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hyacinth-sims · 9 months ago

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La Campanella

Summary: A character study of Tybalt Capp as he reflects upon his relationship with his late mother and his place in the Capp family.

Warning: None, VERY SAD :(

Pairings: None, Implied Past Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: The formatting/style is a little messy since I really just let everything go and wrote what I thought of Tybalt and who he is in the moment. I’m really happy with what I came up with but also quite sad because he really needs a hug :( Also link for a piano rendition of La Campanella I think it really ties everything together 😁

His mother began to teach him piano before he could form a coherent sentence. She would sit on the bench and invite him next to her, his bright eyes watching intently as her slender fingers danced across the keys. He would attempt to imitate her whenever he could, his little hands smashing down on the ivory keys in an attempt to make music. Instead of scolding him for the awful slam of notes he let out, his mother would simply laugh and wrap her arms around him—stroking her fingers through his red hair as she whispered the nickname she’d called him until her very last breath.

“My sweet boy.”

Tybalt was 9 years old when he had his first piano recital. He was set to play Für Elise, the only classical piece he knew by heart. He cried and cried backstage until the tears had run dry, only leaving heaving sobs and stinging eyes. Performing in front of his grandfather’s coworkers was one thing; performing in front of an entire auditorium full of people was something else entirely. But even from a young age, Tybalt did as a Capp always would, wiped the wet streaks from his cheeks, and walked onto that menacing stage.

He played as if nothing bothered him, refusing to let anyone see him sweat. His sisters like to say that he changed the day their parents died, but the stubborn boy desperately seeking approval always existed under the surface. Once finished with his performance, he stood up from his bench before taking a bow. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists behind his back, an anxious response as he desperately searched for his grandfather in the crowd. He was there, seated with an unchanging expression as his hands quietly clapped together in the sea of applause.

Grandfather had told him that one day, he would be the man of the family. It meant both a lot yet very little in a matriarchal hierarchy, as his role in the family would never be to take over—but rather protect his sisters as they would eventually find suitors of their own to bring into the Capp family. However, even if Tybalt was married off to a woman of riches and good social standing, even if his last name was stripped of him, he wanted to make his grandfather proud until the very end.

It was a point of contention between his mother and his grandfather. While Grandfather had many expectations of who Tybalt would eventually become within their family, his mother wanted him to follow his own path. She never wanted him to marry for money or power, and even as a child, she made him promise he would marry somebody he loved. He never knew it as a child, but marriages for love were uncommon in his family. His parents were the exception, not the rule.

His mother and father had met as young adults, he was in attendance of a piano performance of her own. They were both students of an arts university, with his father being an aspiring stage actor who’d attended the recital on a whim. She gushed that he was captivated by her rendition of Nocturne No. 8, finding her after the show to commend her on her beauty and piano skills—and to ask her on a date. Grandfather and grandmother were not happy about this, seeing as though they had already planned a potential husband for her to marry once she was out of university.

They eventually found his father to be suitable enough for their heiress, although it meant that the Troy family was guaranteed to marry into the family the following generation—which meant Juliette.

It wasn’t set in stone until their parents had passed, as the importance placed on true love and the happiness that came with it faded with them. As long as grandfather remained alive, Juliette’s hand was guaranteed to the young heir of the Troy family and it had become Tybalt’s job to make sure all went well. It also meant that his happiness would forever take the back burner, although it wasn’t as if that meant much.

Once his parents died and his grandparents had taken in himself and his sisters, his happiness very quickly revolved around what use he could provide for the family. If it meant marrying a woman he could never love, he would do it. If it meant automatically hating anyone who had ever possibly slighted his family, he would do it. If it meant killing that little boy who listened intently to his mother’s stories of love and what it meant to be happy…

He’d do it without much thought at all.

His grandfather seemed to be the opposite of his mother, as his advice to Tybalt was that love is the destruction of man. He said love could make even the strongest man alive crumble down without much effort. Tybalt had asked how he remained standing and was not given much of an answer other than a glance that told what words couldn’t. It was then, at age 13, that Tybalt learned his grandparents had not loved each other—at least not in the traditional sense.

Certainly, those premonitions had to come from somewhere, but Tybalt just wasn’t sure where.

What his mother would likely find heartbreaking if she had been alive is the fact that Tybalt understood his grandfather’s words. He had never been in love, it would be silly to call a childhood infatuation love. He was 7 years old, standing off to the side as the other children played on the playground. He didn’t want to get his uniform dirty; his grandmother hated it whenever he did. A boy came up to him with a monarch butterfly resting on the tip of his finger, a grin on his face that was missing a few teeth. In fact, he had just watched one fall out only the week before. His friend had dared him to bite into a rather large jawbreaker—of course, that did not end well. The boy told him that the orange hue of the small creature reminded him of Tybalt’s hair.

It was nice to fantasize for a few years, to tell his mother that he was following her stories, to insist he was in love as she responded with cooing and warm hugs. But everything came to a halt after that fire, not only in his life but for the entire town. His grandfather insisted on the theory that the rivaling Montys had caused it—and tore apart his already battered heart in the process.

That anxious yet curious little boy was laid to rest with his parents on that day, leaving only the hardened shell carefully curated to guarantee he would never hurt like that again. At least, that was what Tybalt told himself—a mantra repeated to convince himself that there were no feelings left to feel other than vengeance and rage. As always, though, the truth lay somewhere in the middle. Tybalt would never be the same as he once was; that much was very true. He could never listen with wide eyes and a bright smile to fantastical fairytales of happiness or flush and stammer in response to something as stupid as a butterfly.

But deep inside, there was still a desperate vying for approval from his family. There was still a craving, a need for someone to simply say they were proud of him. There was still a part of him that wanted to be loved, to be told that everything was going to be okay in the end. Tybalt hated that part of himself, it would never see the light of day if he had anything to do with it.

He’d abandoned his mother’s stories, her gentleness, her wish for her children to have something better than feuds and arranged marriages. All he could keep of her memory was the grand piano that had been in the family for generations; it had become his sole comfort when repression and denial failed.

The sheet music of La Campanella had sat on the music shelf in front of him for nearly a month. He’d turned it around this time, only allowing his eyes to see the blank back of the thick paper. He wanted to completely memorize it before his grandfather’s next party for his business associates and where he would likely meet the girl he was set to marry once he completed his education. He hoped she would at least be decent company, somehow his grandparents seemed to enjoy their time spent with one another—perhaps he could have the same.

Oh, his mother would be aghast to hear of that. The argument between his mother and grandfather would be one for the ages, he had to get his temper from somewhere after all. Perhaps she would understand if she was here to see the worsening tensions throughout town. Even if he was going to eventually be part of another family, he wanted to ensure that the lineage of the Capps was secured.

The palms of his hands began to sweat as he could feel his grandfather’s narrowed eyes watching him—waiting for him to make a mistake. Tybalt could only furrow his brow and stare down at the keys in front of him, watching as his fingers rapidly pressed against them as the song sped up. He wanted to make his grandfather proud more than anything, he was all he had left after all. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for this party—including his own musical rendition. He needed it to be perfect. There was nothing else he could do for his family, he was one of few men born into the name after all. All he could do was ensure his sisters were perfect, their marriages were perfect, and he needed to be perfect—

One of his fingers slipped as he was nearing the end of the song, an off-tune note ringing out through the air as his grandfather softly shook his head. Tybalt stopped in his tracks immediately, a final slam of the keys before bringing his hands back to his side. The older man leaned forward in the living room chair that they’d all referred to as his chair. He picked up the handle of his teacup and his newspaper from the coffee table before leaning back once again. “What a shame,” His grandfather commented before taking a sip of his tea and putting the cup back down on the table, “You were doing so well too.”

Tybalt could do nothing but stare down at his lap, clenching his fists until he could feel the pain of his sharp nails in the middle of his palms—a habit he’d never quite broken. He took a deep breath in, releasing his hands as he put them up to the keys again as he shakily breathed out. He played and played until his fingers began to cramp and every note was ingrained in his head. He finished the song on his 8th try, but to himself—it still wasn’t good enough.

It would never be good enough.

#ts2 #ts2 premades #the sims 2 #veronaville #tybalt capp #the sims fanfiction #ts2 fanfiction #sims 2 fanfiction #tycutio #kinda #contrizio if you squint tbh #consort capp #cordelia capp #sims 2

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anim-ttrpgs · 1 year ago

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A.N.I.M. Adventure Art: The Seedtown Party

Meet the Seedtown Party. This is a cast of investigator PCs from one of the earliest test runs for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, back in late 2021. It didn’t even have any sort of combat system when this campaign started, that was written hastily somewhere in the middle of the campaign, somewhere around February 2022.

This campaign is maybe the longest we’ve ever done with Eureka, lasting 6 months with a session nearly every week, and it was amazing.

Four investigators find themselves one way or another in a small town in the mountains of Arkansas, coming together by chance due to shared interest in a series of seemingly related missing persons cases.

It pains me greatly that I cannot remember exactly what was said, but the way that this group of characters came together and agree to work with each other to locate these missing persons in the first session was the single most natural and organic way I’ve ever seen a TTRPG party form.

Eunica, an actual professional private investigator from the big city, here on a personal mission, as one of the missing people is her own nephew.

Joseph, an extremely friendly local bartender who has been manning his brother’s establishment since his brother’s death more than ten years ago.

Sarah, a moviestar who sought to disappear from the spotlight and run away to a quieter life, only to find that some of the missing persons posters feature *her* face, and did before she even arrived.

And finally Alice (pronounced in the French way, sounds more like “Elise”), a cheerful and energetic young Cajun-French biker claiming to be a friend of one of the missing people. She was definitely the youngest of the party, appearing to be in her early twenties, with the next youngest investigator being Eunica in her late thirties. Alice had the rest of the party in love with her sweetness, energy, and optimistic attitude, as well as many weird but endearing quirks like how sarcasm and jokes always flew right over her head, her insistance that her food never have any spices whatsoever, and the fact she wore the same part of sunglasses day and night. In fact, they never actually even saw her sleep, she was always awake when they went to bed and always awake in the morning when they woke up. Alice was “the baby of the group”, and all of the older investigators went out of their way to protect her and curb her bold and reckless actions, despite her insistence that they didn’t need to.

Art by @theblackwarden

This art has been posted here with permission as part of A.N.I.M.’s Adventure Art initiative in our TTRPG book club.

All of these characters are PCs from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by A.N.I.M.

If you’d like to join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club, you can find the discord invite on our website.

If your art fits he parameters outlined on this post, and you’d like it featured here, tag us or post it in the book club’s Adventure Art channel on discord.

If you’d like to support us and get a prerelease copy of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, check out our Patreon! Our Kickstarter is planned for launch in April 2024!

This group of investigators followed what clues they could through local urban legends, organized crime, police corruption, and finally occult ritual among the state’s wealthy elite in a remote manor in the mountains, ending in a high-stakes shootout as the gang attempted to flee the premises after disrupting a plot that could’ve brought the world as we know it to its knees, and then a confrontation with the source of the aforementioned urban legends. For the most part, the investigators got out unscathed, except for Alice, who caught three bullets during the shootout, way more than enough to kill an investigator, or most any character, in Eureka. She also did most of the killing in this shootout.

Alice near flat-out refused medical attention, instead sneaking away as soon as the others’ backs were turned, leaving a farewell message at the bar before getting on her bike, and riding away. There was no way to track her or find out where she went, who she was, or if she was even still alive. They never even learned her last name.

Not only was this a test run of Eureka in general, but also the origin of its unique approach to supernatural characters, wherein not even other players sitting around the table know which members of the party are supernatural or not. With exceptions that I’ll get to in a moment, none of the IRL people playing this game except the Game Master knew that there would be any supernatural element to this mystery, let alone within the very investigative party itself. Nearly all of the players were relative strangers to each other before the group was brought together for session 0, not knowing each others’ interests or original characters, so there was little chance of guessing anything was amiss before the session even began.

Eunica shocked everyone about a two-thirds into the investigation, after the involvement of occult ritual started to become apparent, by revealing that she was no ordinary private detective, but really one of a more magical variety, capable of more than a little magic herself, and the person you’d go to if you needed someone to, say, hunt and slay a vampire. This took some time to process for everyone and Alice had what seemed like a hundred rapid-fire questions about the truth or the supernatural.

Alice, on the other hand, didn’t shock anyone, no one suspected a thing. No one, not PCs nor Players, ever guessed that sweet “Alice”, “the baby of the group”, was actually the oldest of them all, an 800-year-old vampire named Yvette Preux. The other players didn’t find this out until a month after the campaign ended. In between regular sessions, secret one-on-one sessions between GM and player were being run while the rest of the party slept, wherein “Alice” did some investigating, and other things like drinking blood, on her own during the night, the findings from which she would sprinkle in casually during discussions of the case the next morning, subtly enough that no one ever asked where she got this information or why she was so sure of it. On a few occasions she even did a lot more than investigating during these nights, like when a crime boss, who had told the investigators that he would have them disappeared if he saw them in town again, mysteriously turned up dead the next day, never seeing any of them again. What a lucky coincidence for everyone else.

Alice actually clocked Eunica as some kind of vampire hunter or the like right away, on the very first day they met, which didn’t really concern her at all. If so-called vampire hunters were any good at their “job”, she wouldn’t be around to laugh about it, would she?

Really, in hindsight, she could hardly have been more obviously a vampire—the sunglasses at all hours; avoidance of garlic, onions, and any other spices on food; hoe she never seemed to sleep; how she always seemed to have something in front of her mouth when she talked; her avoidance of mirrors; taking risks like she was invincible; and always running ahead every time the party was about to enter a private domicile so that she could directly ask to come inside. She even at one point when the party needed to disguise themselves as occultists, revealed that she just *already had* a fine hooded cloak with black on the outside and bright red on the inside in her luggage. That was all pretty weird, but it turns out, when nobody tells you to look for vampires, they actually become extremely hard to stop! This isn’t even a massive failing on Eunica’s part, if it weren’t near impossible to identify them, vampires wouldn’t be considered just a silly superstition in the modern age.

In truth, “Alice” reveled in just being herself right under a wannabe vampire-hunter’s nose, feigning shock when Eunica revealed this, and going out of her way to ask as many questions as she could about real vampires and what they’re like.

This is the ultimate Eureka experience, what starts as a mundane investigation spiraling into sprawling madness, and if what the people you thought you knew could reveal about themselves will shock you to your core, imagine what they keep to themselves. They might not even be playing by the same rules as you, it’s always who you least expect.

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quilloftheages · 3 months ago

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Chapter 1: A Night in Vienna - Hans Landa x OC (1st Person)

Premise

Set in the Inglourious Basterds universe, Elizabeth Acton, the daughter of an Oxford diplomat, is studying history at the University of Vienna in the 1920s. After an unexpected encounter with the enigmatic detective Hans Landa, their lives intertwine in a passionate romance. Despite a loving marriage and idyllic life together, Elizabeth's world is shattered when Hans mysteriously disappears, leaving only a note. Heartbroken and alone, she embarks on a journey to Paris to rebuild her life and confront the haunting question: why did Hans leave? And will she ever see him again?

Story:

Chapter 1

Vienna, in the late 1920’s, had a certain magic to it. It was a city of art, music, and intellect, where the streets echoed with the footsteps of philosophers and dreamers. I had arrived here from Oxford, together with my family. My father’s career as a diplomat meant he was stationed in the city, and though Vienna was a world away from the rolling green hills of England, I found myself captivated by its allure. The university of Vienna was renowned for its history program, and studying here seemed the perfect way to carve out my future.

But if I’m honest, I was just drawn to the idea of escape. Oxford, for all its charm, had always felt like a cage. My father’s expectations, the stifling formality of our lives – it all felt so scripted. Vienna, on the other hand, promised something different. It was a city alive with possibilities, and I was determined to take advantage of every one.

In the evenings, after long days of lectures, I’d attend French lessons with my friends, Elise and Margot. The lessons were my ticket to the next dream: Paris. I’d always imagined myself walking the boulevards, teaching history at a lycée, living among the poets and artist. It was a romantic vision, perhaps, but at eighteen, I had no reasons not to dream big.

One night, after our French class, we decided to stop at a bar near the city center. It was a cozy little place, dimly lit with a warm glow from the gas lamps and the gentle hum of conversation in the air. The scent of tobacco smoke mingled with the sharp aroma of schnapps and beer, and the clinking of glasses felt like the pulse of the room. We took a seat in a corner, practicing our French while laughing at Elise’s attempts to order wine In the language.

It was then that I saw him for the first time.

He stood near the bar, dressed in a dark, tailored coat, his posture straight and confident. There was something striking about him – sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes that seemed to take in everything around him without giving anything away. His gaze moved across the room and paused on us, or more specifically, on me.

I tried not to look back, but curiosity got the better of me. our eyes met, and a flicker of smile played at the corner of his mouth. Something about it unsettled me, though I couldn’t quite put a finger on why. Still, I felt drawn to him.

Elise noticed my starring. “He’s a handsome one. Though I must say perhaps a little too old for you.” She teased. Margot noticed what we were talking about and chuckled. “Good for you, Liz. He’s handsome and older. Every woman’s dream” she teased. I chuckled at both of them. Margot was the flirt of the group. Every man wanted her, and every woman wanted to be her.

“Not interested,” I lied as I took a sip of my glass of wine, trying to escape the conversation. Elise sent me a small smile while Margot just chuckled, “If you say so,” she teased back. Our conversation flowed until suddenly I noticed a presence standing by our table. I looked up and spotted the man from before. Up close he didn’t seem tall, but he had a commanding presence.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said in flawless German, tipping his hat politely. My German was rudimentary, but I caught enough to understand his greeting. His voice was smooth, carrying an air of authority. “May I join you?”

Elise glanced at me a bit unsure. But Margot, always the bold one, nodded. “Of course,” she replied.

He pulled out a chair, sitting down with ease, his attention now fully on me. “Hans Landa,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

I shook it, trying to suppress the shutter of nerves. “Elizabeth Acton,” I replied in English, my German too weak for conversation.

“You’re not from here,” he said, switching effortlessly to English. It was more of a statement than a question.

“No,” I smiled, a little surprised at his fluency. “Oxford, originally. My father is a diplomat, stationed here for now. I’m studying at the university.”

“Ah, a student of history in the city of history and culture.” His smile widened, though there was sometime about it that remained enigmatic, unreadable.

“How did you know I studied history?” I asked baffled, not having told him that. He sent me a wolf-like smile. “Intuition,” he replied, making all of his chuckle.

“What brings you to Vienna? Aside from your father’s work?” he asked.

“I wanted to study here. It seemed… different. And I’m learning French. We all are, actually.” I paused, feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. “I’d like to go to Paris someday.”

“Paris is beautiful,” he said, leaning back slightly. “But Vienna has its own charm. You may find it hard to leave once you lived here long enough.”

Our conversation drifted into safer topics – Vienna, my studies, the little things about the city that charmed me. Hans listened attentively, nodding at all the right moments, his dark eyes never leaving mine. There was something magnetic about him. He was older, more worldly, but that only made him more intriguing.

As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing in his presence. He had a way making you feel like you were the only person in the room, as if your words mattered more than anyone else’s. And yet, there was something guarded about him, something he held back.

I was drawn to that mystery. ______________________________________________________________

It had only been a few days since that night at the bar, but Hans Landa had already lodged himself in my thoughts. There was something about his presence that lingered, like a faint scent you couldn’t quite place but couldn’t forget. His attention was exhilarating.

After another evening of French lessons, my friends and I decided to take a different route home. The bustling square near St. Stephen’s Cathedral was vibrant with life – street vendors packing up for the night, the smell of roasted chestnuts in the air, and couples hurrying off to their favourite cafés. And then, as we turned the corner, I saw him.

Hans stood leaning casually against a lamppost, his hat tipped slightly forward, watching the world pass by. His eyes flicked toward me, and I felt my heart skip.

“Good evening, Miss Acton,” he greeted me with a slow smile, ignoring my friend, focusing solely on me.

I was momentarily stunned that he remembered my name. “Mr. Landa,” I replied, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

“Vienna is small, after all,” he said, his English accented but fluent. “We seem to be crossing paths again.”

He gestured toward the street. “May I walk with you? Unless, of course, I’m interrupting.” He glanced briefly at Elise and Margot, but it was clear he was only asking out for politeness.

I hesitated, glancing at my friends. Margot just smirked, while Elise gave me a knowing look and whispered. “Go ahead. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, I found myself walking with Hans through the twilight streets of Vienna, the atmosphere between us buzzing with curiosity. We talked – well, mostly he asked questions, and I answered. I found myself telling him more about my studies, about Oxford, my father’s work, my childhood. He listened with an intensity that made me feel seen.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said as we neared my street. “How are the French lessons going?”

I smiled sheepishly. “I understand much more than I can speak. My accent is… rather terrible.”

He chuckled, and the sound warmed me. “Perhaps I could help.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “I would like that very much.”

The next week, Hans appeared outside the university as I was leaving my class. His presence was becoming less of a surprise and more of an expectation – one I wasn’t sure how to feel about, yet undeniably looked forward to.

“Miss Acton,” he greeted, falling into step beside me. “I’ve been thinking about your French. If you’d like, I could assist with your lessons.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You speak French?”

“Fluently,” he said, with a touch of pride. “After all, I’ve spent some time in France during my travels for work.”

I was hesitant at first. Hans was a detective, a man with a mysterious aura, and this offer felt oddly personal. But I agreed.

And so, our meetings took on a new routine. We would meet after my French lessons, and Hans would quiz me, correcting my pronunciation with gentle patience. It was strange – he was often so sharp and perceptive, but with me, he was careful, as though he didn’t want to rush anything.

One evening, after correcting my imperfect “R” sound for what felt like the hundredth time, he looked at me with a teasing smile. “If you wish to speak with Parisians, you must soften your tongue. Let the language move through you like music.”

His voice was so close, his breath warm against the evening air. I tried to phrase again, and he nodded approvingly, his smile lingering just a bit longer than usual.

A few weeks later, after one of our informal lessons, we stood on the street corner, neither of us quite ready to say goodbye.

Hans shifted, his eyes narrowing in thought before he spoke. “Elizabeth,” he began, using my first name for the first time, the sound of it unexpected and somehow intimate. “I’d like to take you out. Properly.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You mean… as in a date?”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Yes, a date. Tomorrow evening? There’s a small café near the Danube. Quiet, warm…I think you’d like it.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding, with a smile. “I’d like that.” He smiled charmingly back which made my heart flutter. ______________________________________________________________

The café Hans had chosen was quaint, tucked away from the busy streets of Vienna. It had wooden tables, candlelight flickering in the soft breeze, and a view of the river that was simply enchanting. We sat by the window, the city reflecting off the water in soft hues of gold and blue.

Hans seemed more relaxed than usual, the guarded air he often wore like amor fading in the candlelight. We talked about everything and nothing. I told him about my life in Oxford, about my younger brother, James, who was still in school. In return, he shared snippets of his life – he’d grown up here in Austria, in the Alps to be precise. He had travelled widely for his work, but seemed to evade anything too personal.

As the evening drew on, there was a brief silence. Hans reached across the table, gently placing his hand over mine.

“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice lower, more serious. “I enjoy this. Being with you. I… don’t often feel this way.”

I felt my heart quicken. “Neither do I.”

We walked along the Danube afterward, the stars reflecting off the water. When we stopped by the river’s edge, Hans turned to face me fully, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, he simply looked at me, his gaze intense, as if weighing some unspoken decision.

Then, without a word, he leaned down and kissed me, his lips warm and soft against mine.

The kiss was gentle, tentative, as though he was testing the waters. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across my skin. I responded instinctively, letting my eyes closed as I melted into the warmth of his touch. The city seemed to blur around us, and for that brief moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

When we finally pulled away, the air between us was thick with unspoken emotions. I looked up at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking, but Hans, ever the enigma, simply smiled softly and took my hand, guiding me away from the river. ______________________________________________________________

The weeks that followed were filled with long walks, secret glances, and quiet conversations. Hans was unlike any man I had ever known – intelligent, mysterious, and yet gentle with me in ways I never expected. He was thoughtful, bringing me books from his personal collection, surprising me with small gifts like pressed flowers or an ink bottle from Paris, knowing I dreamt of going there.

Our time together felt stolen, as if we were living in a world apart from everything else. We would meet in the afternoons after my classes, sit in a café or stroll through the gardens. There was always a tension beneath the surface, something deepening between us that neither of us could ignore.

It was late one evening after dinner, and we were sitting in a quiet park beneath the glow of the streetlamps. Hans had been quieter than usual, his mood more intense, his eyes following me with a kind of hunger. I felt it too – the pull between us, the unspoken desire.

We talked, but it was the only surface-level, both of us skirting around what we were really feeling. Finally, as the conversation died down, Hans turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve been holding back, Fräulein,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “But I don’t think I can anymore.”

Before I could respond, he kissed me again, but this time there was nothing tentative about it. His lips pressed harder, his hands pulling me close, and I felt the full force of what had been simmering between us. I returned the kiss with equal intensity, my arms wrapping around his neck as the world spun around us.

When we finally broke apart breathless, the air between us had changed. We didn’t speak, but there was no need. We both knew that things had shifted. I smiled up at him, and he smiled back. And in that moment, he seemed to me to be the most beautiful and charming man, I had ever met. ______________________________________________________________

It didn’t take long after that before Hans suggested to meet my family. My parents were cautious, particularly my father. He was sceptical of Hans, though polite.

Dinner with my parents was a formal affair, and Hans, to his credit, handled it well. He charmed my mother with his knowledge of art, and even managed to get a laugh out of my younger brother, James, who was typical shy around strangers. My father, however, remained distant, his questions sharp, probing Hans’ background and intentions.

After the meal, when Hans and my father retreated to the study for a private conversation, I was left with a knot of anxiety. My father was protective, and though he rarely interfered with my life, I could sense his concerns.

When they finally emerged, Hans looked calm, though my father’s expression remained unreadable. Still, when he shook Hans’ hand, there was a sense of grudging respect.

I followed him to the door, and while I really wanted to kiss him, I couldn’t with my parents lingering close by. He smiled at me and winked as he left, making me chuckle.

That night as I went to bed, I had a smile on my face and dreamed of Hans.

We continued like this for months. He would help my study, take me on walks, to see museums and art galleries. He had come over a couple of more times to dine with my family, and in time my father seemed to like him more and more.

Even after all of this it still took me by complete surprise. I came home one evening after class, expecting the house to be quiet. Instead, I found Hans sitting in the Parlor, his hat resting on the table beside him, his coat neatly folded over the chair. My heart raced in surprise.

“Hans? What are you doing here?” I asked, stepping into the room, confusion clear on my face.

He stood, walking over to me with a serious expression. “I’ve just spoken with your father.”

My stomach flipped. “About what?” I asked in concern.

Hans took my hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. His eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time since we’d met, I saw something like uncertainty in his gaze.

“My liebe, Elizabeth,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve asked your father for his blessing to marry you.”

The air seemed to leave the room, and I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said.

“I love you,” he continued, his hands tightening slightly around mine. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and all I could do was nod.

Hans smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made my heart soar. He pulled me into his arms, and as he held me close, I whispered, “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

We kissed again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty - just the promise of a future together.

Just a few short months later, I graduated from the University of Vienna. Hans was there, sitting in the audience with that same proud smile that made my heart flutter. The diploma in my hands felt like a culmination of years of hard work, a symbol of the life I had dreamed of building. But the moment I walked across the stage, my eyes found Hans, and I realised in that moment that the future was no longer just mine – it was ours.

Our wedding followed soon after. It was a small, intimate ceremony in a charming Viennese church, attended by my family and friends, and some of Hans’ friends. My mother fussed over every detail, while my father walked me down the aisle, his expression soft with emotion. Hans waited at the altar, looking more handsome than I’d ever seen him, his dark eyes flowing with affection and promise.

The ceremony was simple but perfect. The moment we kissed as husband and wife, I felt a swell of love so strong that it left me breathless. I knew my life had changed forever. ______________________________________________________________

After the wedding, I moved into Hans’ apartment – a beautiful, sunlit space in the heart of Vienna. The rooms were filled with the warm, earthy scent of wood and leather, and large windows overlooked the bustling streets below. It was smaller than my family’s home, but it felt infinitely cozier. We spent our first days as newlyweds either in bed or arranging the apartment to make it our own, combining our lives piece by piece.

Life settled into a peaceful rhythm. I found work as a teacher at a local girls’ school, a position that fulfilled me more than I could have imagined. The students were eager to learn, and I found myself pouring my heart into every lesson.

Hans’ work as a detective kept him busy, but when he was home, we filled our time with quiet dinners, long walks through Vienna’s parks, and cozy nights reading together by the fire. He would often surprise me with flowers or a new book, and I loved the small ways we cared for each other. We were happy – truly, blissfully happy.

A year or so into the marriage, my father received word that his posting in Vienna was coming to an end. My parents were being re-stationed back to England, and though I knew this day would come, it still felt like shock.

The evening before their departure, my family gathered for a final dinner at our favourite restaurant. The air was thick with emotion – my mother trying to hold back tears, my father quieter than usual, and James, now taller and more mature, struggling to say goodbye.

“I’m proud of you,” my father said, hugging me tightly. “And I know you’ve made the right choice.”

I watched them leave the next morning, waving until their car disappeared from view, tears streaming down my face. Vienna felt emptier without them, but I still had Hans. And that was enough. ______________________________________________________________

Hans I had tried to start a family, but as the years went by, our hopes began to fade. Each month brought fresh disappointment, and I started to fear that the fault lay with me. Doctors confirmed my worst fears – something about my body, something I couldn’t fix, made it difficult, perhaps impossible, for me to conceive.

I wept often during that time, feeling a deep sense of failure. Hans, ever gentle and patient, would hold me, his hands stroking my hair as I sobbed into his chest.

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered, though I could hear the sadness in his voice. “We heave each other, my darling Elizabeth. That’s all I need.”

He never blamed me, not once. But I couldn’t help but feel like I had let him down.

To lift our spirits, Hans surprised me with a trip to Paris – the city I had always dreamed of visiting. We arrived in spring, the city blooming with life and colour. The air was warm, the streets lively with music and laughter. Paris was everything I had imagined it would be – romantic, vibrant, and a full of history.

We spent our days strolling along the Seine, visiting art galleries and historical landmarks. Hans took me to a charming little café, the same one we had spoken about on one of our first dates, and we sat for hours drinking wine and watching the world go by.

One evening, as we stood on a bridge overlooking the river, the lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance, Hans pulled me close. “I promised you Paris,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And here we are.”

It was a perfect moment. I felt as though all my dreams had come true, even if the path was different that I’d imagined.

Years passed in a contended blur. We had settled into a comfortable life in Vienna, one filled with love, even if it wasn’t the life I had originally planned. I was happy teaching, and Hans was content in his work, though he often spoke of darker times looming in the political sphere.

One day, I came home from work, expecting to find Hans waiting for me, as usual. Instead, the house was eerily quiet. On the dining table, there was a single note, written in his familiar, neat script.

I’ve been called away on urgent business. Fear not, I will return soon. Trust me. I love you, mein liebe, Elizabeth.

I stared at the note, my heart pounding in my chest. Hans had never left like this before. His work as a detective sometimes required long hours, but he had always kept me informed. Now, he had disappeared with only a cryptic message.

As I ate my supper I could not shake of the feeling of loneliness. I spent the rest of the evening reading but found myself often looking at Hans’ chair and felt sad. As I went to bed that night, I wore one of Hans’ shirts in hope that it would quench my longing for him, but it did the exact opposite. I only found myself missing him more. ______________________________________________________________

The days without Hans turned into weeks, and those weeks into months. At first, I tried to carry on as if nothing had changed. I went to the school, taught my students, and returned home to an empty apartment. I pretended I wasn’t watching the clock, that I wasn’t waiting for the sound of his footsteps on the stairwell or the creak of the front door.

But the silence grew unbearable.

His note lay where I had left it, on the mantle above the fireplace, the ink faded but still legible. I must have read it a thousand times, hoping that somehow, if I stared hard enough, the words would change, or that they would reveal some hidden meaning. But there was nothing. Just the same cryptic message, and the same growing fear gnawing at my insides.

Where had he gone? Why had he not told me? And – worst of all – was he ever coming back?

I had tried to remain strong, but Vienna no longer felt like the vibrant city I had fallen in love with. Every corner of the apartment whispered of our life together – the quiet breakfasts by the window, the evening spent reading by the fire, and the late nights when Hans would pull me close and hold me as if I was the most precious thing in the world. Without him, those memories were like shadows, haunting me with their absence.

It wasn’t just his disappearance that hurt. It was the not knowing. Hans had always been so careful with his words, so precise, and yet this time, he had left me with nothing but uncertainty. His work as a detective had always involved secrets, but this felt different. This felt personal.

One evening, I visited his office, my hope dwindling with every passing day. His colleagues gave me nothing but blank stares, polite refusals, and vague promises that they’d look into it. But they didn’t seem to care. Hans was just another name on a list of officers, one who had apparently gone off on some undisclosed mission. I was his wife, yet it seemed as though I knew the least of all.

Trust me.

How was I supposed to trust him when he had left me like this? ______________________________________________________________

I began to write to him. At first, it was just a few words on paper, trying to make sense of the chaos in my mind. But as the weeks went by, the letters grew longer, filled with everything I couldn’t say aloud. I told him about the school, about my students, and how they were thriving in their history lessons. I wrote about Vienna, the city we had both loved so much, and hot it now seemed to reflect the emptiness inside me.

I even wrote about my dreams – the ones we had shared, the life we had planned. I told him how much I wanted to see him, to hold him, to hear his voice again. How I missed the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at me.

But there was no address to send the letters to. no place where I could reach him. So they remained in a drawer, growing in number, waiting for the say when I might have the chance to give them to him.

After months of waiting in vain, something inside me snapped. It wasn’t an act of anger or frustration, but rather a quiet, aching realisation that I could no longer stay here, trapped in a life that had once been filled with love and now felt like a prison.

I began to pack my things, carefully folding away the clothes and trinkets that had once made up our home. The books we had collected together, the small souvenirs from our trips around the city – everything seemed to carry the weight of what had been lost. I left the ring Hans had given me on the bedside table, the one reminder of the love we had shared, but I couldn’t bear to wear it anymore.

My final goodbyes were said to the few friends I had made, those who had watched me as I slowly crumbled under the weight of Hans’ absence. They offered me sympathy, but no one had any real answers. Vienna had become too painful for me to stay.

Paris had always been my dream, and now, in the absence of everything, it seemed like the only place I could go.

I booked my passage on the next train to France, leaving behind the life I had built, the one I had hoped to share with Hans. The city I had once loved felt foreign to me now, its streets empty without him by my side. As the train pulled out of the station, I looked back one last time at the skyline of Vienna, the domes and spires that had been the backdrop to my happiest moments.

But I knew there was nothing left for me here. Not anymore. ______________________________________________________________

Paris was everything I had imagined it to be – the cut of lights, of romance, and art. But it was also a city of ghosts, filled with reminders of the life I had once dreamed of having with Hans. Every corner café, every bridge across the Seine, every street vendor selling flowrrs – all of it reminded me of the promises we had made to each other, the life we were supposed to build together.

But Paris was also where I began to heal.

I found a small apartment near Montmartre, not far from the artists and musicians who brought the street to life with their creativity. It was nothing like the apartment Hans and I had shared in Vienna, but it was mine. A space where I could start over.

Teaching had always been my passion, and I found work at a local school. The children here were different – more worldly, more curious. They asked questions about the world beyond France, and I found myself telling them stories of Vienna, of the history I had studied so passionately. In a way, it felt like I was teaching them about the life I had lost.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, I began to find some measure of peace. The ache of Hans’ absence never truly left, but it become more bearable with time. I still thought of him often – wondering where he was, whether he was safe, and if he ever thought of me. But I no longer let those thoughts consume me.

Paris became my sanctuary. It wasn’t the life I had planned, but it was a life, nonetheless. And for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe again.

I still had the letters, tucked away in a small box at the back of my closet. I hadn’t written to him in a long time, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. They were a record of my grief, my longing, my hope.

Sometimes, late at night, I would open the box and read through them, imagining what it would be like to see Hans again. I wondered if he would still recognise the woman I had become – the one who had been broken by his absence but had somehow found strength to go on.

Perhaps one day I would find the courage to let him go entirely. But for now, I held on to the memories, the love we had shared, and the hope that somewhere, Hans was thinking of me too.

I wasn’t sure if I would ever hear from him again. But I had learned to live with the uncertainty. After all, life in Paris had given me something precious – myself.

Everything was getting better – until the war began.

#Hans Landa #inglorious basterds #fanfiction #Hans Landa x OC #creative writing #christoph waltz

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angelicsatin · 3 months ago

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Dynamite ❥ | Diane Might | Despicable Me

art credit to @ shizuarts on Instagram !

Full Name: Diane Might / Diane Might-Gru (hyphenated) Super-Villian Alias: Dynamite Age: 49 (DM3) 50 (DM4) Birthday: November 26 Zodiac: Sagittarius Height: 4’11 or 150 cm Gender: Cis female Romantic Interest(s): Dru Gru MBTI: INFJ

Random Facts ⭑.ᐟ

Inspired by the Gray Spy from ‘Spy vs Spy.’

All gadgets made by and for her cause explosions of some kind.

When not using a gadget, she sticks to TNT or nitroglycerin instead.

She’s introduced during the credits scene for the 3rd movie when Dru attempts to steal things with Gru going behind him trying to stop him in their suits. She swoops in near the end of each scene to successfully steal every item that Dru can’t while beginning to tease and torment them both as she goes.

During the sequence mentioned above, when she steals one of the items from under Dru’s nose, she leaves a note with her number on it + a doodle of an explosion. While Dru’s looking at it, and she rushes off, an explosion goes off in the direction she runs off screen.

She attended Lycée Pas Bon in her youth, a grade below Gru, but did not know him.

She begins dating and even marries Dru between the events of the 3rd and 4th movies.

Dru and her live back at the mansion he inherited in Freedonia.

Dru gifted her two pet piglets named ‘Damsel’ & ‘Distress.’

She’s good at both riling the twins up and separating/calming them down when they ‘argue’ too much.

She often steals things she believes will make Dru smile.

She gets along very well with Lucy and Gru + their children.

More Facts & Info ಇ.

All of the gadgets she makes & uses cause explosions of some kind.

If she’s not using some high-tech gadget she’s created, she resorts to the simplicity of TNT or nitroglycerin.

She likes to present her gadgets or explosives as something casual, sweet, or even cute-looking to catch people off guard before it blows up. Example: Stuffed rabbit with a bomb inside, offering drinks to folk but it's just nitroglycerin that’ll go BOOM if they do a cheers and drink clink, etc.

She likes to listen to all music, generally – but for solo heists, she listens to classical music with a pair of earbuds. Particularly fond of listening to Fur Elise on repeat.

She’s inspired by the Gray Spy from ‘Spy VS Spy’

She attended Lycée Pas Bon in her youth, a grade below Gru, who she’d only met once in the halls before she met him again alongside Dru.

She’s introduced during the outro scene for the 3rd movie when Dru attempts to steal things with Gru going behind him trying to stop him. She swoops in near the end of each scene to successfully steal every item that Dru can't while beginning to tease and torment them both as she goes.

Once Dru eventually contacts her, they begin going on heists together – mostly her helping him and showing him how to do it more, trying to improve on Gru’s teaching.

Heists become more like dates, Diane stealing items specifically she knows Dru will like just to see him smile and in return him suggesting they go after things that would make her happy.

Eventually, she asks him out on a ‘real’ date, dinner, and movies. However, she does ‘pull a Gru’ by dropping one of her gadgets into the theatre to empty it for the two of them. The gadget she used resembled a stink bomb, like when Gru was little, and did the same for him and the minions.

Her relationship with Dru moved very fast, her falling in love with him fast and hard, and he was just as smitten. They marry between the third and fourth film and invite his family – specifically, Gru, Lucy, the girls, and the minions.

She moved in with Dru at his mansion in Freedonia after their marriage, getting him out of just ‘living’ in Gru’s old airship and back into his home.

Despite the number of pigs Dru owns considering the hog-raising business he inherited from his father, Diane has two specific pet pigs he gifts her named ‘Damsel’ and ‘Distress,’ that follow her around when they’re at home.

She joins Dru to visit Gru and his family often when they get the chance.

In the final scene of DM4, she’s seen alongside Dru in Gru and Lucy’s backyard.

She’s good at both riling the twins up and separating/calming them down when they ‘argue’ too much (just sibling arguing, nothing serious)

Eventually, Diane and Dru will have at least one child together. (will add it eventually)

She often when without Dru, will see things that remind her of him or she thinks he’d like. And she always takes pictures of it or steals it for him without even thinking about it.

Personality ♡⸝⸝

Positive Traits: Mature, Affectionate, Persistent, Observant, Silly, Appreciative, Understanding, Sassy, Resourceful, Supportive, Analytical, Efficient, Sentimental, Creative, Passionate, Odd, Witty, Loyal, Persuasive, Introverted, Loving, Accepting, Flirtatious, Calculating, Passionate, Easy-Going, ‘Nerdy,’ Confident, Charming, Hospitable, Idealistic, Spontaneous.

Negative Traits: Resentful, Needy, Stubborn, Obsessive, Know-It-All, Bottles Up Negative Emotions, Selfish, Rebellious/Villainous, Chaotic, Snarky, Possessive, Sleepy, Controlling, Spoiled, Jealous.

Likes

Dru <3

‘Explosive’ Heists (successful)

Smoking

Watching Cartoons / Anything Animated

Not Paying for Anything <3

Being Proven Right / Just Being Right

Cute Animals (particularly rabbits, pigs, and cats)

Classical Music and Artists (especially Beethoven)

The Minions

Telenovelas and Dramas

Gift Giving

Cheese and Wine Tasting

Proving Herself to Those Who Never Believed in Her

Teasing Dru and Gru

Well Behaved or Sweet Children (like the girls)

Looking Out For Those She Loves

Receiving Gifts

Building, Developing, and Creating Explosive Gadgets

Being Spontaneous and Hyping Dru Up

Her Piglets

Dislikes

Involving Children in Villainy (kidnapping children, putting them in danger, etc)

Failed Heists

Stormy Weather

Bullies

Being Stuck in a Routine

Silence

Hot Weather

Misogyny and Sexism

Being Looked Down Upon

Being Seen Without Her Makeup by Anyone Other Than Dru

Wool Clothing (Any ‘Scratchy’ Material)

Failed or Broken Gadgets

Spicy Food

Mushrooms and Asparagus

Sweating or Looking ‘Bad’ from Physical Exhaustion

Eating Pork

People Touching Her Hair

_____๑♡⁠๑_____

I’ve been dying to get my DM self insert drawn up finally and fully developed as I’ve been thinking about it and Dru SO MUCH lately 🥰�� Dru is one of my biggest most important f/o’s and to finally have my s/i for him makes me happy 🥰

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darklordazalin · 1 year ago

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Azalin Reviews: Darklord Viktra Mordenheim

Darklord: Viktra Mordenheim Domain: Lamordia Domain Formation: 683 BC Power Level: 💀💀⚫⚫⚫ (2/5 skulls) Source: van Ricthen’s Guide to Ravenloft (5e)

Adam, the creation of Dr. Victor Mordenheim, was the Darklord of Lamorida until the most recent report regarding the Misty Realms. Adam was cursed to never acquire the acceptance he longed for and to always be tied to the Dr. Mordenheim as much as he longed to be known separately from the amoral scientist. Even Lamordia barely recognized Adam as its Darklord and he was doomed to dwell alone within the caverns of the Isle of Agony. Now he has been discarded completely. A fitting end for our 'monster'.

Dr. Viktra Mordenheim has taken on the mantle of the Darklord of Lamorida. Viktra has a similar history and persona to that of Victor – a highly irrational distaste of the arcane arts and the bedside manner of a particularly callus cockroach. She taught herself medicine at a young age and continued on as a renowned researcher amongst the academically inclined. Those that seek a career in medicine often do so out of some infallible need to care for and help others. This was not the case for Viktra. She did so out of a need to sate her own curiosity and through her studies, convinced herself that she alone could conquer death. Now, I doubt she was referring to Lowellyn, but even as non-threatening as he is, I’m certain Death could easily defeat this ‘doctor’ if he was given the opportunity to roam free of Necropolis. Which he won't. As far as I'm concerned, Lowellyn is in a permanent 'time out'.

Pursuing this new obsession, Dr. Mordenheim hired grave robbers to obtain fresh corpses for her so she could attempt to force life into their rotting flesh. This is how she met Elise – a young woman devoted the body snatching. Though not explicitly stated in Dr. van Richten's report, one can conclude that the two were romantically involved.

In time, Elise contracted a wasting disease with no known cure. Now, the rational solution to such a disease, particularly for a genius at medicine, is to begin researching and developing a cure. Mordenheim, on the other hand, poured herself into bringing life into the already dead. Fresh corpses were no longer enough and Viktra began using living victims as well – killing them and reviving them and killing them again so she could obsessively study the exact moment of death.

If these deaths answered her question, it remains unknown. More likely her miraculous cure for Elise was the result of divine intervention, much like it had been for Victor Mordenheim when he ‘created’ Adam. To end Elise’s disease and bring her back from the dead, Viktra created an artificial organ known as the Unbreakable Heart. The inept constables, of whatever land this version of Mordenheim originates from, finally realized that the thousands of missing corpses and people were Mordenheim’s doing and interrupted her at the exact moment she sewed the Unbreakable Heart into Elise’s chest. In her struggle to escape, Mordenheim’s lab filled with smoke and electricity. The last thing she saw before she was knocked unconscious was the Unbreakable Heart glowing beneath Elise’s flesh.

Viktra awoke in Lamordia as a well-known and celebrated scientist. She continues her research into life and death and her relentless pursuit of Elise. For, though she has tried countless times, Viktra cannot recreate the Unbreakable Heart. Again, I theorize this is because the life the device gave Elise was not Viktra’s doing, but that of a powerful, outside force such as a deity or perhaps even our tormentors.

#Viktra Mordenheim #Lamordia #Ravenloft #darklordreviews #azalin rex #darklordreview #dnd

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hakuryuu · 6 months ago

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every story starts this way

#elise attempts to art #as always im not quite sold on how it turned out but thats okay #planetshine tag #in order!:#moon rising tag #long limb ellipse tag #find me find you tag #look at me star man #planetshine: theres girls in it! and melibe #each of these panels are separated by hundreds of years but the stories are still the same.......

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sapphiresterreart · 1 year ago

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So here I am. Procrastinating. Staring at this art and unable to stop thinking thoughts.

Shadow in a dress aiming a pistol. Shadow carried bridal style by Sonic. Originally considered a Masquerade AU but the artist’s tags about Body Double AU had me reeling with its potential. Got carried away so here’s some loose brainstorming. It’s long.

Imagine an AU with mutual Sonadow and/or one-sided Mephonic where:

Mephiles from ’06 game is the prince and prolly brother to crown princess Elise of Soleanna Kingdom. Referencing that re-color of a character design joke bc it has potential if his ‘crystalline’ final form is used instead of the re-skin.

Rest under the Read More.

Maybe Mephiles was adopted or maybe he was also the result of science experiments like Shadow. Except instead of mixed hedgehog-alien DNA it’s similar to that ‘messed with their sun god Solaris’ concept resulting in his creation.

Could even have similar backstory of ‘experiment found a sister in his creator’s daughter’ for fun. Sonic would delight in annoying Shadow with all those fun facts.

Mephiles’ crystalline form: Coarse black-purple fur, jagged white-tipped quills, notched ears, clawed hands with no gloves. White muzzle with fur so fluffy it looks like he has no mouth…

Bonus points if the pink sclera switches btwn white and pink depending on if he’s using his purple-pink powers or not. Green reptilian irises could be considered unsettling on his non-reptilian face.

Extra bonus points if lack of gloves are seen as scandalous by other mobians. Soleanna is a human-majority kingdom so Mephiles wouldn’t understand the culture-shock Team Dark and co would experience. But Sonic could blush, politely avert his eyes, and wonder what Shadow’s bare hands look like.

Mephiles’ powers could be liquified chaos energy and his body crystallized chaos. Could melt or solidify btwn liquid and solid states at will.

Either way his general shape is still similar to Shadow from far. FAR away. To humans anyway. Could act as a joke: ‘species blindness’ where humans struggle to notice differences btwn mobians bc ‘they all look the same’

Extra bonus points if mobians feel the same way about humans. The reason Eggman is so distinctive is bc he’s ‘notably egg-shaped’ Or something silly.

ANYWAY. All that is to establish Mephiles as his own person distinctly separate from Shadow. A person who happens to be a prince and the latest target in an assassination and/or kidnapping attempt ordered by humans from a rival kingdom.

Maybe by G.U.N itself? Or a traitor within G.U.N’s ranks? Could work as juicy inner conflict for Shadow if he also works for G.U.N. Their government would be a structured way for him to ‘help the world be a better place’ while also keeping a close eye on them should they try to massacre innocents like they did decades ago on the ARK.

Thus the reveal of G.U.N trying to secure more ‘weaponry’ by kidnapping ‘a rogue, dangerous experiment’ a.k.a Prince Mephiles could put him at odds with them. Having to decide whether the entire organization needs to be destroyed and built anew. Or to root out out any parasites to prevent the dastardly infection from growing.

Someway, somehow, Shadow hears something about some prince from somewhere who looks remarkably like him and might be in danger. Maybe his teammate Rouge informs him because she’s a nosy spy and has been smelling somethin’ rotten brewing in their G.U.N ranks?

Or maybe their boss is unaware of those treasonous plans and sends Team Dark on a mission: Go Undercover and Protect Prince Mephiles of Soleanna Kingdom.

Shadow begrudgingly agrees to act as the body double to the prince.

He doesn’t think they look similar at all but then the first time he had truly interacted with people outside of the ARK they had all mistaken him for his rival. His rival who is bright blue. A lovely shade of blue, yes, but blue all the same. Sometimes he wonders if the mix-up was deliberate.

Regardless, he accepts the task and learns the role. Supposed similar appearances or not, his behavior and knowledge had to mimic the prince well enough to be passable.

Still. He doesn’t understand why he can wear clothing like a dress but not clothing like gloves. It is so… immodest. Ugh. Prince Mephiles may have been raised by humans but so had Shadow and he at least understood common decency!

It doesn’t help that Sonic of all people shows up.

Ok. So. Not sure what would be more fun:

1] Established Sonadow relationship:

Sonic and Shadow are a couple but the public doesn’t know that because it’s their private lives and they’d like to keep it that way. But then when Shadow has to pretend to be the royal prince of a famous kingdom and Sonic comes swinging by to visit, he naturally flirts with his boyfriend whenever they think they’re alone because it’s probably been awhile and undercover missions take time.

So Shadow’s firmly cemented as Prince Mephiles while the real prince is away at a vacation home or something and Sonic is all up in Shadow’s business. Maybe they’re fight-flirting and taking turns pinning the other against the wall of the empty hallway when one of them knocks over something that makes a soft thud and of course someone goes to investigate.

They’re accidentally spotted while swappin’ spit, maybe someone even scored a sneaky photo of them but only got Shadow’s back and Sonic’s front, and the crowd goes wild! Social media, news outlets, tabloids. Anyone and everyone everywhere starts talking about how the Hero of Mobius (“Hero of Earth” some commenters, presumably human, would argue. A never-ending debate btwn the two species) and Prince Mephiles are not only dating but are undoubtably soon to be engaged!

Sonic shrugs it off. “That's gossip rags for ya. So long as we know it’s not true then what’s the big deal? We could say it’s our big couple reveal if we wanna!”

Shadow and everyone else who’s ever had a life outside running around wherever and whenever they wanted and leaving anarchy in their wake, do not shrug it off.

Basically playing with social consequences of someone as famous as Sonic and someone as high ranking/politically influential as a royal prince (even one not immediate heir to the throne) being mistaken for a couple by the masses.

Sonic would not immediately realize this means civilians AND villains would not only assume Prince Mephiles has emotional significance to him, but would target both of them in diff ways.

The prince’s personal council would see Sonic as a pawn to use in their political games. Get him to marry their prince and that would boost their own power/influence alongside their kingdom. Lots to gain. Like control over others.

Political allies would the see the same. Could either turn them into enemies of Soleanna due to seeing the courtship as a threat to their own power. Soleanna gaining more power would cause a power imbalance amongst their circle of allies and thus threaten that circle’s status quo.

Or the allies could see a way of keeping status quo and/or gaining power by making a point to ‘aide their ally in this endeavor.’ Take credit for getting the two together. Legally binding contracts or whatever.

Enemies or rivals to Soleanna would see the courtship as a threat and would make plans to cripple Soleanna’s budding power. Maybe team up with Soleanna’s resentful and/or nervous political allies to either stop the courtship through legal means. Or through underhanded means like threats of assassination.

Coincidentally, this sudden surge of conflict amongst the collection of kingdoms would really help whoever was targeting Prince Mephiles in the 1st place and the reason why Shadow had to act as a body double at all. They’d absolutely take advantage of the chaos to plan an attack.

Villains like Eggman would see this as a chance to attack Sonic on a personal level. Target the prince and they’ll be getting the upper hand over Sonic emotionally. Supposedly.

Who the heck knows where or what Prince Mephiles is doing. Maybe he returns to the kingdom to try and turn the false courtship into the real one because he sees the value in securing Sonic as a legal partner on a political level. He likes power.

Though it’d be hilarious if he actually develops a crush on Sonic because “What an adorable spitfire. He’ll be a delight to crush beneath my heel.”

Sonic doesn’t realize all this could also affect his boyfriend Shadow.

Legally, Shadow would have to “clean up this mess we've made, Sonic” by awkwardly clarifying to his G.U.N superiors that yes, he is in a romantic relationship with Sonic the Hedgehog and that, no, he had not intended for his personal life to affect his work life especially not while undercover as Prince Mephiles in the Kingdom of Soleanna but that, yes, he would work non-stop to fix this national nightmare they’ve created.

So he’s running around trying to sort this out and stop world leaders from trying to poach his boyfriend while also figuring out how to stop the masses from fueling the fire because “How many copies of this one photo can possibly exist, Omega?”

Emotionally, Shadow is upset that his private life has not only been blasted all over the place but that everyone got his identity wrong. So if he wants to kiss his boyfriend outside of this ridiculous charade then their reputations will be smeared.

Sonic doesn’t care about reputations. But Shadow does. Cue conflict of personal values and the diff btwn ‘stability and right to privacy’ vs ‘freedom and public figures as public property’

If Shadow’s seen as a scandalous, shallow harlot who’s trying seduce the planet’s beloved ‘can-do-no-wrong’ hero away from ‘top-of-the-food-chain’ royal prince then how could he be taken seriously ever again? He has a job to do and no one in a position of power will listen to ‘arm candy!’

Shadow grumbles to himself as his partner oozes his way across his shoulders and down toward the desk where the paperwork he’s working on sits. “You’ve made my job tremendously harder.”

“Sorry.” Sonic cringes where he slumps half-folded like a prickly scarf. The weight of his warmth is nice. “In my defense, neither of us saw this coming. We were careful. Kinda.”

“Clearly not careful enough.”

...

2] Not established Sonadow. Mutual pining but presumed unrequited. One-sided Mephonic.

Could play with Prince Mephiles still living in palace instead of going to a vacation home for whatever reason. Maybe during timeframe of him teaching Shadow the role and having Shadow shadow him to learn subtle nuances like Mephiles’ body language that he himself isn’t aware of? Dunno.

Either way Prince Mephiles sees a cute piece tagging along and flirts with Sonic.

Sonic is very much not into it.

He’s not into it right up until he sees Shadow clenching his jaw in the background and is absolutely delighted by this fact. Perhaps Shadow feels something for him after all? Or maybe he’s just mad Sonic is interfering with his job. Could never tell with him sometimes. Could be both. Hopefully both.

Sonic would very much like his friend to reciprocate his feelings. But since he’s an emotionally constipated idiot with a death wish, Sonic decides to mess with Shadow and see what happens.

Why be direct and honest and painfully vulnerable with such things like feelings when he could just. Not. It’s gotten him this far and it’s worked just fine, after all! Why fix what ain’t broke?

Cue Sonic flirting with the prince. Always watching for Shadow’s reactions instead of Mephiles’.

Checks to see if he ever looks jelly or interested in any way. Maybe Shadow will finally make a move or do something that makes it clear that he wants Sonic to be his romantic partner instead of just an occasional teammate or rival. Something. Anything. Shadow is so chaos-damned hard to read but maybe being in close quarters and flirting up a storm with someone else while he’s standing right there will help Sonic read him better.

This will not end well for anyone. Feelings will definitely be hurt. On all sides. Consequences will ensue.

A prince with too much power will not allow such insult to slide.

Cue Prince Mephiles deciding to retaliate against Sonic because “How dare you play a game only I may play? You are not a player in this game of life and so you shall bow down to me. Your king.”

Or something equally demented where he tries to box Sonic into something bad. Like agreeing to an arranged marriage.

Or to openly support the kingdom in a political way. Like advertising Soleanna’s latest controversial research project or something? Who knows.

Some sort of payback for Sonic having no romantic interest in him despite having the gall to flirt back like he was some commoner of no importance. How dare he!

Maybe Mephiles targets Shadow as a way to lash out against Sonic? Either way he’d antagonize Shadow because:

1st] He delights in spreading misery. Fanning Shadow’s jealousy is a fun pastime.

2nd] Sonic is a villain who fancies himself a hero. How dare he not be sincerely enamored with Mephiles! It was one thing when that playboy played the game to rile that boorish stunt double. It was another when he realized the jerk only played because of genuine interest in that stunt double. How dare!

3rd] Mephiles shall not be used like a mere pawn! He is the prince. Only he can use people and throw them away.

There's so many ways for this Body Double to roll!

#Sonadow #Mephonic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Shadow the Hedgehog #Mephiles the Dark #Sonic #Shadow #Mephiles

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peridot-tears · 1 year ago

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Time Travel AU: Be Gay, Solve Crimes

"Oi, is it true what they say? That you Frenchies are always raring for a good murder mystery?"

Time travel!AU where after Jacob kills Maxwell Roth, he blacks out from sheer exhaustion and smoke inhalation, only to wake up during the French Revolution. He quickly tags along with one Arno Victor Dorian, who's hot on the trail of whoever killed Jean Paul Marat, and he can't keep away even after Charlotte Corday is behind bars. In fact, he especially wants to stay when Arno teams up with Elise De La Serre -- "She doesn't want you as much as you want her, Arnie!"

After a revolution ends and a new era begins under Napoleon, Arno finds himself turning to Jacob as his closest confidante. "Though you may be boorish and reckless, there must be a reason that you're somehow still miraculously alive to bother me."

("This coming from the man who killed a bunch of men just for wine," Jacob scoffs.)

After a long and tumultuous courtship that they try to label as "frenemies," except in 19th-century French, they become dual Master Assassins who serve the people of France -- and the people of England, because fuck Napoleon and fuck the King too -- and make their relationship official.

And they were dual Master Assassins. Oh my God, they were dual Master Assassins.

They spend the rest of their lives sneaking and assassinating, trying to bridge the gap between Assassins and Templars, and though they ultimately fail, their attempts were so influential, even the biggest fanatics of both sides speak their names with respect.

Once they've retired to the Alps as old men, they spend their days in leisure, until the day they go to bed holding hands, and never wake up.

Except Jacob does wake up.

Evie is at his bedside, scolding him for his recklessness, and it's 1860s London again.

He recovers quickly, considering the tragedy that just befell him. Maxwell Roth is dead. That's a pity. Jacob has known better love and a better man than Maxwell Roth.

Even if that man was just a dream.

Until the day he breaks into the rest of Twopenny's personal collection, where he sees several original portraits of the French Revolution. A sharp-eyed painter from that time had managed to spot two men in the crowd -- Jacob finds himself staring at his own face, hiding in plain sight, and though the head of the man beside him is turned, he would recognize that scar anywhere.

And what sharp eyes that painter had. Jacob sees himself in this painting. That painting. Several paintings throughout the years, given away by small tells that only Jacob himself would recognize: The familiar swoop of Arno's frame as he sidestepped a guard. Jacob's godawful sans-culottes disguise. In the blurry distance, Arno performing a leap of faith, given away only by a gold and blue plumage unusual for a bird in Paris.

I'm here, he thinks. I'm really here.

Familiar steps sound the hall behind him.

Jacob ducks behind the painting; it's merely a worker in the building, coming to make sure the collection is as untouched as it has always been. He looks bored. He looks like Arno.

His hair may be cropped, and his scar may be gone -- the sign, perhaps, of a life that's dealt him a kinder hand -- but that bored look has not changed. It's Arno. He's been reborn, somehow.

That can't be it. Arno's gone. Jacob died with him. But Jacob is here, Jacob thinks to himself.

It's too much. And besides, Twopenny's paintings are rubbish, anyway. But Arno-not-Arno won't leave. He's lingering at the paintings, eyeing the details of the brushstrokes with light interest. He always was incorrigible when it came to purveying the arts.

Jacob tries to sneak past him -- Arno-not-Arno's ears practically prick, sharp as the man Jacob married, and Jacob finds himself grabbing him from behind, knocking him out gently.

He lingers just long enough to prop him up by the painting, smoothing out his hair, tucking him in with a nearby tarp because it's winter, Arno will get cold. He can practically hear Arno scolding him for his poor choice of fabric. "That barely insulates anything," he would say.

"It's the thought that counts," Jacob says.

He tips his hat, and escapes the building.

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moritakathedrawer-leonaguilez · 2 years ago

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Corrins in FEH: Distinctions between the Male and the Female

Preface

Firstly, congratulations to Female Corrin in winning this year’s CYL. Though I’m more of a Male Corrin fan so I would be lying that I am not a bit sad with the results. But hey at least he’s top 15 (for Men). Anyways…

Something interesting of all the “avatars” is that Corrin, in each gender, represents the two main paths, Female from Conquest and Male from Birthright. As it is illustrated in their respective box art. I won’t argue if this makes it canon or not, however their portrayal beyond their games have also followed suit. For example, from what I heard about Warriors, correct me if I am wrong, is that Male by default gets Hoshidan noble and whereas Female has Nohrian noble. But I’ll focus on FEH as it’s the game I’m more familiar with and accessible for me.

Let’s talk about their portrayal in FEH. In their base alt(i.e., OG) it is ambiguous which route each took but in their seasonal alts, it’s pretty obvious that male does come from BR and whereas Female from CQ. I attempted to take notes of some of the differences between the two , from castle quotes, voice-lines ,Lv 40 confession and meet the heroes page. I noticed that they do have contrasting differences. Here’s a table of summary:

Brief Discussions

Both of them have mostly the same lines and even the same Meet the heroes entry but interestingly, they have some differences in their castle, voice lines and even confessions. Male emphasizes about choices and road taken has a somewhat serious tone while Female more on bonds and cheery. Though it is vague which route each took so it is on you how to interpret it.

(However one may say as what male Corrin’s Yato sprite looks like the Omega variant meaning he’s from Revelations. But I argue that it’s contradicting with his art and weapon name that has the standard Yato. I think IS that time just gave him the Omega Yato sprite that early as they didn’t think FEH would last long.)

Ninja

Of all the Corrin alts that have both male and female versions, so far the Ninja alts are the most different and their lines are very different and it isn't vague which route each represents. If you read all their lines and the Meet the heroes page, definitely Ninja Male Corrin is definitely from Birthright and the Female one is from Conquest, the closely associated characters is a big hint. And it’s neat that they had encountered each other.

Another note, this line also intrigued me from their paralogue:

“It's definitely a bit shocking, at least you still get along with your siblings! Oh, Elise... As upbeat as ever, I see.”

-Ninja Male Corrin Paralogue 65-1

I find this intriguing because it references about his experience from Birthright and he had a reaction when he saw Elise. However in his voice lines and castle lines he mentions sending Ninja clothes to Elise, there are two theories I could think of—One, she survived in that reality, or Two, it is some sort of in honor of her loving memory.

Fallen and Adrift

These alts don’t have much indication of which road was taken since fallen are presumed from the pre route split and adrift ones are just Young Azura’s imagination.

The Fallen lines seem similar for both of them—about them suffering , anxious and trying to contain their powers and rephrasing one another. From what I could tell, Fallen Male Corrin seems more unstable than Female. While in their Adrift forms, Male Corrin is very concerned more with Azura while Female is more concerned with the summoner.

Another note is no indication about Revelations of all the alts except these alts. In the Meet the Heroes Page of Fallen(both), there’s a mention of Valla while the rest of Corrin entries none. And for Adrift, the paralogue takes place in Valla.

Halloween

Of all the Corrin seasonal alts, this is the most similar for the both of them, they almost say exactly the same lines or rephrasing in both castle and voice, even confession. Though I found some nuances that implies Male Corrin is from Hoshido while Female is from Nohr. Just like in Ninja Paralogue, they meet too and they’re BFF’s, literally “friends with myself”.

Unique Alts

Meaning that these alts have no counterpart in respective gender (yet) like New Years is exclusively for Male while Summer for Female. Despite that, it’s pretty obvious which one is from, Male again from Hoshido—voice-lines and the paralogue takes place in Hoshido, together with his Hoshidan brother Takumi, (though Camilla is there for some reason). And Female, no need for explanation as it is explicit in the title in her paralogue “Nohrian summer” and as Anna stated that this takes place in the world of Conquest.

As for Legendary Female Corrin, it’s very explicit that she’s from Conquest. In all her lines talks about the events in the CQ route. By following this precedent, it’s pretty obvious that in the near future Legendary Male Corrin will be from Birthright. And I can’t wait to hear his thoughts about the BR route too. And that would be a huge help too in my analysis I’m writing—“Lord Corrin, Second Prince of Hoshido”. It’s still WIP.

Resplendent

Recently Female got her too so I guess I’ll include this but I couldn’t find something notable. They just both doing role-play with the realm that their resplendent represent— Male talks about future as he represent Askr while Female like a dark fairy as she represents the fairy land (sorry can’t remember the hard to pronounce Norse name). So far there has been a pattern Askr for Hoshidans (Takumi is a fitting exemption and his resplendent makes sense) while Fairyland for Nohrians.

Side note, I just love Male Corrin’s special line “This is the end!”, I like this aggressive side of him.

Quick comparisons with other “Avatars”

Before I’ll conclude, I did some quick checks with other avatars: Kris, Robin,and Byleth, if they also exhibit some differences between Male and Female too. ( I only checked the ones having counterparts, unique seasonals I didn’t because I won’t have something to compare with. I didn’t include Shez and Alear since they’re new and I’m not very familiar with them yet.)

Kris’: They both say the same but Male emphasizes on training, while Female about serving and loyalty to Marth.

Robins: Same with Kris. They say the same or rephrasing some lines however in their confessions and some lines Male is about bonds and partnership while Female reminds of herself about the summoner. As for the Grimas, meh. Personally not a fan, can’t finish reading their condescending lines. “Worm this, worm that.”

Byleths: Kid you not, all lines are exactly the same, not even rephrasing, even exactly same confessions, literally copy-pasting.I may know the reason. As far as I know, they’re supposed to be emotionless for lore reasons which gives them a little variety.

Conclusion

Of all the “avatars” Corrins provide variety with their alts and there are distinctions between Male and Female, not just simply copy-pasting most lines for each gender unlike other avatars most especially Byleth.

By nature, they are the same—kind, trusting, endearing and optimistic, but by nurture (i.e., taking different paths and experiences) makes them a bit different. From what I could tell in their overall portrayal in FEH, Male Corrin seems to be somewhat serious, low-key melancholic, emphasizes choices and path to peace while his Female counterpart who is easy going, cutesy and emphasizes bonds. With these distinctions between the two, the notion that “they’re just the same person but different gender” could be challenged, for FEH at least.

( Wanted to recheck and compare their lines in their own games too but so many lines to read and I won’t have much spare time soon. So far I’ve noticed they have different support lines for Gen 2. For example, with Male Corrin support with Kiragi, they’re doing hide and seek, while Female, they had a conversation about Kiragi’s role as a royal)

In their seasonal alts, they act goofy and a kid at heart. This can be said to all seasonal alts too. But this really makes sense to them due to their locked in a tower childhood. They would naturally act this way as they enjoy to the fullest of their freedom and be mesmerized with new things.

As we have seen, it has been consistent which route represents who. Male for Birthright and Female for Conquest. Even their kid: Kana hints which road was taken from by their refined weapons. I’m certain that Male Corrin will get Hoshido Noble from his legendary to mirror the female counterpart. I haven’t found one that heavily implies from Revelations yet. It is very likely that Brave Female Corrin will break this pattern or IS will throw a curveball at us as usual.

I am glad that the characterization of Corrin in FEH is surprisingly good and gave them some depth and nuances despite how much the fandom loves to make them into overly peaceful, naïve and silly caricatures, and especially Female Corrin who is reduced to fan-service. I hope this will make people warm up more to Corrin.

And with that concludes my attempt of doing “”analysis””. I’ve put more effort into writing this than I ever did with my school essays. Like this has ~1800 words and I didn’t resort to using redundant word extending techniques. This shows how interest and passion would make you do. I did my best with all my abilities and limits and I hope I didn’t miss something. If something was overlooked, please politely correct me and please don’t kill me…

#male corrin #fire emblem corrin #m!corrin #corrin #fire emblem fates #fire emblem heroes #female corrin #analysis #fe heroes

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