want me to repeat this with another song. it might not be quite to this extent but i can try. (also i don't think i failed my english exam so that's good :D)

see you in the next one! (maybe. hopefully.) and go and stream how to build an ocean: instructions!!!

[letters-to-rosie]

okay,,,,, hypothetically,,,,,, if one wanted to get into black power lit where would recommend they start 👀

the way I screamed lmao

first off, I wanna give a disclaimer: I am not the most well-read person in the world on Black Power. I read this sort of stuff as a hobby, and it's not the subject of my own academic work, even though I do write about race a LOT. I just like Black Power lol.

with that said, let's go through some hits!

Huey P. Newton

Newton, along with Bobby Seale, was co-founder of the Black Panther Party for Self Defense. he was murdered in 1989 and has a bit of a contentious legacy. however, while I recognize that many of Newton's personal issues got in the way of him being the most effective leader he could be, that shouldn't stop us from reading him! we never require perfection of, say, Lenin to consider him important, lol

Newton's Revolutionary Suicide is a powerful but very difficult book. I actually have yet to finish it because of the way he describes his time in solitary confinement. the conditions are literally sickening. but I want to get back to it someday. I also know there's a relatively recent reader on him that might be helpful, but I have yet to find a pdf copy of it :(

Kwame Ture/Stokely Carmichael

now for one of Newton's archnemeses! lol. Ture was a founding member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, which hosted other famous figures such as John Lewis. he worked closely with MLK during the Civil Rights movement and was on the ground in many very difficult struggles. he would later become affiliated with the Black Panthers while Newton was in jail, and one of his most famous speeches is from the Free Huey movement. but they wound up not liking each other, mostly because Ture was firmer about not allying with other progressive movements. this caused tension with other Panthers such as Newton and Fred Hampton, who felt like allying themselves with international and local organizations was important, even if those orgs included non-black people. Ture eventually fled the US and lived most of the rest of his life in Guinea. I have a copy of a book of his speeches in the collection and highly recommend it. even when I disagree with Ture, I find him so engaging. he always makes me think. AND! if you're up for it, I'd recommend checking out some of his speeches. he was a very compelling speaker, and a bunch of his talks are uploaded on the youtube channel AfroMarxist

Angela Davis

Davis is perhaps one of the most recognizable names out of the Black Power era, probably because she's still alive, lol. Davis grew up in Alabama, and her church was famously bombed by white supremacists in 1963, killing 4 young girls. Davis would become famous a decade later when she represented herself at trial when accused of having weapons others used to kill cops. her imprisonment sparked an international movement. later on, she'd go on to become a professor, and she's still active as a public intellectual today. of her work, I've read part of Freedom Is a Constant Struggle, but I also have Women, Race, and Class and Are Prisons Obsolete? for your perusal! Davis is a leading figure in prison abolition thought, which is very very cool

Assata Shakur

Assata Shakur is known for many things, including: being the first woman on the FBI's most wanted list; being Tupac's godmother; and, most famously, being put in prison after a string of crimes she maybe did but maybe not, being freed by comrades, fleeing to Cuba, and hanging out there until the present (Newton also fled to Cuba at one point; that was a time). her autobiography is really great, though she doesn't tell you how she got out of prison. the writing is really engaging, and I think she does a great job of showing just how fucked up the surveillance of these groups was. she left the Panthers to join the Black Liberation Army, which was a very loose collective of smaller groups, but I'll let her tell the story lol

George Jackson

Jackson is the author of my current read, Blood in My Eye. he was also a member of the Panthers (there's a theme here), but he started his own group, the Black Guerilla Family, while in prison. one of the members ironically killed Newton! what a story lol. but Jackson spent the last years of his life in prison. he maintained a very militant outlook with clear principles. I really like the way he writes and his analysis, even though I'm slowly working my way through the book. he also has a famous collection of letters, Soledad Brother, which I hope to get into someday

Frantz Fanon

Fanon isn't part of the Black Power movement proper, but his writing is so influential to it it doesn't make much sense not to mention him. his main two works are Black Skin, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth (which is in the collection). Fanon was from Martinique, moved to France, and eventually became part of the Algerian anti-colonial struggle against France. he died in his 30s!!! (Jackson died at 29, and Newton in his 40s; there's a theme here). but anyway, Fanon's brief life has powerful resonances to this day. in Wretched of the Earth he uses his background as a psychiatrist to give a really interesting analysis of the effects of violence on the colonized. Paulo Freire's famous Pedagogy of the Oppressed was actually written in response. and so were a lot of other things lol

Audre Lorde

Lorde was a big figure in the Black Arts Movement, which is associated with Black Power. her writing, along with Davis's, brings much-needed feminist (and queer! both are lesbians) analysis to the table. I've included two of her books, a poetry collection, and a collection of essays and speeches. I loveeeeeee Audre Lorde, and I highly recommend her work

Amiri Baraka

Baraka was the person who coined the term "Black Arts Movement." he wrote on a number of black art forms, but I have only so far engaged with his poetry. I have a collection here I haven't finished (full transparency, haven't finished the Lorde collection either; I kinda like to just go in there and grab a poem or two from time to time) called Transbluency. I would say that compared to Lorde, Baraka's poetry shows signs of its age more. it can get slightly toxic lol. but I find a lot of that resonates with me in it, and Baraka was so prolific that you can see how he shifts over time. someday I will find a digital copy of Un Poco Low Coup, I swear!

also gotta read Elaine Brown, Malcolm X, and Fred Hampton, but I have yet to. hopefully I have plenty of time to!

um okay this is a lot of reading!!! good luck!!! lemme know if you have questions!!

click here for pdf copies of most of the mentioned books!

[ristoranteivorykeys]

twst mermay 12 — mostro menu

disguised as an nrc student, rielle visits the mostro lounge in hopes of seeing his longtime crush, azul. jade is his waiter and decides to relive some old memories by teasing the poor prince.

ft. jade leech & rielle

╰┈➤ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: it's been so long since i updated!! i thought i was never going to continue this, but i think i love octavinelle too much to completely abandon this project ;u; so i guess i will really try to complete this after all hehe. i'll definitely be going at a slow pace, though, but now this really helps me because i don't have to meet a certain deadline or anything to upload my fics. that really caused me to compromise the quality of some fics for the sake of frequently updating (mermay 11 especially got hit with this. i really had so many ideas for it but i cut it short, and now i want to go back to it and rewrite it). about the fic! i want to thank @yaoyaobae for the huge inspiration for rielle's character here. i absolutely adore the idea of prince rielle being all over azul! ;u; it's going to be my hc forever and ever hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨: mermay masterlist

Jade is no stranger to redheads. Boys with red hair are not too common, but a good number of them exist in the school hallways. Night Raven College is a hot pot of diverse cultures and creatures, after all—for Sea Witch’s sake, there is a guy with fire for his hair in this school. 

But he knows that bright red sheen entering Mostro Lounge, and he definitely knows that round cheeked youthful face taking a seat after being directed by a waiter to a table. Why, he would be Coral Sea’s laughingstock if he did not know his identity. 

Once the waiter who attended to the red-headed boy is approaching the counter with the stacks of menus, he approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder. Leaning down to his ear—and bringing out a shudder in the poor boy—he whispers, “Handle tables 5 and 6, if you please.”

And with no hesitation, the waiter sputters out a “Yes, sir”, and briskly approaches one table on the opposite side of the establishment. 

Wasting no time, Jade briskly walks to a counter to retrieve a menu, a swift yet graceful movement, and quickly approaches to the side of the boy. “Good evening, sir,” he introduces himself with his sweet customer service smile, “I will be your waiter for tonight.” And he places the menu down on the table in front of the customer. His lips are perhaps a little wider than usual. Normally, he would say his name to make the patron feel comfortable with him.

But Jade Leech knows that he does not have to introduce himself to this particular customer.

“Seven seas!” The red-haired boy nearly leaps on his seat, eyes big and round as a flounder. “No way, it’s you, Jade!”

“Ah, Rielle,” Jade exclaims in fake shock, “I almost did not recognize you.”

“I couldn’t tell if it was you, either! You look so different with that kind of skin tone,” Rielle exclaims, looking up and down at Jade. “Wait—I don’t mean to imply anything with what I said, it’s just—”

“Fret not, I know what you mean,” he answers, accompanying his words with a reassuring look. “You look different too. Black is not a color I would expect to see you in, nor did I expect to see you in our uniform.”

“Ah, well…” Rielle glances off to the side with a sheepish look. 

Jade smiles knowingly. “Regardless, you are now our customer. May I take your order?”

“Oh right, right, sorry!” Rielle immediately takes hold of the purple hardbound cover of the menu and opens it. “Whoa, that’s such a pretty design,” he mumbles to himself as he flips through sheets of thick paper with names of dishes imprinted on them. He mutters something else that Jade could not hear. Not even ten seconds later, he looks up to him. “Um, hey, what would you recommend, Jade?”

“I would recommend our bestsellers,” he answers, automatically with a practiced ease. “Those are the ones marked with the crown. My personal recommendations,” his tone shifts subtly to small excitement, “are our mushroom soup and the Port o’ Blisso Risotto. And since you are a long time friend and part of a royal family, I have a special recommendation not on the menu.”

Jade leans down to Rielle. His lips widen just a little bit in a shit-eating grin. 

“Perhaps you would like a purple octopus served to you on a silver platter.”

“hEeheshsySHYAYA—” In a split second, Rielle jumps on his couch, an explosion of red coloring his baby face. His sudden screech causes a few customers and waiters to look at him oddly, but the boy is far too flustered to notice their gazes. “N-no, I would not like that, thank you very much! I do not like octopus! I-I am allergic to octopus!”

“Oh?” Jade tilts his head in mock confusion. “I don’t recall you ever saying you were allergic to octopus. I’m sure that would have been a very significant detail to bring up when writing about— ah, what was that again? Ah yes, how much you want to taste the silvery tongue of someone like A—”

“St-stoOPP,” Rielle exclaims, covering his ears like it would block out all of Jade’s words. “H-how did you even— I threw that away!”

The vice dorm leader laughs. It is nowhere near a cachinnate, but it is much more than the chuckles that most students are used to. In fact, the nearby waiters and other Octavinelle students watching the scene stare at him with open-mouthed shock. Jade, the fearsome Leech twin, laughing in the middle of a shift? 

Rielle suddenly seems much more aware of the people around him, because he freezes upon seeing eyes on him, spews multiple ‘I’m sorry’s, takes the menu, and hides his face among its pages.

“My apologies, Rielle,” he says in the midst of calming from his mirth. “I do not mean to embarrass you. I just simply wanted to bring up old memories.”

“You and I both know that you are not sorry at all, nor are you doing that to bring up old memories,” the red-haired prince states pointedly, face still hidden in the menu, but he can feel the deadpan look that he’d be casting at him. 

Jade smiles in response. “You truly have not changed one bit, Rielle.”

Rielle sighs before looking around, and once he sees that far less people are watching him, he puts down the menu with a splat. He leans on the couch, a heavy sigh escaping his pink lips as he slides down slightly, almost like a deflated pufferfish. “Maybe there really is something wrong with me,” he says. “Maybe I should go back, I’m not even supposed to be wearing this uniform anyway.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot allow that,” Jade says. “Once you step into our establishment, you must order something. That is the policy that Azul made.” 

He makes sure to emphasize Azul in his sentence, and as expected, Rielle’s cheeks turn a slightly pinkish shade at the mention of his name. 

“Alright, I’ll get the risotto then.”

“One Port O’ Blisso Risotto, do you want any drinks?”

“No, just service water will do.”

“Your order will take 5 to 10 minutes.” He places his hand on the menu. “May I take this from you, if that is alright?”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Rielle says. “I probably might need it in case I want something else.”

Jade nods. “If you need anything else, I am here to assist you.” 

A quiet thank you leaves the prince’s lips. The vice dorm head makes his way to the order counter. “A Port O’ Blisso for Table 16. Please be aware that this customer is a very wealthy and influential figure. Do not mess this up.” His threatening smile is all the chefs need before they rush to the pantry to find the best portobello mushrooms that they had. 

He briefly muses on whether to summon Azul out of his office or not. It would be highly entertaining, no doubt. Prince Rielle, squirming in his seat as he fails to contain the giddiness of his crush, and Azul, clueless to his behavior as he mentally writes the script of an extra warm welcome suited for a royal. Who can say no to such a humorous situation? 

On the other hand, Jade senses that Rielle wants to talk to him, to delve deeper about his feelings for Azul. It would be intriguing to know how his feelings have changed over the years in some way. Back in middle school, all anyone would think about is the high, the rapture of having someone that makes you want to spin as you speed to the surface of the ocean and break it to bathe in the sun. But now, after truly knowing what gravity feels like from touching sand and grass and brushing fingers with the sky, the high is there, but now, so are the lows. 

Besides, imagine what he could do with that information Rielle would give! It could serve him wonders, whether as blackmail or as a way to start a romance that would be wholly amusing. Jade Leech may be menacing, may or may not be the son of a mafia don, but he is still 17 years old. There is fun to be had in watching the long game play out. The fumbling of a boy in love for 3 years, the possible mutual crush that could start, and if he can do anything to help in its progress? Why, that would be further entertainment for him! 

After 4 and a half minutes, the risotto is ready, and with a tray in hand, Jade sets down the plate onto Rielle’s table. 

“Your Port O’ Blisso Risotto is ready. I hope you enjoy it.” 

He makes a move to step away, but he walks slowly. Waiting. 

Rielle raises his hand.

“Wait, Jade.” 

He stops on command.

“Yes? May I help you with something?”

He only asks to be polite, but he already anticipates what Rielle’s next words will be.

“Please sit with me, Jade.” 

The yes is practically sitting on his tongue. But something rebellious tugs at him. The yes doesn’t feel satisfying if Rielle doesn’t fight for it. 

“Oh, what a request you ask of me,” he says with fake surprise. “As you can see, I am on my shift, and I cannot abandon that or else my wage may be cut.” 

Rielle is quiet for one second. For a moment, he wonders if he will give up.

“...Then,” the prince leans closer, cups his hand next to his mouth, and whispers loud enough for Jade to hear, “then I’ll cover your wage for you!”

Jade’s surprise this time is real. 

“Listen, I just need someone to talk to about this, and the sooner I can leave, the less of a chance I’ll be spotted,” he said. “I really just came for one single chance to see Azul, but he’s not here, I don’t wanna wait till Mostro closes cause I also have a curfew. And you’re Azul’s friend, so I really want to talk to you about some things. Again, I’ll cover your wages if that’s gonna be a problem, I just need someone to talk to about this please!”

Oh, how delightful. Jade restrains himself enough to not make people turn to him, but some of his mirth leaks out in chuckles. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll sit with you.”

“Thanks, Jade.” The relief in the prince’s voice is almost palpable. 

Jade takes the seat next to Rielle, as the latter scoots closer to the wall and moves his plate. He watches as Rielle scoops up some of the risotto, a mushroom slice sitting nicely atop the rice, and brings it to his mouth. The satisfied hum that leaves his lips is immediate. Jade grins. 

When he swallows, he smiles at Jade. “That was delicious! Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Of course.” His grin remains. “Azul would not dare serve mediocre, after all.”

“Yeah. Of course Azul would never settle for less.” Rielle’s smile turns soft. “He’s never changed, huh.”

Jade would snicker at his lovey-dovey state, but even he cannot stop the small proud smile on his face as he thinks of all that Azul has accomplished. “He really hasn’t.”

“That’s so cool of him, you know.” Rielle takes a bite of the risotto, chews, and swallows. “If I didn’t know him from elementary, I would have thought that he was a genius at everything. Especially magic. But no, he’s worked hard, and just…” 

He lets out a sigh as he relaxes on the couch. “Man, I feel like I’m out of his league.”

At this, Jade raises an amused brow. “You, the prince of the seven seas, favored by the King, saying that you are out of Azul’s league?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, like it’s an obvious fact of life. “I have a name, some generational wealth I guess, and a nice voice probably. But like…”

His expression falls. A smile is still in place, but a forlorn fog clouds his eyes. 

“I don’t really have anything otherwise.” 

And just as it came, his sad expression vanishes, replaced with a wide-eyed expression. “Well, that’s not saying I’m not grateful for what I have! I know there are much more unfortunate people,” he says somewhat frantically. “It’s just that…” 

He leans forward and eats another scoop of risotto. Jade simply watches him, no hint of impatience on him whatsoever. 

Rielle leans back. “See, Father is really strict,” he says. “I have to do everything that he says. The extra lessons that I have to attend after school, the places I can go, whether I can study on land or not… he’s the one who makes the decisions. So everything that I have now, you can call me gifted, but none of those talents or gifts or belongings or friends that I have feel mine.” 

He goes back for a few more bites of risotto. He chews, then swallows. “When I first heard of Azul granting wishes, I was so curious and awed at the same time. I mean, it’s just like the Sea Witch, you know! Sure, there was a price, but it’s still incredible. Even being able to take something like someone’s voice or swimming ability was so awesome to me. How can you be so talented to be able to do all that? 

“I’ve always wanted to approach him, but I either had no time to, or I’m always being watched over. So the only time that I got to talk to him was when we graduated from middle school.” 

Jade’s eyes brightened with familiarity. “Ah, yes. Azul mentioned that you came up to him that day.” He spares any details that Azul shared—he wants to hear Rielle’s side of the story for himself.

“Yeah!” Rielle nods excitedly. “So I met him after the ceremony and everyone was taking pics, and I was like, ‘Hey, you’re the guy who grants everyone’s wishes, right?’ And he looked at me and said, ‘Yes, that’s me.’ He looked so excited. And before I could say anything, he goes, ‘Let me guess. You wish for freedom.’”

Jade nods. He does remember Azul listing off upbringing and restrictions as the prince’s weak point.

“And then he says, ‘I know that you wouldn’t have much time to make friends or to stay after school because the King wouldn’t let you. You wear that smile well, but deep down, it bothers you, doesn’t it? You want more agency in your life, you want to be more free to make your own choices, you want something that’s yours.’” 

The prince smiles, his eyes fondly gazing at distant memories. “I was so shocked. I couldn’t speak for a few seconds, you know. But suddenly, I felt safe. I felt like I could talk to someone about what I’ve been going through. And so I went, ‘You’re right! How did you know?!’ I was so ready to sign the contract he was bringing out. And then my Father’s advisor found me.”

Ah yes, Azul was frustrated about that, Jade recalls. 

“In hindsight, that deal I was about to make with him involved giving up my voice, and I wouldn’t know how to explain that to anybody. And anyway, I also like being able to talk,” Rielle says. “And I know Azul’s wishes had high prices to pay. I’ve heard people rant about him, I knew he isn’t exactly the friendliest guy. 

“But for the first time in my life, I was heard. I was heard without me even having to say anything.” 

Jade’s eyebrows raise. If he was more expressive, he would have gasped loudly or exclaimed that he understands. 

Rielle’s smile widens. “There’s something so good about being seen. I’ve always felt bad for feeling restricted because others don’t have it as bad, and I felt like I was being ungrateful. But Azul didn’t make me feel like I was awful for it. It’s kinda funny too, you know. Everyone called him bad, everyone pointed fingers and said, ‘He’s a villain!’ And yet, where were my heroes when I needed them? It wasn’t a hero who comforted me, it was the villain who understood me. It was the villain who told me that yes, I was fine, it was okay for me to feel that way and to wish for my freedom from Father.”

He stops. Perhaps to breathe. To recollect his thoughts. Jade does not say anything, letting Rielle’s words sink into his mind. 

Finally, the silence is pierced by the prince. “I’m so sorry I just rambled like that,” he chuckles guiltily. “I really called you here to ask for some help with Azul, and I just gave my life’s story like that.” 

“No worries, Rielle,” he answers with a smile. “I quite enjoyed listening to you. Though if I may ask, how did you manage to study here?” 

“Oh, see, Azul really inspired me,” he responds. “Ever since, I really tried to get to talk to Azul again. I’d ask Father if we could eat at his family’s restaurant, but Father would always say, ‘We have the best food here, why would you wish to eat elsewhere?’ When I’d explore, I’d either be caught early, or I just never manage to see him again. And then I heard from the palace servants that you guys were invited to Night Raven College.”

“And you asked your father to let you study here,” Jade says. 

Rielle nods. “Of course, he was disapproving at first. But I was persistent. I was so tired of never getting to see Azul, then suddenly, I hear that he was not gonna be at sea for years? I already lost the chance to finish our conversation. I didn’t want to lose any more chances. I even applied to Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy behind his back. And I got the invites for both. Father was furious at first upon finding out, but when he saw that I was accepted for Royal Sword, he let me go. And I took that, because hey, at least it’s on the same island. Maybe I’d get to see Azul on the weekends, maybe.”

He laughs slightly at the memories that he must be seeing. “I didn’t know I had it in me to be persistent. Azul really did a number on me.”

“Truly an effect that Azul can have on others,” the vice dorm leader says.

Rielle looks at him. “Really? Have you been changed by him too?”

“I’ve known him for years. It would be inevitable that I would be influenced in some way,” Jade answers. “If you wish, I can tell you the places Azul goes to on the weekends so that you can at least try to meet him without having to put on a disguise.” 

At this, Rielle’s eyes gleam with interest and excitement. “Oh that would be so awesome! Actually, wait.” He looks around the vicinity. “I think I have to go soon.”

“Oh, is it late already?” Jade checks his phone. Oh, how time flies. There is only 30 minutes left until Mostro Lounge closes. Fewer customers are seated, and some of the staff are probably at the back. 

“I’ll just finish this and go,” the prince says, gesturing to his meal. “We can exchange Magicam handles and continue talking there if you want to.”

“That would be nice,” he responds. 

They share their Magicam, follow each other, and Jade stands up, leaving Rielle to finish his food. He approaches him again but with the bill, and once the red-haired prince gets his change, he stands up and leaves the establishment. Goodbyes are not exchanged, as Jade is starting the cleanup from the counter. 

But he watches Rielle leaving, thinking back to their conversation. 

It wasn’t a hero who comforted me, it was the villain who understood me. It was the villain who told me that yes, I was fine.

How interesting, he thinks to himself. How interesting that Azul has made us feel the same way.

[fanaticsnail]

Beloved Snail,

You took my request and SOARED!! I absolutely loved reading your interpretation of avian Mihawk, especially with a mythical twist 🫶🫶 I saw that you may have been curious about more ideas, and I am here to deliver!

🪶🪶🪶

If we’re going Raven-route for our dear warlord, I could see these scenarios unfolding:

- Showing Reader around the gallery, making sure to observe what catches her interest for later courting gifts. Especially as a raven, Mihawk would gladly find shiny trinkets for his beloved (how else to show off to his future mate that he is able to provide?).

- Attempting to hire her to his estate, as it would be easier to protect her (nesting instincts). And imagine Reader’s surprise to see her “pretty bird” again! I wonder how her feathered friend followed her here…

^^ In this scenario, Reader would also catch Mihawk in the middle of training (Zoro appearance?), since the dancing of blades would be the near equivalent of a courting dance from a winged swordsman. And who would say no to seeing those muscles in action 🤭 (After using much more flare than usual, Zoro can’t help but comment about Mihawk’s behavior)

- What better a moment for the protective birdman to reveal himself to his intended, than to swoop in and save her. Perhaps a barrage of arrows from would-be assassins, or simply debris from an old castle wall, our warlord has no choice but to transform and use his wings to shield our dear Reader! A cute full circle moment where we tend to our pretty bird, but this time in his human form ✨ Make sure to give him a kiss as thanks~

🪶🪶🪶

Hehehe I am so happy to see that this little au has captured y’alls hearts as it did mine! Enjoy these tidbits as well :) I might have to start cooking up some more domestic head cannons for our feathered couple next!

Yours Truly, Bird-Brained Anon 🪶

Oh my gosh, 🪶 Anon. Your prompts ran away with me again. I'll upload them and add a link to this as soon as I format it to fit Tumblr. Bear with me, love.

Edit: it's here, my dear! 🖤

[thefirstknife]

Lightfall quest is also really good. Seems to be something that will go on for a bit, I think, since the point was to get Golden Age files and we heard only one file. Osiris said there's more but that he needs time to decrypt them.

Files are Chioma Esi's logs! She is a voiced character now! Massive win for the lesbians. Osiris also directly mentions her having a wife, just in case there are people who wanted to be in denial until now.

But before that, really interesting dialogue between Nimbus and Osiris towards the end of the quest. I'll transcribe it and add a link to the video later when it gets uploaded by Destiny Lore Vault:

Nimbus: You know, ever since we defeated Calus, I've been wondering a lot more about the Veil. I think... I think we take it for granted. It's always been here. We always assumed that the Ishtar Collective brought it with them on the Exodus ship, but... Osiris: But now you question that assumption. Nimbus: Nezarec seemed to know something, didn't he? When we were inside the Vex network, he said something about... Savathun. Osiris: My memories cast shadows of Savathun's. Echoes of the time she and I were bound by her dark magic. The more time we spend here, the clearer the outline of those shadows become. The Ishtar Collective didn't bring the Veil here, Nimbus. Savathun stole it from the Witness and left it here... quite possibly for the Ishtar Collective to find. Nimbus: Why? Why would she do that? Isn't she our enemy? Osiris: She is. And yet, at times, she is our ally... when it is convenient to her, and in that convenience, we find common ground. Or as a friend once said, the line between Light and Dark... is very thin. Nimbus: [grunts] I kinda hate that. Osiris: As do I.

That's really good information and an interesting angle to understand the Veil situation better. First, Neomuni clearly don't even know how the Veil got there. They either assumed (as Nimbus said) that it was brought by the founders or perhaps the founders told everyone they did so, to keep the situation in control. It's easier to build a civilisation on this power if you tell people you brought that power here, rather than telling them that an alien entity placed it there during the time when alien entities were destroying the solar system.

But outside of that, ever since that time, people took it for granted, as Nimbus put it. They didn't really question it or wonder about it. The Veil is there, it's powering Neomuna, it was brought by the founders to make the civilisation, that's it. There's nothing really to wonder about for the average citizen. Not to say that they don't care about it, but they don't view it as something that has to be explained or pondered. As I've said before, the Veil to the Neomuni is a power source. They're not into it because of strange paracausal powers or whatever the hell is going on with it and the Witness. It's nice to see that reading was the intended one; to Neomuni, the Veil is a power source and one that is taken for granted aka isn't being actively researched. Meaning, they can't answer our questions about what the Veil is.

And now transcript of Chioma's first log (very VERY likely that more will be coming throughout the season, maybe on a weekly basis? They wouldn't voice her for one message is my main assurance). The log is accessed in the big room overlooking the Veil:

The log transcript (link):

Chioma Esi, personal log: incidental. Maya arrived yesterday with the Exodus Indigo. I should be relieved, but... in light of the current situation, I... I don't feel much of anything. We're presently en route from Hyperion to the terraformed surface of Neptune. I'm scared. I'm so scared! We don't even know what we've lost. Comms are dead. It's just silence everywhere. We might be all that's left. Maya was right about everything. The cult, the end... how we'll survive. [sighs] I hate this.

Some interesting points right away! Hyperion has been long established as a place where Chioma Esi was working. This is also giving us the Exodus Indigo route: Maya was on the colony ship which made a stop at Hyperion to pick up Chioma (and possibly other people). Shortly after they left Hyperion, the events of Winterbite lore happened where the colony ship was attacked by an unknown entity which left Winterbite in the hull.

Another neat point is that Chioma mentioned that a part of Neptune's surface was already terraformed. This gives us some crucial details; Exodus Indigo was going to Neptune on purpose and didn't just have to land there as an emergency escape. Going there was deliberate which also makes sense given that previously an ECHO ship crashed on Neptune. This makes it's more likely that Maya knew about the ECHO ship crash and about Soteria's possible survival and that Exodus Indigo followed that trail deliberately. The mention of surface being terraformed already also means that the colony was well underway of being established following the ECHO ship crash. Neptune was being hard-prepared to fit a colony.

This also means that Exodus Indigo was most likely a very well known mission and that Neomuna was not originally planned as something secret. They only went dark after making an assumption that they may be the only ones who survived the Collapse, which Chioma mentions in this log! Comms went silent and they had no idea what was going on; if they wanted to ensure the survival of the human species, they had to also assume that they're the only ones left and hide.

Chioma also mentions that "Maya was right about everything." She specifically mentions "the cult" which is Future War Cult, founded by Maya in the Golden Age. FWC was investigating something called the Device, a Vex-tech based machine capable of predicting the future. The cult would eventually regain access to the Device and use it well into the present day for the same purpose. Chioma also mentions "the end" as she muses about Maya being right about everything. Strange and possibly concerning. What exactly did Maya see through the Device?

This is some wild stuff, especially to me now after I've made a really long post about some curious connections between the concept of the history and mind of the universe and how it tends to be adjacent to Vex predictive technology. I mentioned Maya, Future War Cult and the Device in this post as well, trying to see if there's anything worth connecting in an analysis. Chioma alluding to the cult again the first time we've ever heard her voiced is intriguing. I'm not sure if this is something that will continue to be explored and if these connections are important, but it definitely felt like an important point to add into this fairly short voice line that specifies about Maya having been right "about everything," "the cult" and "the end."

I'm really excited to see if we'll get more and I assume we will. Osiris was very direct about us having to protect these logs and that there's a lot of them, but that he will have to decrypt them first. If we genuinely get more logs, it will be an incredible treat to hear actual voices from the Golden Age and the Collapse, of people who founded Neomuna and their first encounters with the Veil and possibly their original research into it.

[popawritter12]

Since I can't upload a one-shot (I'm working on some personal things), I'll upload the prologue of my new fanfiction

"Circle Papers"

Prologue -

In these paper circles, finely cut by you, by your hands always buried in those simple story lines, in that smile lacking any other emotion other than peace; It was almost stupid how crazy you drove me. Like a puppy chasing after its owner, searching for some clear answer about my most intrusive thoughts, but you, as always, showed me a side so hopelessly peaceful that for my mind, which always honestly farts when trying to communicate with you, I It was strange to find that your most painful experiences were repressed like a man trying to suppress the desire to feel love for life.

But I know why I always stayed by your side, like a metal to a magnet, I looked for you and I looked for you; but only in this moment, in this empty space, where the cold invades us and in which we admire the stars with a certain nostalgia and tears repressed in our soul, I find myself understanding the reason for the actions of these shadows, of these beings with possibilities. to rip out my soul and devour it if they so desired, as if, even on the edge of the precipice, I knew that at the end of the star-filled afternoon, they had a valid reason for giving me pain.

You asked me at that moment, what were the two of us supposed to do to survive? Maybe, I just felt stupidity in my shitty soul, and that's why I didn't respond, however, in these moments where we are together, I notice that look full of anger from a third party; a memory that, even with all the attempts to give you, my soul, a life that you deserve, they will always look for me, and at the right moment when my heart is exploited by so many grotesque obsessions, the lamb will remain with me. seeing; her dark mask, accompanied by a look so damned that it reminds me that, like the creatures of this world, my time is running out, and she seemed eager to stick her arrow into my heart, along with the black wolf, sharpening its fangs. ---which turned out to be the only white thing he could wear---, and seemed to be preparing to have the feast of his life, they only remind me that sooner or later, they were going to try to tear away his delicate way of seeing the world to adjust existence of my dear soul your taste.

Regardless of whether I manage to reduce the numbers or not, my time is running out, and the paper circle is cut by the scissors of time; It is getting smaller and smaller, and the hands of the clock announce to me the loss of my days.

Everything ends, everything comes to an end, and all the needles come together at least twice a day; These last moments, those creatures look at me again, with the cuts distributed in a regulated and even beautiful way, among their whispers I only hear that they continue looking for me, and that soon those disgusting grips that they imparted on my already damaged body and my mind. hurt by sleepless nights, it only left me the trace of a life already lost.

But there was you, with your softest caresses and your words always emphasized by an unconditional affection of friendship, your actions always keeping my thoughts aligned, as if you were the mother of all the ducklings of my soul, who followed you firmly at every step, trying not to get lost in this lake, which you seemed to know from the depths of the waters, where the most humid algae were located and devoured by fish of species not known to any of us to the most beautiful surface and known to all the curious.

But perhaps it is these paper circles that remind me that, like my time, it will be cut down until only you are left, on a flat surface devoid of reality, alone, as you were born, and also, as you were going to die.

-

[ghostowlattic]

ROOM TIED TO A BALLOON (THE FLOATING HOUSE)

I'll upload a better take later.

This is from a story like collection of piano pieces which are always heavily improvised. This part in particular is "A Room Tied to a Balloon", which takes place after "City on a Hat"

City on a Hat uses some of same themes more intricately, and details the visions of the life of an entire little city which is balanced on a hat, as the hat moves or tilts when its carrier lives it's life, those in the city have grown used to a life in constant sway, some perhaps hang up their clothes to dry the very instant the world tilts the poles holding the lines may sway to their balcony, everything in sync and balance--- except for one that breaks their little abode free by balloon, taking to the air, thus leading to this piece, a fragment of the previous theme which lightly floats up....down..up...until it it comes to rest.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki SSL Hakuo Gakuen Story Vol 3. Saito·Kaoru-hen

...have i mentioned that i hate summer? because i hate summer.

Anyway, this was originally published in GS杂志2014年5月号. I've realized that these stories were re-published in one of the SSL books because I sorta remember graphics for these stories... and while I'm pretty sure I've uploaded them before, I am waaaay too lazy to go look them up right now.

Hakuoki SSL Hakuo Gakuen Story Vol 3. Saito·Kaoru-hen

Translation by KumoriYami

This is what happened the day after the entrance ceremony in April.

"Although you haven't been enrolled for a long time, since you've become a member of the Disciplinary Committee, you will confirming which students are late from the list of names with me every morning.."

“That's fine."

"Your name is Nagumo, right? Why do you want to join the Disciplinary Committee?

"It doesn't matter... I guess I don't have a reason.

"Ah, my apologies. I didn't intend to be so intrusive, but with the work the Disciplinary Committee does, it's easy to attract the envy of the other students. That's why, very few students are willing to take on this role. It can even be said that there are very students who would volunteer to become a member of the Disciplinary Committee."

"...Then, why did you join the Disciplinary Committee."

"Me? That… I thought that in order have the ideal campus life, it's necessary to have disciplinary standards adhered to. After becoming high schoolers, many students mistakenly believe that they've become adults, and they shout about the need for freedom. However, by being punctual… only by complying with these rules can we be strict with ourselves, compete with others, and improve the lives of those around us. I think that's the attitude that a real high school student should have."

“How can you speak so rigidly/inflexibly, or talk about such old-fashioned concepts."

"It's true, perhaps the concepts are old-fashioned. However, I believe that it's one of the ways to put the basic idea of "becoming a samurai" at Hakuo Gakuen into practice."

"It doesn't matter what other people think of me. Because my goal as a member of the Disciplinary Commiittee is to be able to stand here every morning, just like I'm doing now."

"I see… with a member of the Disciplinary Committee standing here, it's possible that the students will realize that they are late. Well, I didn't expect to learn this from you as a first year. Nagumo, you'll become a splendid member of the Disciplinary Committee. Please look after me in the future."

"…….It doesn't matter. I'm saying that this wasn't for the sake of becoming a member of the Disciplinary Committe."

"In any case, what's with the notebook that you've been holding in your hand just now?"

"Ah, this? This is… I use it to keep a list of the students' names who aren't suitable (for Chizuru). If I don't record their names and they do their bad points beforehand, it will cause problems later (when thinking about revenge). Then, Ill be able to get a firm handle on their attitudes (towards Chizuru). (As an older brother) this is what i whould be doing."

"So that's how it is. To get those students who are not suitable to Hakuo Gakuen to make fresh starts… how reliable."

"I always feel… that we're never on the same page."

"No, I feel that I've been able to adequately understand your thoughts. Alright, let's start our work as members of the Disciplinary Committee!"

"Oh, oohh."

"Good morning, Saito-senpai!"

"Morning, Yukimura... Nn, there' still quite a lot of time before homeroon. You need to remember to be like this in the future and ensure that you hvae plenty of time to spare before getting here."

"Yes, I'll try to do that!"

"Speaking of which, whre is Heisuke? You didn't go to school together today?"

"He apparently has morning practice today, so he left for school very early..."

"No, I didn't seem him… maybe I just didn't notice him. You don't need to worry about it, just head to your classroom."

"Yes... uh, by the way, why is Kaoru standing here?"

"Hmph, you'd actually question someone like this as soon as you see them. Can't you even say hello in the morning?"

"Ah... um, I'm sorry. Good morning, Kaoru."

"……Morning."

"Uh, Kaoru, you... what are you doing here?"

"It appears that my slow-witted younger sister didn't notice that I was wearing this armband, so I'll be merciful and tell you. I became a member of the Disciplinary Committee."

"Kaoru became a member of the Disciplinary Committee!?"

"Indeed. Nagumo is a very reliable member of the Disciplinary Committee. I hope that you'll continue to support him in the future.."

"Ha... yes."

"...That's how it is."

"Ye-Yes. Please look after me."

"Good, then let's start the day at Hakuo Gakuen, Yukimura."

"……Yes!"

---to be continued---

Just in case: Kaoru vs Chizuru for colours.

[fives-girlfriend]

A/N: New here? Start at First Impressions, part 1!

Lockdown, part 2

Perhaps Asha isn't as much of an outsider with Clone Force 99 as she thinks she is.

Read Part 1

Characters: TBB, OC (Asha Kurr)

Warnings: Minor descriptions of injuries, some mild dissociation, general anxiety. Not much in terms of bad.

Word count: 2,404

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

Asha could hardly recall the rendezvous. Everything was an adrenaline-addled blur; she remembered Echo's voice over comms, informing them that they were in position. She remembered hearing the thudding of footsteps and nearly jerking out her blaster on instinct until she saw Tech and Crosshair coming up the rise. She hardly remembered when Hunter and Wrecker arrived a minute later, smelling of smoke and burnt fuel. The six of them made a mad dash for the ship, and from then, Asha could finally let the ringing in her ears fade. Her entire body was on autopilot as they left planetside; she sat down in one of the crash seats, and from within the cockpit, she could hear Hunter and Echo reconvening while Tech got them all into hyperspace.

"I couldn't get much before the lockdown hit," Echo stated, "nothing that we don't already know. But I think I might've been able to pull a base of operations, a larger outpost than the one we just hit. When I'm able, I'll upload the information to the Commander."

"It's better than nothing," Hunter sighed. "We got what we came for, that's what matters. How's your…?"

"...short," Echo replied with a hollow chuckle. "Emergency removal. It was either this, or take the outlet with us. We didn't have the time to cut through the wall. She can replace it soon enough, there should be spare parts in storage."

Everything fell silent after that, at least to Asha's perspective. She was already putting away her new gear, now smudged with dust and dirt and soot. She felt like she was floating, each motion nearly robotic as she stashed away her gear and ambled her way to find Echo. She still had to help him - check on him, see how he was doing. But before she could even think to reach him, a warm, calloused hand rested on her shoulder, partially yanking her from her daze.

Hunter looked down at her, and Asha could see in his eyes the moment their gazes met just how concerned he was. For a moment, she was puzzled - but it slowly dawned on her as she fully took in where it was that they were. They were in hyperspace now, and had been for at least several minutes. They had left the surface some time ago. She had hardly realized it - it had felt more like seconds. She was suddenly very acutely aware of how hard her heart was pounding, and she actually tried to will it to slow. And as if it were even possible, her crimson face flushed an even darker red in embarrassment and shame, tinting her white facial markings a rosy pink.

"...Asha, relax." Hunter's voice was low and even as he spoke, and Asha took a shaking breath. "It's done. You can breathe now. Echo told me what happened."

That somehow only served to worsen Asha's anxious tension, having been so lost in her own head that she hadn't even heard the conversation barely a room away. What did he tell him? That she nearly fell? That she panicked? That she had mutilated him, that she could hardly think the entire time?

Hunter sighed. He could hear the way her heart thudded even faster, and he moved to stand in front of her, both hands now resting on her shoulders. "You did good. You were caught in a situation neither of you were prepared for, and you adapted. The first field mission is never easy. As far as those go… you did exactly what you were supposed to."

Asha's breath caught, then slowly left her in a quiet exhale. She could see just the scarcest nod from Hunter - breathe. Just breathe. She did good. She did what she was supposed to. She…

"...I… have to go help Echo," Asha muttered, straightening herself up and rolling her shoulder. The knot in the muscle was painfully tense, and no doubt that her shirt was just barely covering a harsh bruise from pulling it so sharply… Hunter gave her a bit of a look, to which Asha could only sigh. "I'll take care of it once Echo and I are done, okay? I'll live. It's just a pulled muscle."

"Just… let us know if we can help," Hunter said softly, giving her a small pat on her uninjured shoulder before dipping away back into the ship proper. Asha smiled for a moment, gentle and fond, before carefully making her way down into storage to find a replacement scomp, no doubt buried under the errant piles of scrap she and Tech had both jointly accumulated.

—

"Echo?" Asha called out as she stepped into the cockpit, a few things in her arms - a replacement scomp, her toolkit, a small twist-jar of bacta gel for bruising. "Got a sec?"

Echo was currently occupying the copilot seat, and when he swiveled around to look at her, he took in all she was holding and actually smiled. "There you are. Come on, let's get to it - I just wanna get this over with, if… that's alright with you."

"Perfectly fine," Asha said softly as she set down everything she had and knelt down in front of him, picking up the scomp and lining it up with its port. "Want me to walk you through it again?"

"...not this time," Echo responded, a bit quieter. "If- if you wouldn't mind. I kind of just want it to be done with."

"Fine by me." Asha didn't argue, and instead set straight to work. "I've done this fix a million times before, okay? I'm gonna deactivate the pros-"

Echo shot her a look, and she quickly shut her mouth. Force of habit, she realized. Wordlessly, Asha deactivated his prosthetic arm, and set to work on reattaching the scomp to its port. It was a silent procedure, at least. Everyone seemed rather tired out from the mission, and decompression was sorely needed. The fix, all in all, took maybe five minutes. The second she was done, Asha reactivated his arm, and sat back on her haunches with a smile. "And there we go. Move your elbow for me?"

Echo did so, going through the motions as he tested out the maneuverability of his arm once again.

"Good. Wanna just, plug into the outlet real quick so we can make sure it works? I've no doubt in my work, of course, it's just a routine diagnostic and-"

"And now you're sounding like Tech," Echo replied with a small smirk, earning a gaping look from Asha that quickly melted into a laugh the second she noticed that the aforementioned pilot had turned to look at them, an incredulous look on his face. Asha was right, though - her work was flawless. When plugged in, his arm was as good as new.

Satisfied, Asha opted to take the now-unoccupied copilot seat, and work on applying the bacta gel she had brought along to her pulled shoulder. However, upon moving to shift her arm out of its sleeve, she hissed in pain and had to stop. Her range of movement was now severely stunted thanks to that strained muscle, and even just getting it out of her shirt to try and heal it was proving problematic. Frustrated and embarrassed, Asha started to stand so she could go somewhere private to try and work it out, but she was stopped when a surprisingly gentle hand settled on her uninjured shoulder.

"Let me help," Echo said softly, as he stepped behind Asha. "Here, lean forward a bit. What do you need?"

His forwardness genuinely shocked her, all things considered. In her mind, she was still more or less just a nuisance to this squad - a very stubborn nuisance, one that was determined to do what she was assigned to do, and make friends while doing it. She felt that her presence was an inconvenience to them at best. But when Echo asked that gentle question - what do you need? - a slight flush came to Asha's face as she glanced over her shoulder.

"...I-I just wanna get my arm out of my sleeve so I can- so I can get this gel on my shoulder. I pulled it when you caught me from falling off the roof back there, heh…" she muttered, rather embarrassed by her vulnerability. A certain look crossed Echo's face, and he lightly shook his head while he moved to start helping her carefully shift her arm out of the confines of her top, a little bit at a time.

"You're never going to stop helping me before taking care of yourself, aren't you? This is the second time already, Asha," he chided her, but nothing in his tone even hinted at the idea of anger. Asha let out an airy chuckle, not looking back at him but instead keeping her gaze forward at the endless expanse of hyperspace outside.

"It's my job to help you, Echo. Simple as that."

"Is that the only reason you're so adamant, then? Just because it's your job?" he asked, adding on a small "Here, hold this for me." as he passed the small jar of gel to Asha for her to hold. Practiced fingers smeared the cool blue substance onto the harsh bruise that was forming on her strained muscle, and her form sagged in relief as the ache began to ease.

"...started out that way," Asha mumbled. "Rex sent me here. He and I worked together before, and I don't take his orders lightly. I was… determined to do right by him. Then I actually started getting to know you guys, and…"

She trailed off as Echo finished applying the medicine, and she went to close the jar again, already starting to feel better thanks to his help. "I realized really quickly that this wasn't just another deployment. I… I hadn't worked with another battalion since I left the 501st, so I was… I-I was keeping things stiff and rigid. I wanted to keep a distance."

"You are remarkably bad at that," Tech suddenly spoke up from the pilot's seat, making Asha jump - she had genuinely forgotten he was there. When he saw the scandalized look on her face, he tilted his head slightly as if confused by her reaction. "I'm only speaking based on my observations. You've shown from the moment you set foot into our barracks that you have a remarkable tendency to get attached to people quickly. Keeping your distance was never an option for you, I figured that much was obvious."

Asha was dumbfounded, and she heard a quick exhale behind her that she knew was a split-second attempt at hiding a laugh. She rolled her eyes and moved to stand up, looking all sorts of playfully annoyed. "You guys are the worst. So what if I wanna actually be your friend now, huh? Would that really be so bad?"

Echo sighed, and he looked over to Asha with a gentle smile. She'd shown him by now what it is she was capable of - how she treated them. This wasn't just another assignment to her, despite how much she cited it as such. "No, Asha… that wouldn't be bad at all."

—

The gunner loft was Asha's sanctuary. Whenever she wanted space, or just a place to be comfortable, this was the spot to do it. That sanctuary wasn't going to last for much longer at the moment though, not as Asha peeked up from her datapad at the first hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. And there Crosshair stood in front of the ladder leading up, his perpetual scowl somehow deepened, body tense, an air of such utter vitriol emanating from him that it made Asha's heart pick up. He didn't even wait for her to speak, cutting her off the moment she opened her mouth.

"I don't know what it is you're playing at, or how you've got everyone fooled," he spat, "but you're going to have to try harder than that."

"Wh- what-?" Asha quickly tried to retort, but Crosshair was as quick on the draw as ever.

"Don't play dumb, mechanic," he continued. "Humor me. Your record showed that you went months without any contact whatsoever from the army. You left your old assignment - not dismissed, left - and went radio silent. What happened between you and the 501st, hm? If you're so adamant about being friendly, why don't you go ahead and tell us what you're hiding-"

“Crosshair!” Hunter’s voice cut the air like a knife, silencing his brother as he quickly stepped forward to put himself between the two. Asha looked genuinely startled, and Crosshair somehow looked even more bitter than before. “That’s enough. What’s gotten into you?”

Crosshair didn’t grace Hunter with a response. Instead, he backed down – not without shooting a glare to both Asha and his brother, before stalking off to head below deck. Hunter didn’t flinch, and Asha let out a low, anxiety-riddled sigh. Hunter was, at this point, entirely used to her heart pounding in fear and worry, and he turned to face her with a calm, but remorseful expression. “...I’m sorry, Asha. He’s… never been one to trust outsiders. He’ll come around eventually.”

“Yeah, I… I’m used to being the odd one out, heh,” Asha replied with a hollow chuckle, setting down her datapad. “Believe me, I’ve gotten way worse than some weird accusations thrown around at me. I… I’ll cope with it.”

“...well, if it means anything to you,” Hunter began, a small smirk drawing up on his lips, “we’re all the odd ones out in this squad. So to me, it seems like you fit right in.”

At that, Asha actually laughed – and Hunter could count it as a win that he got her to smile. With the tension dissipated, eventually Asha was once again left alone – and a certain sort of quiet descended over her as she watched hyperspace swirl by from outside the gunner loft. She was free to let her mind wander, and it kept wandering back to Crosshair’s accusation.

She never wanted to leave the 501st, not really. She traced shapeless patterns on the back of her hand as she stared out the window, and leaned her head back as her eyes eventually slipped closed, lost in thought. At least she still had their memories, she thought.

A few silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

At least she still had their memories together.

[acesknights]

Final Prayer

- oc x canon [Warlock x Phillip Graves]

Word Count : 782 Summary: Warlock spending his final moments questioning the idea of there possibly being a 'higher being' tags: Character death,religous topics

Note: babies first time uploading a drabble onto tumblr instead of ao3 so i have completely zero clue what i am doing, possibly out of character too but i wrote this at 3am with a lack of sleep.

Warlock didn't consider himself to be religious at all.

Religion is one of those topics that really only get brought up in dire situations, in life or death situations, or even sat on your grandparents porch on a warm summer evening. It's always one of those things that aren't really thought about in a day to day life until you're sat down with another person and either one of you brings it up.

"Shadow 0-1, this is Warlock - how copy?"

Being religious means that you spend your life believing and hoping that a higher and greater being exists and is watching over you. A being that knows each sin one has committed and each good deed one has done.

"Warlock this is Shadow 0-1, hear you loud an' clear" 

He never considered himself religious, he was brought up in a Catholic household yet never really took in the lessons all those Sundays at church had tried to tell him. 

Religion was a topic he never delved upon in life. He'd witnessed his own fair share of soldiers cry out for their mother's or even start praying before having any remaining will of life get drained from them moments later. 

Religion is one of those topics that really only get brought up in dire situations. 

"Sir- you ever consider yourself religious..?" 

Yet here he was, layed down on a patch of discoloured and drought-induced grass, his ghillie suit caked in a mixture of dried up mud and his own blood. 

"I'd like to consider m'self religious warlock" 

Adrian was said to never consider himself religious.

Yet in that moment he had caught himself starting to shakily place one of his hands onto his heart, its pace unsteady - ready to finally go to rest in the confines of its bone and muscle cage. 

And prayed. 

Prayed to make it out of this one. 

Prayed to be able to see his loved ones face just one more time. 

"And you? You consider yourself religious at all hun?" 

'Hun' 

By holy god would he miss hearing those three lettered words of endearment. 

"warlock?.." 

How long has he been like this? Laying on the grass, a gaping hole in his side, a hole that housed the bullet from the enemy. 

Lucky shot

Time felt slow, too slow. Painstakingly and unbearably slow. 

Was a higher being taking pity on his poor mortal life? Was a god watching over him? 

For once Adrian hoped so.

Hope

"Adrian?.. Speak to me dammit!" 

"phil, sir- 'm not making it" 

A small chuckle had left his soft lips, a chuckle he never thought he'd have to hear. Something he didn't think anyone would have to hear at all. Did bleeding out always take this long? 

He'd never consider himself to be the type of person to get down on their knees at an alter and pray away all their sins, ask for forgiveness from the lord or even pray for others. Yet here he was, tears pricking up in the corner of his eyes, rethinking his entire life and his actions in the last few moments of his rather short and uneventful life.

"not enough time.. For assistance.. Just want to... hear you talk a little bit more"

Talk, he can talk, talk to his dying lover who promised they'd end up retired, sat on the old wooden porch on Phillips Country ranch in the southern parts of texas. Perhaps with a dog, a German shepherd would've been nice. Perhaps even a few grey hairs starting to show up in either of their hair.

Oh would he have loved to see that ranch Phillip promised him the night before that he'd take him to. The same night they were sitting in his office, sharing a small bottle of brandy.. or was it whiskey?

"You did good dear, proud of ya - i'll take you to that ranch another' time hm?" 

Everything sounded muffled for him now, his vision fading in an uneven and unfamiliar pattern. Shaky breaths leaving his lips as he weakly nodded. 

Our Father, who art in heaven,

Breath in

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

Fade out

thy will be done;

on earth as it is in heaven.

Fade in

Give us this day our daily bread.

Breath out

And forgive us our trespasses,

Breath in

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

... 

Breath out. 

Warlock didn't consider himself to be religious at all. The thought of religion only crossed his mind once more as he lay on his grass covered deathbed. Small,sharp,breaths filling his ears as he finally accepted the fact that this higher being is granting him the time to forever lay and rest.

[iviarellereads]

The Plan, Such As It Is

tl;dr: System Collapse finishes the Murderbot series on Christmas. Last week of the year is a break, and then it's the Wheel of Time with likely between-book breaks for one-offs or shorter series, and someday maybe Alecto the Ninth.

I had a great time watching Desert Bus, and helping with the VST documenting and editing and uploading clips of the process of raising over a million dollars (over ten million in the lifetime of the event!) for a good cause. A most excellent week of "restoring my faith in humanity". But that's a little beside the point of this post.

I also got my hands on System Collapse, but because of how my brain works, I won't be reading it ahead, so we're going to have lots of fun as I read it for the first time in the format of the blog. Let's see if my style changes, if my predictions are well on or off the mark. (I have seen a few posts that spoiled a few moments and character bits, but I'm not concerned about those. I rarely feel like learning things that happen "ruins" anything about an experience anyway. If the story's well told, it's still fun to experience for myself.)

After System Collapse, well, that's the end of Murderbot to-date. And, I haven't run any polls for covering other things. That's because I'm pretty well set on rereading the Wheel of Time series, and revising my previous notes to this format.

It's something I could keep putting off, but the show has gotten so good, and it reminds me of all the things about the books that I loved so much (and how the show is fixing some things I didn't love). I'll also be very excited to do full-series spoiler posts again, Murderbot didn't have a lot that I felt needed commenting on, but the Wheel? Oh, buddy.

But, the caveat here is that the Wheel of Time has, well, fifteen very large books. Eleven thousand pages, over four million words. Coverage would take about three years if I didn't take breaks for other books in between, and I definitely will, so we're gonna be here for a while. I've said before that I was hesitant to cover Discworld for this, and I still am. Discworld has over forty books just in the main series besides the spinoffs, with a comparable total wordcount to WoT. Several of those, I have negative interest in ever rereading. Even if they're largely shorter than WoT bricks, they're also trickier to split, and I won't have as much context to share about them that isn't available elsewhere already. Whereas, the Wheel of Time lacks a lot of spoiler-free resources in print, despite the series being almost 35 years old. There was a huge influx of podcast coverage once the show publicity ramped up, but not so much blog style content. The few prologues and chapters that do need splitting, I've already calculated out from the first time I took the notes.

Mind you, I will be finding time for Alecto the Ninth coverage when Tamsyn Muir finally graces us with her presence, I'll just take a break between whichever WoT books I'm up to by then. And if something else strikes my fancy, I might alternate books. Like, making it through the Eye of the World might scratch the itch well enough, and make me want to dig into the Princess Bride as I threatened to once before, or perhaps when I reach my least favourite sequence of books in the middle, I'll alternate them with the His Dark Materials trilogy, though probably not its supplementary later materials because I'm still refusing to read the Book of Dust.

I totally understand if folks who followed me for other stuff want to jump ship when my WoT coverage starts. I love and can recommend it with some massive content notes and caveats which will be in my intro post for it, but it's not for everyone and treating it like a universal joy is nonsense. But, especially if you can get a library borrow of the first book, whether you get it in print or ebook or either of the incredible audiobook narrations (the full series by Michael Kramer and Kate Reading, or the first three are now available narrated by Rosamund Pike, who plays the character of Moiraine Sedai on the show), I hope you'll give it a try with me, and my analysis and commentary might help pull you into a series that's otherwise quite intimidating.

So, System Collapse will finish posting on Christmas, I think I'll take the last week of the year as a breather, and the Wheel of Time will kick off my 2024. I hope you'll consider sticking around and reading with me, especially my Locked Tomb girlies because I've said it before and I'll say it again, these two stories have SO much in common, hashtag Women's Wrongs and unreliable narrators. And, I am gonna try to break it up every so often since these are LONG books, most of them have 40+ chapters so will be two months apiece. But either way, if I'm gonna follow my heart, it's gotta be next.