#either its as i remember it- and no one mentioned it back then outright- or its always been that way and i somehow blissfully | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

feyascorner · 11 months ago

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6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aelieknox @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst

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diamonddaze01 · 19 days ago

Note

for your drabble game.. n what if i say.. minghao + “Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you.” 🤲

run

pairing: minghao x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you." au: apocalypse au | warnings: injuries, mentions of death a/n: KAEEE!!!! n what if i sob while writing this

The sky burned with an unnatural orange hue, streaked with ash and smoke. The once-familiar cityscape was a jagged graveyard of broken steel and crumbled concrete. Sirens had long since stopped blaring; now there was only the oppressive hum of silence punctuated by the distant groans of collapsing structures. The world as you’d known it was over—reduced to a fragile shadow of its former self. The acrid tang of fire and metal clung to the back of your throat, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The ruins of the city stretched endlessly around you, but you pushed forward, your legs carrying you through the jagged remains of what used to be streets.

It started with the storms. The scientists called it climate destabilization gone critical, but the rest of the world just called it a death sentence. Storm surges wiped out entire coasts; hurricanes battered inland cities that had never prepared for them. The earthquakes came next, splitting open the earth and throwing molten fire into the skies, turning the air poisonous in ways even the best respirators couldn’t filter. By the time the floods came, there wasn’t much left to save.

Governments fell. Supply chains crumbled. People turned on one another in desperation as they fought for dwindling resources. The remaining factions—militarized groups claiming to protect what little remained—were as much a danger as the unrelenting disasters themselves.

You and Minghao had survived the worst of it by sheer luck. Together, you’d fled from one decimated city to the next, avoiding the lawless territories and the groups who demanded loyalty in exchange for safety. He was the reason you were still alive—quick-thinking, sharp-eyed, always calm under pressure when everything else felt like it was unraveling.

You could still remember the first time you’d met. Minghao had been patching up his own leg in the corner of an abandoned supply truck, his face pale but resolute. You’d stumbled in, out of breath and armed with a crowbar, only to stop short when you saw him sitting there like he’d been waiting for you. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even looked scared, just tilted his head and raised an eyebrow like he was daring you to try something.

“You don’t look like a soldier,” he’d said after a long moment, his voice steady despite the blood dripping down his shin.

“And you don’t look like you’re winning that fight,” you’d shot back, lowering the crowbar just enough to show you weren’t a threat. That was how it began—two strangers thrown together by circumstance, learning to survive together in a world that didn’t want them to.

You weren’t sure when the bond between you had shifted. Maybe it was during those late nights spent keeping watch for raiders, when his quiet presence made the crushing loneliness bearable. Or maybe it was the day he’d handed you the last of his water ration without saying a word, his eyes meeting yours like he knew you wouldn’t let him give it up without a fight. Slowly, without either of you acknowledging it outright, Minghao had become your anchor. The one thing you could count on when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

Now, as you ran through the remains of what used to be your home, all that history burned in the back of your mind. The thought of losing him was a weight you couldn’t bear, one that pushed you forward even as your lungs burned and your legs threatened to give out.

The memory of his calm, steady voice over the radio replayed in your head—I’ll meet you at the east corner of the tower. Just wait for me there. But the tower had collapsed before you’d even made it halfway. Now, it was nothing but rubble and twisted steel, and you were running blind.

You stumbled over debris, your knees buckling, but you caught yourself before you hit the ground. A sharp pain flared in your palms as you pushed up, but it barely registered. The only thought screaming in your mind was Find him.

You didn’t know when you’d started crying—your tears cut clean tracks down your soot-streaked face. Minghao always said you were stubborn. That you didn’t know when to quit. He’d said it with a soft smirk the first time you’d refused to leave his side during a raid. That was months ago, back when there was still hope that things could get better. Back when the two of you still believed survival wasn’t just an instinct but a purpose.

Now, hope felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

A shape moved through the smog ahead, a shadow cutting through the chaos. Your heart seized.

“Minghao!”

He turned at the sound of your voice, his silhouette becoming clearer with every step you took. His clothes were tattered, his hair matted with soot and sweat, and a thin cut ran down his cheek, blood drying against his skin. But it was him. It was him.

You crashed into him with enough force to knock the wind out of both of you, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. His body was warm and solid beneath your grip, and you could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly as he held you just as fiercely.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, his voice firm but edged with exhaustion. His hands shifted to your face, tilting it up so he could inspect you. His eyes flickered over you, taking in the soot and dirt streaked across your skin, the tears still fresh on your cheeks. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you echoed, though your voice cracked as you said it. You searched his face for any sign of injury beyond the gash on his cheek, your fingers brushing over his jacket as if to reassure yourself he was still solid and whole. “I thought—when the tower collapsed, I thought—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was warm and steady, grounding you. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

But even as he said it, the ground beneath you trembled again, a low groan echoing from the skeleton of a nearby building. Time was slipping away faster than you could grasp it, and yet Minghao didn’t move to run. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression unreadable.

“Look,” he said, his voice firmer now. “I don’t have much time, but I need to say this.”

“Minghao, we have to go—”

“I love you.”

The words stopped you cold. For a moment, the chaos around you seemed to fade, leaving only the weight of his voice and the intensity of his gaze. Your chest tightened, the air hitching in your throat.

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head as tears welled in your eyes again. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s going to happen. We’re getting out of this.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, his hands steady on your arms. “If something does—”

“Stop.” Your hands gripped the front of his jacket, clutching at him like you could anchor him to you, like sheer willpower alone could keep him safe. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close enough to break your heart. “You’re so stubborn,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “But that’s why I know you’ll make it.”

“Not without you,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “We’re getting out of this together. I’m not leaving without you.”

His fingers brushed against your jaw, a fleeting moment of tenderness that felt cruel in its fragility. “Together, then,” he said, as though saying it aloud would make it true.

Another tremor rippled through the earth, the sound of crumbling concrete roaring around you. Minghao’s grip shifted, his hand sliding down to intertwine with yours, firm and steady.

“Run,” he said.

And this time, you did. The world was ending, but in that moment, with his hand in yours, it felt like there was still something worth saving.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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wayfayrr · 6 months ago

Text

Love like you ✧*.⚝⋆

Here's the 400 follower raffle grand prize for @wailing-whaler!! Got Sky and reader collecting rocks <3 This went a little off of the initial base, but they do definitely collect rocks together (what a geologist not going utterly obsessed with rocks? it's a miracle) But this was very fun to write!! just soft soft fluff with the soft sleepy boy himself.

[masterlist]

“I’m still sorry for dragging you into this by the way.”

“You aren’t, and you don’t need to keep apologising for something you would happily do again in a heartbeat.”

“I am - I really am, I didn’t mean to drag you here.”

“You are an awful liar.”

He drooped like a puppet cut from its strings at that, offended I bet for calling him out. Despite it being the truth, he knows as well as I do that he was bouncing from the walls when I was brought into the game, happier than I’ve ever seen anyone before in my life. And emotions are new for him, kinda.

“No- I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Hmph.”

“Come on, I’ve already said that I really don’t mind it, why are you still so pouty?”

“Cause I wanted to get out rather than trapping you here with me.”

Oh, that admission is new. He’s dodged the reason why he brought me here since it happened, so that makes sense more than anything… The way that he’s leaning on me is also new though, and nice despite his grumbles, which come to a halt as he snakes his arms around me and buries his head into my neck from behind with a soft sigh.

“Look it doesn’t really matter right now, you’ve got to save zelda right? So we should really get going, gaepora asked me to help you and I really don’t want to make a bad impression.”

That got me a squeeze and a little whine, does - does he not want to save her?

“But no matter how fast I am impa is going to tell me I’m late anyway, so why does it matter… I just wanna spend time with you.”

…

How does he know that..?How does he know what will happen??? He - this is his first time going through this journey… right? But it isn’t is it, even though he’s been trying to act like it is it’s not. I’ve played through this game once already, and he can remember that. The acceptance of it is like a cold chill down my spine, Link already knows me and has been pretending that he doesn’t, half-heartedly but still pretending. Or has he? Just because he hasn’t said it outright doesn’t mean that he’s trying to hide it, maybe he just assumed I knew already. Either way, would I be bothered by him hiding it? It’s not insidious or anything, he’s just like a lovesick puppy.

“...Love? You - are you alright? I didn’t say something wrong did I?”

“I was just thinking… link did you know about before?”

“Before? You mean your other playthrough right?”

Well that settles that, he wasn’t trying to hide it. It was just never mentioned, no reason for it to be honest. No one on skyloft needs to know their entire life is a game which could be very easily overheard on the tiny island and sky thought that I knew he knew so why reiterate the obvious already.

“Sure I didn’t remember completely right away but going through Faron with you here- here brought everything crashing back so quickly.”

His grip on my waist tightened for a split second before loosening, like he’s not sure if I’ll want to be held close now that he’s sharing this. It’s only made clearer by the sigh he lets out as he takes a step away from me.

“I mean I remember remembering you when I tried to get out now, it was like… like when you fell here, on skyloft that is, everything got locked away but since we met the elder kikwi, everything has come back including how felt about it all and how I fell in l-!”

“How you ‘fell in l-’, why’d you cut yourself off there link, I’d love to know what you were going to say.”

Almost by instinct, my head turns to follow him as he’s fumbling about in his own flustered embarrassment, having said just a tiny bit more than he’d probably meant. Stopping himself mid-word so sharply you’d think he’d bit his tongue to force himself to stop, but not soon enough that I didn’t know what he meant anyway.

I won’t lie to myself. It’s something strange to know, and honestly all of this is making way more questions than it answers. Questions that it will be pretty hard to get answers too really, for one he and I both know this is a game and yet I’m here - he’s practically a person and… and he’s said it himself. He fell in love with me. But, I don’t dislike that. I really don’t dislike that.

“I - I fell in love with you, and how you act and all the little things you do and how you make even the smallest things seem exciting, and it’s why I wanted out so badly so that I could hold you close and tell you how much I love every part of you, from the way your hair falls, to the way you smile, how you collect things that others wouldn’t see worth in but you give them so much worth. I can’t even tell you just how much I’ve wanted to get out even if just for a second to hand you a crystal or even a cute pebble I think would bring a smile to your face - even if it meant I’d go back to being trapped in this hell afterwards.”

My face feels like it’s about to set alight, and not from being on an active volcano. He’s still rambling about what made him fall for me, and it’s only getting more and more natural, he’s getting more and more human over time. More real. As with all good things though, it has to come to an end with him looking up only to realise that he’s been going on for a good few minutes now. Ceasing up like a deer in headlights as he struggles to move his mouth again, almost reflexively licking his lips before glancing down confusedly. Better to break through the awkwardness now so that it won’t get any worse.

“You know, I wouldn’t be against having a relationship with you…”

“- You wouldn’t - I thought that you… you’d… you’d-”

“But.”

“...b-but?”

“I think I’d like to get to know you first link.”

“Wh - What..?”

“Well, right now I haven’t spent much time with ‘you’ you, and I don’t think it’s fair for you if I’m dating you expecting to you to be exactly like the character the game had you as.”

It’s easy to tell he’s thinking about it, with the hurt but pensive look on his face from being denied something he so clearly wanted a yes to.

“But, I think I’ve been starting to fall for you too, for who you are link. I’d like to spend some more time with you before we have anything romantic.”

He perked up at that, a lot. Which I don’t blame him for.

“There’s plenty of time for that then, we aren’t in any rush are we?”

“But zelda-?”

“Even if we were to teleport to the end of the dungeon we’d still be too late. Why not take it slow?”

Despite his leather gauntlets his hands are still nice to hold with how he’s intertwined ours, sneaking his fingers so that they snake between mine. Pulling my hand up to rest up on his cheek, leaning into it with a gentle sigh.

“You’ve talked about wanting rocks from Eldin to study before, how it looked like a different volcano to anything you’ve ever seen. What if we just I don't know, went off and got you as many as you could ever want of them?”

His eyes look almost pleading, begging for me just to say yes, to give him this precious time so that he can win me over to being with him romantically. And really, how could I dream of saying no? Since ending up in skyloft those few weeks ago he’s been nothing but kind, patient and caring towards me and plus even though I said I wouldn’t compare him to the character he’s come to life around, he’s still link. Still the kind-hearted hero that I fell in love with when playing the game for the very first time, who i grew to wish was real when reading comics about his journey, why shouldn’t I be a little selfish when he cares for me as much as I do for him?

“I-”

Biting down hard on his lip now, the pleading look in his eyes switching to something more akin to outright begging. Just for me to say yes. As if there were any other options available to me.

“I think I’d love to do that with you sky, as long as you’re certain we have the time.”

No words needed to be said after that, his face lighting up like the sky at a new years celebration. I swear if you looked closely you’d be able to see the very fireworks he was initiating in his own eyes. All the while his face was graced with the softest grin I could have hoped to see. It was definitely the right thing to say.

“So, do you have anywhere that you think would be good places to collect some?”

“You really think after all this I wouldn’t have somewhere nearby in mind?”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask though, does it?”

“Well my pride might have gotten a little bruised, but that’ll heal in time.”

“...Do you reckon a kiss could help speed up that healing?”

“...”

“Link? Are you alright?”

“Are- would you do that for me?”

“If it’ll help fix your pride then, of course… wouldn’t want an injured hero would we?”

That shut him up well and truly, not even his usual confused soft stutters could be hurt as it seemed his code bluescreened at that idea. A full reboot happening in the time it took his face to go through a multitude of different emotions, settling on a gentle, yet mildly confused, look of contentment. Kinda spelling out his answer for me, but still, I’ll wait for clear consent before doing anything more forward than a suggestion.

“...”

“Take your time, there’s no rush on an answer.”

A nod. Clearly he doesn’t feel comfortable speaking right now, but that's more than fine. It’s not exactly like I’m not used to him being mute again, if anything it’s not an awkward silence as he leads me over to the spot he was thinking of. A small patch to the south of Eldin, littered with just so many different stones. A dream spot for any collector, so close to an active volcano to get fresh samples well as fresh as you can get without quenching the lava.

Will they even be able to come back out with me? Link seems to think he would have been able to come out of the game, but that only dragged me in here instead. Can I even get - don't ruin this moment with that line of thinking. We can figure that out later.

“Hey [name], mind coming over here for a moment?”

“Hmm? Sure, it isn't an issue.”

Speaking again now is a good sign, clearly his brain - does he have one? - has finished dealing with the bombshell I dropped on it earlier. Moving over to him isn’t a bad thing to do though, with whatever he’s holding seemingly a pleasant surprise. As soon as I’m back in front of him, he takes my chin in his hand delicately tilting it upright as he stares into my eyes. Biting down on his lips as he thinks of what to say, lifting up his other hand to my eye level, like he’s comparing whatever he’s holding to them.

“...It really is the same colour.”

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me we were doing that, I would have been looking as well.”

“No, no collect whatever you’d like for your own collection, I just… wanted to do something where I could still just um… admire your beauty really. If you don’t want this one then, I- I can just keep it instead.”

“I’ll keep it. Thank you link, but really now we've got to get you one too.”

#kinda off the prompt #but insanely fun to write #incredibly soft sky #like super super soft and fluffy #ugh #got cavities writing it #moss✦writes #link x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu sky #lu sky x reader #linked universe sky #self aware au #self aware loz #fluff #x reader fluff

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imawreck · 5 months ago

Text

Experiments

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: The team tries to decide once again what to do with the girl. Tests are attempted, and fail miserably with jarring consequences. Bucky is there to calm the storm.

Author's Note: This chapter has a lot of heavy topics so please read with caution!

Warnings: Internal thoughts are italicized as well as flashbacks and communications in other languages, symptoms of PTSD, needles, panic attacks, mentions of past experiments

Word Count: 2,050

Bucky-

With only a simple statement my head was cleaved in two. She had watched them wipe my mind. Flashes of worn black leather and blinding overhanging lights swirled in my head, and the voices of the doctors echoed against the walls of my skull. Blue eyes, sorrow filled and bleary with tears, were so familiar to me and yet I felt like I didn't know them at all. Brown hair, long and tangled, caught the dim lights in auburn flickers. It was her, I knew that, but she looked nothing like the woman I had just left in that cell. This one was raw and broken... scared.

A man, Strucker, stood behind two guards that managed to wrangle her to her knees. He firmly grasped her hair in his gloved hand, the other gripping her chin hard enough to leave bruises, forcing her to watch as the doctors strapped me to the chair.

Another flash and wave of pain had me doubled against the cool wall of the elevator. I tasted rubber and my jaw clenched against it as the metal brace was clicked into place over my forehead. The girl cried harder. I had to remember her name. She had told me just once that I could remember. My heart ached as the tears soaked the collar of her shirt. I couldn't forget her.

"Please," she had begged, "please don't do this, he doesn't deserve this!"

There was a click and then my body erupted in agony. I have to... remember her name...M-

The aching in my head slowly subsided and a faint voice filled my ears.

"..gent Barnes. Sergeant Barnes, I'm picking up high levels of stress, should I notify Captain Rogers?"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "No, no it's nothing. Don't tell Steve."

"Of course Sir."

I slammed my floor number and slumped back against the wall, letting the cool metal sooth my oncoming headache.

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

The next couple of days were spent debating the girls' situation. After her clear display of strength and her outright saying she would comply to any commands, the team had a lot to consider. Strength was always a great ally, but we still didn't know if she was unhinged or stable. Letting her roam free in the tower was a safety hazard and letting her on missions was absolutely out of the question. So what would we do with her?

"Well, we could just leave Snow White in there for now and send Banner to run tests to see exactly what we're dealing with." Tony had given her the nickname Snow White, and the others had taken it up while discussing her. None of us felt like it was right to call her Ghost.

"We can't keep her in a cell forever Tony." Steve drew lazy circles on the metal table in front of us as he shook his head. "She's told us that she was willing to listen to us. I think we should give her a shot. At least let her out."

Tony let out a scoff, "Listen Cap, you might've been able to blindly trust people back in your day, but there's this thing called lying-"

"Tony-" Nat cut in, eyeing him from her seat next to a nervous looking Banner. "The sarcasm isn't helping. Steve is right, I think we should at least give her a room. We can have Friday lock it when need be."

Tony gripped the back of his empty chair, the leather squeeked beneath his grip. "Fine, but from this moment forward she will never be alone in this tower. She is not allowed to be alone with you either, Barnes. We don't know if its safe for her to be around you. Cap, that means you take care of her. Both of you are responsible for anything that happens."

I nodded silently as Steve muttered an agreement under his breath. I didn't exactly agree with not having any alone time with her, I had a lot of personal questions I wanted to ask the girl. I did, however, understand Tony's concern. She was a security risk. A willing Hydra agent for so long doesn't just up and get soft over one measly experiment. She had to be leaving something out.

Everyone trickled out of the meeting room leaving Steve and I to stare at our warped reflections looking back at us on the table. "I just couldn't leave her there Steve."

"I know Buck." Steve dragged a hand down his face. "I just really hope you're right about her."

I nodded slowly, "Me too."

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

Ghost-

It had been three days since I had seen Winter. I had remembered his name late evening of my rescue. He hadn't returned to speak with me, and a man known as Banner was sent to bring me food and water. The food wasn't anything like what I was used to. It wasn't bland or grey, but overwhelming. I hardly ate much of what I was given, unable to keep much of it down.

Captain America came to visit with Banner one day and I had caught a glimpse of long brown hair and those steely blue eyes. From then on I was hyper aware of that metallic clink just outside the door. Always close but out of reach.

I wanted to know him, to see if he remembered anything. To see if he remembered me. I had only been mind-wiped a handful of times since his escape, all were unbearably painful. Though they never succeeded in keeping my memories away from me. I'd regain my full memory in just a few hours after the wipe. They had given up after the tenth round and stuck me in cryo.

I had never stopped trying to escape to find him. For a brief time I was certain he would return for me. That our odd but significant connection would stick with him through his maze of a mind. But after the first year that hope had diminished. I had become so diluted after that. All of the feelings I had conjured for the soldier had locked themselves away and I had become a ruthless machine. I was used for executions due to the short amount of time the wipe stayed present over my mind, but afterwards they would put me away in the ice until another death was needed.

A knock on the plexiglass had me wide eyed and alert. Dark hair, shy smile, white coat. Banner stood just outside the glass door, clipboard in hand and a cart just a few feet away. "Hi, Uh..." He cleared his throat and pointed awkwardly towards the cart beside him, "I have to run some tests on you. Please stay away from the door."

Banner entered my cell, dragging the cart behind him. I didn't move from my spot on the floor. My heart unwillingly began to hammer against my rib cage as flashes of past 'tests' I had undergone while in the confines of the Hydra facility crept into my mind. I shuddered as a wave of nausea rolled through me. I had to remind myself that this wasn't the same place, that these people weren't like that. The nerves still stirred.

Banner continued to haul the cart closer until he was a few feet from me, and spoke kindly. "I know you probably don't have the best experiences with tests like these but I want to assure you that none of what we're doing here will harm you. We just need a few vials of blood and a brain scan. The brain scan can wait if it's too much for you today."

I nodded numbly. I heard the faint whir of machinery just beyond the door and the nerves subsided if only for a moment. He was near. I would be fine.

Banner smiled again and began assembling some sort of enhanced syringe by the looks of it, screwing in a needle and tube on opposite ends. The metallic clanking made my anxiety spike and I struggled to keep my breathing even. He had finally finished scouring to the table by the time it had taken me to count to 76. My hands were shaking and my breathing was forceful and heavy.

He looked at me, unsure, "Take it easy, I'm not here to hurt you."

I gritted my teeth, "Just get it over with and get the hell out."

He hurriedly situated the needle over my arm, wiping it roughly with a swab. The scent stung my nose. He pressed the needle down towards my skin and the syringe creaked. "I-I can't get it through your skin."

My heart hammered against my chest as I cursed, gripping the end of the gun and wrapping my hand over his own on the trigger, shoving it into the vein. He yelped as I curled my finger on the trigger, staring at the wall opposite of me to distract myself from the tell tale signs of a panic attack. A click resounded, signaling the end of extraction. I yanked the needle out and shoved the mechanism against his chest.

I had begun breathing erratically now, shallow and fast. When I spoke it was more of a shout, "Get out. Get out right now." And that he did, leaving his empty metal cart in his wake.

It was the first to go. I swung out blindly, my fingers dancing over the metal before launching it into the glass. It crashed to the floor and the glass cracked further, small shards of it toppling to the floor. I pulled at my hair as the memories swirled. Blinding lights, scalpels cutting me open to watch me heal and then repeating again. Endlessly. Injections never seemed to stop. Needles all the time.

Faintly, I recognized alarms blaring. I had to get out.

I slammed my heel into the crack, attacking the weak point. Glass came raining down overhead. The bones in my left foot were shattered. My mind continued to swim as did my vision.

And then blue was all I could see. Scared, honest, raging blue eyes. His lips were moving but I realized I couldn't hear him. I focused hard on their movement. 'Hey, hey' he seemed to say. 'You're okay.'

I was okay.

'Breathe.'

I took in a shaky breath. Out. In again, repeat. I was okay.

I studied his face as the rest of the world began to come back to me. He hadn't shaved in a few days. It suited him. The panic in his eyes had subsided, and they now watched me in the same way I was watching him. Unsure and hesitant.

He blinked suddenly, as if realizing something and his hands slipped from my face, where I hadn't realized they had rested. I immediately longed for them to return. Something cool fanned over my face and I swiped a hand over my cheek, drawing it away. Wet. I had been crying. What a fool I had made of myself over such a small thing. I pushed myself upwards onto my knees, shoving up from there on one steady leg. Pain reverberated through the other and I swallowed the lump sitting in my sore throat. I had been screaming too, it seemed.

"I apologize," I stared at the ground. "I think it would be best not to run tests until my mind has had the time to mend itself. I seem to have post traumatic stress and it would be unsafe for Doctor Banner to operate until I recover."

I glanced up at him once again and he just stared. Hatred brewed in his eyes and his hands shook. "What did they do to you?"

I blinked slowly, desperately trying to hold up my blank exterior. "Hydra has made me a fully self sufficient soldier. The process of achieving such a goal was rather unpleasant and required many failed attempts. Regeneration was one of their main focuses. I was put through many trials to perfect it." I lowered my eyes once again. "If you'll please leave me, I have to reset the bones in my foot or else I'll be crippled." I walked a few feet before pausing, throwing over my shoulder, "Ask them to turn coms off. It won't be pleasant to hear."

#angst #marvel #bucky barnes #original character #winter soldier #marvel mcu

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offshore-brinicle · 8 months ago

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Other misc things:

- Chains of others gets the Gloom effect rather than Pride when Meur uses it in story. Given how he says outright he wishes to protect Heathcliff and how the idea of an unfair judgement [from Erlking judging that all Heathcliffs must die to the court in his novel] is a theme they both share.

- In the end scene, Rodya is at the back of the bus and seemingly in deep thought, can't remember her saying much in the later parts of the Canto either. Something must've hit her hard.

- Is the river under the Heights something connected to the 'stream of human consciousness' [paraphrased] that I believe was mentioned in lobcorp?

- We know boughs can be destroyed, but I wonder if one can be 'reactivated'. The one Dante hold onto in Pass On is charred black but still intact.

- To add to the parallels, Heath n Yi Sang both get stabbed in the heart by a bough, one by their own volition in an act of love, and another by someone else.

- Why does Demian remember Cathy. It's probably something to due to the stars but half the time I'm fairly certain he's just standing invisible somewhere during the story given how much he knows. But given the body and coffin were both still there, I doubt ctrl alt deleting someone fully erases them from everything.

OK answering one by one:

I LOVED THAT MOMENT SO MUCH. In general it was such a surprise and treat to see how much more active Meursault was in this Canto and I was wondering about the Gloom change unless I was just misremembering the color since Pride is also blue but thanks for confirming. Meursault......... It's also so so cool to see the EGOs being used for practical uses like restraining someone like Meursault does, it makes me wonder what it can be do with some of the others like for example Ishmael's anchoring with Snagharpoon or Yi Sang's teleportation in Crow's Eye View

Actually good point though she actually spoke quite a bit I think, mainly in the first part about the resentments she has towards the rich, and the moment she has when they're approaching the mansion that brings up her dark side to the others in full force even if just for a second. Since apparently she's gonna be the focus of next Intervallo I hope it means she's getting more character development...

I say "yes, most likely" as I talked in my previous answer, taking in count Hermann has an interest in it and finding "the prime form of humanity" and The Well they talk about is the origin of everything in the world and humanity itself and responsible for The Light and EGO and everything, it's not the first time there's been a physical entrance to it somehow, the other most notable one is the Black Forest in the Outskirts that comes up more in-depth in Ruina.

Yeah I wonder how it can even get "burnt up" in the first place and what they're even gonna do with it since getting the charred Bough is treated as a grey area of sorts between success and failure. I wonder just How it lost its power and how it can be reactivated though taking in count it's basically magic

I SEND AN ASK TO MY FRIEND ABOUT THIS TOO, the other party involved for each Heathcliff and Yi Sang's cases are also the two most important women to them and great symbols for their own nostalgia and overall arcs, and they are connected to them through flowers that carry symbolic meaning and are tied to their homelands. Heathcliff stabbing himself as an act of showing his love to Catherine is also interesting because Dongbaek's reason for stabbing Yi Sang could also be interpreted as being a form of love, but...marred with heartbreak and hatred and resentment for what happened to the League like in the original Wuthering Heights [edit cuz I forgor: this is something amplified by the fact that when she stabs Yi Sang she quotes the line from The Camellias where the protagonists fall in love together both physically and metaphorically], specially since she was so overwhelmed seeing him she went for him when she was going to initially attack Dongrang derailing her plans. How she talks about it when questioned adds to it too since she kind of justifies herself saying that Yi Sang wanted to die too and isn't spiteful like she is towards Dongrang even being calm seeing he was just fine despite her murder attempt (but also the fact that she was unphased by that still gets me. She's really got no sanity left), and she was correct in claiming Yi Sang was longing for death even if the moment left a big emotional scar on him, much like Heathcliff's heart was broken by Catherine and so he breaks it in a literal sense for her.

Honestly Demian is just Demian. He's a weird little guy and probably exists out of time or something tying to his star. It's probably for the same justification as to why Heathcliff and Dante remembered Cathy, and she's def not truly "gone" since they couldn't really erase the consequences of her actions and presence. Hindley and Linton are still dead because of her.

#answers #Canto VI spoilers #project moon #limbus company #lcb Meursault #lcb Rodion #lcb Yi Sang #lcb Heathcliff #lcb Catherine #lcb Dongbaek #lcb Demian

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rallamajoop · 6 months ago

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Hi!!! okay so i love your theory crafting abt re8 & the free cam pics and analyzing everything so i thought maybe you would find this interesting (and maybe a little reassuring)

i dont think heisenberg has nazi affiliation, despite some of the nazi military equipment we see him with. and i dont think its mentioned anywhere in the game, but rather implied, that karl scavenged that stuff from a battlefield? for example, the tank used in his boss fight is a combination of a nazi gun tractor, combined with an american tank. the two guns mounted on it are also a german recoilless rifle and an american machine gun.

personally, i think his dogtag is probably his dads, but thats just a headcanon based on what little we know of the early concept designs and stuff (originally the giant metal and meat monster was heisenbergs dad. and to me heisenberg probably wouldve outright mentioned being a soldier or something in at least a diary entry or note if he was old enough during ww2 to remember it) it could also just be more stuff he scavenged. which is what i think is the deal

Hoo boy, you're really going to make me do a deep dive into all the evidence that Heisenberg might've been a Nazi, aren't you? (For context for anyone coming in cold, this is a response to my post on the fact Heisenberg's costume includes a very distinctive Nazi signal lamp, and why that bothers me.) Goddamnit. Fine.

So, first up, for a character we get as little background on as Heisenberg, there's no point framing this one "was he a Nazi?" Of course he wasn't, he's not anything, because he's not real. What we can ask is whether what made it into the game suggests that he was maybe going to be a Nazi at some point in development (or at least, that someone on the design team was uncomfortably into Nazi paraphernalia). And the answer to that one is, unfortunately, that it seems very plausible.

To be clear, there's nothing here you can't easily find other explanations for, at least for your own headcanons. "Heisenberg was a Nazi" is no more valid an interpretation than any other, based on what made it into the text. What annoys me is that it's arguably no less valid than any other take either. I do not like Schrodinger's Nazis popping up unexpectedly in my escapist fiction. And I hate to say it, but the more I've thought about the points you make here, the more Nazi shit I keep finding ‒ well beyond what I covered in that last post.

Let's start by going back to the dog tag. The inevitable problem is that the act of wearing one after the war ‒ regardless of whose it was or what country they fought for ‒ is that it kind of loudly signals pride in your military service. The tag may not be from WWII. It may not even be German. But Heisenberg is a character with a German name, who names his creations in German, and who's lived in the village under Miranda's thumb for decades. Statistically, most Germans who ever carried a dog tag that looked like that probably fought in WWII. And he carries that fecking Wehrmacht signal light to go with it. At that point, trying to argue that "maybe he just scavenged the signal light" or "maybe it was his Dad who was so proud of his Nazi service that he passed his dog tag on to his son to remember him by" starts to feel a lot like someone's protesting too much. You don't have to interpret Heisenberg as a proud Nazi soldier, but the costuming clues don't look great.

i dont think its mentioned anywhere in the game, but rather implied, that karl scavenged that stuff from a battlefield? for example, the tank used in his boss fight is a combination of a nazi gun tractor, combined with an american tank. the two guns mounted on it are also a german recoilless rifle and an american machine gun.

Uh, look, do you have a source for any of this beyond "someone wrote it in the wiki"? Because anyone can add anything to the wiki, that doesn't mean it's more than some military nerd's headcanon. Even if part of the vehicle looks like an actual American tank, all that means is that someone working on the game used one as a reference, maybe.

Meanwhile, the one genuinely plot-critical thing we're told about that tank is that it's made of metal-polymer composites, strongly implying that all the components were custom-made in the same place. The idea it's tacked together from salvaged components just doesn't hold water.

So how would Heisenberg have made those parts? Simple: his factory used to make tanks.

I'm sure it's possible to miss the half-dozen partially-wrecked tanks in the front yard outside the building ‒ there's a bunch of other scrap metal out there too, they kind of blend in. But when you've spent as much time as I have digging through the game files, it's much harder to miss how many files relating to the factory are explicitly labeled 'tankfactory' (...at least when they're not labeled 'geek'). There's even an asset for a pile of tank cannons. I don't know if or where that particular asset actually appears in the game, but no-one has that many tank parts lying in a pile unless they're building the things. Heisenberg's obviously re-purposed the factory for soldats now, but it plainly used to make tanks.

i think he scavenged that stuff bc of germany invading romania during ww2

I really hate to keep jumping on you here, but you can easily google this stuff. I am no-one's expert on the history of Romania in WWII, but even a cursory read up on the subject tells me that a fascist political party took power in Romania in 1940, and voluntarily allied with the Germans. Romania was itself an Axis power. How they were actually treated by their new 'allies' looks like it might be a thornier subject, but goddamn it I do not have time to fall down yet another research rabbit hole right now (my apologies on that front to any actual Romanians, god knows there is a lot of WWII history that us Westerners do not get taught about in school).

But now that I've had to look that up, I can pretty confidently state that if Heisenberg's factory was functioning during the war, it would have been manufacturing tanks for the Nazis. And if Germany did set up a tank factory in Romania, it's not implausible they'd have assigned a German to take charge (say, a former soldier who excelled on the battlefield, and is proud enough to keep wearing his dog tag?), so that all adds up uncomfortably well.

If anything, the more ambiguous part is whether the game is even set in Romania. Most people assume that was the intent, but the only location we're ever given is 'a county in Eastern Europe'. God knows if anyone at Capcom ever bothered to google Romania's involvement in WWII either, so I can't speak to their intent. But "maybe the German wearing the WWII era dog tag and the Nazi signal lamp wasn't personally responsible for manufacturing tanks for the Nazis with the tank factory in Nazi territory that he apparently lived in" is not an argument I'm prepared to build my house on. Let's at least allow that it does not look good. It'd hardly be the first time a piece of Japanese media has stuck its foot in its mouth over Nazi shit either.

to me heisenberg probably wouldve outright mentioned being a soldier or something in at least a diary entry or note if he was old enough during ww2 to remember it

Earnestly, why? Heisenberg's diary tells us nothing about his background whatsoever. We don't know what country he was born, how long he's lived in the village, how he became one of Miranda's experiments, how many decades he's been part of her family ‒ anything. Why would military service rank a special mention, when even clarifying whether he's a village native doesn't?

And again, it isn't hard to come up with theories where Heisenberg isn't a Nazi. Maybe he was a deserter, who still carries that dog tag because 'Karl Heisenberg' is really just a sham name Miranda gave him to match one of those four founding houses, and that tag is the only proof he's got left of his real name. Or maybe it's the only thing he's got left with his Dad's name on it, even though his Dad always said the war was bullshit, sure. Maybe the factory really was run by Nazis who left shit like that signal lamp lying around (to be repurposed into a handy electronics case like I suggested in that last post), and Heisenberg only moved into it more recently, because at least he speaks enough German to read all the shit they left around the place. Or maybe he only moved in because he found out someone was using it to build that polymer composite tank to kill him (why remains a much bigger dangling question than how), after which he figured he should probably stick around to make sure no-one else tried the same thing. These are all perfectly valid interpretations, and no-one is wrong for preferring them to having to deal with all that Nazi bullshit (though most still depend on some awkward German-nationality-coincidences). The fact that Heisenberg runs a tank factory and carries Nazi paraphernalia is really easy to miss, and no-one's less of a fan for not spotting it.

What little we do know is that Heisenberg's family got rewritten repeatedly during development. He was a twin at one point, his mother may have been used for experiments, his father was variously Sturm, Heisenberg's monster form, the village mayor, and maybe even Urias ‒ it's all over the place (all this comes from notes on the concept art that comes with the game, if anyone wants to fact-check me on it). Heisenberg probably wasn't originally meant to be Ethan's pseudo-ally either ‒ it's Ada rather than Heisenberg who gives him the chance to escape his trial in that early storyboard. Fuck, maybe at some point he (or his dad) really was going to be a goddamn Nazi mad scientist who fled to Romania and hid up a mountain somewhere, or whatever (though I can't easily imagine any Nazi scientist would be wearing that dog tag ‒ that's an accessory for the expendable rank-and-file of the military machine).

But possibly (and I'm really just speculating here), as Heisenberg became a more likable, ambiguously-grey character during development, Capcom may have decided it would be a good idea to tone down the Nazi stuff. They just accidentally left in the dog tag, the signal lamp, and the goddamn tank factory in presumably-Nazi territory, and had to quickly deny all Nazi associations when people made the obvious connections. If the official word from Capcom is that Heisenberg isn't a Nazi (or at least, that we aren't intended to read Heisenberg-the-fictional-character as having any Nazi sympathies or affiliations), I should be pretty happy to take that as official.

If you really want textual "evidence" that Heisenberg wasn't a Nazi, the best I can offer is the fact Dimitrescu dismisses him as 'a child', which suggests to me that he's much younger than her, and possibly even younger than her daughters (though I still can't buy he was a child when he first met Dimitrescu or Miranda). We don't actually know how old she or her daughters are, of course (they were in already the castle in 1952, but whether they'd just moved in or whether they'd been there for decades we don't know), but dismissing someone who was old enough to have served in WWII as 'a child' strikes me as a bit of a stretch even for Lady D. But that's not much more than interpretation, and one can easily be a Nazi sympathiser without personally having taken part in the war.

I still love Heisenberg as a character, flaws and all. I'm definitely not going to stop writing about him being his terrible, ridiculous self. I'll gladly go on ignoring all this nazi shit as much as I can get away with. I'm absolutely not here to tell you that RE8 is now #problematic and can only be addressed after adequate hand-wringing. That shit helps no-one.

But back in the real world, where fascism is on the rise again across the globe, and where the internet would have me believe that coded references to shit as vague as the date of Hitler's birthday is apparently a popular cryptofascist dogwhistle or some shit, do I have to waste mental energy on whether it means something serious that there are surprise Nazis popping up in my innocent little zombie-horror-game? Like, if a character isn't a Nazi, is it so damn hard not to include two different bits of Nazi memorabilia directly on their character model? The horrors of capitalism I signed up for; the horrors of People You Never Realised Were Secretly A Nazi is one I could have done without here, kthx.

And the sad fact is, it's really not that easy to just explain away.

#asks #Resident Evil Village #Karl Heisenberg #nazis #unfortunately #meta #RE assets #I don't love picking apart people's largely innocuous headcanons I swear #but when you've spent as long as I have this long overanalysing this ridiculous mess of a canon #like Discworld's greatest blacksmith I guess you've got to admit what you signed up for

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trashcanwithsprinkles · 6 months ago

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I’d like to add to the Mondstadt thing that like?? You mention it’s the USA of Teyvat and like. Yeah. Remember the Eula thing? Girl wasn’t even allowed to buy her own groceries, good hunter and the general goods store refused her service because of the Lawrence thing. Homophobic bakery vibes fr.

god you're so right............. mondstadt why are you consistently built like this...... you're rivaling sumeru in terms of fucked-up-ness...

another thing that i find very funny about the entire mondstadt situation is decarabian, and the whole misunderstanding surrounding him. like there are so very few accounts of what happened back then and so many are either entirely biased on the rebellion's side or far too divorced from what happened that it's hard to fully accept it as fact (especially given the way genshin has always presented its lore via multiple unreliable narrators).

like all the sources we have are: - a tidbit from alice, but she sounds more like she's quoting local legend than speaking from experience, so idk how much she counts. she also purposefully fucked up the ruins so like. i don't trust her when it comes to keeping a truthful record of the past LMAO - amos' very poetic very small blurb on amos' bow - weapon materials that take a more descriptive/impartial tone in describing decarabian and boreas' feud, which wasn't even like- i don't think it's ever stated who shot first beyond boreas declaring war (which could've been bc of something decarabian did but we just don't know) - venti

the only one there that even remotely suggests there was any attempt at speaking with decarabian about letting them out is amos' account, and even then you have to assume that's what's happening. from the way it's worded it sounds more to me like she's simply giving decarabian hints that she wants out by telling him she dreams of the outside, but like. girl. and even if that's just flowery prose to tell us she did actually try to ask him to let them out, that leads to another pair of problems, which are,

we don't fucking know when boreas died, so for all we know, decarabian could've still had a very good reason to keep them all in the wind barrier. bc y'know it was fucking frigid and inhospitable outside and they were all likely going to suffer massive casualties and he very much wanted to keep them safe. like the teaser implies the skies were clear when the barrier came down?? but i'm not sure that we have a confirmation of what that means (could've just been a clear day, the barrier could've been keeping that area clear, etc). and even if boreas had already died by the time the rebellion started, we still don't know if decarabian knew that, so like. in his mind, he still had to keep his people safe. and yes his idea of keeping them safe was keeping them trapped in there and very organized to the point of micromanagement but you gotta keep in mind that, 1. if it was so horrible outside that sal vindagnyr was founded entirely because of how shit to live in mondstadt it was, then of course keeping them trapped is the more sensible option. like if you complain about that, i'm not going to say you have no right nor reason to complain, but you *are* going to come across as a bit of a naive child 2. they had limited space to live and so of course you'd want to keep things as orderly as possible through micromanaging. and yes it likely came across as dictatorial and controlling but also, 3. we have no clue what the fuck decarabian was. i'm asuming not fully human. regardless, we know he didn't have the same perception of things as humans had. the more impartial accounts from the weapon materials all say decarabian did love his people, it's just his love for his people was not really understood *as love* by his people. like the way he saw the world was just Different. like elynas. it's literally just elynas all over again. this also makes the possibility that amos never said let us out outright and instead tried to just hint at it even worse, because if he's not even capable of perceiving emotions and reality and seeing things the way humans see them, how is this man going to catch your hints????? girl. nothing against amos i just find it very odd that she was dating a non-human being and didn't think there was a possiblity that he wouldn't have human-like feelings. like that sounds a bit... yikes, at that point.

so ultimately it all just seems to come down to people wanting out (even though there's a good chance it was still death and desolation out there) and having a fundamentally different worldview from decarabian. and again, i can't really blame the old mondstadters for wanting out (again, ignoring they would've possibly wanted out in that fucking hail storm), but i can blame them for seemingly never attemption to talk some sense into decarabian. like is that ever mentioned, outside of amos? i feel like i'm going crazy over this. it has to be somewhere and i can't just find it, i have to be missing something, bc are you going to tell me that venti saw a fellow non-human isolated from his people in a tower doing things in a way that his people found Not Correct (and yet not horrible either, like beyond being a bit of a micromanager and having them in the storm barrier, it's never stated that decarabian did anything tyranical) and instead of saying, oh maybe he just doesn't realize he's hurting us by holding too tight bc y'know he's not human- he just went yeah let's kill him????????????????????? without talking to him first??????????? are you fr?????? i could understand the humans assuming things bc humans dumb yada yada but VENTI?????? a NON HUMAN?????? bruh

there's also this weird bit with the gunnhildr clan that- left???? at some point???? before the barrier came down?? so like- did decarabian let them leave bc they asked nicely? did they manage to sneak out?? if it was the former all the more shame to literally everyone else for killing the guy in the first place, but it seems unlikely. and if it was the later then why were they the only ones to leave. again, if it was possible to just fuck off, why the need to kill decarabian. it just does not make sense, and it gets worse the more you think about it. even moreso bc i think we know that the gunnhildr clan must've participated in the rebellion???? so they came back???????????

if boreas had died before this all went down then it would make sense if the gunnhildr clan left, saw there was no blizzard and snowstorm and that the outside wasn't entirely fucked up, and returned and told the others this discovery. and so the rebels were like 'they why tf are we still trapped in here???' and they'd have been right to be angry about it but like,

again.

if the gunnhildr did leave (and it seems they did), then any method they used to get out could've been used for the others to leave as well, no?? like- again, if decarbian let them leave, why not ask again and tell him hey, it's not fucking frigid outside anymore?? and if they sneaked out, why not sneak out too??

if it was some other mysterious reason, like they abused a window of oportunity that just- vanished. ....and then reappeared for them to return and vanished again (what??????), that still doesn't explain why nobody gave a fuck about talking sense into decarabian.

like yes yes amos could've been trying to talk sense into him but amos is literally one (1) person!!!!!! that seems so fucked.

no matter how i spin it i've just never been able to justify how the rebels went about it, based on the information we have rn. like if you want to tell me they started their rebellion n so decarabian got mad and tried to kill them, that's like.... doesn't sound in-character for a guy we know loved his people and that has never been stated to have ever actually tried to harm them. plus the entire thing of their rebellion was how it was all planned out in secret until they striked?? so decarabian wouldn't have known until amos was literally trying to shoot him?????????

and if you want to say that they did talk to him- first off, why would miyoho not mention that. that seems like a pretty important detail to just not mention anywhere. and again- the way the rebelion is worded implies they did it all in secret in order not to alert decarabian. having tried to talk to him about it and pretending he got mad over it doesn't fit with that idea.

so yeah! mondstadt's citizens have been fucked since before venti set them loose on the world LMAO

#god i went on an entire tangent there #every single time a venti lover mentions decarabian as a tyrant i just cannot help but quietly judge them #any mondstadt lover in general ngl #like............. really?#i get that most people don't read the lore tho #still seems very fucked up of venti ngl #like no sympathy for a fellow non human whatsoever #imma be real that's kinda yikes my dude

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chuckeroo777 · 2 months ago

Text

Frieren Liveblog- Chapters 5-8

Welcome back! Today we continue the cute adventures of Frieren and her apprentice Fern. Let's see what painful memories of Himmel we can dredge up today.

Remember, this is a first read-through, so no spoilers please!

Nothing personal kid.

I wonder if Frieren learned this spell from somewhere, or if she devised it herself, drawing from the hundreds of lesser spells she's collected to weave together a comprehensively powerful spell.

Maybe it's a little early for me to be making such judgements, but it feels like Frieren is somewhere on the spectrum. Between her difficulty expressing emotions, difficulty with social cues, and generally detached behavior while still clearly caring, she certainly fits the part.

Ah, but what about teleportation? Is that a thing in this magic system? Or even just a haste spell of some kind. It sounds unstoppable, but it has a weakness.

Fern, I stg, I literally told you to read the book that explained it.

Ah, so it wasn't unbeatable, just not understood. And without the element of surprise, it's just another spell.

You're the one who used the cheaty magic first. Fair's fair. She was nice enough to give you a chance to surrender.

Guys, she's literally wearing pants under her skirt. Ugh, men, am I right? Reminds me of the time I was DMing, and the party finally confronted the evil goddess in her sanctum. And rather than focusing on stopping the world ending ritual, the rogue decided it would be a good idea to crawl up into her dress. I then made the mistake of describing something horrific in there instead of rejecting it outright, which only made him more determined.

And you know what that means! Loot!

God, I love her.

It's probably partially just ingrained in her, but this behavior sounds like symptoms of depression. Either way, it's probably good for her to have someone like Fern around to support her, both physically and emotionally.

Hopefully pirate ghosts don't mind you turning their ships into scrap wood.

Gosh darn it, I'm already adoring their relationship. Frieren is weird as hell, and Fern doesn't get it, but damn if she doesn't do her best to support her anyway.

But it reminded you of your friend. And perhaps that's enough.

In a setting I'm working on, an afterlife does exist, but little is known about it. Souls can be summoned from the beyond, if they're willing, but are unable to describe or remember their time there. Some say the beyond is a place of blissful rest. Others believe it to be nothing but stasis, and some extremists believe it is inhabited by parasites, who harvest souls from our world to provide the beyond with souls of its own.

I suppose this has nothing to do with Frieren. I wonder if we'll get any answers, or if this is just left an open ended question.

I've been finding her rather relatable, but this? Who the hell comes to a friend's house unannounced and declare they are hanging out. Frieren. Frieren, that's who.

Har har. I do wonder what's up with the other elves of this world. Why is Frieren alone in human territory anyway?

Glad to see she's learning. Although, when she mentions Fern getting angry, is that true? I don't think we've seen that from her yet. Maybe Frieren just doesn't want to admit how much she respects Fern.

Uh huh. Frieren, it's only been 7 chapters and I can already tell that retracing Himmel's steps is absolutely your core motivation. You can admit you miss him.

Ah, so Flamme was Frieren's master? And judging by the flashback in the next panels, she was a human. I wonder how much contact Frieren has had with other elves? A lack of other immortals might explain her trouble forming meaningful connections.

Hmm... what did she know?

Well then. I guess this is our goal for the foreseeable future. Hmm... all sorts of things could go wrong. This land supposedly existed 1000 years ago, but the Demon King lived there 80 years ago. It wouldn't surprise me if the Demon King destroyed this place, or somehow tapped into its power.

Daw...

I wonder how long Eisen with be joining us. I imagine he's too old to accompany us far.

I'm going to hazard a guess and say she probably cares about you quite a bit, but is hopeless at actually expressing it.

I do wonder what is going through her head. Is she simply afraid to form bonds that would break in no time? Was Himmel the first real friend she made in her long life? What does Frieren truly want?

Those aren't the words of someone who doesn't want to spend time with you.

And that's chapter 8! Four chapters per post seems about right. Stay tuned for the next post shortly!

#sousou no frieren #frieren #frieren liveblog #manga #manga spoilers #chapter 5 #chapter 6 #chapter 7 #chapter 8

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bbygirl-aemond · 2 years ago

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All the Laws Viserys Violated by Making Rhaenyra His Heir

Hi hi! I'm in the midst of writing a post about Otto's motivations throughout HotD and the portion about why Otto was so sure Alicent's sons would end up as heir when he pushed her to marry Viserys got wayyy too long so I'm just going to write it here.

I cannot emphasize enough how crazy it was that Viserys kept Rhaenyra as his heir. He has literally no law or precedent to back him up; every single possible precedent actually works against him. Full disclaimer, I genuinely think Rhae would make a good queen and support her over Aegon, but I don't think Viserys made her heir for the right reasons and I think because of the following he was setting her up for failure.

First, Westerosi laws of inheritance say that a woman cannot inherit if she has a trueborn brother. This has always been the case. Remember that as of right now Dorne is NOT a part of the Seven Kingdoms, so the Seven Kingdoms unanimous in its institution of male-based primogeniture. There is literally no region under Viserys's domain where a woman is allowed to inherit if she has any trueborn brothers. You'll never find any instances of a woman being made heir when she has surviving trueborn brothers. When we see women in power, like Jeyne Arryn or even Sansa Stark, it's always because they either have no brothers or their brother is occupied with another title. And honestly, in like half of these cases the title gets passed to a woman's uncle rather than going to her if she's the sole child.

Second, the Great Council of 101 set the precedent that even if a woman is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, she should be passed over for a male. Rhaenys was Jaehaerys's heir according to Westerosi laws of inheritance as the only child of his previous heir, so she was even backed by the actual law and precedent. And the threat of war was dangerous enough that it forced the literal King of Westeros to concede matters of his personal inheritance and violate precedent just to pass over a woman. That's how sexist they are!!! They literally broke the law so that they could be MORE sexist!!

Third, Widow's Law specifically stipulates that it is not meant to be used to allow a woman to inherit over her trueborn brother. I know a lot of people think this law can actually be used to support Rhaenyra, but I think this ignores the context of the time. Remember, even though Alysanne wrote the law, Jaehaerys is the one who implemented it and is the only one who had the final say in its wording. And, as mentioned above, Jaehaerys straight up does not have the power to allow women to inherit, even when the law is backing him up. He's also a super misogynist and has proven unwilling to listen to Alysanne on feminist matters. So I'm not sure why people think he'd have the desire or the power to instate a law that says a daughter from a first marriage gets to inherit over a son from a second marriage. The lords would never allow something like that, because most of them use and discard their wives for the sole purpose of gaining male heirs and I guarantee there would be a moral panic about women getting too much power the same way there eventually was with Rhaenys and Rhaenyra. And not just the lords, but Jaehaerys would never allow something like that: They're all grade A misogynists, remember? That's why Widow's Law specifically placates the lords by assuring them that their precious eldest son can still inherit before even introducing the new law. Because Jaehaerys knew he wouldn't be supported if he said that women could inherit when they have trueborn brothers, so he made sure everyone knew he wasn't trying to do that.

So Viserys has 0 laws and precedents backing his decision, and 3 laws and precedents that his decision outright violates. And he keeps Rhaenyra as his heir anyways, out of guilt to Aemma. This is why I think Otto was genuinely flabbergasted by Viserys's decision; because he demonstrates remarkable awareness of the misogyny in Westeros and is fully aware that this WILL incite rebellion. He says it himself: It doesn't matter to the lords of Westeros how good or kind Rhaenyra is. They've demonstrated, time and time again, that they will not allow a woman to inherit a title, including the Iron Throne, if there are ANY trueborn male relatives available--AND that they have the power to force the King to let them decide his inheritance!

TLDR: Viserys really did Rhaenyra dirty. He made and kept her his heir out of guilt about Aemma, not out of love for Rhaenyra. And he did this knowing that it violated every single precedent or law relating to inheritance out there, and knowing that previous kings weren't able to uphold their female heirs, even when they had a stronger claim than Rhaenyra would have, because the lords threatened to start a war over it. And that's not even getting into how he completely failed to teach her about politics and did nothing to prepare her to become Queen.

This is also part of why people say it's not just about Rhaenyra's bastards. I fully agree that having them weakened her claim even further, but what you need to understand is that Rhaenyra was doomed from the start. She was doomed by the misogynistic laws, and by the misogynistic precedent, and by the misogynistic lords who never tried to hide that they'd start a war if a woman inherited the throne. And Viserys put that burden on her anyways, and put her and her children's lives in genuine danger, all so he could feel better about his decision to butcher his wife.

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who-is-page · 1 year ago

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That person you and Rani were arguing with about phantom limbs apparently got called out a few days ago for having zootherians in their pack

I saw a post about this; namely, because the associated Therian Amino call-out used my Beware as a main citation for talking about the known bestialist LycanTheory.

I haven't reblogged or commented anything regarding it because, in all honesty, the evidence as I've seen so far has not been substantial enough for me to feel confident in commenting and saying anything one way or another. All I've seen is a single video on it (x) which was incredibly difficult to parse or understand with my audio processing disorder and the filter the therian chose to use: the video cited the Therian Amino post I mentioned earlier (x), which offered no proof to its claims regarding Thorn nor its claims regarding PinkDolphin, and a highlight reel on Instagram (x), which is also very nearly fucking impossible to navigate and once again has claims that are very difficult to prove on the basis of a single messily-edited screenshot that stay up on the screen for just a few seconds.

So... let me look into this more and give an informative summary for the people just now hearing about this before I give any sort of real, proper response.

I'll give you the TL;DR now: The accusations leveled at Thorn from Therian Territory regarding this claim seem to be false.

The claims that I'll be focusing on here are that Thorn is an active part of the Evergreen Unakite Pack (EUP), which also supposedly contains the founder of the BITE Discord, Dayn, and his partner, Autumn. The BITE Discord is a bestialist-friendly Discord which masquerades as a safe space for paraphiles; some of you may remember LycanTheory, the predator who sexually assaulted his pets and who has sexually interacted with minors via texts and videos, and his bestialist partner Jade who was a long-time member and moderator on the server.

Thorn of Therian Territory has made a response video (x). Thorn states that there is no association between themself and LycanTheory, pointing out that the original call-out also doesn't showcase any proof for that claim either; much the opposite, they've had some really nasty experiences with LycanTheory. Thorn claims to not have known that Autumn and Dayn were zoophiles, as they did not actively identify as zoophiles at the time of them being in a formal pack together and it fell apart soon after. When Jade entered the friend group, zoophilia more generally became a topic and things fell apart due to Thorn's discomfort. Thorn outright says they do not support zoophilia.

I went digging and looked into the EUP's first pack meetup (x). There is an Autumn at the meetup, who identifies as a black wolf and a zebra; the screenshot displayed of Autumn333333 from Twitter claims to be a zeta with a zebra and husky theriotype. There is no one at the meetup who identifies as an ANCD wolfdog, Dayn's theriotype as displayed in the screenshot of vilewolfxD from Twitter.

The Twitter account Autumn333333 joined Twitter in December 2021; the Twitter account vilewolfxD didn't join until October 2022. The EUP first howl meetup was posted on August 16th, 2021, and was likely taken earlier than that. This seems to support Thorn's claim that Autumn and Dayn were not public about being a part of the Zeta community until after the pack had already disbanded. Thorn also supplies a screenshot of what is supposedly the first time Autumn333333 liked a post on Twitter from someone in the Zeta community, dated April 16th, 2022. I'm not really dedicated enough to scroll all the way back and check myself, but if it's accurate then that also supports their claim. Autumn333333's Twitter is empty outside of likes, but searching for "Thorn" and "Therian Territory" and "Evergreen" on vilewolfxD didn't garner any results for my Twitter.

So, ultimately... these accusations of Thorn being a part of a pack with Zetas seem to be false, and based entirely on a single YouTuber, intentionally or accidentally, misrepresenting a timeline in order to make someone seem significantly worse than they actually are.

#Ask #Anonymous

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sugdenlovesdingle · 1 month ago

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I tried vibing some sunshine your way! I'm in England and we don't seem to get much of it these days, so maybe that's why it put me in such a good mood today.

I'm the same as you, only got into 911 properly after 7x04 (though I'd watched lonestar since the beginning - apparently everyone hates Rob Lowe but I still see him as Sam Seaborn from the west wing (one of my all time fav shows) 😂).

I've got no idea why there are so many interviews either, and maybe it's adding to how bad some of them are? Like it's diluting whatever messages Tim et al are trying to convey because they're doing it every week and there's only so many teasers you can keep coming up with?

If the current plot resolves with Tommy coming back by hiatus, or by the end of 8B, then the earlier interviews about hurdles to overcome, deepening the relationship, their romance being a romcom, Oliver saying he likes slow burns, etc etc will all make sense - but then the intervening interviews since then will look like total bullshit/outright lying? Idk, I know alot of interviews are by buddie 'journalists' and words can be misquoted and written with a bias, but some of them still seemed pretty clear the current relationship is over. Plus there's the interviews mentioning plots to come that definitely never happened, so I think I'm just back to wanting to ignore them as they cause too much unnecessary stress.

Plus why focus on the stress when the fic and speculation is fun. I've enjoyed mpreg before but never this much 🤣, for me it's the combo with the angst of a breakup makeup that makes it just chefs kiss.

And finally a robron question as I am pretty out the loop with it, do you think there's any chance of Ryan coming back on the horizon??

Sunshine from England?? No wonder it didn't work! That's too rare to send over!

I never watched Rob Lowe in anything before Lone Star really. Not REALLY. sometimes i see things and i'm like 'wait... he was in that???" - i did see some gifs (i think) of him and lisa edelstein in another show where they *also* played a couple. I don't remember what show that was though. But yeah -i've always preferred lone star over the OG. Even now every monday is like "oh hiii babies!!" And i don't think the fandom is as fucking rancid as the og fandom can be. (not the bucktommy fandom - i love everyone in this club, but you know what i mean) I've never seen anyone so *violently* hate tarlos and send hate to Rafa or Ronen just because they're not the person they think the other half of the couple should be with. Even my fellow Nancy/Marjan shippers (all 5 of us) who don't want Nancy with Mateo don't go around harassing Jules.

ANYWAYS - the interviews are bullshit. I mean Tim teased tension between henren and madney over mara, he teased eddie being the third wheel and buck not having time for him, he teased buck leaning on Tommy with the Gerrard of it all - none of that happened. And if you look at the quotes from Lou's interview especially it's more up in the air like "i have a job lined up, i'm going back to SWAT, and a few other things coming up and if they call me to come back i hope i'll have time" he never said he definitely 100% will never ever ever come back as Tommy. That's what the buddie baiting "journalists" turned it into.

And yes speculation is half the fun! I mean how many speculation fics has this fandom written the past six months? Or this-never-happened fix its. Or Tommy-was-there-after-all- fics. Keep 'em coming people! I'm not keen on mpreg fics though but hey if you're all having fun with them - have at it! I know how to blacklist and keep scrolling ;)

As for Ryan coming back... I REALLY hope so... but realistically speaking... i don't think so. But if emmerdale wanted to prove me wrong and give me Robert Sugden back for Christmas, i wouldn't hate that! just FYI @ soap gods

#Anonymous #bucktommy #and other stuff #tommybubblesbuck #<- tagging because i want to play too

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you-remind-me-of-the-babe · 9 months ago

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An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIPs

Thank you for tagging me @ic3-que3n @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @youarenevertooold @whatevertheweather @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @aristocratic-otter @monbons @emeryhall @valeffelees (wow everyone is out here playing huh?)

🦈Tell us the name of your / one of your WIP(s)

As of right now, I’m going with Back and Back and Back but that may change.

🍄Decscribe your wip / one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Past flashbacks in which Baz grows up being visited by an older Simon in the woods outside his house in Hampshire + current 7th year Simon suddenly finds himself traveling back in time to visit young Baz = both Simon and Baz trying to figure out what’s happening in the present, resulting in them falling in love in a mesh of past and present

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Soulmates, time travel, canon divergent, Watford-era, angst with a happy ending, kid!Baz, lightly inspired by Time Traveler’s Wife.

🧭An alternative title to your / one of your WIP(s)?

I mentioned this last week, but I quite like Start at the End, even though I don’t think it technically is accurate or describes the fic.

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

Idk, this one will be quite long, but everything else in my WIP folder are just attempts at starting a premise I liked, but none of them have gotten much traction, so probably this one? Hopefully?

💾What is your document of your wip / a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Time Travel AU

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

He whistles, looking around and finally taking the time to fully appreciate the tree house.

“Did you make this?”

“With help,” I explain. “Some from Father. Mostly from you.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. That’s one thing I’ve yet to figure out, why he forgets. Sometimes, he remembers our past visits with more detail than I do. As if they’d just happened the day before instead of years ago. Other times, he can’t remember something as big as building a treehouse with me. He reminds me of my grandmother, when her dementia had its grips on her. She’d recall something from her childhood so clearly, and the next minute, she’d forget my name.

Father didn’t want me to call attention to it in front of her. He said it would only make her more confused. So I don’t mention it to him, either. We just sort of…dance around it, without mentioning it outright. (He’d fit right in with my family, honestly.) I just clarify things and then we move on.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

I was thinking about having the Humdrum be a time traveling younger Simon, or something like that, in addition to current Simon being a time traveler. Like, they discover there’s another version of him traveling, but I thought that would be too confusing. So instead, he’s just the regular ol’ Humdrum.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I have a lil Drabble in my head about Baz being sad while his wedding ring is getting fixed by the jewelers for a week so Simon has to cheer him up. (It me. Rubbing my empty ring finger all week while it’s getting fixed and I hate it not being there.)

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

Actively? I think just this one right now. There are about 4 other half starts from earlier this year when I was just throwing spaghetti noodles at the wall to see what stuck. Some of them I may come back to if I get a burst of inspiration or something.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

(One of) the big reveals because the scene carries a lot of emotional weight, and I want to do it right.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

And kudos to anyone who read this far!

Anyone else want to play? @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @blackberrysummerblog @run-for-chamo-miles @mooncello @angelsfalling16 @artsyunderstudy and anyone else interested! 💜

#tumblr tag game #writing process #my writing

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saturns-cryptid · 5 months ago

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Never got to share some of my headcanons for the hfr characters but here we go:

Chai is a blind mf (near-sighted) and needs glasses. Like, right now.

I don’t really know what glasses to give him though. Maybe like John Johanas has. Those could probably suit him.

Korsica is sporty, without a doubt, all about that daily exercise and healthy nutritious diet. What sport would she do though? I think boxing, like with Macaron, would probably suit her, yet I’d also think of kickboxing and maybe some jogging on the side.

On that note, Chai seems extremely flexible, almost if not outright gymnast levels. It remains a mystery for how long Chai had his right arm the way it was before the implant. Maybe he had it like that since he was a baby, but I can imagine him somehow injuring it in his early years, and it was just so severe that he couldn’t get its fine motor skills back. Like, maybe Chai has a degenerative disease that either runs in the family or only affected him due to him being a gymnast.

Or he’s just that naturally flexible and jumpy idk

Another headcanon for Korsica (me fine woman) is that she actually used to play drums and it’s not just a motive that she has in the game with her batons. Maybe she was part of the school orchestra and would only play simple tunes in there, while actually being good enough to pop off any minute. I instantly remember that video “When you’re overqualified for the job” when I think about it.

If the groups were to start a band, then Macaron would def be a piano guy and Peppermint the bass girly.

OKAY i'm gonna go down the headcanon list ting bc i love your takes and i want to respond to all of them properly TEE HEE

would NEVER have thought chai to be blind or in need of glasses tbh, though i'm here for it!! i personally think he would've been more far sighted bc of his ability to snatch onto magnets and grab enemies and stuff... (the thought of him squinting the entire game and hitting any moving robot looking blobs in his field of vision is pretty funny though tbh LOL) ... also i looked up john johanas and it's been a hot minute since i've booted up the game but i SWEAR the ones with the thick black frames are an actual pair of glasses you can get in the shop for chai and i am SOOO doodling that if i have the time

korsica is absolutely sporty. proof: sporty fit in shop. also she's head of security she literally HAS to stay in shape to spin that thang around. (also idk if it's just me but it's implied her batons are pretty heavy bc there's this one specific scene during her boss fight when the game is like "okay scratch parrying everything!" where she strains JUST a little bit to get into the spinning motion so she is SOOOOO absolutely muscular). ALSO did not think about korsica and macaron sparring!! macaron doesn't seem like the type to spar at his age LOL... but maybe he'd be up for it occasionally post game :0!!

i definitely think he would've tried to stay limber growing up all things considered, he has WAYYY too much stamina if he can beat up all those robots LOL but now that you mention it, he DID practically fold in half at the very end of the first stage... BUT i personally hc he has monoplegia as a result of an accident when he was really young as opposed to something he was born with. i'm by no means a medical expert, but it sounds... medically inaccurate for a degenerative muscle disease to stay in one arm? (if you ask me tho, i think he would have a brachial plexus birth injury IF he were to be born with it, but again) take that with a fistful of salt, i'm not a doctor and i don't know shit

i don't have much to say for the last two, i agree with you for the most part BWAHGAHGW i love the idea that if someone asked korsica about why she chose the weapons she chose, she'd just say something like "hitting drums, hitting people. same difference." and shrug BWAHWBJAHGSHJF

#ask #answer #text post #hi fi rush #hi-fi rush #hi fi rush chai #hi fi rush korsica #hi fi rush macaron #headcanons #AHRGSKHRGSRAJHR i love hi fi rush ask me more things #i love yapping

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sparguscityangel · 4 months ago

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Night Market

i wrote this a while ago but i thought it was cute if anyone wanted some fluff <3 oc x canon because hehe warning: mentions of vomiting but no actual vomiting happens. a character just retches enjoy!

Jak's skin prickled under his scarf, sweat beading around the back of his neck the longer he stood in front of the food stall. Instinct told him to take it off, cooing that the light breeze from the cool summer night would feel divine on his overheating skin. The clanking of armed law enforcers that circled through the rows and rows of vendors told him otherwise. He tried to not look over his shoulder at them too much, praying that his eyes didn't betray his cover as one marched a tad bit too close to him. Crap. He didn't get a glimpse, did he? The guard was tall — easy one or two feet taller than Jak, and the plated shoulders didn't seem like they were forgiving enough for him to see anything below eye-level.

In his haste to move further away from the guard, he stumbled into the woman beside him. She jostled a little, a soft sound of surprise spilling out her lips as she adjusted to get her equilibrium back. Crap. He was lucky he didn't accidentally knock the poor thing over. He was stronger, packed with more muscle, he could've—

The doubts in his head turned into lazy droning as he felt an arm snake around his own, a body pressing to his side. As the vendor called their number, the girl squeezed his bicep and rose her other hand. "That's us!" she chimed, pulling him to stand before the plywood and painted linen that advertised some mystery cuisine. The smoke the stall generated from its grill made tears well up in his eyes, and he wondered if maybe he should've lowered his goggles too. The girl didn't seem to mind. In fact, she rattled off their order like it was second nature. Her tongue didn't roll the 'R's quite right and she definitely messed up the grammar a few times, but the rugged man behind the counter nodded and turned back to throw something onto the fire. Jak tried to peer over, stomach cramping as he caught sight of the other food currently charring on the beat up grill.

"Now we wait," she smiled, tugging him over to the side so that the person behind them could order. Her fingers on his arm pressed into his tunic, her grip weakening and then strengthening, uncertain if she should continue holding it or let it go. Jak was too preoccupied to make up his mind on the matter either.

"Did you order ...?"

"No meat!" she boasted, chested puffed up in pride as she pointed to the one armed cook. His other arm ended in a spatula. Just where in the world did these people come from? "I remembered,"

The tightness in his stomach subsided. Good. He can actually enjoy the meal and not have to pick out all the meat upon receiving it. His own dietary preferences aside, Jak still wasn't keen on the idea of outright throwing away meat — especially in a side like Haven were such things were considered a luxury.

He was glad for his scarf. It hid the blush the reddened his cheeks at the thought of Ru having memorized his quirk.

Their order was ready in about ten minutes. Jak had almost forgotten about it until Ru let go of him and bounced closer to the spatula handed man to retrieve the brown paper boats that contained the majority of their food. By the time he was handing her a third boat, Jak had surged forward to grab the rest of the apparent buffet that Ru had ordered for them both. As she sought out a spot to eat, Jak paid. Ru insisted that it was her treat before they even arrived to the Bazaar, but something in Jak told him that it was his responsibility to pay, so he did. The orbs weren't exactly obtained in the most wholesome of ways, but currency was currency and he had enough to pay for Ru and himself.

He found her sitting on a short wall a bit aways from the hustle and bustle of the Bazaar. He moved pasted the other friends eating their meals, and the closer he got to Ru, the more sparse they became. Around them, the sting lights that encompassed the entire sector illuminated them both in a warm glow.

Ru waited until he was sitting beside her before she leaned in close and asked, "Is this alright? I tried picking a spot where you wouldn't get too overwhelmed,"

Jak nodded. The peppering of the odd... friends ... was a fragile comfort, knowing that there were enough people around that the KG wouldn't even bother to inspect each and every face, but it wasn't too populated to the point where it made Jak's skin crawl and his tongue grow venomous with outbursts.

With the confirmation, Ru clapped her hands in excitement. "Good! Now, I didn't really know what you would or wouldn't like so I asked for the most popular orders," she gestured to the myriad of boats, "Are you ready to have your tastebuds burn off?"

The entire selection didn't look to be much, now that he looked at it. Everything had been made with the idea of only trying the dish before moving onto the next, content with the business model of only selling one or two quick snacks, but he distinctly remembered that Ru only wanted to come to this specific stall. She's been talking about it for nearly a week, and he couldn't bear to tell her 'no' again. After the last time she smiled sadly and said it was alright, he was marching into the Underground and demanding a night off to take Ru to the food market. It's the least they could do, he thought, It not for me, then for her.

What did throw him off was the fiery red that almost all the dishes possessed.

"Uh, Ru?" he called, picking up one of the skewers with a raised eyebrow. The food on it looked chewy, almost like cheese, but the unnatural red color made him a little suspicious. He squinted at the stall, trying to see if he could make out where the food originated from, but it was too far and the letters all blurred together anyways for him. Embarrassment sprouted in his gut when he remembered how many times he handed something to Ru or Daxter and asked them to read it to him.

Ru passed him the bag of soda, grunting around the mouthful she was trying to swallow before she finally got out, "Hang on! It tastes better with cheese!". Rummaging through her bag, Ru produced a pre-packaged stick of cheese that she immediately began to peel apart. She licked her finger as she laid it over the strange tubes on the skewer, only satisfied when she finally saw it begin to melt. "Okay, now try it,"

"What is it?"

"Tteokbokki! It's not from the stall, but it's one of my favorites and a great way to ease you into spicy food," she explained, hands moving about in that animated way that intrigued Jak. She reminded him of Daxter, constantly alive and in motion and the perfect sort of enthusiastic that made it easy for him to blend into the background. All the attention would be on them, though they never left him behind.

She's cute, he found himself thinking, then promptly shoved the entire skewer of tubes into his mouth. Ru squealed.

"Not all at once! You're supposed to eat it one at a time!" she sagged, playfully exasperated, then followed suit and devoured her own skewer. Two seconds later and she's slapping his arm to pass the bag of soda back to her. The spices hit Jak's tongue almost immediately also, but it fizzled out as soon as it arrived. He chewed through it, waiting for it to come back with a vengeance, but nothing happened. When it was eventually reduced to mush, Jak swallowed.

"Not bad," he shrugged, "The cheese helped,"

"Cheese always helps," Ru winked, then pushed the next boat closer to him, "Now is the moment of truth!" she dropped her voice down an octave, booming out the rest like one of the oracles that Jak frequented, "Jak ... insert last name here— Are you ready to experience true spice?"

"Sure,"

"Jak!"

"Fine," Jak rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and dropping his own voice down an octave, "I accept the challenge,"

Ru's cheeks grew pink, a strained smile on her lips as she brought her hands up to cover her face. After a few seconds, she made a rather embarrassing snort-giggle-squeal, shaking her head. "Stop, stop, stop!" she cried under muffled palms, "That was so hot, oh my God, don't do that!"

"You just told me to be more into it! I was following your lead!"

"Stop looking at me and eat your soy chorizo!"

Ru didn't give him time to dwell. Her braids whirled around her as she picked up another boat, setting down in front of him like she was presenting before royalty. A street rat with a rap sheet the length of a glub's tongue was hardly deserving of such treatment, but he couldn't help but want to be that for Ru. Even if it was a joke, he found himself longing to be someone actually worthy of presentation and prestige, of nice things he could share with her if only to hear her laugh about it. He realized that he could never be that for her, but it was nice to dream between bites of fire.

This time, Ru used Jak's spoon to mix the contents around. The red, thick gravy looked both creamy and textured with chunks of what looked like vegetables in it. When mixed in with the rice, it thickened into something that resembled porridge. Not only did the appearance slightly change, but stirring it around awoke a very dense aroma that made him want to sneeze. It tickled the insides of his nose, slapped his cheeks, and clogged his throat from the amount of seasoning that went into the dish. Jak coughed, and Ru grinned.

"No way you'll be able to survive this," Ru smirked, stabbing the spoon into the mixture and holding it out for Jak, "Eat up, sucker,"

"You are ... weirdly into this, you know," Jak muttered, taking the boat with both hands, "It's kinda creepy. What's in it for me?"

Ru hummed, rolling her eyes with a grin. She leaned toward him, head tilted forward as if she knew a secret that Jak didn't. Her feet kicked innocuously, but the look in her doe eyes were mischievous, a trickster Precursors disguised as a young woman if Jak didn't know any better. He didn't, though, did he? There was a lot about this strange new time that he didn't know about, both social and historical wise. He didn't mind at first. His mind was too preoccupied with revenge, the inner turmoil inside him becoming so all-consuming that Jak laid awake at night in fear of himself.

He knew some things. Basic things. The fundamentals that were discussed by bored guards posted outside his cell. He latched onto them when the eco treatments started to get more unbearable, shaking on the stone floor of his cell and forcing himself to follow the conversations going on around him, to latch onto any semblance of human connection that he could get.

It got him far enough outside of the Fortress, and when he reunited with Daxter and Keira, he felt a flood of relief. He was reminded that he wasn't alone, that the gaps in his knowledge weren't his alone to bear. He foolishly believed that when the world stopped for him, it stopped for his friends as well. But then, the truth was that it didn't. He was reminded in the way Daxter talked them out of situations without missing a beat, throwing in something so casual yet intimate that others look the other way. He watched as Keira chatted with other mechanics, seated quietly beside her and peeling off the label of the soju bottle as she and the others spoke about things that Jak couldn't even begin to fathom what they meant. Even Samos, as old as he was, seemed to have adapted to Haven much better than Jak had. While he was locked up, his friends grew into the city. They learned, they overcame, and they assimilated while it became painfully obvious that Jak was falling behind.

Until he met Ru.

Suddenly, he didn't feel embarrassed about not understanding her jokes or references. He didn't feel stupid asking her what something meant or to explain something in the middle of their conversation. Even when he got overwhelmed and struggled to form words, Ru would understand everything he wanted to express verbally. She never minded. She'd just smile that warm smile of hers, pet his arm, and explained. He learned a lot from her, even if she doesn't think so.

Though he had to admit that this particular lesson in cuisine was throwing him for a bit of a loop.

"Well, let's see," Ru hummed, tapping her chin, "If you can't handle the curry and I win, you have to teach me how to ride your hoverboard,"

"Not happening,"

"Oh, come on! I told you! It was an off day!"

Jak had a sudden bright and vivid memory of Ru asking him the same thing nearly a month ago, the lesson resulting in an ice pack on the knee and reassuring a teary eyed Ru that the board was fine. He made a face at the request.

"A glub could've avoided that rock,"

"It was a pretty big rock! How was I suppo— no, no, I'm not having this argument again," Ru hissed, shaking her head. When she locked eyes with him again, she continued, "But if you can handle the curry and you win, you get a treat,"

That got his attention.

"A treat? What kind of treat?" he asked, trying to keep his voice measured and not give away his hand too much. Ru was cute and all but she wasn't exactly the picture perfect sportsmanship model out there.

"A sweet one," she assured, coyly looking around them, "You'll see if you win,"

Jak chuckled, picking the spoon back up to mix the food. By now, it had turned into a russet shade of mush. The smell was strong, wafting all around them to the point where a few of the couples made faces at it. Jak kept an eye out. The last thing he needed was someone reporting them to the KG. The scarf around his hair could only do so much to conceal his identity, and Ru ... well, Ru still believed he was a good person. Through some miracle or luck of some form of sick divine intervention, Ru hadn't seen any of the wanted posters plastered around the city. He tried to take down the ones that were posted near her commute to the clinic, but they would reappear almost immediately, and yet Ru has yet to put two and two together. He couldn't tell if he was grateful or not.

He shoved the spoon into his mouth to stop the thoughts from spiraling further.

Ru waited. Jak waited. It felt like the entire bazaar was holding its breath as it waited for the spice to knock him down.

But the spice never came. Jak took a couple more bites, holding each one in his mouth for longer amounts of time but it never came. He held the boat out to Ru. "Not bad. Could use some hot sauce,"

Ru stared. Her mouth moved as if she was trying to speak, but she has always been an actions person and she snatched the boat from him, slipping the barest taste between her lips. Her reaction was delayed, but expected.

Her face grew hot as red eco, her tongue rolling out like a panting crocapup as she fanned herself. She slammed her fist into his bicep, pointing wildly for the bag of coke. Then, just as he was going to hand it to her, Ru sprinted for the nearest garbage bin and leaned over, the sounds of her dry heaving sending the other patrons scrambling away from the area. A few peered at the discarded paper boat on the floor, faces twisted in grimaces and hissing at the booth that it came from.

All the while, Jak sat motionless.

Ru was feeling sick. He should help her, right? He would need to channel green eco into her somehow, and he tried to mentally dust off the old medicinal lessons that Samos used to force him to sit through as he droned on and on about biles and humors and miasma.

Ru's body twitched, but nothing came out but a painful sounding burp. Jak sighed. This wasn't biles, humors, or miasma, but it was Ru and whatever it was, he was sure it was horrible to face alone while her nose was inches away from unfinished tanghulus and garlic naan.

He stood behind her, hands hovering over her shoulders cautiously. He could touch her. He should. He won't. He can't.

"Ru ...?" he called quietly, rounding around to get a look on her face. She gagged painfully, but nothing was coming out. He called her name again, but she didn't answer. Crap. What would a good not-maybe-sorta-boy friend (friend who was a boy) do?

He nervously shifted on his feet. "Is there ... anything I can do?" he asked dumbly, wincing when she slumped miserably over the trash. "I can get you some ice? O-or I can get some help, hang on—"

"H-hold my hair?" came Ru's tiny voice, face splotchy and sweating and oh-so-adorable. Jak snapped into action, relief over having clear cut orders settling his own nervousness. Gathering the chestnut and milky hair in both hands, Jak twisted and bundled it all up at the back of her head. Some strands were drenched around her temples, plastered to her freckled skin in loops and spirals, stuck to her face like flies to honey.

After what seemed like an eternity — though realistically probably a max of five minutes — Ru finally leaned away from the can, her canvas jacket sleeve pulled over her hand to wipe at her face. "Damn," she muttered, eyes closed as she swallowed thickly, "That was a close one,"

"Yeah ..." Jak agreed, accumulating her hair under one hand as the other cupped her jaw, bringing her closer, "Were you sick before or ...?"

Her forehead was a little warmer than it should've been against his cheek, but her lips were still covered in the curry tinted saliva and she was still sucking in the cold air in sharp intakes. He pulled away, Ru looking away as she shook her head.

"It was the curry," she replied curtly, then shrugged, "This should've been you, you know,"

"Why are you so obsessed with me and spicy food?" Jak huffed. Ru stomped her foot, face twisted up in a pout. She was fine now. He let her hair cascade down her back.

"You're too good to be true! You have to have at least one flaw!"

Jak nearly choked on air, snapping his head to stare at Ru as if she had grown a new head. It took him a second to gather his thoughts. "Excuse me?" was all he could come up with.

Ru threw her hands up. "You like animals! You bring my family gifts! You wait for permission to touch me, you come running when I need help, you let me vent!"

"Ru, that's all normal," Jak laughed, but Ru silenced him with a finger.

"No! It isn't! I love this city, Jak, I do, but even I can admit that the people here sorta suck. But you don't. You ..." Ru stopped herself with a long suffering sigh, thumbing his channeler ring. He wondered if she knew what it was, what it said about him. Channelers were rare. Sages that could learn to manipulate a certain eco type was not impossible, and there very well could be many more that they didn't know about. Oracles, though not able to control eco, were still a more thriving breed than Channelers. In their absence, Haven learned to adapt. They created ways to harness eco, to guide it wherever they wanted it to go and they invented technology that got them as close to channeling as possible, but no one could handle raw eco. Not like Jak. The iron in his blood made room for eco and he needed the ring to help conduct it and when Ru moved the strap, the ancient artifact bore the smiley sticker she had given him that day in the rain. Standing outside her apartment, drenched from the downpour and shaking from the close call with KG, Ru handed him the sticker like it was cash, like it was valuable, like he was worth of a reward for simply walking a stranger home. The Ru in the past and the Ru in the present both grinned at him, close enough to kiss despite Jak's commitment to keep her as pure as possible. Everything he touched turned to bile and humors and miasma and he was determined to keep Ru safe from it.

From him.

But Ru wasn't afraid like he was. Ru wasn't a coward and she tapped his nose with a finger and said, "You're special, Jak. I can tell,"

He heard it said in millions of different ways throughout his life, but this was the first time he actually believed it. For once, Jak felt ... special. Not because he was a Channeler or a hero or a rebellious pet or destined for greatness, but because the veterinarian technician he walked home once said so.

The moment made Jak feel weird so he stepped away, clearing his throat as Ru continued to groan and hold her stomach. She was still feeling bad and Jak didn't like seeing her upset.

He looked around the stalls surrounded them. The area they picked to sit in was nestled in the corner of the market, the vendors all disappointed in their placements and resting their chins in their palms as they sighed at the lack of clientele. Jak browsed through them all, but the one that stuck out to him the most was an older man facing a portable television, laughing to himself while eating a bowl of noodles that bore the name that didn't match his stalls.

As Ru sat back down on the half-wall, Jak moved toward the old man with his scarf tucked back around his face, hands stuffed into his pockets and before he even arrived, the man grumbled, "I don't have cash. Go rob someone else,"

Jak snarled, the eco inside him thumping to be let out, but he breathed instead. Figure out the issue. Resolve it. Don't turn to violence.

What would make the shopkeeper think he was trying to rob him? Was it the goatee? His boots? Or ... he touched his face. The scarf was a deep crimson and covering everything but his eyes. He had to admit — he did look suspicious.

"I'm not going to rob you," Jak said, lowing the scarf to show his face, "I just wanted—

"Banana milk. Two coins," the old man muttered, never looking up from the television. Jak waited for him to stand up and the milk to him, but he never moved.

"Do I ...?"

The old man waved at him in annoyance. "Aiya! I can't hear my show!" he gestured to the screen, a black and white movie involving a young warrior and a giant animal strolling through a village as the townspeople bowed. The hair on the warrior was outrageous, standing in defiance of gravity and good fashion choices. Jak reached over and snatched the milk from behind the counter. He tossed the coins onto the counter, clicking his tongue as he turned away from the grumpy man.

As he walked away, the man called out to him. "Hey! Crazy Hair Boy!"

Confused, Jak grimaced. "What do you want, old man? Don't you have your show to watch?" Jak snapped, gesturing to the TV. Again, the older man even spare him a glance. He stuffed a sizeable amount of noodles into his mouth, slurping them up. Was he going to have to wait until he was done chewing? He didn't have time for this. "What do you want?"

"You can be one or the other. You cannot be rude and stupid," the man finally said, mixing the broth with his chopsticks. It was the only time he wasn't glued to the screen, "Learn to read. Girls, they like boys that can read them poetry and sonnets,"

"How did you ...?"

"You're holding a bottle of chai concentrate. Your friend needs banana milk. 'S good for those who cannot handle spicy,"

Jak looked down at his hand. The letters meant nothing to him, and they never had to. In Sandover, people just told him what to get and how. Even if he never spoke, he didn't have to. Everyone just understood him. Besides, he didn't need books. That was more Keira and Daxter's thing, never his. He wasn't good at the academic side of things, just the physical side. He didn't need to know about history or philosophy, not when he could be learning how to push his body further and harder and faster.

If he couldn't read, he wouldn't be wasting his time reading books. It was a necessary sacrifice.

At the cost of upsetting Ru?

He returned the chai concentrate and picked up the smaller bottle with the smiling banana on it. "Thanks ..." he muttered, then looked around the stall, "What does you sign say?"

"Xinjian's. That's me,"

"What do you sell?"

"Noodles. Dumplings. Banana milk,"

The bowl in his hands didn't look like it spelt the same words as the sign. "Why did you buy noodles from someone else?"

"I never said I made good noodles," the man shrugged, popping a half of a boiled egg into his mouth.

Fair enough. Jak nodded, thanked the man again, and walked back to Ru with the milk. He tapped her shoulder with is from behind, softly offering it to her and waiting for her to take it before he sat back down next to her. "How are you feeling?"

Ru made a face around the banana milk. After a long sip, she swallowed hard and coughed. "Like my insides are on fire," she replied tightly, coughing some more into her elbow. She held up the milk. This is good, though,"

"I'm glad,"

The conversation died down softly, the warm glow of the lights and the sounds of the lively market taking over. Ru finished the milk in record time, tossing it onto the empty plates. The night bit with the first signs of autumn, reddening Ru's nose and numbing Jak's fingers. Still, it was too peaceful for either of them to break the spell of the market.

After a moment, though, the insistent nagging in his head got to be unbearable and he cursed before he broke the moment. "What was the sweet treat?" he asked, leaning back on his palms. Ru raised an eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"My treat. You said if I won, you'd give me a sweet treat," Jak tapped his chin, "I'm pretty sure I won,"

"Alright, alright, I concede," Ru laughed, "Close you eyes,"

"If this is a spicy dessert ..." but he obeyed, shutting his eyes, trusting Ru to alert him if something went haywire. Deprived of his sight, Jak was able to take note of all the aromas and sounds he hadn't before: the sweet scent of mango, the laughter of a group of friends, the smokiness of a grill. In the blissful darkness behind his eyelids, Jak realized that this was the Sandover he always wanted. The joyous comradery of community from children playing to elders eating noodles, surrounded by a diverse and exciting plethora of foods. If only the city walls were gone and he could smell the sweetness of the sea, he'd consider this—

Jak's thoughts were interrupted by something soft and velvety on his lips.

It was caste, gentle, and sweet. Jak decided he liked it, parting his mouth just a little to allow Ru more room to deepen the kiss. Her head tilted to the right and Jak followed her lead, melting into it as Ru's hand rested on his chest. Whether to keep herself from falling into him or to follow instinct, he didn't care. He just never wanted the moment to end.

It was Ru that pulled away, her hand now cupping his jaw to rub the bone with her thumb. Jak tried to chase after her but she dodged him, giggling as she sat back.

"Easy, pal. You get a treat, not the whole dessert cart," Ru chimed. Jak blinked at her, realization making the moment go from a dreamy haze to sharp focus.

"Not bad for my first kiss," he mused out loud, leaning back towards her but Ru evaded it again, this time her eyes shot open like dinner plates and she tightened her hand on his jaw.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa ... what did you say?"

"Uh ... not bad for my first kiss?" Jak repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Is that a problem?"

"You ... you and Keira—!"

"We tried, once, but Daxter interrupted," Jak shrugged. Ru's hand was warm on his cheek and he rested some of the weight of his head on her palm.

"I ... was your first kiss," Ru stated and Jak nodded. She covered her face with her free hand, "Oh, Gods! You just had your kiss in the baazar next to a trash can! Why didn't you tell me?! I would've waited until we were somewhere nicer!"

Jak made a dismissive noise. "Eh, never really been the planning type. I guess you can say that I'm the spontaneous type," he hummed, "Now where were we ..."

Ru laughed, smacking his arm playfully. His flinch was noticed but not acknowledged — the deal they silently agreed upon when Jak started to spend more and more time with Ru. Trauma or not, he still laughed at it. His sides began to ache as Ru dropped her head in her hands.

"What's worse is that you still had some spice on your lips," Ru whined. Jak scooted closer to her.

"Maybe the tingling is from our spark,"

"Ew! Gross!" she shoved him, both of them collapsing into uncontrollable laughter, "That's so cheesy!

"You told me to close my eyes and then you kissed me! That's the biggest, cheesiest cliche ever!"

"No, that's called being cute! You're just being a creep now!" she touched her lips, wiping it with her tongue and then instantly fanning herself. "Crap! That stuff is no joke. How are you dealing with it?!"

Jak leaned back on his hands again, regarding Ru with a suave grin. "I like sweet and sour," he winked.

"Bleh," Ru pretended to gag, pushing Jak's face away from her, "Get out mah face ..."

Jak laughed loudly at the reference, the voice of the boisterous drunk man they saw messing with a KG coming back to him in full force. Ever since they heard it, they couldn't stop repeating it to each other. It became annoying to both Daxter and Keira whenever Jak would say it without Ru's presence to make the joke make sense. The last time he said it, Keira threatened to club him with a wrench.

"Nah, I changed my mind," Ru giggled, wrapping her arm around his neck and burying her hand in his curls. A finger teased one of the more defined ones, pulling it and letting it snap back into form before twisting it around her finger. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in. She smelled like a field of flowers. "I think I like your face a lot,"

Jak hummed. "Should we head back to your place?"

Ru grinned, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Yeah ..."

The trek back to Ru's house wasn't too far. The Slums weren't too far from the East Bazaar, but it was dangerously close to the Fortress. When Ru wasn't looking, he tore down another wanted poster.

Her parents greeted him like they always did. They offered him food, he politely declined, and when Ru told them he was sleeping over again, her grandmother clapped.

"Oh, good! You can help me make fry bread in the morning!" she shouted from her chair, resuming her beaded project as Ru tugged him towards her room.

While Ru was furiously brushing her teeth in the bathroom, Jak dug around for his pillow in the closet. Ru's sister was sat on the bed, covered in an array of sparkly beaded jewelry and a tutu that has seen better days, speaking to him about the latest episode of Eco Rangers. She paused when Ru walked back in.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Ru shook her head.

"No way. Last time you slept in here, you kept him all to yourself," Ru grumbled, throwing herself onto the bed.

Jak climbed in next to her, plopping onto Ru's stomach. She groaned loudly, moaning about her midsection. "You heard the boss,"

"Get off me, you log! You're all bones!"

Lorna whined. "Please?! I promise I won't bother you!"

"You're bothering us now," Ru rolled her eyes, then laid her hand on Jak's chest again, "Besides, we had plans to do big kid stuff,"

"Mom and dad said to keep the door open!" Lorna screeched, "Those are the rules!"

"Ew! Not that!" Ru blanched and Jak hid the way he blushed behind his hands. He wasn't even thinking of that. Maybe ever. Ru patted his chest, "But we were planning on doing a little more kissing and cuddling and cutesy name calling,"

"Now I'm nauseous," Jak groaned and Ru smacked his chest. He laughed.

"Hush, you. Anyway, there's no room in here for you. Go sleep in your own room,"

"... Rock, paper, scissors?"

"You're on,"

Lorna stayed. Ru and Jak stole kisses when they could, waiting until Lorna wasn't looking, the animated movie on TV keeping her attention long enough for Ru to peck his lips or for Jak to drop one on their interlocked knuckles. He doesn't remember the movie, or even what it was about, just that he woke up when Lorna got off the bed to turn it off. His face was tucked into Ru's stomach, his back to the TV and his girlfriend laying on her back as she ran her hand down his spine.

Crap. He fell asleep before he could check the windows and doors. The Morgues didn't have bars on the windows, anyone could just come in off the street and pry them open. He had to double check that the locks were all fine and the bells were in their place and—

"Shhh," Ru whispered, digging her fingers into his back. He didn't even realize he was pushing himself up until she spoke, "I checked. You're okay. Go back to sleep,"

He didn't need to be told twice. He dropped back down more carefully, curling up into Ru's stomach once more and sighing when her hand resumed her rubbing on his neck and shoulders.

Lorna made herself comfortable on the pillows next to Ru's head, awkwardly positioned to not accidentally kick Jak in her sleep again. Both sisters laid vertically, one crushed by him as Jak took up horizontal space, but he was too tired to care. Ru's gentle breathing lulled him back to sleep, and Jak fell into a dream of spicy cacti and tingling kisses.

#jak and daxter #angel's fic #jak and daxter oc #oc x canon #idk i liked it

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