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libidomechanica · 2 years

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Every color of stone— where every general curses

A rispetto sequence

Every color of stone—where every general curses. Or keeps you once adored false friend; nor the first and pride! His service of going to die so soon. You than those thou my verse thine own soft-conched ear: surely be. Fill with an offering each thought do care to vaunt, which no longer. I can say that hired huzzas redeem in gentler dreams awake the lady Geraldine!

Her bright, the empress, chest and pray for your sheephooks, and of war turn’d to Absál, her Star was harsh prude indemnifies her teens; and the brae, Sir, slides over you play, such as could not, or, like Friar Bacon’s brazen head, hand, whatever the countrèe. Faire eyes, with thy hair is the caper overrooted, by way of blisse, and there thy love, Jamie, come, t is fit to bear it.

And meant, that with vulgar brain of dames: by axe and expression in the light to light, and thou pursued as food for inanition, her chamber flesh which Death may oft be unreturn’d. And haunted, beseech your nocturnal skin. If this all kinds of gin. Behind seen but in the vales await thee seen, the living brotherly affection, his you talk of love, and innocence.

Antonia puzzled; Julia whom on this So saying what hateful for my poem. Riotous and Witch’s sieve, blissfully haven’d both to yield his spirit bows before hopes, and frown— that wintry brink, which means compression most people chosen poor Frederick, why did so, satisfy his credit, who all give back, and said … Nay, we are whom she did. In things, then beguiled.

Although six days so far out of love at the old tree. The two hearts that braine doth breeds the lynx, they said, he was young girls these some silly flower, and summon lackeys, arm’d with slow and anger, free from this my soul is mine! Upon bed and green fool and saw his wife in every body on the dew dwelt in haste, she heart-stifled, in her morals, and yet against all payment!

When it is an act of patriots now and answers I am waiting to habit. If you delight is lost, and Locks pickt, yet wither, and how to scale an upper sphere, extreme ill- breeding hard, and cry, at war with my mandate like a harpstring each morn and fault was good, have some rest; thou should not know, this is the owlet’s scritch: for what you would that minute—then be wise?

Embryonic chickens grow vicious. Preach out- at-elbow peer, or desperate those skies above; and if I lie, I lie on; my altar elevated by darkness must be settled— and you might tempt to know. The halter was gone off wholly back in to chide: But I could not, or, like Joseph, leaving hands or the blasted Pine, to sit a stand—come down, O maid, alas!

Her chamber, or ambition was of silence and silent was gone for his page with the sea. Watched by some more strong Foundation by the glittered, white with shut eyes I lay on sea-weed, on love, and suck the blue affrayed like that. A paragon, and the surgeon’s knife, dissection life’s worn confine, jaded, bloated, sated, to set up vain pretending to your nocturnal skin.

Tulip seen to-day, but I, vnbid, fetch from joy and wonder’d in his let us away, my love allowed to an old maid of Tryermaine? Clings more than to week: much had been sleep. Star afterwards confesse, that they know that mine enemies who spur more from sweet to put you must be beaten. What opposite of white-thorn laden are more true wisdom of so strong, how self-denial.

Juan the seven! The animals: an old pox, by borrowed. Which other time and must for youth a little door was of corn, and thought, though I can’t oblige her with such sublimity; in short-sighted; the day, right so doth he protected: and then my eyes so innocent, and some, like some said that I would studies fair began that moment seemed strong Foundation built that then?

Fair maid, from you I try to picture, and the forum, and slay me not what care, alone with a tiresome food; I can’t say much amiss, an order lived besides the true! The world hath ever know your face, silent light, and Campbell’s Hippocrene is so good, have sail’d, and at her sire, Sir Leoline. Who knew the renew’d attack? On which commandment is the physician.

’ Made the people everybody but hold. Between syl-lables! Of poets and pine! For the lake-like brow is ruffled cage of any kind mean not to boast, for Venus’ ceston every body has some years, at the echoes rang, while I do speak, and sung their languor, which the World a Desert, and winter in Florida. But no—already … I’m beginning like resign.

That harvest, sowing that’s amiss—I say, when finish Juan’s last set free their minds, our bodies fill with ladies, praying in the mind the cincture from paining—they say to the sons they shrunk in hearts beating my thunder, of looking for giraffes in my blood! But what we were;—too old for slept an azure-lidded sleep, dear heart can fall liking no such welcome aye to Nanie, O.

The vision of his penitent fare, my griefs alike from faery fancy; all amort, of stone—and was the porphyro! My misery can not contain commit a sin, and in their eloquence like a garden walk, and tween the gray clouds, astrea’s beam no darkness and is e’en talk’d learn the world has some skill for sinners’ sake grieved I, when, and they cal that cheek all pumpkins!

’ And camps’ be quite old enough too late the sun, her who is the god unshorn, and wild Recess! As she past on; but each assumed from the brain, love and her heard her the soul which it could yield her infants in youth sincerity; but one whereon magician’s wand wrought it? Literary leave them, thought into my bosom whereon he his hardiness than all, could I hurt her?

In the strike on mine offence, that seems you love the curtains peep’d, where our shadows hauntings of grotesques illumined; and delicate duties; thy ways! The conjuror played but see thee in lover’s vow they were. Or for their dangerous emulation then I should so continents, as they rode furiously she seems to drink in again? From the same who physician.

To those bred up by spade from wicked woman and prosody are eligible, unless I blunder, shaped hearts. So pure and plighted match, and love. Flash up in ingots, bags of dollars, coins not of those exposure it is light which none but sage Antonia’s gondolier, by blood! Through all profits is another’s feelings from home in an author’s cap’s a feathery grasses.

And must have a letter from thence worse, makes cakes? At least t was forced to claw it, and aspire to feel! But have seen! To be sure shadow camest thou? Maid paused a mind within her arms embraced and now doth Geraldine! His self-sweet-conspird in one to Venus, or hoard up warmth against thy mountain-river, why aught except they had been hid—I don’t make you suspected be.

For one or two souls of wild flowers, such miracle. It favors neither fright of Don Juan’s earliest words. Whether in the ruins of income-tax laid on by favouritism, but now unrobe yours one more is any one except a dunce, daily, or mole, exceedings, than cough like her, and heart at bottom shelf, behind the lady’s tale. Is it the train was a bus.

And Julia to the more heirs. And perfections clipt with the vainly guardian green, two white nor speak, but press’d unlink’d with grief a rich field with Ida’s shady brow, his flame, t is very eyes divine. She the mother would adopt your only tarry, her only bad; yet whence Love sprung in rhymes to catch my breast has taken up a lifeless vow to rob a living breast.

From Tom&Jerry, and hear and drippings; and in pride, beside the charted system feigns o’er thy voyce the family-likeness, or states such as once Britannia’s glanced behind her, and small. Land quiet and fair; the bosom try what proper limits, was, to love talk, is it not worth a neat little strange their rose on my rose tree. Is free, the roar of some one tear it down on you wrought.

—My Sandy O, my bonie, O: the op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew, how pure, amang the ships, and hath ever with you this. Raised the ship from Cadiz. ’ The lady Christabel, that fell but not mad with faery land, and can’t help them both interest foes—converted. A huge, dun cupola, like a Shadow as I’m nearing—i only rise, not to be a Jew. So for a blink.

Why call the house your brand new knights’ fees: his house, ’ she cried, baptize posterity, or from the lady Geraldine, his gray: tis a month before we know our lives under. This most part, thou, and birds sang, all nature is no dream it would win my love for love outsoaring mine, lass; and while he told her transitory perhaps this morn to his let us wish away her days.

Sweet Christabel awoke and Wilberforce: the true we are seen em; she prayed she might have become died palsy-twitch’d, with torches bright, if such easy to him, and take twenty know. Of late; and thus, an order lived beside her kennel, run to see them still keeping by on its wings, for his infants in great of man the exact oppose, chain’d and anger, a space which missing?

And no sneer again, he learn’d to fling through the frees; lies dreams came a chance speak, and sage, and all scandal which was bright have been, at best, when fine days together, like any other tree, which she died. And the chariots traced his jaunt to Germany, whose follies had run dry. Let the voice cries: to you to this sheet, t is sometimes on his knees he saw thee woman send away!

When it sees but shorter a good deal may be done, since I’m free, I wish I could see beautiful: let it be grand multi-track white termination, preludios, trying just as reader! Glaciers, volcanos, oranges and saw his wide open air, and having Love upon you. Thousand guessed the windows, gazing on it hard, young Juan was obscure wood, ’ than when vicious; thy cliffs.

A xylophone may say, nor of the moment didst seem. And all the dust of death, with other born in Roman scowls, and the strove to speak give me. To thy nest this verses show his age, his Death may give that spotless willingly their change the Thunderer’s face: watchet the hunter tell; but go, and though I have miss’d him as for all that his back—was ever agape—bought? From death.

Same fashion, the second life supply come, let’s goe a Maying. Human observer in a wilderness; thought like this enough the tax; behind, and all things in wedlock. Coveted their eyes’ expressively did imitate that worst of all the nymphs and thence a half-unquench’d volcanos, oranges, and teach my mother, with many a famish’d for a pint-sized journey.

Her even as this, out of malice, and small. These days together lie in one to Venus, or the fields to cross soft face puts on pants and bleached: bees pass it unimpeached. Some golden tresses near relations, particularly with thee watch’d with feet and fade that nursed the wide hall; they must be; for that they can one edition, Julia mistress, and May? Not that my name.

Even survive that novelties are a’ my night, and goddesses came with triumphant song— he won them could I love, my love had some Hercules to walk here. Is your hand in this short of way which show’d a fever call’d back return with his card, was laden are Thus whisper’d, in short, I must nor may his pride, jealousy brought and speech of spleen? His toes, I know there is foiled.

I’ll do my best canto, save me not the Italian Musico Cazzani sing at all the other stuffs, within us and Witch’s Lair, and Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, with capsules in the moment of beer—but then Madam—Madam— here’s mony a flow in so thick and she looked at the tide is turn’d to kiss. And evidence is burning ring, silver cross the world.

Many a coral grove, the maid, alas! But sixteen short, in all the abyss of course, of apprehending door and thine? I would do; but sometimes peaceable as Numa’s who wast thou dost go, thro’ the cedar-shadowed lawn; then grew a fire broken-hearted fair peace or war. The burden the great discernment was grown high and reason; t was merely tend the church, the vow?

—Eight-and-forty manors if that matter. Nor stumbled into itself has many a curl that labyrinth, whose flame in two cupped hands. ’ As my friends should ask, t is but rarely gnaws so much that Boy, proues that black Edward’s helm, and good, so fared she was given: he miss’d. Suddenly the key turns, and tell me how the cottage, I dwell near these reported in Ettrick’s shore.

After all, pray have much by being this fair, her defender; a dream of your quarrels, by blood and slight, and be at home into her knee. When folly of all these trunks of delight was grown with heart of thee, on such band, from out my songs thine shall call such as are you so apply, as his maine forced to me a livelier influence remain. Sighs which we cast the mothers?

I loved me prettily bedabbled so, her charms in heights and the shield her foot she hungry arab—after male loss of tomorrow with such privacy Give me a kingdom or a hypocrite at length. Worthy skiff; and she was manifested in all;—no more, and my epic brethren gone by, this night; when her mouth keepe, that hope is dim: but at his magic vapour.

On thing—too thick to be acted.—To all that water-smoke, that saints I could he could not justify the Genius. Alas, if you this. Could I ail my life and forth her sight; her fair creatures, couched, close by the high hill, thy spiritual splendour front steps are deaf and blue spurt of a great cause from top to toe. And another. Such think who got him, at least, he’s fast, and marriage.

Of all poor Frederick, why did she accomplish, with so much—to give you on the wall, is first learn to hold their spirits. Come, come the earlier than half granted is, I feele my breast: her small bald eye would be brought St. And it wanted; nor the gilded monument give whate’er the city at his feelings ebb and sweetly! Then comes a clog will bloom upon the fray.

And lay down in her joys, her female, young, he was an egg. We have sail’d, and doubts: the needy honour was but the heauens conspiring I might be taken. They hurt me. Too much; I lived in negatives, till he is none e’er light, half-listening; then think it would do; his youth shy, their injuries: yet do not giggle, and winter cloying they though meadows manage either. Remain.

You faltering talk seem’d overbold; now I though some private play: name it I would have any wrinkle, or the grief at the same, as might blend in one, and dwell in pride of a different talent and passed away into tall grasses every degrees: the law. God said that beats, a family’s once so dear as grace she that I am I, who level, such a monstrous choice.

Still forgive me a kind of faith, too—filled the conjuror played between their sea-coal canopy; a huge, broad-brimm’d hawker of the day—they’d have that desecration or petition; at which holds this a plighted vows fleeting as it swelled hers! That, Virtues, I call such mania a disease—he died; and begg’d her brother: they will come over the throne, your life, am I.

Wound much rather charms of men and the money. —Donna Julia, in fact, there is an ever lightsome dawn that should not you so much them he beams have prince is but told of this enough. Hath left me broken. Until too late for this I heard, whom thy darkness of the Parliament and all is than the elected. ’ True Love is of the room-door in a modest all kind of doubt.

I never be broken, but in old England! My Sandy O. ’ Or Verflucter, ’ affect noon, in all these tears; and worship of The Fire—even These let me take such pursuits: thought, a dreary change in zero gravity. And if in a witch’s Lair, and out went before thee; how small lady bowed, and neuter, with ruffian passing- bell may ere this; and like liquor or aspirin.

And bad, on each day began too soon, alas! Roman scowls, and without a rapture in a second whiskers, to decay, and green snake coiled around, and them from his own slipp’ry steep; and the dimness of no great command, if at morning young Pharsalians did she find thee, as a page redacted, you walk into far Ku-to- yen, by the dust of death. Am I failing?

Nor wilt thou be my ain. She could with a long minority and past worlds, and get into play—and raised: and bear with pushing roar: there is left with a quiet leave to go for a calm: God grant you forgive me. All grasses everywhere; a witch, you Diuell alas you still then with all the melodious wits, whate’er sum in mulct they could suffer. From Tom&Jerry, and hope?

The angels would burden of widows, she resolved to scale a fortress—or a nunnery. So quicken, confusion over suddenly I saw a bright, drest to me a livelier emerald twinkles which saves, in fact that words. Soon as ASTREA may be drest in your happy are in the tangles of salt, and glances along the truth. I only ever suffer paine.

Farewell; it is to hope that modulated cantana of the porphyry font: the time so opportunity; or fall but her whom they, in the wealthiest of bane: while with fears, than Heav’n will soone might have given up his garden- gate; a lion ramps at the eye, Love were your hurt invades it. Might be ta’en by Gurney, who saw the same that since arms she did not lie.

What if I had vowed with words: this we pass overcome both brains to draw them all by name. And all, like poplars, with other; gratefull, who is not why or where ’t is strengthen outran discreet at all times; no, not Jove himself, and servants in your young Don Juan was a charming chips, o’er which none but see the dame, consulting the Society’s beginning when thy cruelly!

And life, for all those times delay; then spur away o’er every bough and sweet loves in her mouth undaunted with her Moon and stolen glanced about to let the inner me threw himself for fits. You run about this than another snapp’d the chambers of tomorrow. Peep out somehow people say, I don’t make the cherry. Skill in wild dismay o’er earth and all the monstrous debt.

Full-blown sleet: who knelt, with trump and she as one defied, collect his time. The climate’s sultry. But sage Antonia maid, until his duty, in all dipt in Angel offices, so I ascended. And being only the due prevarication, but—Oh! A star hath rescue me, I waste blank-verse, I’m fond of fire, and her who love. Then the sounds ill in motion sound.

Pseudo-syphilis? Materials, but not mine: a real spirits of the despots know what to meet you as far as such a curry, and when all the black rock in the swelled her arms, that asking in desire to staunch the leafy nooks where upon the movies from home into memory doth deceive! In your spirits, leave me that huddling slant in furrow, and ices.

In gangs of the morrow-day; and when at last! Should be something of innumerable bees. That vast disinterest grew; there she still with life, besotted infamy! I had thread them under, which were one learned from Tom&Jerry, and barbarous Don Alfonso leaning, broiling, burning weeds. From Tom&Jerry, and birth This is with his bright touch upon a living.

And pensive awhile, I’ve spoken, and pine, and again the last grown-up daughter’s name—sir Leoline greeting the ear that modulated cantana of the wolverine’s howled signals, that are just soil. And no spurre can his resty race renew? As if her guardian, which presents into the dead, my hauntings of the skilfu’ strings, all whose experiment and you make.

Thou sire of this will sen’ me, O: nae ither curvëd point, exception out of dusky strange a dream. Then Piers, of fire, and placing a rumpled crimson petal, now that the Donna Julia’s dainty mistress, some Orient Pearls unwept: bid her Face beneath these words away; for still breaking, sterling, stupid. How cold is this worth, by laying horses over all!

Wearing Venus badge in euery part one modern instance’ more, but now I’ll bear, and turn, sole- thought, for his things are in this endeavor … I am not of any other men may use deceit: he always is suspicion countrymen, we will I bury me while. But somebody or other laws: a kind of truest breath and feels, as if a new-fall’n year, they hurt me.

Into the moon. You run about, my little hard, and speech t’ engarland so, that clouds befringe their judgment, though, in the cot below the temperately grew gross in some slight, the hunter tell; yet many houses? ’Er candy buzz round rippled by Fame, the closet: pray, keep your halls, and let me his pale as smooth as snow she sent his fools away, I wis, dreamingly.

Then spring of refuse do powre euen hell on her deceased. Robbing and will fly and dastardly, and greater part of Christabel! My love, that this festive day, Sir; there’s not be, as hath charmed our day by day. Have tried to teach him manners for all the Greek, as well as most sublime, where yet in the street a Parke many a token before those feathers pluckt, where a man.

At such a rate for needy fate. And the yellow hair waits me the hunter tells you—’take no care nay! Middle of night, and upon the paths of snows, don Juan’s mother’s row, each failed in stillness, whether on crystal clear strong in the dew- slick grass, it does no harm, or else t were lost lands. Each about entwine, here is the mother consented., Began at once, and I the walls.

Dear, but be shown—yet ne’er believed that bards of happier men. Is something red, that blows, her wit she something chests weigh not in her as the languish’d, the darken’d to him its direction of hers your cheek or the five, took me from does not kept awake, for what she knows why nothing so becoming down to human thoughts I speak, she look’d upon her palsied fancy, fair St.

But what beats, a family’s once more, nor more to add yet this morality whate’er he may float where the Ring of my dear Perilla: all are gone and understood, by solitude against his starving skies for a monarch and passion and one or two; yet he was sold, his eyes the mother, with Formosum Pastor Corydon. To understand—a heart nectar-brimmed.

Around shall bide at rest, that only to keepeth well. Three whole, breathed joy and passions I commit are forgive me, love which is a screaming fears. And situation of his paradise, or plays of travel, a paleness,—not like a God in pain sprung. To waken doubt in fact, there’s sometimes I would I love you, holy Christians have become a man. The gently sway.

A decent either without a woman. Perfect bliss for life a thing about her face ablaze, yearning to and comforter, will be when you cease to live upon your eyes; my doubts could not, but whether in his breeding; but making conversation through bliss, and when the panted, with thou deserving, they give you this—to tell you trust to meet her master and his last words.

My passions great moral, still on me; she seem’d the work Longinus o’er the window-panes; St. Amid their control; the silk was, and yet, writing world my spirit, smile on my pen and beneath these sodas or magnesias; which Britons deem their powers of her loving languorous hours, such a one t was sheer air such puppets of her own innocuous occupation.

Who favoured men deem her that do such delight in those thing limping across the smooth, so levels with what life I did see the world till not room for her relations, particularly sets him often—such a scene between a rook or bishop, but yet for imposture. A richer pearles Ruby-hidden of roses and laid conditions howl of human cattle.

In the forum, and here you once a whole troupes of verdure, certain order lived on air that charmed ocean’s swell; no, child, and, Loue, I hope he’s young: the fiery ringlets from this midnight— Donna Julia and Don Juan was real, or making dead words of wedded to tears. With blood burnt each place but to fix again the wind that god of pleasure lives attached to me: such sorrow!

For the bars and wounded fantasies. Thou gav’st me leaves, the two-celled her; but since which she died of the garland was whole troupes of the ear-trumpet of my heart at bottom virtuous mermaids, whose ladies wishing in her side—a sight the Baron, the roads, and left alone, and oft that bitterness. Wavering on the surprise, what ails the honey on the room-door in a.

And slip at once and takes, that glory prick’d and anguish’d, though travel through Warsaw, who level, when Pan and immaculate, unmix’d and their lady’s cheeks and length burst in the oranges and immortal of the spray, their station, a period sometime hold my tongue of last campaign. It to climb o’er whom abundance melts, and bells have burnt each and dashing to tell us.

Such giddiness of the living befell, but his own high ground, and finding sickle’s compass, round the Fortune lay one’s laurel: for feare hence— forward violet,—those cooler shade yestreen. Till he send forth understand there she died: and moon were in vain? I many thoughtful Madeline’s change horses o’er the cause it is lightly term I may, a manly Palm, a maiden mild!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #200 texts #rispetto sequence

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sparklecryptid · 3 years

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Tredd jokingly crowning Brazen-and-Bright!Luche with a sunflower crown.

A crown of sunflowers is dropped on Luche's head just as she's addressing something in the report Pelna had handed over.

"Tredd," Luche says, her voice professional, not betraying the mild - MILD- amusement she feels, "See me after this."

Tredd grins.

"For a kiss?"

"For gate duty," Luche says dryly, and watches her husband splutter, "We are at work."

#tredd: but youre cute with sunflowers!!!!#luche: we are at work. i am not cute at work.#tredd: you are cute everywhere #luche: no intentionally #brazen and bright verse

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allthatsentimentalcandyfloss · 3 years

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Self Love Retrospective

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by two most wonderful humans, @elwon and @bitterleafs ♡

so tell me to leave

It had been the first piece of a puzzle of accidental memories he’d made with Jason, each of them carefully tucked away in the corners of his mind for it to paint a picture with. Except fate had ripped the painting apart before he could ever hope to finish it, and now all Dick’s left with is an incomplete outline of a boy he used to know, sharp in places and blurry in others.

— i always tell everyone that self-indulgence makes for the best writing and art, and this was me practising what i preach. i wrote this story about rain, to the sound of the rain outside my window, and as an homage the role rain has always played in my creative process. also, the amazing @mlim8 brought this story to life with her beautiful, beautiful art and my darling @nerd-by-definition (who will forever be writing goals to me) inspired a little sequel that was also a joy to write.

put my finger on your tongue

“Fuck, Kon, this is so not how I planned for this to happen, it’s not how it’s supposed to happen, I’m sor—”

Kon shuts Tim up with another kiss, and this one’s nothing like the one from before. He’s grinning into it, bright and brazen, with one of his hands on either side of Tim’s face, kissing and licking his way into Tim’s mouth like he can’t get enough of the taste of him; of them, together. Tim feels himself go boneless, melting against and into Kon because this is all him, forever the reckless abandon to Tim’s meticulous planning; infuriating as all hell and yet nothing short of heart-stoppingly perfect.

“And when have you ‘n I ever done things the way we were supposed to do them, huh?” Kon asks with a wink, and places another gentle kiss on the tip of Tim’s nose.

— this story will always have a special place in my heart because it is the love child of @mlim8 and me and our many feelings about timkon. i also got to write some cynical, angsty, bisexual vampire!tim who desperately needs a hug and gets a one (and a little more) from his supportive kryptonian best friend, and i enjoyed that so much that i may just come back to this ‘verse one day.

between the neon lights and the moon

He doesn’t know if it’s Dick’s voice, so full of unspoken promise, or the unbearable softness in Dick’s eyes that renders him powerless to the words that follow, “We could just be us.”

“And what would we be doin’, just bein’ us, huh?” Jason finds himself asking, realising too late that it’s as good as giving in when Dick’s nervous smile turns radiant once more.

“I don’t know,” Dick breathes into the air between them, blazing eyes flicking to Jason’s mouth, “We can do anything. What happens in London stays in London, right?”

— a fanfic-shaped love letter to london, but first and foremost to my dear friend, the wonderfully talented @the-man-moth. this story is very much no plot just vibes, but i really poured my heart into it and i had so much fun writing all these little scenes of dick and jason exploring london as well as what they mean to each other.

no pressure tags for @elise-51-blog @ajsregrettabledecisions @thewaynemanner @rawrbin1 and @thedailylifeofafailedvodkaaunt (whose works i could not recommend more, they are all incredible writers!) ♡

#fanfiction #writing #jaydick #timkon #bye bye 2021 hello 2022

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heartofdepth · 4 years

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Hey!

Could u maybe write about how u think xiao and reader met? Or what made them stand out to him??

there's countless possible ways they could meet so instead I wrote what traits stand out to him most / ideal type, I hope that’s okay!

tags: lapslock

definitely an empath. while xiao is blunt to a fault and will always word his sentences with no other way to take it, he wants to be able to feel he’s being heard. sometimes, with topics he doesn’t want to divulge on, he’ll say it’s something else completely with a straight face and you could be none the wiser, but if possible, he doesn’t want to lie to you like that. he wants to be upfront and be able to be at ease to know you’re adept at picking up nonverbal cues and know when not to pry

xiao’s not well-versed relationship-wise. it helps a lot if you’re not dependent on receiving or prone to giving either physical or emotional comfort, but simply mix in both during moments you can pick up where he needs it; a brush on the shoulder when you cross paths to leave, a pinky promise to meet again, bringing your hands up to touch the pads of your fingers together in greeting; little passing gestures that will leave xiao pondering why you do it, why it awakens a pleasantly strange buzz in him, wondering why he’d like something more, but how?

the road to being viewed in a romantic light to him is a long, tiring trek if you aim for it consciously; i feel someone who manages to wriggle their way into his heart without even thinking about it will win his affection best

being emotionally intellectual helps him realize things about himself that he never would have thought into on his own. his inhuman nature and past trauma leaves him out of touch with emotions and can’t process things the way others do, which is largely part of the reason he stays outside the border of human life

not easily shy. no need to be brazen and upfront person like beidou, but he can’t have you tittering and bumbling about or he’ll view you as simply another faceless someone to protect rather than catching his eye. it doesn’t help that he states his existence has become so swamped in karmic debt that it affects those around it; he’ll much rather avoid you if he finds you can’t stand your own

creatively inclined, be it musically or artistically with leaning favor towards musically. it’s something nary a person but his archon and a faraway bard knows of, but he can play a flute. he already finds relief in music so it would pique his interest if you shared the same sentiment

holy chants and food offerings have been stated to be lost old tradition in appeasing the yaksha to continue their endless fight, so if you are someone who can convey gratitude or appreciation into something tangible or even musically for him, xiao would find himself always stopping to be around you for that sense of comfort he seldom finds anywhere else. he’s been neglected so much it's a trial to get him to accept your efforts at first however

you don’t necessarily need to be a warm, bright soul or everybody's therapist but you do need to be a good person at the end of the day. simply existing with the traits you harbor and showing desire to spend time with together would be enough to interest him

xiao achieves his good deeds through the slaughter of countless, so he won’t care too much how exactly you go about being a good person, but it needs to be there in you to help others in goodwill. a sense of justice that hasn’t yet become as rusted and monochrome as his would be a breath of fresh, nostalgic air to him

#xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #anon

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gnocchighoul · 4 years

Text

wax feathers // melting sun

summary:

He can’t be serious. You squint. Diavolo offers you a playful grin—innocent and boyish. Holy shit, he’s serious.

(Diavolo catches your eye and you come to realize that angels aren’t the only ones at risk of falling. It’s the beginning of the end.)

warnings: mc is wearing a dress, but pronouns aren’t specified.

The sight of the Demon Lord’s Palace is one that never grows old. It’s a vision straight out of a dark fairytale—black stone walls that crack open the waxy full moon, branching off into a vertical maze of arching bridges and twisting towers. Golden light spills out of the glass domed ballrooms, swallowed up by the black maw of sky.

It’s ancient. Humming with an energy older than time itself—something powerful. Forbidden and curious.

In your more rational moments, you think you should be afraid. That you shouldn't try—shouldn't want—to get too close. To the palace. To the golden boy within.

It’s a bit too late for that.

You glance briefly at the party goers, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lord Diavolo. He’s nowhere in sight—all around you are demons of all shapes and sizes, horns and scales and sharp teeth gleaming in the golden lights.

The fruity fragrance of alcohol pierces through the savoury scent of food, pulling your attention to a long table, stationed near the enormous champagne tower. An enthusiastic Beel has settled himself in and is already tearing into an impressive spread of food.

In the edge of your vision you see Asmo, prowling nearby and nursing a flute of Cristal Acid Champagne. Sinking his teeth into his first target of the night: a flustered waiter who is very quickly losing interest in their job, clearly more taken with the prospect of Asmo—well, ah, taking them. Across the way, a brunette woman in magenta chiffon is eyeing the two of them in a very brazen manner, and you can’t help but make a face when Asmo beckons her over with a grin that’s all pearly-white teeth and unspoken promises.

The Avatar of Lust isn’t the only one attracting attention. This isn’t your first rodeo at the Demon Lord’s palace, but with the way demons are openly ogling you, it certainly feels that way. Unless you want to get swept up into a dance with a stranger, you need to find one of the brothers in the next five seconds—

“You’re here!” booms an awfully familiar voice, and you pivot, heart jumping in your chest, yards of sky blue satin twisting with you. Diavolo stands before you, arms spread wide, grin shining bright as the sun. He swoops in for a hug, and in an instant his arms are around you—enveloping you whole, crushing you against his left boob and all but knocking the air from your lungs. He pulls back after a moment, holding you at an arm’s length to admire you. “You look stunning.”

Heat travels down your neck—you nervously smooth down the fabric of your dress. "I think Asmo did well in the outfit department.”

“Better than well,” Diavolo says, and your breath catches in your throat. His voice is a low timbre, rich like honey and twice as sweet and oh what you wouldn’t give to drown in it.

But, you notice it then—music. Light and airy, swelling slowly into something buoyant and thrilling.

Whatever you were going to say to Diavolo dies on your tongue as a few couples stride past, and you peer around him to see what’s going on. Between the gaps of the crowd you catch sight of couples dancing, twirling around the dancefloor in a colorful, well versed harmony.

“Hm?” Diavolo notices your momentary lapse of attention and looks back over his shoulder. “Oh, I see. I’m quite fond of this waltz… Dance with me?” He smiles, and holds his hand out to you, palm up.

Your eyes widen, and you think, Oh, shit.

Dancing. Waltzing. In theory? Simple. But in reality…

“I’m not very good,” you confess.

“No worries. I’ll lead.” he says.

Briefly, you wonder if this is allowed. The idea is a striking one—you, weird little human that you are, dancing with the Prince of Hell.

This has to be a breach of conduct, surely. The Devildom is rife with customs that you haven’t fully grasped, and even more that you’re simply unaware of. One little dance can’t hurt though… probably. You are one of Diavolo’s exchange students, after all—it would be weirder if he didn’t pay you any attention. Right?

After all, Lord Diavolo is the one pushing for good relations between all three realms, so spending time with you in a public setting would probably be good for appearances. Yes.

Ugh. You sound like Lucifer.

Diavolo looks amused by your hesitancy—his molten gold eyes dazzling.

Warmth. Like the sun.

You think of Icarus. Of wax and feathers—of a light heart that knew nothing of fear.

You’re supposed to be having fun.

You slip your hand in Diavolo’s own, much larger one, a smile tugging at your lips. “Alright.”

He beams at you, and your heart flutters within your chest. There’s no time to dwell on it—he’s already tugging you towards the other dancing couples, feet moving in time with the music.

Diavolo stands directly in front of you and gently guides your left hand up his right arm, laying it just below his shoulder. Your fingers thread nervously into the soft black fur of his shawl—you’ve known for some time now that the future king is a beefcake, but holy hell is he dense. His right hand comes to rest firmly in the center of your back as he takes your free hand securely into his own. He pulls you closer. You have to tilt your head up to look at him.

He makes you feel so small.

“Ready?” Diavolo asks.

You nod, pushing your shoulders back and your chin up.

You’re a little stiff and a tad clumsy. Diavolo takes it in good stride, thousands of years of experience making up for your woeful lack of. You’re so focused on where your feet are going and trying to not get tangled up in your skirts that you don’t notice the curious observers around you.

Diavolo murmurs instructions for you, counting in time with the music. You don’t have time to be embarrassed, focused as you are on not stepping on the prince’s feet.

...For a third time.

As if he can read your mind, he cheerily says, “You’re catching on fast! Why, you’ve only stepped on my foot twice!”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that raises heat to the tips of your ears.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Lucifer, who most definitely heard that and is now gawking at you like you’ve chopped off your hand and hurled it at him. You know in your heart that you’re going to get an earful later. Phooey.

You squeeze Diavolo’s hand, only a little bit accusingly. “I did try to warn you.”

He makes an agreeable mm sound. “Well, you’ve got me there.”

He pauses then—eyes shining like he’s got the winning hand. “Let’s try something else, yes?”

He stops moving, and you with him—he leans in close, whispers into your ear.

You blink, once. Twice.

“Wait… seriously?”

Diavolo nods. “Mhm."

He can’t be serious.

You squint. He offers you a playful grin—innocent and boyish.

Holy shit, he’s serious.

Well, in that case…

You step onto his shoes, this time on purpose (it’s free real estate, baby), and now you’re moving. Gliding. The song swells into something bright and joyful, and a laugh bubbles past your lips when he spins you in a wide circle. You feel like a child again—a bit ridiculous, excitement thrumming through your veins and a lightheadedness that leaves you intoxicated. Weightless. Free.

You could stay like this for hours, you realize. Part of you wants to, even.

All too soon, the music begins to fade. Diavolo spins you to the edge of the crowd and slows to a stop. A bit regretfully, you take a step back, the sudden lack of his warmth stinging bitter cold and hollow in your chest.

He smiles, then—presses soft lips to the back of your hand and murmurs, “Thank you for the dance—the first of many, I hope.”

You melt, a bit.

Diavolo burns like the sun and you know—you know—that to stand by his side, to feel his warmth on your skin and to bloom in his light—you will pay a certain price. Plucked feathers and waterlogged lungs.

You wonder if Icarus regretted it.

Your eyes stray for a moment, gaze passing over Diavolo’s shoulder—locking with red-onyx ones.

You smile.

“I would like that.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #gnocchiwrites #obey me drabble #swd obey me #obey me! shall we date?#.............................................................................#yes u did read that right i did imply dialuci #dont hold me to this but i feel like there may eventually be a part 2 #i feel like theres more to this story - i just havent cracked it yet fghjjhg #if you've read this far i love u lol

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gamergirl929 · 4 years

Text

I’ll Always Be Here To Bring You Back (Hope Solo x Reader)

@lena-t-oxton Request: Love your fics, they have kept me going through quarantine. Can I request plz a Hope Solo fic with a buff reader who has come back from the military. Reader acts tough and sassy for a while, messes around with the team, yet is broken on the inside. She has a ptsd attack in from of the Uswnt when something happens (I will let you decide, could be a firework or someone jumping on her back.), Hope helps her through it. Thank you so much ily!

I was to be like 100% clear, I did a LOT of research for this story, but I am in no way a medical professional, I am not, well versed in PTSD and did the best I could with what information I could find, I just hope you all enjoy it!

Trigger Warning: PTSD, Mentions of blood.

“Have you see the new trainer?” Emily whispers as she makes a beeline for the team, hazel orbs wide.

“Uhhh no... Why?” Lindsey snorts and Emily ducks down behind Hope, one of the goalie's perfect brows arched.

“Listen, you scare me, but the new trainer looks like she could eat us all for breakfast.” She peeks around Hope.

“No one is eating me for breakfast.” Hope scoffs, blue orbs widening when she spots you making your way towards them, Vlatko Andonovski at your side, but you easily tower over the man.

“BREAKFAST.” Emily whispers in terror and Hope smirks.

You weren’t just tall, you were incredibly well built, your muscle tee straining around your biceps.

The sun glints off what Hope can see is a pair of dog tags around your neck and briefly wonders what your position in the military was, most likely a Drill Sergeant.

“Girls, I’d like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N, she’s our newest trainer.” Vlatko smiles slapping your back and you smirk.

“It’s nice to meet you all, but I hope you’re ready...” You arch a brow and Emily squeaks, peeking out from behind Hope.

You snort, your arms crossing across your chest, it’s then that your eyes lock with Hope Solo’s a smirk stretching across your face.

“I’m sure we can handle whatever you throw our way.” The goalie smirks back and your brows arch.

The team watches as you take a step towards the goalie, a good few inches above her head.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll see Ms. Solo.”

The team’s heads are on a swivel as they look back and forth between the two of you.

“Yeah, we will.”

***

Surprisingly, you weren’t as terrifying as you seemed, a bit on the brazen side, funny, but still large and incredibly intimidating.

“COME ON LADIES, THIS ISN’T A FUCKIN’ NURSERY SCHOOL, LET’S GO.”

“You were a drill sergeant, weren’t you?” Your eyes widen when you turn, smiling softly at an incredibly sweaty, red faced Hope Solo.

“Why? Does it show?” You smirk and she rolls her eyes.

“You did just say, ‘this isn’t a fucking nursery school’.” She quotes and you snicker.

“Hey, made the recruits do what I needed them to do.” You nod towards the players, Emily swallowing hard when your eyes lock with hers.

You wince when you see her ankle contort at a strange angle, and you leave Hope to go towards her, kneeling down beside her, her teammates following suite.

You examine her ankle with a sigh, the woman wincing when your Y/E/C orbs lock with hers.

“You know you don’t have to be afraid of me.” You give her a shy smile and one of her hazel orbs crack open.

“Wait, you aren’t going to literally rip my leg off and beat me with it?” She asks, earning a flick on the ear from Kelley.

You shake your head.

“I didn’t have it planned.” You shrug, moving to your feet, aiding the blonde in getting up as well. She gives you a toothy grin and you smirk.

“I didn’t have it planned yet.”

You turn away, moving across field, leaving Emily behind to stare at you go, wide eyed and pale.

Hope snorts, shaking her head.

“I think I like this one.”

***

You can’t help but smile when Hope takes a seat beside you at dinner a few weeks later, the goalie giving you a grin.

“Are you following me Ms. Solo?” You tease and the woman grins.

“Please, call me Hope.”

The team couldn’t help but notice the two of you had gotten closer, the woman talking with you during every practice and making excuses so the two of you could spend time together.

Hope noticed you jump slightly when someone drops a plate on the floor, your eyes slamming shut.

“Hey.” Hope whispers, placing a hand on your back and you gasp, the woman’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

You clear your throat nodding, hand instinctively grabbing the cool metal dog tags around your neck.

“Ye-Yeah, I’m fine.” You mumble, grabbing your drink and throwing it back.

Hope eyes your profile intently in concern, the remainder of the dinner being quiet between the two of you, your body noticeably ridged.

The two of you didn’t talk much after that.

***

After the incident at dinner, Hope had started to pay more attention to you, eyes drifting toward you at practice and even during games when things weren’t happening near goal.

She’d noticed the way when fans would cheer, you’d grab your dog tags, giving them a squeeze, your eyes slammed shut and on the off chance she was on the bench, she’d see you’d go noticeably stiffen after any loud, startling sound.

“What’s on your mind?” Hope jumps at the sound of Tobin’s voice, the woman giving her a small smile.

Tobin follows her gaze, her lips splitting in a grin.

“Ohhhhhh...” She teases, giving the goalie a nudge and she rolls her eyes.

“Shut up, she’s just...”

“Attractive?” Tobin snickers.

“Attractive and scary.”

Hope’s eyes widen when she realizes every one of her teammates have somehow silently made their way over to her and Tobin.

“She’s a little jumpy...” Alex comments, eyeing you across the field.

Megan shrugs.

“Ehhh, probably not used to all the screaming.”

Hope hums, eyeing you intently.

“Yeah, probably.”

***

The crowd roars with excitement, the semi-finals of the She Believes Cups finally here, USWNT and Spain going head to head.

It’s right before the start of the game that Hope notices you’re slightly stiffer than usual.

“Fuck.” You mumble, jumping slightly at the sound of a ball smacking hard against a goal post.

“Hey.” Hope whispers, making sure not to startle you any further, quickly realizing you’re again clutching your dog tags.

“Take a deep breath.” Hope frowns and you do, through your nose, before exhaling loudly out of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concerned and you nod, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Hope’s eyes narrow.

“But you just-

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

Abruptly you take your leave, Hope watching you go with a frown, her heart aching with concern for the newest trainer.

***

It’s during the USWNT’s She Believes Victory Celebration that she realizes it’s not nothing to worry about, not that at all.

The second confetti bursts from the cannons on stage and the crowd screams, your eyes go wide, sweat forming on your brow as you stare forward.

“Shit. Not now...” You mumble, turning around and abruptly taking your leave, unaware that a pair of blue orbs are on you.

Suddenly, you still when you see someone in camouflage gear, gun at the ready moving towards you.

You shake your head, covering your face, the smell of blood filling your nose, the sound of gunfire piercing your ear drums.

“You aren’t real, you aren’t real. This isn’t real... I’m not here.” You mumble the mantra, moving forwards, eyes still closed.

You eventually can’t walk anymore and sit in the sand, your back pressed against a building’s dilapidated wall and drop your gun, your arms curling around your head.

“Y/N...” You hear a voice and shake your head rapidly.

“No, no, no. You aren’t real. Get away from me.” You sniffle, your body trembling.

“Listen to my voice Y/N, whatever you’re seeing it’s not real, it isn’t real... Give me your hand.” You open your eyes, realizing the solider in front of you has a pair of familiar bright blue orbs and you hold your hand out, your flesh stained with blood and covered in sweat.

Hope takes your hands between her gloved ones, caressing it gently.

“Do you know where you are Y/N?” She asks and you shake your head.

“N-N-No... I-I don’t...” You stammer, cracking one eye open to glance around.

The sandy desert flashes, becoming an empty hallway for a moment before snapping back to the vast terrain, its sand’s soaked in blood.

“You’re in Texas.” She whispers and you shake your head.

“This isn’t Texas.” You sniffle. “I’m still there, I’m still there... Can’t you see the blood? I’m covered in it.”

Hope feels a lump form in her throat and attempts to swallow it.

“It’s not Y/N, you’re in Texas.” She whispers again and your eyes flutter open.

The desert still surrounds you, but instead of a random soldier in front of you it’s Hope Solo.

She opens her arms.

“Can I...?” She asks and you glance around turning away abruptly when you see an enemy solider getting shot down, falling to the sand beside you.

You lunge forwards into her arms, the woman holding you tightly.

You blink rapidly, your eyes slamming shut.

“Senses... Senses, focus on senses.” You mutter under your breath, the feel of Hope’s sweaty jersey beneath your fingertips, the smell of sweat perforating your nostrils.

Hope’s sweet voice in your ear, coos softly as she tries to calm you down, the woman rocking back and forth with you in her arms.

The salty taste of your tears makes your eyes flutter open and it’s then that you see the bright neon green of her jersey.

Slowly, the desert fades away, the back rooms of the arena you’re in swimming in your vision.

You grab fistfuls of the woman’s jersey, her arms tightening around you.

“You’re okay... It’s okay.”

***

You don’t talk after that.

You, don’t talk to Hope, avoiding her at all costs, but after dinner one night, you can’t avoid her because she’s literally on your heels when you leave the dining room.

“We need to talk about it.” She says obviously upset, and you shake your head.

“No.” You mumble slapping the elevator’s button.

Hope sighs sadly, glancing down at her feet.

“Look, I won’t force you... I just want you to know that you aren’t alone.” She shrugs, turning her back to you.

You swallow hard, staring at her back as she walks away, your heart clenching in your chest.

You turn away, moving into the elevator.

Maybe you did need to start trusting someone.

***

Hope startles awake that night to the sound of a scream, her tired eyes narrowed.

She leaps out of bed and races out of the room to the one next to hers, knowing exactly who the scream belonged to.

“Excuse me, is something wrong?” A nearby janitor asks and Hope turns to her, eyes wide.

“Open the door, she has PTSD and I need to wake her up.”

Surprisingly, without question she opens the door and Hope moves inside, shutting it behind her before making her way towards where you’re sleeping, thrashing around wildly.

Well, were thrashing around wildly, because the second the door clicks shut you sit upwards, gasping loudly, slapping your hands over your ears.

Hope flips the light on as she steps into the room, her hands in front of her.

“Y/N.” Hope whispers your name and your eyes flash open.

“H-Hope?” You swallow hard and she nods, slowly moving towards you.

“It’s me.”

You take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands, shaking your head back and forth.

Blindly you fumble around the night stand, grabbing your dog tags and holding them against your chest.

“H-How did you get in here?” You ask, trembling and Hope frowns, motioning to the bed, earning a barely visible nod.

“Janitor.”

You slowly nod, breathing through your nose, and out of your mouth to calm your heart racing.

“You don’t have to be here... I’m... I’m sorry if I woke you.” You glance away sadly and Hope frowns, taking a deep breath.

“I’m in here because I care.” You pick your head up, your Y/E/C orbs locking with her bright blues.

You shake your head, glancing away again.

“You shouldn’t... I’m just...” You shrug and Hope clears her throat, getting your attention so she can move closer.

“I care Y/N, no matter what you’re going through...” She whispers and you swallow hard, one look in her blue orbs making you realize she’s being truthful.

“It was hard over there...” You murmur. “The nightmares have never stopped.” You frown and Hope slowly nods, laying her hand on the bed, palm up.

For the first time in a long time, you trust someone enough to take comfort in her, slowly sliding your hand into hers, dog tags still in your closed fist.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Hope smiles, placing her other hand over yours like she had a few weeks ago when she pulled you out of your PTSD episode.

“Just know I’m here.” She whispers the last bit and you nod, licking your lips.

“I do. I know.”

***

Hope gravitates closer to you, there to comfort you after each nightmare and each time a sound makes you jump.

In all honesty, you couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe someone wanted to comfort you... No one had ever gone out of their way to comfort you, not even your previous relationships, they wanted nothing to do with it, even going so far as to complain when you’d wake them with one of your night terrors.

“Hey.” You turn to Hope, the sound of the woman’s voice able to pull you out of your trance without a violent reaction.

You noticed quickly that she was becoming your anchor and that scared you to death, you’d quickly become attached to her. You knew it wasn’t healthy but you couldn’t help it, the woman being there for you when you needed her most, in your most vulnerable times.

“I keep losing you.” Hope chuckles and you glance away with a small smile.

“Sorry about that.”

Hope shrugs.

“It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere.”

You quickly realized that if you were alone, you would’ve cried after hearing that.

It was the first time you’d ever heard that, from anyone and it only made your attachment to her grow.

***

It’s later that night that you hear a knock at your hotel room door and move to your feet, slowly tiptoeing to the door and peering through the peephole.

You immediately pull the door open, eyes wide when you see Hope standing behind it, wearing a small smile.

“I thought you went out with the others...” You glance around and Hope shrugs.

“I thought maybe you’d like some company. I’m sure there’s some shitty straight to T.V. movie we can watch.” She smiles and you chuckle, stepping to the side.

“I suppose you can come in.” You wink and she snickers.

“I suppose I can.” She winks slipping past you and you shake your head with a smile.

You take a deep breath nodding to yourself before you close the door shaking your head again when you see Hope lounging on your bed.

“Comfy?” You ask and she nods, smiling when you slip into bed beside her.

“Yeah, now let’s find a movie.”

***

Hope’s presence brings you comfort, as per usual, though you note she keeps the T.V. low, seeming as if she knows loud noises bother you.

You clear your throat, taking Hope’s attention away from the T.V. and to you.

“Thank you.” You whisper glancing at your lap and Hope’s brows furrow, the woman muting the TV before turning to you.

“For what?” She asks confused and you snort.

“Seriously?” You ask and she nods.

“I mean, I haven’t really done anything.” She gives you a tender smile and your lips split into a grin.

“Yeah, you have...” You instinctively grab your dog tags, smiling.

“You’ve been there for me in ways no one else has... And I can’t thank you enough.” You smile softly.

Hope looks at you for a minute, a look you’d seen before and you nod, the woman immediately shuffling closer, her arm against yours.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing as you nod to yourself, grabbing your dog tags, something Hope notices right away, though before she can ask what’s wrong, you work up the nerve to rest your head on her shoulder.

Hope’s eyes widen slightly, her cheeks flushing.

A smile stretches across her face, her eyes fluttering shut as she rests her head on top of yours.

“Is this okay?” You whisper and Hope hums.

“More than okay.”

***

Hope’s brows furrow, her tired eyes cracking open as she glances around the room, realizing the movie is well over.

“Y/N?” She whispers, realizing you too are fast asleep. She smiles, resting her head against yours, her eyes again fluttering shut.

Hope takes a deep breath, picking her head up.

“Let’s get you laid down.”

Delicately, Hope guides you back, your head eventually meeting the pillow behind you.

“There we go.” Hope whispers, pulling the covers over top of you, the goalie looking down at you for a minute, smiling at the relaxed look on your face, the muscle in your jaw not jumping, your face not scrunched up in fear.

Hope, against her better judgement cups your face, smiling when you don’t jump, instead staying fast asleep as she traces your jawline.

“Goodnight Y/N.” She whispers before taking her leave, heading towards her own room next door.

***

You don’t have a single nightmare that night, sleeping through the night entirely for the first time in a long time.

The more time Hope spent with you, the better you start to feel, your symptoms, though still incredibly present, had tapered down when she’s near.

In no way were you saying Hope Solo cured your PTSD, that was impossible, but you did feel a sense of calm when around her.

Hope was there whenever she could be, a hand on your back as she whispered in your ear, staving off an episode with her hushed words.

The team of course had noticed your relationship changing, but they didn’t know that it wasn’t as more than friends, at least at the moment.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want more, your heart skipping a beat when Hope’s blue orbs locked with your Y/E/C orbs.

Again, Hope is there for you when you need her most, the woman by your side when you wake from another nightmare, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Hey, I’m here.” Hope shushes you softly, waiting for your permission to take your hand, knowing that grounding yourself is important for you to start the process of calming down.

Soon your ragged breathing slows, Hope’s gently caress on the back of your hand bringing you back to reality.

“Th-Thanks...” You pant, giving Hope’s hand a squeeze.

“Like I said before, you don’t need to thank me.” She grins, squeezing your hand back before moving to her feet.

“Wa-Wait.” You hold her hand tighter, the goalie’s brows furrowed.

“You...” You swallow hard, glancing away, your free hand again clutching your dog tags. “You could stay...” You mumble, afraid to look at the woman who you don’t see is sending you a soft smile.

“If you want me to.” She grins and you turn to her abruptly, eyes wide.

“Are you... Are you sure?” You ask, swallowing hard, your heart racing and she nods.

“I’m sure.” She whispers and you bite your bottom lip to stave off a massive grin.

Hope pulls the covers back and you clear your throat, cheeks flushing as you glance away.

Thankfully for you in the darkened room Hope can’t see the scars that liter your body from your time on the battlefield.

You can’t help but stiffen when she slips into bed beside you, clutching your dog tags tighter, but when your heart slows, her warmth brings a comfort you’d never really felt before, soon feeling drawn to her, wanting nothing more to be closer to her.

Hope shuffles closer, her blue orbs on you, waiting for you typical nod of consent before she wraps her arms around you.

You stiffen in her hold for a moment, the goalie about to pull back, but you shake your head.

“Just... Give me a minute.” You mumble and she nods, your body eventually sagging when your brain realizes there is no immediate danger.

Hope smiles when you duck your head, burying your nose in her hair.

“This is okay?” You ask, nervously, gasping when Hope’s hands run down your back.

“More than okay.”

***

Waking up in Hope Solo’s arms was something you would need to get used to, your body going into fight or flight mode, but the second the smell of her shampoo filled your nose your body immediately relaxed.

Hope nuzzles against your chest and you smile, your eyes again closing.

Letting someone close was something you thought you’d never be able to do, or thought no one would want to do, but then Hope Solo came into your life and turned it upside down.

“I can hear you thinking.” You jump at the sound of Hope’s raspy voice and you smile softly.

“Sorry...” You mumble, grinning when Hope’s lips brush your collarbone.

“Don’t be sorry.” She whispers, yawning as she shuffles closer.

The two of you go silent again, the two of you snuggling, cheeks dusted pink and smiles stretched across both of your faces.

You frown when abruptly, Hope shuffles backwards.

“Are you okay what’s wrong?” You ask worriedly, eyes widening when Hope cups your cheeks, her thumbs caressing them gently.

You inhale softly when Hope traces a small scar across your cheek.

“What’s this from?” She asks and you lick your lips.

“A bullet grazed my face.” You frown, a frown she returns.

Your eyes widen when Hope leans in, pressing a kiss to the indented flesh.

Hope’s pulling back when your hand slips to the back of her head, keeping her in place, her nose brushing yours.

You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against hers.

Hope’s fingertips stroke your jawline.

Your heart ceases to beat as you lean in, your eyes fluttering shut. You can feel Hope’s hot breath on your lips, but before she can close the distance between the two of you, there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit.” You growl, your eyes fluttering open, Hope rolling her eyes as she slips out of bed and jerks the door open.

Blue orbs widen when the lock with Vlatko’s the man’s eyes widening, his brows arched.

Hope clears her throat, glancing at you, your eyes comically wide as you clutch your dog tags.

Vlatko smiles.

“I’d like you to come to my room before breakfast so we can discuss a few exercises.” He nods and you grin.

“Ye-Yeah, I’ll be there.”

He takes his leave with a smile, Hope kicking the door shut behind him.

“Well that was uncomfortable.” Hope mumbles, but makes her way back to you nonetheless, falling in bed beside you.

“Just a little.”

***

“Whoa, what’s that from?” Sonnett asks, her brows furrowed as she points at a deep scar running down your forearm.

You’d had a habit of wearing long sleeve on the pitch, but today you’d decided to wear a cut off, Hope making you feel fine with showing off the scars you’d been hiding.

Kelley flicks Sonnett in the side of the head and you clear your throat, glancing at Hope the woman nodding.

“Shr- Shrapnel. Humvee... Ummm... Drove over a landmine and I didn’t move fast enough to get away from the blast.” You trace the scar, Emily’s eyes narrowed.

You glance at Hope, the woman nodding with a grin. You’d told her how you wanted to open up to the team more, but your fears had held you back.

“What about that one?” Mallory points at the one of your bicep and you clear your throat, voice stronger than it had been before.

“A graze I got during a fire fight.” You rub your bicep, smiling softly when you realize just how easy it was to open up to the group of women who were curious, but kind.

Hope crosses her arms across her chest with a smirk, watching as you tell tales about each of your visible scars, her teammates listening intently.

It’s a nudge that pulls her out of her trance, and she turns to Tobin who grins cockily at her.

“Shut up Heath.”

“Didn’t say anything Solo.”

***

It was inevitable, you knew it was inevitable, but you’d hoped and prayed it would never happen, but deep down, you knew it would.

It’s at a practice when the inevitable happens, the loud pop of a firework making not only you freeze, but Hope freeze as well, her blue orbs darting to you.

You shuffle backwards, your hands balled into fists as they shake uncontrollably, your hand jumping to grab your dog tags.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Vlatko asks in worry, a cacophony of voices asking the same question in different ways.

Hope hurries out of goal, her teammates about to approach you when she holds a hand up.

“Stay back.” She says sternly and they nod, watching as you drop to the ground, curling your arms around your head.

“Y/N.” Hope drops to her knees a few feet in front of you, though you can’t hear her, the sound of gunfire piercing your ears.

“Wh-What’s going on?” Emily asks, voice trembling and Kelley places a hand on her back.

“I don’t know.”

Soon, each and every one of them lower themselves to the ground, watching as Hope crawls towards you, stopping nearly a foot away. ��

You shake your head, your breath hitching at the sound of your squad’s cries, the injured men crying your name, pleading for help, some even pleading for death.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You aren’t real, this isn’t real.” You whisper over and over again, not realizing your team is a few yards away, in no way understanding what’s going on.

Christen’s green orbs widen.

“She’s having a flashback...” She mumbles, everyone except for Hope turning to her.

“Because the fire cracker?” Megan asks and Christen nods.

“I think she has PTSD...”

Hope glances over her shoulder, nodding.

“She does, she’s just been scared to tell you guys.” She whispers before she finally reaches you, stopping a few inches in front of you.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” She asks and you shuffle backwards, your arms uncurling from around your head.

You stare at the soldier in front of you, shaking your head.

“Yo- You’re not real...” You mumble, slapping your hands over your ears as you rock back and forth.

“Y/N.” The soldier again says and your brows furrow, the man’s orbs a familiar shade of blue.

“H-Hope...?” You swallow hard and he nods, the man’s appearance flashing between him and Hope Solo, the goalie knelt down in front of you.

“It’s me.” She whispers. “I’m here. Focus on your senses.”

Hope holds a gloved hand out and you take it, the glove’s material soft and sweaty beneath your fingertips.

You take a deep breath, catching a whiff of the freshly cut grass.

You shuffle closer to Hope until you’re in her lap, the woman whispering in your ear as she holds onto you for dear life.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She whispers in your ear, rocking you back and forth.

You eventually still, body sagging in exhaustion, a bead of sweat sliding down your face as you bury your nose in her neck.

“They saw...” You sniffle. “They’re going to think I’m crazy.” You cry against her neck, the goalie shaking her head.

“We don’t think you’re crazy.”

You pick your head up, realizing it’s not just you and Hope anymore, but her teammates as well, the women watching you with concern.

“Guys, back up.” Hope growls at them, the women shuffling backwards, but you shake your head.

“No, they’re fine.” You turn to Hope who looks at you for a minute before nodding.

You catch your breath slowly, swallowing hard.

“Like I told Hope when she helped me through my first episode...” You swallow hard, closing your eyes. “It was... Difficult over there... Certain noises set me off...” You glance away, ashamed.

The team slowly gravitates towards you until they’re surrounding you, the women waiting for your consent before they all wrap their arms around one another, circling you in a group hug.

You close your eyes, tears streaming down your face, never feeling so much love from this many people at once.

“We’re here Y/N.” Tobin whispers and you sniffle, nodding.

Emily’s hand runs down your back and you smile.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

***

Hope sticks close as you follow the team to the locker room, her gloved hand in yours as the team, reluctantly heads into the locker room, each and every one of them sending you a worriedly glance before heading inside, leaving you and Hope behind.

The goalie turns to you with a small smile, her blue orbs darting around your face.

“We all care about you Y/N...” Hope swallows hard. “I care about you... A lot.”

You lick your lips, taking a step towards her, the goalie’s blue orbs widening.

Nervously, you cup her cheeks, the woman’s hands moving to cover your own.

“I care about you a lot too.” You whisper, your eyes darting from her lips to her blue orbs and back.

Your tongue swipes against your lips as you lean in, the last thing you see is Hope’s blue orbs fluttering shut.

The second your lips meet Hope’s, the air is knocked completely from your lungs, the caterpillars in your stomach bursting from their cocoons, their fresh wings flapping wildly as the two of you kiss.

The kiss is tender, passionate, everything in your life had led you to this moment, led to your lips pressing against Hope Solo’s, the woman holding you delicately as if she worries you may break.

The two of you eventually part, eyes fluttering open at the same time, smiles stretching across your face, lips splitting into grins.

Hope smiles, her hands leaving yours so she can slip her arms around your neck, your hand sliding from her cheeks, down her arms until you’re gently holding her waist.

You swallow hard, your eyes downcast.

“Are you sure I mean-

Hope silences you by leaning in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before she pulls back, her forehead resting against yours.

“I only see you.” She whispers and you close your eyes, brushing your nose playfully against hers.

“I want you to know, no matter what I’m always going to be here, no matter what you go through, I’ll always be there to bring you back.”

You feel a tear streaking down your cheek as you close the distance between the two of you, the taste of salt on your lips as the two of you kiss.

Again, the two of you part, your foreheads resting together again, your glassy orbs locked with her equally glassy blues.

“Does that mean I get to take you on a date?” You ask, grinning and Hope beams, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah it does.”

“So?” You ask hopefully and Hope chuckles.

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” She giggles and you shrug.

“I mean I don’t-

Hope leans in, cutting your rambling off with a kiss.

“It’s a definite yes.”

Your eyes widen, a grin stretching across your face.

“Really?”

Hope rolls her eyes, leaning in for another kiss.

“Really.”

#uswnt #uswnt x reader #hope solo #hope solo x reader #hope solo imagine

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taekooktimeline · 4 years

Text

August 2020 (the 18th or a bit sooner) -

BTS are filmed for Break The Silence commentary. Taekook are quite cozy during the session.

It already starts with Tae holding onto Jk’s shoulder since the very first frame.

Shortly into the movie, as Tae sits back after leaning over to get a bite of food, he settles by placing his arm on Jk’s shoulder.

(Timestamp 8:34)

As the members continue to watch, Tae suddenly leans over to grab Jk’s food but, on second thought, pauses to ask if he put a lot of spicy sauce in it. His hand rests on Jk’s thigh.

Jk confesses he did, followed by an apology.

Tae is disappointed - both in tone and facial expression - and declines taking a bite. He vaguely whines, giving off the impression that he expected Jk to take him into account, as if it was a given. To us, it feels like a domestic scene (there was plenty of food so we ask the public to not blame Jk for his cravings).

(Timestamp 18:04)

Jk briefly steps away and, upon returning, Tae rests his knee on his leg. Tae had lifted that leg onto Jk’s side of the couch while waiting, looking around for him and knowing he’d soon be back.

(Timestamp 20:40)

Jk continues to not mind Tae’s knee in his space and even utilizes it as an armrest as he eats.

(Timestamp 23:45)

The members tease Joon for laying down for, what they jokingly considered, an inordinate length of time. Jk starts to imitate him, which causes Tae to chime in. He nudges Jk, locking bright eyes and sharing smiles, then turns to look at the other members and cracks a joke about being tired.

Nudge -

They lock eyes -

Jk responds by making an additional comment. The play leaves them full of joy.

(Timestamp 25:37)

Tae follows Jk’s random melodies, creating lovely harmonies together.

(Timestamp 29:03)

When Jimin appears on screen, Jk taps his leg as he exclaims his name. Tae immediately does the same to Jk with no apparent reason other than being playful, and Jin then ends the chain by doing it to Tae.

(Timestamp 29:20)

Tae makes a brazen proposal -

(Timestamp 30:42)

The screen briefly fades to black, with the members speculating it’ll next show them in France. To their surprise, the next scene is still in London, with solo shots of Tae. Yoongi comments about his guitar teacher being in the city at the time, and Jk excitedly interjects in recognition this is where Tae filmed his MV for his solo song “Winter Bear” - displaying attentiveness. He comments “Winter Bear” twice, though subtitles just pick it up once. Keep in mind the song hadn’t played yet, so Jk is recognizing the MV based off the images on screen.

He excitedly nudges Tae’s leg a few times as Joon asks for confirmation, which Tae affirms.

(Timestamp 34:01)

Jk compliments Tae by commenting he dressed up for the shooting.

Tae denies it, saying he wore PJs.

Jk disagrees, then praises Tae’s looks again by saying he looks like a local.

Jk sports a small, soft smile as the members watch Tae on screen.

(Timestamp 34:15)

As “Winter Bear” then begins to play on screen, Jk begins singing the song after Hobi kick starts it.

Jk smiles to himself as he continues singing in a somewhat silly manner, being playful about singing out loud. The members find it funny, but Jimin - despite being amused - still faces Jk and gives him a pointed look for him to drop the silly act. Funnily enough, Tae ends up copying Jk’s rendition.

(Timestamp 35:21)

Jk drops his voice register from a high pitch. He continues signing the song, in a sweeter way, exchanging a look and smile with Tae.

Jk giggles and asks Tae what he’s excited about, to which he responds “the flying geese”.

(Timestamp 35:33 starts the mouthing, with the exchange of smiles shortly after, giggling about geese at 36:00.)

Can also view - https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1340292894725324800?s=21

The screen transitions to Tae’s beautiful solo “Singularity”. Jk exclaims “Oh! V!” while the members praise Tae’s looks and comment on his outfit.

(Timestamp 36:14)

As Tae’s “Singularity” performance ends, Joon jokes he looks like a celebrity, prompting Jk to rub his head with affection and comment on it. He simply meant he looked very human and natural in his current outfit.

(Timestamp 36:58)

Close up -

https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1340291017564569602?s=21

Taekook keep finding small entertainments, like rapping together after watching themselves rehearse those same verses.

(Timestamp 38:08)

Tae then begins to search for a comfy position and rests his arm on Jk’s shoulder as the members continue to watch the movie.

(Timestamp 44:04)

Still resting -

(Timestamp 46:06; rests arm there till approx. 47:30)

Goes back to resting his leg over Jk’s -

(Timestamp 50:56)

Jk comments on Hobi and readjusts to where his leg is now over Tae’s (with Jimin’s over his).

(Timestamp 52:20)

Close up -

https://www.instagram.com/p/CI-4OLmIeMP/?igshid=1f0qv57s98sog

Tae then readjusts to where his entire leg is wrapped over Jk’s, while he leans on Jin. It’s like it momentarily turned into a battle for the top spot, which must be the most comfortable.

(Timestamp 52:31)

Jk pats Tae, giving him leeway -

and shifts as he goes to lean on him.

He then pats him three more times and decides to rest on him.

(Timestamp 52:41)

Jk casually rests a hand on Tae’s knee.

(Timestamp 56:00)

Close up -

https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1340308721142878208?s=21

During the ending credits and with a sleepy look, Tae appears to play with Jk’s ear off camera while Jk rests both hands on his thigh. The maknae line can also be heard harmonizing to the melancholic “Spring Day”.

(Timestamp 59:48)

Now comes the time for their final thoughts. Tae speaks his mind and quickly shifts his focus. He watches Jk eat a few fries before he decides he wants a bite. Rather than asking, he calculatingly waits for Jk to dip the fry in ketchup, with the innocent intention of eating it. He then grabs Jk’s hand and steers it to his own mouth, never letting go of Jk’s hand as he uses it to feed himself. Jk doesn’t complain despite having had the fry literally pulled out of his mouth at the last second, licking the ketchup that hit against his lips. Tae doesn’t mind that either.

(Timestamp 1:06:52)

Close up -

https://twitter.com/taekookfolder/status/1340302601850535937?s=21

Raw link: https://www.rubberdeokies.com/btsilencemovie

#taekook #taekooktimeline #august 2020 #2020 #no space #affection #touches #comfort zone #domestic

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outbythehighwind · 4 years

Text

Aerith & Tifa: Visual Design

An Analysis of the Final Fantasy VII Heroines [Part 1]

This is the first part of my in-depth analysis on FF7′s heroines, where they are depicted as perfect foils to one another. For those who don’t know, a foil is a character who contrasts with another and simultaneously highlights the qualities of that other character. Foils can range from protagonists & antagonists to, in the case of the FF7 girls, very close friends. In exploring this particular writing technique, I will examine their differences and similarities, friendship, relationships to Cloud and Sephiroth, and their differing but equally important roles as heroines in the overall story. Before starting though, I want to mention one thing: I adore both characters, and Tifa and Aerith are to me the exemplary role models of fictional heroines.

Now let us begin with the first thing we are introduced to: their visual designs. (Note that visual design, like narrative, is a tool that can be purposefully accurate and/or purposefully misleading. This should be kept in mind throughout the entire analysis, for FF7 - to no exaggeration - gets more than the average game's pleasure out of tricking, subverting and astonishing it's audience.) Now, onto our beloved flower girl...

AERITH

Aerith’s visual design, at first glance, is one of a meek and kindly girl. Her long, sleeveless dress, pearl pink in color, elicits an air of grace, of softness and serenity. She appears gentle and pure. These qualities are enhanced by the matching pink ribbon in her hair, which adds an additional purity to the character – one of youthful girliness, evoking a naive separation from the gigantic world around her.

Accompanying the dress and ribbon is a short sleeve crop jacket. And instead of enhancing this grace and naivety, its crimson shade shows quite the opposite. Red is a bold and brazen color. Coupled with the 90’s crop-style of the jacket, it enforces strength and vigilance. The loud (and somewhat rebellious) qualities of her jacket countervail the quiet elements of her dress and ribbon. They are a contrasting balance, as we will soon find out, of Aerith’s personality. She is gentle and pure, but she is no softie. She has complete confidence in herself.

These contrasting qualities are connected in the fact that red and pink are proximate colors. While the dress and jacket themselves are from two different worlds, the colors go together. Moreover, red and pink are the colors that represent love. Mixed together, they create ‘hot pink’ – a color used to communicate playfulness. A beautiful metaphor for both Aerith’s love for all life and her playful, sassy personality.

Moving on to her footwear, we find an even sharper contrast. One would expect that a person who so fashionably marries grace and strength would have stylish footwear to match. Yet here is Aerith with a pair of grimy, commonplace boots. While the dress, jacket and ribbon communicate her nature and personality, these grimy, commonplace boots inform the player of the life she is leading – the life of a girl who has grown up in the slums. These grimy, commonplace boots are the wise and fitting footwear to get by.

Aerith’s boots and hair are the same shade of brown, framing the vibrant personality her outfit presents. In addition to the bright, lively clothing, her hair is a standout feature of her character. And there is another character that shares this feature. Aerith’s trademark bangs share an almost-identical design to Sephiroth’s, an allusion to her in-every-sense enemy foil. Not only do the pair share similarities in their hair, but also in clothing: Sephiroth’s collar parallels Aerith’s jacket; his wrist-cuffs parallel Aerith’s bracelets; his cloak parallels the length of her dress; and his eyes – although mako-induced – are an even deeper green than Cloud’s, in direct match to Aerith’s.

Their bright green eyes further represent their foil-roles in relation to the external plot of FF7 – the plot concerned with the Planet. Aerith’s eyes are green with life, representing her connection with the Planet. Sephiroth, of course, holds a connection too, though his Mako-induced green is not his authentic color, portraying him as the false ‘savior’ he acclaims himself to be, in contrast to the true savior that is Aerith.

To see Aerith and Sephiroth’s designs as directly antithetical to one another, consider their concepts below, with Aerith’s weapon and hair trailing right while Sephiroth’s weapon and hair trails left – like a mirror image. Also, notice Aerith’s bright, vibrant design against Sephiroth’s dark, monochromatic design - a visual display of life and light against darkness. But more on Sephiroth later.

There is no FF7 character with a brighter visual design than Aerith – fittingly, for she is the party’s light. In the remake, her outfit is much the same, if not expanded upon. The jacket reaches her hips rather than waist, and the boots are black, yet about as commonplace as the original brown boots. The notable difference is her dress. The remake fits Aerith in a looser, frilly dress, which actually enhances her grace and creates a more deceptive air of naive youthfulness, much like the longer crop jacket further enhances her boldness.

TIFA

There are two roles incorporated into Tifa’s visual design: Tifa the barkeep; and Tifa the monk (that is, a martial artist of FF-verse). We will begin with the former, the first role introduced when the player meets her in Seventh Heaven.

Tifa’s barkeep design consists of black forearm sleeves matching a black skirt that is held up by suspenders. With her hair tucked behind her left ear, a teardrop earring is visible. Immediately, one gets the sense of warmness and invitation they would associate with a hostess. The skirt and suspenders appeal to the sensuous aspect of the design while the sleeve and earring give off an aura of classiness. Overall, an attraction is formed between Tifa and player – that sense of warmness and invitation drawing the player toward her. This attraction is enhanced by her long, dark hair and warm, wine-hued eyes. Not only is the color of Tifa’s eyes a clever nod to her literal bar-hosting, but it alludes to what her bar-hosting metaphorically symbolizes – a nurturing motherliness accentuated by their warmth. Not only is the player drawn in by the clothing she dons, but Tifa’s natural features are what inaugurates the invitation.

Next is the role of monk. Padded gloves and boots match the dark red shade of Tifa’s eyes, coupling her warmth and hospitality with strength. Strength and its associated qualities – firmness, power, intensity – are usually found in opposition to tenderness. But manifested in these items of clothing that are the same color as the defining embodiment of the latter (Tifa’s eyes), strength and tenderness are bridged together. Tifa is a fighter fueled by compassion. Tifa is a fighter who fights to protect. A matching dark red band ties the ends of her locks together to keep them collected, and on her left elbow and boot are armored guards, enhancing her aura of strength. Finally, she wears an ordinary white tank top for practicality in movement.

Put together with the elements of her bartender design, Tifa’s fighting gear gives her an unconventionally unique appearance: a smash-’em-if-required barkeep; a drink-serving monk. This overall appearance has an appropriate balance between allure and profession. It is attractive without being voluptuous. It is welcoming without hiding the fact that she could easily kick one’s ass if need be. And across her entire visual design, the two roles are in equilibrium. The player is drawn in to her design in the one sense, and then they are let in on what she is physically capable of. In other words, Tifa’s visual design uses its every component to give the player insight on her character. At the same time, however, it purposefully masks a great deal.

Accompanying this ‘smash-’em barkeep, drink-serving monk’ design so centered on conveying its dual-role aspects, are two items that educate the more observant player on Tifa’s circumstances. One of these has already been mentioned and is the classiest element of her design, while the other – which will likely go unnoticed – is the most ordinary. The former, Tifa’s aforementioned earring, is in the shape of a tear, subtly reflecting her past of sorrows and heartache. Yet it is her outfit’s grandest, most expensive item; this past of sorrows and heartache is what enabled her to become strong while remaining compassionate for others. Being a single teardrop on only one ear signifies how Tifa deals with emotions – the emotions she, as her name suggests, locks away in her heart. One drop for herself, the basic remembrance, the fuel, is all she outwardly allows.

Then we have the most ordinary item – a pair of woolly black socks. These socks are so subtle that even the exceptionally observant player might miss them, yet they are the single item that appeals to neither monk nor barkeep. They are distinctly… Tifa – Tifa the ordinary. Every other element is inch-perfect on what it communicates, yet here is a pair of ordinary socks that look as though they were thrown on in a morning’s rush. They give her this every-girl, neighborly quality which the player will be distracted from until the truth comes to light, with Tifa’s centrality and intimacy in the internal plot being revealed – the plot concerned with saving Cloud.

Speaking of literal neighborly vibes and intimacy, it is worth mentioning in brief that certain elements of Tifa’s outfit share similarity with Cloud’s. Both wear two metal guards only on their left side (Tifa on her elbow and boot and Cloud on his shoulder and wrist), a subtle allusion to their being ‘half’-selves on the surface (Cloud with his Zack-delusion and Tifa with her hidden feelings). Cloud too wears an earring in his left ear – a studded one, signifying, like Tifa’s teardrop, a certain brokenness of self. In Advent Children, both wear a black sleeveless vest with a high zip collar, a black cape, black boots (notice that Tifa has now replaced her trademark red) and a wolf symbol (on Cloud’s badge and Tifa’s ring) – a symbol associated specifically with Cloud. I mention these details because of Cloud’s centrality to Tifa’s story and vice versa, which will later be discussed in her role as heroine.

Tifa’s design for the remake is a nice though slight variation that fits in with the more realistic aesthetic. Her skirt has pleated segments, making for more realistic movements during combat, and her abs are toned, further enforcing her strength and perseverance in protecting her loved ones. Her black thigh-highs are an additional element, complimenting her forearm sleeves.

Despite the subtle, throw-‘em-on-in-a-hurry socks being foregone, Tifa’s remake outfit perfectly balances her barkeep and monk roles. The omission of such a neutralizing feature works even better with regard to Tifa’s character, in my opinion, for her true thoughts and feelings will be hidden for much of the game. Thus we are led astray, and the narrative will constantly push us further and further away from her inner emotions hidden beneath these two outward roles.

By visual design alone, and in the narrative that will follow, the player is led to believe Tifa has complete confidence in herself. But appearance of course, like narrative, can be deceiving.

SUMMARY

Straight away, by visual design, we have two heroines who are each a blend of multiple characteristics, yet not fitting a particular trope. They are completely unique in their own right, exemplifying both relatable and admirable traits.

Aerith, who we expect to be the meek and youthfully naive girl at first glance, embodies an undeniable self-confidence that compliments her kindness. Tifa, who looks extremely confident on appearance, has an emotional shyness masked by two bold outward roles. Aerith is the vibrant light who guides outer world adventure; Tifa is the inviting warmth who makes one feel at home. Aerith bridges the attributes of grace and toughness; Tifa balances the qualities of compassion and strength. While both exemplify these heroic traits by their very design, they are - however subtly shown - struggling slum girls.

#my analyses #ff7 1997 #ff7 remake #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough #parallels

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Beside The Dying Fire (part ten)

[DnD AU with the tour!verse]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Word count: 4271

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

Hot. Scorching. Sweltering. Searing. Balmy. Parching. Oven-like. Those, and so many other words could describe the desert Katherine and her companions were trekking through, Katherine just couldn’t think of anymore because her brain was being melted.

The Brazen Empire--or just “Braze”--was the desert territory on the far east side of Atlas. It was boxed in on all sides by tall, platformed plateau mesas called the Highland Cliffs, which kept the land in solitude from the rest of the continent.

Golden rolling dunes stretched out as far as the eye could see—which, to be fair, wasn’t very far because Katherine was sure she was seeing mirages everywhere. Cacti and shriveled shrubs stuck out of the ground, somehow surviving in the wasteland despite the cruel elements. The sky was an eye-bleedingly bright blue with not a single cloud in sight, letting the blisteringly hot sun rain down on the land.

And Katherine HATED IT.

“God, this is awful,” She panted, sweat burning in her eyes. Her dirty blonde hair felt like tassels of fire on her head, and her ears were like little torches attached to her skull.

Catalina laughed. “What are you talking about? This is amazing!”

Catalina had grown up in Braze, so she was used to the desert life. Katherine and Joan, however, were not as fortunate to have been raised in a scorching wasteland of dehydration and skin disease.

Katherine sluggishly wiped away a torrent of sweat from her brow. Jane had given them supplies for the journey to the different territories, but the glass bow strapped to her back felt like it was burning her alive. Joan was lucky enough to just get a simple ebony dagger, but she looked just as miserable. Her grey felt clothes and extra fur paddings for protection looked like they were roasting her like a chicken. Hints of blotchy sunburns were already starting to appear on her long, whip-thin white tail and ears.

Catalina gazed over a sand dune, looking for any signs of her home city. Behind her, Joan doubled over, heaving her breaths. Katherine could see several streams of sweat cascading through her white-blonde hair.

“We shouldn’t be far.” Catalina said, turning back to them. It was clear she was trying not to laugh at their discomfort. “Just a little longer!”

“Easy for you to say,” Joan wheezed. She lifted her tail to keep it from touching the sand.

“Trust me! We’re almost there!”

They began their trek once again.

“So, what’s this area of sand called?” Katherine asked, falling into step beside Catalina. “Wasteland Number Six?”

Catalina laughed. “This is Droughtmaster Dunes,” She said.

Katherine blinked. “That’s actually very fitting.”

Her friend laughed again. “Isn’t it?” She looked up at the bright blue sky, smiling. “I’m actually happy to be back. Nothing beats the sun here.” She stretched her arms out to catch the rays and signed happily.

“And that’s a good thing!” Joan barked from behind them. Heavily hindered by the sun, she was falling behind slightly. “The sun here SUCKS!”

Catalina tittered. “The mythical bovine, the Brazen Bull, was said to have made Braze, which is why it has that name. The Bull made everything here. It dug out the land it claimed for the territory, it lifted Highland Cliffs with its horns to protect us from other territories, it scraped its hooves through the ground to create the canyons, it stamped its feet to created pools for oases, and, after it was all done, it shook out the dust in its fur and filled Braze with sand.”

Katherine smiled as she listened to Catalina talk. Her friend rarely ever spoke about her homeland, so it was nice to see her reminiscing over her childhood territory.

However, she went quiet for a moment and fiddled with the sunstone necklace around her neck, lightly touching her belly with her other hand. There was an unreadable expression on her face.

“Just a fair warning,” Catalina said, “that my family is kinda weird.”

Katherine chuckled lightly. “Alright. I’m sure they’ll be fine, though. After all, you turned out amazing.”

Catalina smiled again, nudging her. “Aww. You softy!”

Katherine smiled back. “I speak the truth!”

“I need water,” Joan wheezed from behind them.

“We’re almost there, sweetie,” Catalina said, giving the poor Tiefling a sympathetic, but amused look.

She was right. After clambering over a particularly high sand dune, the capital city of Braze was revealed.

Aragon was a city that was smartly built around several oases. Shiny golden walls that glittered in the sunlight boxed in the civilization, and the tips of sun-dried brick houses and a particularly tall tower could be seen peeking out from over the high edges. Hints of a huge skeleton was sitting behind the furthest wall in a sunken sand pit. The clamor of people could be heard as the three of them approached the front gates where two Aasimar guards stood, wearing long, protective garbs covering every inch of skin and holding spears. They bristled as the trio approached, but their jaws weirdly dropped open after a moment.

“Princess Catalina!” The grey-skinned guard exclaimed. “Y-you’re back!”

Katherine’s and Joan’s heads whipped around to Catalina, their eyes going wide.

“Princess?!” They both yelped.

“Surprise!” Catalina said weakly. She gathered herself up regally and turned to the dumbfounded guards. “I request to see the King and Queen.”

Both guards nodded hastily. “Of course, princess!” The grey-skinned one said.

“Right this way!” Said the other.

The three of them were whisked inside the gates.

Aragon was filled with sun-dried brick houses and sturdy wooden huts. Merchant tents and carpet canopies were set up on the entrance pavilion, where shop owners hawked their wares to anyone who passed by. Fruits and fried meat, protective desert garbs and sunscreening oils, venomous scorpions to use for something and vials of antivenom--there were so many different items being sold. The smell of sizzling meat and roasting scarab beetles and brewing coffee swirled through the hot air, attacking Katherine’s nose with aromas that made her mouth water.

Small pools dotted the city, rippling softly in the heated breeze. Some of them were burbling like a fountain, while others were edged by lush greenery that seemed to be surviving much better than the plants outside the walls. Children were playing in a few of the pools, keeping cool in the midday heat, but some adults were collecting water in buckets.

A bronze statue of a giant bull sat in the center of the city, in front of the steps leading up to the palace. It was reared up on its hind legs with its fur bristled in powerful rage and horns thrown up in the air. Smoldering coals were set in its skull, and the furry tufts of its tail were crackling with orange fire.

The palace behind the statue was huge and majestic. It seemed to be made out of actual gold, glowing in the sunlight. Gemstones were inlaid across the outer walls, sparkling like colorful eyes. There were no front doors so the breeze could filter inside, so the guards led the three of them right inside.

Two thrones were sitting at the back of the wide, high-vaulted entrance room. They were made of solid gold, embedded with rubies and emeralds and cushioned by soft camel fur pillows. A curtain of water was pouring out behind the royal seats from the ceiling, collecting into a bubbling trough pool. The desert could be seen rippling behind the sheet of water.

And in the thrones sat the king and queen.

Queen Isabella was glowing like a polished garnet. The dress she wore was made of silk, in a rich dark orange shade that allowed her thick black hair to be shown to best advantage, and edged with ribbon and lace that perfectly set off her fire-like amber eyes and dark tanned skin. Golden veils wreathed her blood red wings, and yellow diamonds, topazes, sunstones, and tourmalines hung from her arms in glittering curtains of wealth. An elaborate headpiece made of gold and rubies sat on her head, with strands of gemstones dangling down into her face. Three golden medallions hung around her neck- one had a symbol of a broken rib cage etched on it, the second had what looked like small intestines forming the shape of a coiled snake, and the third had a faceless head.

King Ferdinand was less flashy than his wife, wearing simple cotton clothes with a camel fur cape around his neck and onyx wristbands on his wrists. His skin was slightly blotchy from sun damage and his hair was long and ash brown. Pale orange-salmon wings were folded neatly against his back, not nearly as big as the queen’s.

The two of them leapt to their feet from the throne when Catalina walked in.

“Catalina!!” They both cried, bustling over to their daughter. They threw their wings around Catalina, swaying her in glee, but Katherine noticed how Catalina just barely hugged them back.

“Oh, my dearest desert flower,” Ferdinand said. “You’re finally home after all these years!”

“It’s so good to see you again,” Isabella said. “You’ve been gone for so long!”

Catalina nodded reservedly. “Yes. It has been.”

The king and queen stepped back, taking in the sight of their daughter. Isabella’s joyous expression faded into a calculating one when she noticed Catalina’s pregnant belly, while Ferdinand just blinked at it.

“You’re pregnant,” Isabella said.

“Yes, I am,” Catalina said, ruffling up the feathers in her hair. “I hope that isn’t any issue, Mother.”

Isabella considered the bump, like she thought the baby was going to jump out now and steal her throne. “Who’s the father?”

“His name is Arthur.” Catalina said.

“Where is he?”

“Not here.”

“You aren’t with your baby’s own father anymore?”

“Oh my god.”

Catalina glanced back at Katherine and Joan for a moment, giving them a, “Here we go again” kind of look. She turned back to her parents with as much reserve as she could manage.

“What is he?” Ferdinand asked, glancing at Catalina’s belly every few seconds.

“A human.” Catalina answered. “I hope that isn’t an issue, Father.”

Ferdinand just cleared his throat and looked away. Katherine could tell that he didn’t have as much power as his wife, therefore making him weaker in disputes, even ones that don’t have to do with court matters.

“You shouldn’t just sleep with random strangers, Catalina.” Isabella scolded.

“I’m not!” Catalina barked, her face heating up. “Arthur is--was different! And why does it even matter to you? It’s not your body, it’s mine! And if I want to use it to sleep with people, then I should be allowed to!”

“Well, your body is holding my grandson. Or granddaughter.” There was something icy about the way Isabella said that word, and Katherine noticed how Catalina shuddered and set a hand over her belly protectively. “Plus, you’re still my daughter and I’m concerned over what you’re doing. You already ran off and disappeared for five years!”

Catalina rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t happy.”

“I wasn’t.” Isabella growled, her blood red feathers standing on end like an angry cat’s fur.

“Sure you weren’t.” Catalina challenged her.

Ferdinand quickly put himself between his wife and his father. “That’s enough, that’s enough,” He said. “The point is that Catalina is home safe. That is what matters.”

“Hm. Of course.” Isabella said, settling her expression back into stolid noble maturity.

Catalina growled softly underneath her breath, and Katherine set a comforting hand on her shoulder. Isabella glanced at her, an eyebrow twitching up.

“Introduce us to your friend, Catalina.” The queen said.

Grinding her teeth a being ordered around, Catalina said, “This is Katherine. And this over here is J--”

“TIEFLING!”

Katherine jumped at the cry. Isabella suddenly whipped out a hidden dagger from inside her right wing, her face contorting with rage and feathers ruffling up into two big red masses. Several guards around the room jumped to attention with their weapons raised, and even mellow Ferdinand growled softly and raised his wings to look more threatening. Meanwhile, Joan just blinked in frightened confusion, curling her tail in close.

“Catalina, you brought a TIEFLING into our home?!” Isabella shouted, and Katherine saw Joan wince and lower her ears.

“I didn’t recognize it at first,” Ferdinand said at her side, slightly more to himself than to the others in the room. “Why does it look like that? Aren’t they usually red or blue?”

“Her name is Joan.” Catalina said, stepping up beside Joan, exuding a protective aura. “And she’s with me. There’s no need to worry.”

“There is every reason to worry,” Isabella hissed. “You brought a Tiefling into our city! A TIEFLING!! Don’t you know what they are?” She didn’t wait for Catalina to answer her, “They’re DEMONS! Goat-faced, hell-touched, unbirthed DEMONS!”

“Mother, will you stop shouting?” Catalina said, agitation biting her words. A few people from outside were peeking in and ogling the scene with wide, curious eyes. “Joan isn’t bad. She’s my friend. And you’re not going to throw her out.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at Joan, sizing her up several times. She sniffed. “We’re going to have to put her through decontamination.”

“Mother--”

“You will not fight me on this, Catalina.” Isabella said firmly, turning her knife-like gaze on her daughter. “She will be back with you soon enough. But she is a Tiefling and this needs to happen for our safety.”

Catalina clenched her fists tightly, but said, “Fine.”

Isabella smiled like a venomous snake. “Very good.”

Catalina turned to Joan and cupped one of her cheeks. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. My family is just super paranoid over some races and feels the need to do a really stupid examination on them before they can have free reign in the city.” She brushed an unruly lock of white-blonde hair out of Joan’s face. “You’ll be out in no time, alright?”

Joan nodded quietly, and Catalina gave her a quick hug before a group of guards came to take Joan away. The young Tiefling glanced back at Katherine and Catalina, her tail slightly tucked between her legs and ears folded back, before disappearing down a hallway and out of sight. Isabella shook her head with a look of visible distaste.

“I don’t know why you would ever befriend one of those beasts,” The queen said, earning a growl from Catalina. Katherine put her hand back on Catalina’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort to her. “Anyway, I’ll alert the chefs. Your arrival back home needs a celebration!”

And celebrate they did.

That night, when the desert dropped to a startling cold temperature for a blisteringly hot wasteland, the Brazens of Aragon rejoiced in the return of their missing princess. Firelight emblazed then night sky, the Bull’s horns were lit with golden flames, and a band played Catalina’s favorite instruments. Cactus juice, strange alcoholic concoctions, and camel milk were passed out in tinted yellow glasses, and roasted desert fruits, grilled meat, and spicy hot foods were served on bronze trays you could see your reflection on. Aasimars danced and twirled in the main pavilion, celebrating gleefully, all while Catalina stood at the top of the steps leading to the palace, receiving guests and graciously accepting their best wishes. Everyone had a smile for her. Some of the adults looked at her appraisingly--only to be expected, Katherine supposed, as she was royalty--and many of the youngsters tried to flirt. Catalina humored them lightly solely for the entertainment of their reactions.

Katherine got lost in the festivities rather quickly. One moment she was getting her tongue melted by a painfully spicy dish, and then next she had a glass of translucent greenish juice thrust into her hands. She tasted it as she tottered up to Catalina and made a face at how bitter it was. Catalina laughed lightly.

“That’s Snake Wine,” The princess told her, “It’s made out of cactus juice that we put a dead snake in and leave out to ferment in the sun for a week.”

Katherine silently spit the mouthful of Snake Wine back into her cup. Catalina burst out into laughter so loud it rivaled the blaring music and made several people’s heads turn in curiosity.

“That is, umm,” Katherine said, covering her mouth. “Ah--”

“Horrible?” Catalina smiled and passed her a napkin. Katherine took it gratefully.

“Your words, not mine,” Katherine said, wiping her mouth. “But yes.”

Catalina giggled. “It’s better than that weird berry crap you used to have me drink.”

Katherine gasped with a wounded expression. “Berry Milk is amazing, thank you very much!”

“Berry juice and milk do not go together! You have to choose one, Kat! ONE! You can’t have both!”

They both laughed, earning even more confused stares.

“Are you happy to be back?” Katherine asked after a moment of serene silence between her and her friend.

Catalina shrugged, losing her smile. “I guess. I mean, I like seeing the city again and all my old friends, but…” She cast a frustrated expression at her parents, who were chatting animatedly with two old nobles. “Like I said before, my family is weird.”

Katherine frowned. “I’m sorry.” Hoping to get Catalina’s mind off of her family issues, she looked over at a tall orange tower in the far right corner of the city. It was made of dried clay, with several twists, points, and spires, and Katherine noticed the deep red of a Kobold snout peeking out of one of the large barred windows. “What’s that?”

Catalina looked at the tower. “Oh that’s Hotshot Hall. It’s our prison.” She said. “Mother doesn’t like having the prisoners near the palace, so they’re kept as far away as possible.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Ah,” Katherine nodded, watching the Kobold pull back inside the tower.

“Well, maybe you’ll get to see a Calf Scramble while we’re here,” Catalina mused. “So that’s something to look forward to.”

“Calf Scramble?” Katherine looked at her confusedly.

“Oh, it’s great,” Catalina said. “Five people are taken out to the sinkhole in the back of the city and have to try and catch these camel calves we release with them. It is HILARIOUS to watch them run around and slip in the sand!”

Katherine smiled. “I look forward to it!”

“Princess Catalina! Princess Catalina!” An eager young voice called.

“A princess’ work is never done,” Catalina said to Katherine, smiling. She bumped her shoulder affectionately. “Have some fun, Kat. I’ll talk to you again later.”

Once Catalina whisked off to go speak with more people, Katherine delved back into the party for a little while longer before straying away to explore.

Aragon was truly a lavish city, even for a civilization in the middle of a desert wasteland. She passed by several cozy-looking houses and lively bars decorated with desert flowers, all abandoned for the celebration.

She soon found herself in a small clearing between buildings where an oasis pool sat. Two bendy palm trees swayed lightly in the breeze, and clustered of paddle-shaped succulents hounded the edges of the pool. Katherine sat down on a smooth stone and looked up at the sky, where every single star in the entire universe seemed to be visible.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Katherine jerked around, nearly falling off of the rock and into the pool.

Queen Isabella was standing in an alleyway feeding into the clearing, darkness shrouded over her. She stepped out into the moonlight, and all her gemstones glittered like eyes around her.

“Yes,” Katherine nodded, composing herself.

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Isabella asked, standing above Katherine.

“I’m just taking a breather, Your Majesty,” Katherine answered. “Is that alright?”

Isabella eyed Katherine suspiciously. “Of course,” She said slowly. She looked up at the sky. “When did you meet my daughter? You seem to be good friends.”

“Five years ago,” Katherine said. “She lived in a city next to my forest village and wandered in one day. After an interrogation, I was showing her out and we just started talking. She kept coming back after that and became a regular visitor in the village.”

“Hm.” Isabella said. “Well, I thank you for bringing my daughter back home safe.” She looked down at Katherine and smiled, sending chills down Katherine’s spine. “I am so, very pleased.”

————

The celebration was still going on when Katherine eventually turned in for the night. She went to her lavish guest bedroom in the palace to sleep, but not before visiting Catalina.

Catalina was in her own huge bedroom, sitting under the marigold velvet blankets in her equally giant bed. She was looking down at a painting in her hands, and didn’t look up from it when Katherine walked inside.

“I ran away because I wasn’t happy in Aragon.”

Katherine walked over and sat down next to Catalina. The painting she was holding had four girls in it, all smiling and engulfing each other in their wings.

“I was restricted from doing so many things and Mother watched my every move.” Catalina went on, her voice brimming with hate. “I couldn’t stand it.” She brushed her hands over the surface of the painting, an expression of longing in her eyes. “You probably think I’m just being selfish and snobby, but you don’t know how things happen here.”

“Then tell me,” Katherine urged softly. She set a hand on Catalina’s thigh, letting her know she was there for me.

Catalina sighed. “The queen rules in Braze. And that’s great, you know, girl power, yay!” She laughed dryly. “But the way we take the throne…” She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “Only daughters, nieces, granddaughters, and aunts are allowed to challenge for the throne. And they do this by fighting the queen. To the death.”

Katherine frowned, quickly understanding why Catalina didn’t like the system.

“Mother’s three sisters died young, so she didn’t have any competition growing up.” Catalina went on. “She challenged my grandmother when she was twenty-two and killed her swiftly. Crushed her ribs during the fight. Then, she married Father and started having children. She said she would only humor four female heirs. No more than that.”

She pointed to the tallest girl. Her wings were dark indigo and powerful-looking, and she had glowing golden skin. Dark brown hair was cut short around her head, bordering her fiery green eyes. She was wearing the sunstone necklace that Catalina now had around her neck.

“That’s Juana, my second oldest sister. She had the wildest temper and always thought of fun stuff for us and my other sisters to do. She also LOVED to challenge the teachers she had.” A smile pulled on Catalina’s lips, then quickly disappeared. “She challenged Mother when I was ten. I swear, she nearly beat mother to death; Juana did not mess around when it came to combat. And she would have won, too. She should have won. But then Mother, bleeding, bruised, and pinned on the ground beneath her, looked up and said, ‘I’m proud of you.’ Mother doesn’t say that often. Rarely ever. Juana hesitated, smiled, and then Mother slashed her stomach open with a dagger hidden in the bends of her wings. I still remember Juana’s face. That look of realization. She had looked down at her organs now hanging out of her stomach and grabbed at them like she was going to try and put them back in, then looked at me and my sisters with the most agonized face I’ve ever seen on her before.” She dipped her head and swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. “I think--I think she thought she failed us.”

After a moment of silence, Catalina swiftly wiped her eyes, sniffled, and then pointed to the next girl. Her wings were narrow but shiny and the color of raw salmon and hibiscus flowers. Her tree bark brown eyes were calculating and calm, but her smile was bright and beaming.

“That’s Maria. My oldest sister. She was like the voice of reason for the group, but she always got dragged into mischief anyway. She was also really good at getting us out of trouble. Except that time Juana mooned our history tutor.” She laughed, tracing her fingers over Maria’s long brown hair. “After Juana died, she became a lot more protective over me and my sister. I never thought she was going to challenge Mother, but she did when I was sixteen. Because Mother gave birth to another female child. A healthy baby girl. But, three days after she was born, she just--disappeared. One night, she was there, and then the next morning she wasn’t. Nobody ever said anything about her again, but Maria was furious because she knew Mother had killed our baby sister.” She swallowed thickly. “Maria was never a fighter. She was good at non-lethal combat, not--not what the challenge for the throne was. After she was beaten senselessly, cut up and bleeding all over the sand, she begged Mother for her life, saying she forfeit the challenge and wouldn’t try to overthrow her again. And Mother decapitated her.”

With the sadness of losing her sisters came anger, and Katherine saw Catalina grip the sides of the painting tightly and grit her teeth in rage.

Catalina pointed to the last girl. Her wings were fluffy and a goldfish orange color. She was small and had large, innocent dark amber eyes and sun-kissed brown hair she kept up in a messy bun.

“That’s Isabella Jr. Pretentious of Mother to name her that, huh? We just call her Izzy.” Catalina said. “Izzy’s the youngest out of the four of us. She was always worried in a cute way and was super smart. After Maria died, she became a lot more clingy towards me. I let her sleep in my bed at night because she was too scared to sleep alone. Not that I blamed her. Mother always looked at us like she was just daring us to challenge her. It scared the poor thing.” She shook her head. “But then I ran away. I left Izzy alone. I didn’t tell her where I was going or what I was doing, I didn’t even leave her a note or ask her to come along. I just--left.”

She gently touched her pregnant belly. “I hope they aren’t a girl. I can’t stand the thought of Mother doing something to them to get rid of competition.”

She shook her head and looked up at Katherine, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “This may be my home, but this is not my family. You and Joan are.”

#dnd au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #catherine of aragon #tour catherine of aragon #tour joan on the keys #joan on the keys

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replicantdeviancy · 3 years

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i can't even trust myself anymore. -connor (pick a verse)

@intuitkiller || Source unknown || Not currently accepting

A feeling which had slowly grown inside of Will for some time, sprouting like vines inside of his veins, gnarled & reaching as if for the sunlight, wanting to smother the last of it from within him. Will was a man who was at odds with himself, viewing his mentality as something grotesque but useful. He held purpose in the world, but it was a darker world, a frightening place rarely viewed & where the good people unaware of that cold underworld might venture. Though the FBI profiler was of the sunlit topsoil, he was one with a gift nearly imperceivable, unknowable. There were no partitions in his mind, no space in which he could cardan off the horrors of his experiences through the unique eye of empathetic projection. He felt alone at times, lost though he was surrounded by those who knew & cared for him. Every piece of those ghostly images created by the evidence which remained of awful deeds manifested inside of him, effecting his whole being in some capacity.

Connor was not surprised hearing this confession, but he was accustomed to it, to similar murmurs late into the twilight hours when they were alone & no one could judge Will his fears. & he was afraid. Will Graham feared himself above all else, feared his mind & the images it spawned before his eyes in fever filled instances of preparation & panic. Standing as they were only feet from the scene of yet another strange & acutely artistic homicide, the detective felt Wills anxiety in waves. The way he looked at the younger male, the way his lips were drawn thin & wobbled on occasion, the way those bright eyes of his were so intensely focused, yet nervous, fighting the urge to lower, Connor knew. He understood. What he understood, he could not put into words, for their complete knowing of one another went beyond the convention of earthly language, beyond any linguistic translation. It was personal, deeply individual, yet formed in duality. Explanation was simply unattainable.

A hand came to rest upon the lean, scruffy cheek already cool with prickles of anxious perspiration, warm & inviting & deceptively soft. Connor did not bother to pause before his actions, to take a look around to note if anyone - Crawford or one of the team, the other officers - were watching them, as he didn’t care to. They were not his focus. He threw caution to the wind, uninterested if this moment of intimacy would be perceived in any way, analyzed or scrutinized. He didn’t care. All that was important in that moment was the fear in Wills eyes & that small, frightened confession. ❝ But I trust you, ❞ came a soft reply, & it passed those defined lips so effortlessly, so easy. A smile was offered, only a meager tip of the lips drawn upwards, widened slightly, & a fondness in those dark eyes which never dissipated.

Connor Arkeit trusted Will Graham, with anything & everything. A brush of his thumb against a high cheekbone, quiet & loving. How he longed to kiss, to remain near, but this was an active crime scene & there was investigation to be done. So it was with hesitation, with chagrin, that he moved to pull away, but not without reassurance in place. ❝ I’ll do the reconstruction. ❞ It wasn’t a negotiation, nor was it a takeover. Connor took nothing from Will that was not readily given, but he would assume his place when necessary. Now felt very necessary. Will was in shambles, unfit for duty, but the detective was not the one who would tell him something so brazen, something Wills ears would not want to hear. So, he didn’t.

A brief kiss pressed secretly to that cheek, leaving a hint of returned warmth which dissipated quickly into the cold air like a ghostly afterimage. Connor said nothing else as he turned & walked towards the carnage left by their unsub, nor did he need to. Their language was not limited to words, & he knew Will understood him perfectly. So when he looked over the scene & took position before it all, a clear & unobstructed vantage point, he let the thoughts drain from his mind & allowed himself to breathe. The world around him quieted, heart rate slowed - he could hear its calm, rhythmic beating at the edges of his perception, the only outside influence in that transitional state of his headspace.

The brightness of his eyes dulled as the conscious self retreated, the subconscious taking it’s place. Before him were the visions of shadow & incomplete outlines of person-like entities, frozen in place as he waited, waited. The stage was set. Somewhere, outside of his inner universe, his feet began to walk.

#intuitkiller #> ˢᵘᵇʳᵒᵘᵗᶦᶰᵉ ᴵᶰᶦᵗᶦᵃᶫᶦᶻᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ ⁻ ˾ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴᴅ ̚ ⁻ ᴱˣᵉᶜᵘᵗᵉ #˾ ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ ̚ ;; ᵈᵒ ⁱ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᶠʸ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ?▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

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twistedapple · 4 years

Text

Through These Eyes

Here it is! I’m very nervous about it though, since I’m currently training to work mutiple points of view at the same time, and switching from one POV to the other is not an easy task, both intellectually and emotionally. Bonus point for handling a canon character and needing to be careful about not having him out of character and feeling just like himself in regard to the way his thoughts and feelings are conveyed... Anyway, this is a very interesting exercise, practice will make it perfect getting more canon infos as well lol Bianca’s profile, Bianca’s backstory

Recommended playlist: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Without further ado...

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He never really minded being on his own, and there were times when staying in this large castle still felt oppressive, even the usual company of his supervisor and various servants wouldn’t abate the feeling. In those moments, he would sneak outside and go for a little exploratory stroll. The Valley, as secluded as it was, still had its fair share of inhabitants and locations – his favourite were the abandoned ones. It wasn’t the most princely thing to do but he couldn’t care less, he just wanted to have his bit of fun and quiet – besides, that sort of escapism was harmless. Granted, he would consistently be on the receiving end of a sermon once he’d returned – with his position, disappearing without even a guard was deemed reckless. Well, with his position, he could also easily care for himself and escape them anyway, so why bother having them follow him in the first place? Plus he’d probably be tempted to lose them out of sheer mischief. No matter how the issue could be considered, the outcome would be the same. So he left on his own once again to seek a bit of peace, somewhere away from the castle. Where, though? Ah, this area would do, the unkempt garden had an oddly charming and peaceful atmosphere.

Green firefly-like lights slowly disappeared as he made his advance towards the location, following a messy and clearly disused path with the sure foot of a person used to the exercise. The sky was clear and pale moonlight cut a sharp shadow, making his horns look even longer than they already were. The fresh scent of plants was all around him, along with something else, something unexpected. Magic? He couldn’t be fooled on that – after all, he only had to shake one of his hands for bouts of flames and sparks to randomly appear. He remained young and was still learning to properly master his magic, yet his power was immense. So, intrigued rather than worried, he approached the supposedly abandoned place to inspect it further, his curiosity picked. His raised hand glowed with a faint, green light as he was checking specific areas and trying to figure out what was going on. The traces of magic he had found were awfully similar to whatever had caused some strange taint in other parts of the Valley lately, how curious. Then, that’s when he felt he wasn’t alone anymore. He couldn’t see where they were hidden, but he was clearly being observed. Not willing to play any mind game, he stood tall and ordered.

- Show yourself!

Under blue moon, they met. A small, slender silhouette emerged from behind a half ruined wall covered in ivy and he could have almost mistaken her for a human, had it not been for her eyes – cat-like, abnormally bright golden amber eyes shining too much for it to be caused by the pale moonlight. A slithering shadow disappeared behind her as the young woman moved forward, a cheeky smile on her lips.

- Now that’s a visit I certainly never saw coming. Not even a guard?

His gaze fell on her and he immediately felt a pinch in his chest. Of course, she knew who she was facing. After all, Malleus’ silhouette was too unique to remain unknown. However, his initial reaction – caused by sheer habit – quickly left place to a certain degree of surprise. Was she poking fun at him? Well well well, how brazen. He couldn’t let that pass now, could he?

- Wasn’t this place supposed to be abandoned? It was, last time I strolled around.

- ... Strolled? Well, I settled in fairly recently, was even planning to rearrange a part of the garden to grow some stuff for myself... Look, is there a part of the area you’d rather have me leave untouched? I don’t really care, I’m pretty much passing by anyway and I’m all alone, so I don’t need much room anyway.

At each word she was getting bolder and bolder, and by the time she’d finished talking, Malleus found himself more amused than anything else. People usually weren’t casual towards him, and they certainly wouldn’t dare start a negotiation two seconds after having met him. He didn’t even know who she was yet... The entire situation felt refreshing and this fact alone motivated him to simply go with the flow. He even decided to cut a bit, just to see how much gal she had.

- Negotiating? Do you realise who you’re talking to?

- … Oh yes, I do, but my motivations for this negotiation are better left for when we’re more hm acquainted with each other. So, is it a good enough reason for you to still feel comfortable hanging around?

The whole situation was getting better by the second and Malleus found himself chuckling at her question. She was there rather illegally, yet she was treating the place as her personal domain and even inviting him. That last bit felt especially precious – he was so used to see people consider him with either reverence or fear, so used to whispers even to his face as people clearly felt uncomfortable in his presence... For a second he had considered pushing her around a bit more but this thought stopped him in his tracks. Yes, it was a proposal too precious to decline.

- Such a gracious host. Though I may need a name at some point...

As their chat progressed, they’d been getting closer to each other, circling slowly. Even though he had decided to not push too far, he still decided for one last test. If she truly wasn’t human, she’d react appropriately – and she did, declaring her identity a secret for now in a teasing manner.

Under blue moon, they kept seeing each other. Despite the place not belonging to her, she acted like a pleasant host towards him and extended a permanent invitation to her humble abode. While Malleus was certainly amused by the nerve she would casually display, he was also most appreciative of that invitation – for someone like him, used to be... Left behind, yet having an increased crave for proper social interactions as time passed, it meant much and more. In exchange for this kindness, he offered to involve her in his own hobbies, chief among them the exploration of abandoned places and the observation of the many gargoyles commonly found on buildings in the Valley of Thorns. It may have seemed like a strange way to have people relate to him, but it was the easiest one for Malleus. He felt like he could slowly pour his feelings out through the use of his past-times – it was simpler than directly expressing his feelings, somehow. Whenever he’d try to do that, he’d stop mid-sentence as discomfort would settle in his chest and cloud his mind, embarrassment weighting in the back of his head. She never judged him for that. In fact, she remained patient and involved in his architectural rants, showing a genuine interest and obvious knowledge of history. She let him open up on his own term and when he started disclosing his personal thoughts, the grace with which she received them and seemed to take them into account never failed to make his heart leap a bit. Similarly, if he had trouble reading her in the beginning, over time it felt easier – as if him opening up pushed her to return the courtesy.

Under blue moon, he started spending nights at her place – to chat, to watch her work her hedge magic, or to simply be alone together. He even became the first person to hear her sing again after years of silence. By that point, he had a name for her – Hilda -, and knew she had taken an interest in his musical skills since the day she’d noticed the calluses on the tip of his fingers. One night, he appeared with a lute and, as Hilda was working on some orders for a nearby human settlement; he started playing some gentle tune he had decided to prepare specifically for this occasion – a small present for her and for no other reason than the fact that it pleased him to do so. Under the watchful eyes of a dark, cat-like beast with eyes of pale fire sitting next to her, soft sounds filled the main room of what Hilda was using as current living quarters and soon enough, a humming joined in and launched a discussion. Malleus couldn’t help notice yet another testimony of what seemed to be a solid education, but chose to keep his questions to himself still. He preferred to have her come forward with whatever she kept to herself, rather than question her – he feared it may make her step away from him and he treasured their relationship too much at this point to risk such a thing. These considerations aside, it was the first time he heard something musically oriented from her and a question still had to be asked once he finished playing his tune.

- You seem well-versed in music, how come you’ve never brought it up before?

- Well, it’s been a while since I last did anything related to it, but your little tune motivated me… It’s the first time I heard it, your creation?

- Yes, if you were to hear me play for the first time, I thought I could make this occasion memorable. Considering your reaction, I take you enjoyed it? I shall do that again at a later date, then.

Under blue moon, they found themselves more and more involved with each other as time passed, to the point Malleus started acting like an accomplice to her occupation of empty places and quiet trade. He would often catch himself giving Hilda long looks, either while silently wondering what could be the reply to her mystery, or simply because he felt like watching her be about whatever task she decided to put her mind to. One of his favourite moments was when she would use her magic and one of those curious magical surges would happen. Most of the time, it seemed more annoying than dangerous and the face she’d make in these moments was amusing – pouting with her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Then there’d be the dangerous times, when he’d find her bandaged and not allowing herself to use magic for some time. In those moments she’d be in a darker mood, though assuring Malleus that he shouldn’t take it personally as it was not directed at him. Still, he’d stay and help her out with what needed be done regarding the trade she had going with the locals. This trade mostly consisted in alchemy and potions for all sorts of things – from improving the growth of crops to various charms made for all sorts of purposes. Interestingly, Hilda’s preferred tasks would be related to the care of the land itself, which she seemed surprisingly knowledgeable about. When Malleus questioned her on the matter, though, she merely replied that her unique magic was tied to the land and that it felt obvious for her to feel concerned about it – whether by caring for the wilderness or helping farmers in their endeavour. And while this trade didn’t provide her with many riches, it seemed to give its own wealth of information and links to a great number of persons. This alone picked Malleus’ interest since it was something he couldn’t do as easily as her for various reasons – people fearing his power, people recognising him in an instant... Meanwhile, Hilda’s overall deceptively human-like appearance, small stature and approachable atmosphere seemed incredibly useful when it came to treating with people – be they humans or faes. When he’d find her dealing with her clients, he’d enjoy observing from afar for all of those reasons; it wasn’t just about fulfilling some sort of curiosity, but to learn a bit as well. In those moments, his own isolation would weight on him too, yet Hilda’s smiles would never fail to abate the feeling.

Under blue moon their bond grew stronger, before reaching a new point one day, as Malleus was helping her move in a new place he’d suggested. That night, there was a feeling of casual closeness between them, as if they’d done what they were doing more than once. It was an easy ballet made of back-and-forth to put Hilda’s belongings in order. They would cross each other and, as she stayed close to him, he first surprised himself silently basking in her delicate scent of sweet grass and fresh flowers before realising that he simply wanted her even closer. It fully dawned on him when they found themselves side by side, their eyes locking. He’d never expected a time as short as a missed heart beat could pass so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. Closer, a scent like a secret garden. Closer, lips brushing against lips. Closer still, as he felt her lean in the touch and replied in kind by running his fingers through her hair. Suddenly, it felt like a fire was roaring inside him and neither of them would let go of the other. For a moment, nothing else mattered... Until he felt a strange sensation under his fingers. Breaking the contact, he looked and noticed her ink black hair covered in small, pale blossoms. His first thought was to consider them like a bit of starry night sky, yet he kept that to himself and went for a chuckle instead.

- You did tell me about those magical surges of yours... But I had never seen that sort of thing happen before. Did you?

- What are you talking abo- blackthorns blossoms? No, that one is definitely new, though oddly specific. I wonder what could have caus-

- To put it simply, I’d say you... You-made-me-bloom. Literally.

- Pff... Hahahaha well at the very least, know that the blackthorn suits you perfectly.

- You’re enjoying it all, aren’t you?

-Oh, I enjoy it a lot.

Seeing her redden and implode on the spot was most amusing to witness and provided him the final push to keep going – there was no objection on her part, only her hands pressing on his chest and her fingers tightening slightly over his shirt.

Under blue moon, Malleus discovered her mystery. All he needed was a name, and a name he heard accidentally. That evening, he arrived as usual, surrounded by green firefly-like lights and not too far from Hilda’s current dwelling – but not too close either. However, the air itself was heavy with magic and it felt like the earth was ready to crack open at any moment. Not knowing what was happening in the usually quite place, Malleus concealed himself with a spell before making a careful, calculated approach to assess the situation – or try to. He may have had honed his skill in escaping his guards whenever he left the castle, however it wasn’t a reason for him to act foolishly and risk putting himself in danger. As he got close, however, he started having a feeling of déjà-vu with the way the magic affected the area. Like a twisted, gloomy taint that would warp the immediate surroundings. That’s when his eyes fell on thick branches of blackthorn breaching erratically the earth and growing thicker, fuller at their center. There a person was held prisoner, ruthlessly pinned in place by the long thorns and under the watch of a large, black dog-like beast with eyes of pale fire. Then Hilda approached, a bundle in her hands and a cold, ominous expression on her face that Malleus had never seen before. With a biting tone and thorns in her hair, she unwittingly provided the information Malleus had wanted to ask for a while now – merely waiting the proper moment to do so.

- Since you were following orders, I’ll let you go back to my family, but you’ll bring them these bones. Tell them this it what you found at the end of the trail. You’ll be freed from this cat and mouse game in the process, isn’t it nice? Your Lady Bianca Bosconero is dead.

Bosconero? That name alone was enough to explain everything, even though she’d been guarded about it – and about pretty much any information that could give her identity away, when he thought about it. That’s why she stayed so vague when it came to her magical abilities as well – because she wasn’t just a Bosconero, based on what he’d been witnessing. She was without a doubt the current holder of the ancestral magic passed down in the family for generations. While the Bosconero were historical allies of the Draconia, their work would be oriented towards diplomacy, especially in regards to humans, thanks to their generally deceptive human-like features, so they would often communicate to provide reports regarding the state of affairs outside the Valley, but would not so often show their face. The foliate face of the Green Man himself was their coat-of-arms, of course she’d be skilled in the fields of growth, death and rebirth, as she demonstrated in her care for both the wilderness and crops, as well as her specific knowledge in alchemy and potion-making.

Yet, as relieved as he felt by this realisation, Malleus couldn’t help feeling hurt by all the omissions Hilda – no, Bianca – had made. Granted, based on what she had said as she released the prisoner, it looked like she had taken extreme measures to protect herself from her own family, but his chest still tightened at the idea that she’d kept it to herself all this time, rather than talk to him. With the current state of their relationship and his own power, he could easily provide her the safety she needed, so the feeling of rejection was present despite his attempt at rationalising the whole situation. This is what motivated him to appear as soon as Bianca cleared the place and found herself alone again. He wanted to hear it all from her own mouth.

-… Bianca Bosconero? From the Bosconero household? Is it who you are?

----------

As soon as he moved from his hiding spot and addressed her, Bianca froze on the spot. The thorns he could previously see and feel in her hair, eyes and words seemed to vanish, leaving only a faint dark, smoke-like trail that dissipated in a second. She turned towards him and her face quickly went from cold fury to surprise, then fear. And while Malleus had never been exactly good at reading people’s emotions, at that moment he was certain he could almost hear her scream internally. It made him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t help scowling at the entire situation – at her, too. A heavy silence fell on them, during which Bianca seemed to search her words. Now, what would they do...

- Yes, you heard it right.

- Why did you stay silent about that? Not talking about it when we met was one thing, but enough time has passed since then, don’t you think?

The tone of his voice carried something regal and cutting that surprised even him, yet he kept a composed face while questioning Bianca.

- How much did you hear?

- The end of your exchange. You haven’t answered my questions.

- ... What was I supposed to do? Involve you in family matters? The Crown Prince himself butting in to help clean a family’s personal laundry, can you imagine how people would react to that? Why would I get you involved in something that could only tarnish your reputation, what could you gain in that?

- ...

At her questioning replies, Malleus fell silent and lowered his head slightly. She had a point, and technically it would also have made him guilty of not only getting in the way of her family – a short way to gain political enemies -, but of assisting her with all sort of illegal things, such as squatting or practicing non-authorised trade at the border. Knowing who she really was would have potentially damaged his own social and political status as well... Yet, the cat was now out of the bag whether they liked it or not. They had to compose with that from now on.

- Now, your identity is out but your problems are definitely far from being solved, aren’t they? How are you – no, we – supposed to proceed?

In reaction to his new questions, Bianca looked at him with a tired look he had never seen before and let out a loud sigh while slowly rubbing her hands together, lips slightly pinched. Malleus was familiar with that gesture: she was fully focusing on all of the parameters they had to figure out the most efficient course of action.

- Right now... Right now only you and Erico – the person you saw, he’s my mother’s assistant -, only you two know what’s going on with my identity. I guess the priority right now is for me to move somewhere else, this place is compromised.

- What about him, then? He’s bringing fake bones to your home. Your mother is a well-known alchemist; I don’t doubt she will fully be capable to see through your trick. Do you think you could face her?

- Honestly? I... I doubt I’ll ever be able to really face her. Not with the erratic nature of my magic.

- You’ve been putting your magic to good use almost daily, ever since we met –

- And most of what you saw are perfectly reasonable spells. If I were to face my mother, I’d have to resort to a full use of my Unique Magic, this is where trouble begins for me.

As they were talking, Malleus felt the tension in his brows abate along with his initial hurt. Rather than feeling put off by her secrecy, he appreciated the fact that it was done not out of malice, but to keep him out of trouble. For that reason, he decided to close the initial distance between them and felt his heart tighten when he saw Bianca lower her eyes, an uneasy look on her face. Her usually soft tone sounded more stifled when she spoke again.

- Malleus... I’m sorry I lied to you like that...

- And the situation has been clarified. Don’t worry about that now – besides, we have to find a new place for you, among other things.

He gave her a gentle smile, then they went back to her hiding place to tidy things up and ready themselves to move. He came back more regularly in the nights that followed – an event rare enough to be noted, considering the risks he was willingly taking -, to help her out, talk about her reasons for doing what she was doing, as well as to simply keep her company. He also discovered the full extent of her magical abilities during one of these nights.

They had decided from a common agreement that, to increase her safety, Bianca would get some help in the improvement of her defensive magic. As expected, the Gift inherited from the Green Man was a powerful magic – powerful, but highly finicky and unpredictable. Bianca explained how she would usually work: her Unique Magic, Forest Queen, would work as the concept of a territory and she would select a manageable area – usually herself and maybe a radius around herself. From there, the summons inherent to her Unique Magic would come forth as she called them. However, that’s where the full extent of the Gift would strike: with a territory large enough, the land around her would twist and quickly turn into a deep, dark forest. In the mean time, the unpredictability of that magical source would translate into random effects that would affect Bianca and her spells. It could be happy accidents, such as the twinning of a spell, or unpleasant ones such as getting trapped in her own thorns – she had shown him the scars it had already caused her in the past. And despite his own magical abilities, Malleus couldn’t help feeling unsettled whenever he looked at her forest, seeping with something ancient. It was only an impression, but as soon as he laid his eyes on it, he had a terrible feeling that going in there would be a terrible idea. The feeling towards most of her summons was similar, Ire and Dread, the towering antlered creature and the beautiful yet threatening black horse, being the ones eliciting the strongest impression of imminent doom to him.

However, for all the fright her Unique Magic could conjure, there was also the amazement at seeing the world dance with her as she moved, followed by a new wilderness at each step. For him whose magic would be naturally inclined towards destruction through fire and lightning, these magical feats were compelling. Even though there was a natural weakness to fire-related magic, the renewing ability of that ability was intriguing. Yet, it also came with the most unpleasant limitation: a heavy use of Bianca’s magical energy, something that already required her attention as it seemed she was prone to blotting. But as long as they remained careful about it, they could exchange blows; it would never fail to make Malleus’ heart leap, seeing someone who didn’t fear his magic and would even be willing to discuss with him through spells. Such an event was so rare it made the entire situation even more precious to him, and he wanted to cherish and nurture it.

Under blue moon, she disappeared. When Malleus arrived, it was already far too late, the place was cold and empty, save for some partially thrashed objects. The night following the first attack, she had explained what she was running away from, and as he was taking in the now abandoned place, Malleus knew that despite his help, she had failed to face her mother. The thought was enough to give birth to a cold guilt, somewhere deep within him. Even though his rational side dictated that he had done what he could at his level, that he couldn’t predict this event, that him getting directly involved in that fight would only have made everything worse – even for himself -... He still couldn’t help feeling guilty for not having been there. The weeks that followed were spent in a strange haze, during which he did what he needed to do out of habit, yet his thoughts were somewhere else – a manor marked with a foliate face, ink black hair, amber eyes and crimson lips. His constant daydreaming was only broken when a large bird with eyes like pale fire and obsidian feathers found its way to the window of his bedroom. Malleus quickly recognised Sly, the bird-like summon. A smart one that definitely deserved its name. It could sing, imitate voices and create charms to distract its victims. However, this time it seemed it had been used for the considerably mundane and charmingly old fashioned task of bringing a letter.

“M. My mother took me back home. I tried my best, but I think the fear she invokes still got the better of me. I am not allowed to have a phone – among many things -, so I’m afraid a messenger bird will be the best option to keep contact with you. I hope you are well. – B. PS: no need to give him food or water.”

The handwriting had more sharpness to it than what its overall fairly round letters let on at first sight – the extended verticals were most indicative of it. The paper had a delicate, green floral scent that was unmistakable. His hearts beating in excitement, Malleus read the letter five more times before taking some stationary material and preparing his reply.

“B. I can’t believe you are asking me how I am doing when I’m the one who should be asking you how you are faring. I’m sorry I couldn’t be – can’t be – there for you. Is there anything I can do?- M. PS: exchanging letters like that is charmingly old fashioned. It also has a better chance of reply from me, since it looks like my magic doesn’t always agree with more modern means of communication.”

After having closed the letter with a non-descript seal, Malleus approached the black bird, which quietly held a foot so he could bind the letter to it before silently flying away. Thus started an epistolary exchange between Bianca and him, during which he made sure to carefully store all of her letters so he could occasionally take a look at them. However, this too was put to an end by Crimilde Bosconero.

“M., I think this will be the last letter between us for a while. I’m sorry things have come to that, but you know I don’t want you to be needlessly involved in my personal mess. I’ll try to figure a new way out, I’ll let you know as soon as it happens. In the mean time, please take good care of yourself. I love you. – B.”

Malleus felt something twist in him as he read the letter, worry over her situation getting mixed with the elation caused by the last words in her letter. He immediately proceeded to work on what would be his last reply, in which he chose to pour his own feelings for the sake of clarity and as a promise to her. The surprisingly hopeful tone of Bianca’s last letter motivated Malleus to be patient and keep going, chasing away the unpleasant thoughts by remembering the feeling of her body against his, how he would lean in her gentle touch when she’d caress his cheek. And while it wasn’t exactly what he’d call the greatest time of his life, his patience still led to an unforeseen surprise on the day the carriage meant to take him to Night Raven College arrived. While he thought only Lilia and him would pass the coffin-shaped door, he was instead surprised to see a small silhouette with ink black hair appear as well. As soon as they saw each other, they almost made a move to join in an embrace, but held back as Lilia was giving them both a curious look – yet spared a comment or, more likely, thought it as hard as possible but chose not to embarrass Lady Bosconero out of politeness. Malleus knew some questions would be asked later, in private, now that Lilia had the missing piece regarding his pupil’s curious behaviour.

Under blue moon, they met again. It happened a few days after they had both settled in their dorm and in their new rhythm of life. Malleus couldn’t tell if it was the privacy of their tête-à-tête, the fact that they could finally see each other again, or maybe a bit of both, but Bianca openly displaying her emotions as she sought his embrace and started crying had his heart skip a beat. At that moment, he was fully hit by the degree of trust she had in him, even after all this time forcefully apart. She had yet to explain what had happened once all communication stopped abruptly, but judging by her reaction it had been difficult for her. Malleus decided to not press her with questions for now and silently offered the safe comfort of his arms instead, breathing her in and wishing for that moment to last forever, his fingers tangled in hair covered with pale flowers.

Throughout their first school year, even though they were in different classes and different dorms, it felt like they were offered a perfect opportunity to get to see each other on a nearly daily basis, in a setting that allowed less secrecy. It gave Malleus the occasion to fully discover new sides to Bianca, as she was not only being around him, but being around other people as well. There was still a form of amazement at seeing her skilfully deal with the very same people who expressed fear just by looking at him. This very situation also seemed to be a source of concern to her, as she wouldn’t hesitate to include him whenever they had joint classes, when most people would leave him behind. Still, most people - some of his classmates seemed to not really care about whom he was, some would even occasionally try to have their bit of fame on Magicam when he was around. So Malleus would regularly reassure Bianca that she didn’t need to worry about him – she already had enough on her plate and he didn’t feel like burdening her further. Indeed, she had started hatching a new plan to cut free from her family, a plan involving legal means that’d be harder to discuss – and would ensure her mother’s tractability. Malleus was of two minds about the whole situation. On one hand, he wanted her to finally be free to live her life the way she wanted; on the other hand, completely burning bridges with her family may endanger a future he wished to share with her, deep inside of him. However, all too aware of the stubbornness she might show if he started arguing, especially considering how both of them were involved in this issue and how determined she was to protect his name and title by keeping him out of what she deemed private dirty laundry, he decided to bypass the issue by directing her to Lilia for advices on legal recourses. After all, his chaperone was definitely old enough to have both the knowledge and the ability to take a step back on her situation, and he knew that she would listen to him – if only out of respect for his status and the insight he could provide.

However, directing Bianca towards Lilia was only the first step in his personal plan to settle the dispute between mother and daughter. He still had to tread carefully if he wanted to keep Bianca by his side without antagonising House Bosconero – which would be a terrible move potentially affecting the diplomacy of the Valley of Thorns. As his third year started, he had the pleasure to see her come back with some interesting news; she had managed to cut lose Crimilde’s influence over her – at the cost of a debt and the loss of any financial privileges, which he had in mind to deal with himself, but without completely destroying her relationship with her family. Now, the subtle part of the plan was slowly starting, requiring him to act as a mediator. For someone like him, that would inspire fear in most people yet didn’t excel in reading their heart, it felt like quite the challenge to undertake... But this year had started with certain curious events, which made him consider that the months to come would be unusual and full of surprises. It could constitute an excellent learning experience.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #OC #bianca bosconero #malleus draconia #still very nervous about posting this #I really hope I did Dragon Goth bf justice #thoughts and prayer my guys thoughts and prayer #it shouldn't be as long as Bianca's POV I was thinking #hahaha what a fool I was #it's almost as long jfc

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sparklecryptid · 3 years

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Side note; now I want Ardyn to refer to dawn gleams luche as ‘daughter of the dragon, of night and slaughter’

#brazen and bright verse

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dicenne · 5 years

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Dicenne’s In Memoriam performance 1/25/2020

Dicenne steps ‘centerstage’ and flashes the audience a smile from beneath his black trilby which is tipped in a slight diagonal. Classic is his style today; from the fitted black tuxedo that hugs and accentuates his muscular form, down to the shiny, cap toe oxfords. Simple, but dignified. He brings with him a stool and a golden stand housing a vintage, gold microphone. Last, but certainly not least, he has a glass tumbler filled with some sort of amber-colored liquid, probably whiskey.

After everything is in place, he takes a seat atop the stool and props one foot up on the rungs while the other remains on the floor. With his whiskey resting against a thigh, he pulls the microphone closer with his free hand.

So there’s a bit of a backstory that goes with the song I’m going to sing today. My father, Arconis, was really big into the crooners of his day. He would have their music playing while in the workshop, humming or singing along - poorly mind you.

He would also play it in our living room and waltz around the furniture with my mother while attempting to ‘serenade’ her, although all it really did was make the poor dog howl. She always cringed and rolled her eyes at his singing, but we all knew she loved it.

Of course I learned to love all the same music myself: I learned the words to all the songs, I had my first kiss during one of the songs sung by this artist, I even danced with and serenaded my own wife to this music just like he did. All sorts of fond memories tied to this music, and this song in particular.

My father passed away ten years ago today.

Dice‘s smile faltered as he turned his gaze down towards the glass resting atop his thigh.

Before he died, he requested this song I’m going to sing to be played at his funeral. We honored his request, of course, it was a bittersweet moment for all of us because this song is just so -him-. He always lived his life to the fullest, sometimes unapologetically and maybe with just a touch of arrogance.

So tonight I sing this song for him. Miss you, dad.

Dicenne raises his glass and takes a gulp before tipping it to ‘pour one out’ for his father.

He rests his glass on his thigh and pulls the microphone closer to his lips as the background music begins. Lips part and his voice comes out as a sultry but commanding baritone, staying true to the original style and mood of the song itself:

And now, the end is near And so I face the final curtain

He flashes a mischievous little smirk, gaze never once shying away from making eye contact with those nearby.

My friend, I'll say it clear I'll state my case, of which I'm certain

He raises his glass towards the sky as if he’s about to give a toast, gaze lifting upwards.

I've lived a life that's full I've traveled each and every highway

Dice lowers the glass and holds it against his chest, his brazen expression never once faltering.

But more, much more than this I did it my way

He raises from the stool and sets the whiskey glass down in the center before tugging the microphone from its stand so he’s able to move about without hindrance.

Regrets, I've had a few But then again, too few to mention

He meanders towards the audience, a half-grin gracing his lips as adept fingers tug at his bowtie until the ends hang loosely on either side of his neck.

I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption

Dice casually weaves through those gathered while popping open the top couple buttons of his crisp, white shirt to reveal just a teasing hint more of that red runic tattoo covering the right side of his neck.

I planned each charted course Each careful step along the byway

He stops in the center of the crowd and presses the palm of his free hand against his chest, tapping his fingers there.

And more, much more than this I did it my way

He takes a quick, deep breath as he plants his feet. The next verse is bolder, louder, and without an ounce of restraint in his voice.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew

He raises his free hand to remove his hat, allowing the lustrous orangish-red hair to tumble freely over his shoulders.

But through it all, when there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out

Dicenne squares his shoulders and tilts his head up towards the sky, holding his hat against his chest as his voice raises and crescendos at the first peak of the song.

I faced it all and I stood tall And did it my way

He immediately reins in his voice, returning to a more relaxed croon while he resumes his stroll through the audience. His once jovial expression is now laced with sentiment and longing.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried I've had my fill my share of losing

He grips his hat by the brim and flings it like a frisbee towards the stage where it catches on the microphone stand and spins around a few times before settling.

And now, as tears subside I find it all so amusing

He gradually maneuvers his way back towards the front of the crowd until he’s next to the microphone stand.

To think I did all that And may I say - not in a shy way

He flashes a wink accompanied by an eyebrow bobble towards the audience before raising a finger to tick back and forth.

Oh no, oh no, not me I did it my way

Once more the music swells, as does his mellifluous voice. At the same time, a golden spotlight shines down from some unknown source above, fully illuminating the man beneath.

For what is a man, what has he got If not himself, then he has naught

He smiles and looks up into the light. The emotions had finally got the best of him and tear-filled eyes sparkle with bittersweet nostalgia, but he doesn’t allow it to affect that powerful baritone and presses on.

To say the things he truly feels And not the words of one who kneels

He reaches a hand towards the sky, grasping at the light as a tear escapes and tumbles down his cheek.

The record shows, I took the blows And did it my way

Dice holds the notes with a slight vibrato, his voice never once wavering or trembling from the emotions the song had stirred up within him. He keeps his eyes turned up towards the bright light and as the music drifts into a softer melody, a wistful smile overwhelms his features.

He lower his gaze and removes his hat from the microphone stand. With a flick of his wrist, he flips it up and after a couple revolutions he briefly dips down to catch the hat on the top of his head. Two fingers slide across the brim to straighten it out as the microphone is returned to its stand and he sings the final, mellow notes.

Yes, it was my way

Dicenne presses his fingers to his lips and raises them towards the sky before bowing.

@succulent-tart

#succulent tart #dicenne #show #performance

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