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philliamwrites · 2 years ago

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SWYAATL 17: Nature Offers Her Violence

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence & gore, angst, anxiety, mentions of character death

Summary: “It’s still scary,” you say. Jean turns to you. “I killed one, but I’m still scared.” His eyes soften. “Good. Fear keeps you humble. But that doesn’t mean you’re not brave.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s being scared and still doing what you have to do despite it.” He looks out over the roofs—your Jeanie, who looks so much older than you remember after just a few hours— “Marco told me that.”

Notes: [01] || [16] | [18]

Words: 6.5k

A/N: Another 2 weeks gone just like that. I can't wait for vacaction to roll around and finally really commit to writing more. Dear anons who sent me an ask, I didn't forget about you!! I just need a little more time to finsih the little something for you guys hehe. Thank you as always for such overwhelming, amazing support. I don't know where this would be without you guys ♥

17: Nature Offers Her Violence

Emil’s voice is like a whisper, so close and clear in your ear as though he is standing right next to you: “There is no easier way to make an animal dangerous than by feeding it.”

Now, you have been fed the most dangerous of all things: Power.

Scratching the skin between your eyebrows with your torn, bloody nail, you try to fight off the dull throbbing in your skull by pressing your thumb into your forehead. Something is different; something has changed but when you try to grasp it, it runs like sand through your fingers. Once you find a moment of respite, you need to think through it thoroughly; to carefully clean and scratch off the layers of dust and grime and reveal the painting lying beneath it. You have an awful feeling that it will look a lot like a pink-petalled tree overlooking a steep cliff. “A cherry-blossom tree,” Emil had explained.

“But cherry blossoms are white,” you had said—you are saying right now as well, many years later as memories overlap with reality. “Not pink.”

“They might not be in here,” you repeat his answer. “But out there.”

You turn to the Wall, looming ominously in all directions. Slowly, your memories are coming back—memories you have forgotten even though you don’t know why. Had Emil known because of his great-grandfather? Or because you had shared your mother’s books with him? You wonder if that painting is still out there, under the ruins and debris of Emil’s house. It couldn’t have possibly survived all the years exposed to the weather and nature’s violence, but if … if …

The metal ring lies hot against your skin. You pull it up from under your shirt, inspecting the ruby orb, the way the light glides off it as though inside liquid is moving. Emil’s ring is more than just a childhood’s promise. It was very important to him, he had said so himself. Another riddle to solve later. This moment feels as though the axis of the earth is tilting ever so slightly, but the outcome will be fatal, and you are at the very centre of it.

You cram the ring back under your shirt, glad for the familiar presence of its weight against your skin. The Titan has begun to fall into itself, shrinking like a raisin. It won’t take long until only bones are left. When you make your way down to the ground, it is only to confirm that the rest of your team is dead. There is no use checking Franz—with only his upper body left, he has bled out, his organs strewn across the street. You don’t want to be the one to tell Hannah.

Turning away abruptly, you cross the street to Karl’s body. His head is split open—you think back to the day Jonathan died in the forest. Two years ago, everything had seemed so much simpler. When the villain of your story had been another person, and that person ended up being punished. Playing hero was easier when your own life wasn’t at stake.

You shake those memories off, turning away as bile rises in your throat and you take deep, forceful breaths to stave off the nausea. There is no time to do anything—the squad responsible for cleaning the bodies won’t have a chance to retrieve Karl and Franz anyway with the hole in the Wall and Titans roaming around. Which leaves the last person in your group—Daz. Even before you start searching for him, you already have a feeling about what has happened: He had been already gone before the fight had started, leaving the rest of you to fight the Titan by yourselves. He had abandoned you.

Only now you realise the reason your hands are shaking isn’t from the adrenaline or the lingering fear—you’re furious. You’re so angry at Daz and by proxy at your own previous hesitation. Maybe things would have turned differently if you had reacted faster. Maybe everyone from your squad wouldn’t be dead now. Your knees wobble from that realisation, and you brace yourself against the corner of a house, forcing heaps of air into your body and exhaling them in slow, shaking breaths.

The mission. Focus on the mission. Everything else can wait. If you make it through this.

Using your ODM gear, you move back to the district’s centre. Being on your own is a death sentence should you come across more Titans. As soon as you near the Main Square, you hear it. The screams, the heavy thuds when you skid across a roof and come to a halt near its edge.

Doors are open all up and down the rows of houses—people are darting out of them, then stopping dead when they see the street crowded with Titans.

It is impossible, unimaginable. That only five years after Shiganshina fell, it is happening again. And now there are dozens. Dozens upon dozens. Maybe hundreds, flooding the streets like a poisonous current. You feel as if you are trapped behind a glass wall, able to see everything but unable to move—watching, frozen, as a 3-metre Titan seizes a fleeing boy and lifts him bodily off the ground, sinking its serrated teeth into his shoulder.

The boy screams, but his screams are lost in the clamour that is tearing the day apart. The sound rises and rises in volume: the howling of Titans, people calling one other’s names, the sound of running feet and shattering glass.

Your name. Someone calls your name.

Hands curl around your shoulders and shake you. You raise your head slowly; Marco’s white face floats against the thunderous, grey clouds billowing behind him. You can’t remember Marco walking toward you, can’t remember seeing him on the roof at all; it is as if he’s materialised in front of you all at once, like a ghost.

“Marco.” Your voice comes out slow and uneven. “Marco, stop. I’m all right.”

You pull away from him.

“You don’t look all right. I’m sure nobody is all right at a time like this.” Marco glances at the street below and curses under his breath. “We have to get the Titans away from the evacuation roads. Where’s the rest of your squad?”

You blink. There are no Titans in view for now; it should scare you how fast they move into wherever they sense people. Someone is sitting on the front steps of the house opposite you and crying in a loud and grating series of shrieks. The boy’s half-torn body is still in the streets, and the smell of blood and death is everywhere.

“Dead.” Your voice is hollow, just like the pit in your stomach. “Except me and Daz. Frank and Karl—”

The person on the stairs is still sobbing. Shouldn’t the rear guard be here, evacuating people? Out of the corner of your eyes you see uniformed soldiers approach the crying person—Reiner and Bertholdt.

Marco swears. You blink against the burning curtain of tears and square your shoulders, ball up the knots of your emotions and push them so far down where they don’t hurt anymore.

Stepping out of Marco’s looming shadow, Annie regards you with a tightly locked expression—a door firmly sealed shut. “The Titans are moving towards the Inner Gate. Something must be holding up the evacuation,” she says.

“Let’s hope they have more luck holding them back than us.” Reiner’s joined you. His eyes pass over you, pausing on the dried blood on your uniform, the ripped fabric of your pants. Seconds later, Bertholdt is behind him. They must have told the person to hide, because now the street is deserted.

“This is way beyond our capabilities,” Bertholdt mumbles. He looks a little green and keeps throwing glances over his shoulder. “We should find the others. We’ll be stronger in numbers.”

“That might lure out more Titans if they sense a bigger group.” Reiner kneads the tense muscles in the back of his shoulders. “But I’m all for regrouping, so let’s be smart about this. We’ll look for the rest of the 104th. Stick together, got—”

Before he can finish, the watch tower’s bells ring a second time this day. For the first time, that sound doesn’t fill you with dread and fear. It means the evacuation is done, all citizens who managed to reach the Inner Gate are on the other side and safe.

“Finally. I thought things would never start looking up for us.” A weary smile passes Reiner, there and gone too quick. “Nice timing, too. I’m running out of gas.”

“They should distribute supplies down Regent Street. Let’s hurry. It smells like rain.”

Marco’s right. As you begin to navigate through narrow alleys, past crumbling buildings and the corpses of soldiers and civilians, the sky opens up and rain falls in unrelenting torrents. You wonder if that might be enough to wash away the blood on the streets, to clean the pavement from today’s horror.

Too scared to look down and identify one of your friends, you keep your eyes set on Marco’s broad back until he turns a sharp left, following Reiner’s lead up on a crimson-tiled roof where you spot familiar faces keeping watch. Half of the group is on the outlook, the rest huddling around a slumped figure.

Nothing seems odd until Marco mumbles, “Why isn’t anyone going over the Wall?”

You notice it then, too. How quiet everything is apart from the pattering rain. No sounds of ODM gear zipping through the sky.

Like a compass, your eyes rivet on Jean first, slumped into himself on the roof and for a second your heart beats in your throat in fear he might be injured. But when he snaps a response to whatever Connie just asked a second ago, he seems unhurt. “There’s nothing we can do! How the fuck are we supposed to scale the wall without gas?!”

“There’s gotta… there’s gotta be something.” You’ve never seen Connie in so much terror. “We can’t just … that means we’re gonna…”

“What’s wrong?” Reiner demands. It seems like nobody has even noticed your group’s arrival. “Where’s the supply group?”

You meet Jean’s eyes. A multitude of emotions changes his expression at once—relief, anger, and then it settles on utter despair. He buries his face in his hands, and mumbles, “Those fucking cowards … we’re gonna die because of them.”

“Were they wiped out? What happened?” Marco asks, hesitating. He’s drawn closer to Jean, and for a moment he reaches his hand forward to pull Jean up, only to withdraw it immediately as though realising he’s facing a cornered, scared animal that will immediately snap its teeth at him.

“I guess they’ve barricaded themselves inside HQ. Apparently, they lost the will to fight,” Jean explains, his voice hollow. “I can understand that feeling.”

You can’t keep quiet anymore. “But abandoning their duty to supply us? Just leaving us out here to … die.” You feel sick, thinking of Daz. He’s still nowhere in sight among the other cadets, and by now, you wouldn’t beat an eyelash if you found him torn from limb to limb in the gutter. “We’re all scared. Yet we keep fighting.”

Jean considers you for a long moment with a bland expression, his eyes blank. Slowly, he shrugs. “Not that it matters. Titans have swarmed the place. We can’t even get gas for ourselves.”

“So what?” Connie snaps, swinging his arms violently and you have a feeling he’s seconds away from trying to beat sense into Jean. Marco, who’s honed his skills on sensing whenever Jean’s about to get his ass kicked for his brutal honesty within those three years of Cadet Training, steps between them. “Hanging around here’s no different! The Titans will gather here too. We should use everything we got and finish them off right here.”

“Do you really think we have the manpower to pull that off?” Jean turns his head, regarding the rest of the gathered rookies. “Look at us. Most of the veteran members of the vanguard have been wiped out. We’re just cadets. Who can possibly take charge of a suicide mission like that?”

You follow his gaze, take in the sunken forms of the other recruits. Their defeat, their hopelessness. A girl sits curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. Your heart shrinks to the size of a small, hard stone.

“It’s not like we can stand a chance against the Titans anyway,” you hear Jean continue. “If Titans got into HQ, that means the supply room’s probably got some that are three or four metres tall. There’s no way we could get anything done in there.”

There’s silence. Watching Connie’s shoulder drop, you can sense the fight leaving him. “So … it’s hopeless, huh?” he mumbles.

Jean heaves a heavy sigh, which is answer enough. When he looks up again, he stares right at Marco. A moment passes between them, one you feel as though nobody but them should be part of. “You know … if I’d known this would happen, I would’ve said something sooner.”

It takes a moment before Marco can find his voice. “Ah, Jean,” he says, mournfully, his voice soft—in just the same way he had said all those months ago in the boys’ barracks when you had walked in on them jostling like little kids. “Has anyone ever told you how bad your timing is?”

You feel like you should say something; to capture this moment with words even though words were not necessary. Something like “I knew it” or “Finally” or “I love you two so much, please don’t leave me behind.”

You turn away and join Reiner’s group on the ledge looking out towards HQ to give them the illusion of privacy. Curling your arms around yourself, you feel terribly cold. Nobody calls after you.

“What now, Reiner?” you ask. You need to focus on what’s next, on how to solve this problem. Occupying your mind with solving the problem to staff off the wicked whispers of doubt and neglect. There’s time for that later, if you have the luxury to deal with it. “You think we can fight the Titans?”

“We let them gather here and it can go either way,” he says. He has his arms crossed over his broad chest, standing tall as though no gust can blow him off his feet. Just the sight of him calms you a little—strong and dependable Reiner who always has got your back. The tight knot in your shoulders eases a little standing next to him. “But if we lose our will to fight, it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’ll die.”

“Is there even a way … to get out of this city,” Bertholdt wonders, gazing out at the wall. For being the tallest of you three, he manages to look the smallest right now.

“If we die,” you think out loud, “then what’s the point? What’s been the point of any of this? What are we dying for?”

Freedom, a voice responds in the back of your head—is it Emil’s? Or Eren’s?

Eren. You turn around. Didn’t you see a blonde shock of hair somewhere? If you remember right, Armin’s been in Eren’s squad. If Eren is here, he’ll have the right words, he’ll fire everyone up to fight and not give up.

“Where’s—” you begin.

“Where’s Eren?” another voice asks.

Mikasa’s rapid footsteps on the roof sound like gunshots as she steers towards your group. Not a scratch on her, she looks just as put together as this morning when you had all left the barracks laughing and without any worry. But you notice spare blades missing in her holster, meaning she had fought. Something about seeing her warms a dark, cold place in your chest. With Mikasa by your side, you guys are invincible.

“I haven’t seen him,” Reiner says. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “But Armin’s over there.”

Mikasa whirls around without a second look back. She crosses the roof with few strides, you follow hard on her heels, and when she calls Armin’s name, you don’t miss him flinching so hard as though he’s been struck by a physical blow.

His eyes are locked onto the roof under him, and he doesn’t look up when you reach him. He appears to be a different person altogether. His hunched shoulders are no novelty, but the way he’s slouching now is an unread page in a usually familiar book. This page appears ripped, crumpled. Barely hanging on to the rest as though it might fly away any second but what’s written on it compromises a good half of everything that makes Armin the person he is.

You grow cold. Very cold. Every second that passes and he doesn’t answer Mikasa, your heart keeps on beating rabbit-fast and you hold your breath to keep from making a sound. Until it stops, wedged into your throat with the speed of a hydraulic press. Just jammed in there, making you choke.

“Where are Thomas and … and Mina, Armin?” you ask next, though much quieter than Mikasa.

You don’t want to know the answer.

You already know the answer.

You want to tell Armin to keep his mouth shut; if he doesn’t say it, it won’t become reality.

You open your mouth.

Armin’s head snaps up, tears run down his face, leaving clear streaks across his dirty cheeks.

Mikasa freezes.

“We … the cadets of Squad 34—” Armin’s voice quivers. He swallows, wipes snot away with his sleeve. He bends his head; his hair falls forward, hiding his face. “Thomas Wagner, Nack Tierce, Milieus Zeremksi, Mina Carolina. Eren Jaeger. These five members fulfilled their … their duties and died valiantly on the field of battle. I—I alone … survived. Only I …”

The word “alone” comes out broken, as if he can taste the bitterness of loss on his tongue and struggles to speak around it. As though he is ashamed about this outcome; that it is him delivering the news when he should have been dead as well.

The whole world stops in its motion. You’re aware the whole roof is staring at Armin, processing the words, but your head is empty. Your chest constricts painfully.

Mina. You think of her small, pale face under her crown of dark hair, of her determination in a fight and her heartening enthusiasm whenever she throws herself into a new task or challenge. You’ve promised to visit her in Karanes. She’s promised she’d take you out with her family on the lake to fish.

Eren. Oh, Eren. His dreams. His conviction. Isn’t it poetic that he died while doing what he always wanted? Killing Titans? But nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and people turn it into poetry. All that blood—it was never once beautiful. It was just red. Gods notice red. It is their favourite colour, and so they choose to draw the world in red. Over and over again, this time with the name that was supposed to be your new home—

You begin to shake violently. “Oh God,” is all you manage, and a moment later, you scramble to the edge of the rooftop, bend over and empty your stomach in heaving spasms.

Marco lurches after you, holding your trembling shoulders before you topple off the building. His face has crumpled, shattered like a damn under too much pressure, but he holds you as you tremble, as you shatter, and mumbles, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” his voice thick with grief; with all his heart in those words.

Behind him, you see Jean. Standing there, motionless. Eyes red-rimmed. He’s staring at Mikasa, Mikasa. You can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now—how grief must tear her apart from the inside, eating her alive. No words can mend what is broken; can bring back and fill what is lost. And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.

“Armin,” Mikasa says. She has such a soothing voice. So calm, so collected, like an untouched, clear water’s surface. “Now isn’t the time to be emotional.”

Armin’s face goes blank with surprise, startling him momentarily out of his grief like a record skipping a beat.

Mikasa pulls him to his feet, then turns and marches towards where you and Marco still stand near the edge of the roof, clinging to each other. “Marco,” she continues. Still in his arms, you can feel him tense up. “If we eliminate the Titans swarming around HQ, we can replenish our gas supplies and get over the wall. Correct?”

“Well, yes,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. Now that you can finally get a good look at her, you feel cold all over at the blank expression on Mikasa’s face. There is no warmth in her eyes. No light. They are dead, and so must be a part of her now that Eren is gone. “But even with you, we can’t handle them all—”

“I can handle them,” she fires back, snaps. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen Mikasa snap. “I am strong. Stronger than all of you. Very strong. As such, I can annihilate the Titans here. Even if I have to do it alone. As for all of you, you’re not only unskilled, you’re also cowards . You’re a real disappointment. You can stay here and twiddle your thumbs. Twiddle your thumbs and cry and watch.”

Her outburst commands silence. Another recruit flounders. He shoots back, “You can’t do that. Even—even you can’t take them on all by yourself!”

“If I can’t, then I’ll die,” Mikasa answers, almost matter-of-factly. “It’s that simple. But—” She turns, faces the roof’s end. “If I win, I’ll live. And the only way to win is to fight.” And then, she jumps. She flies. She disappears between buildings, moving gracefully towards the beasts that haunt your every step. What do you call the animal that, finding the hunter, offers itself to be eaten? A martyr? A weakling? No, a beast gaining the rare agency to put an ending to its own fears. She leaves you cowards, and the silence that settles is like a big, gnawing chasm.

Jean is the first to break free from his paralysis. He rubs his hand over his face, with enough force to leave red imprint marks with his fingers. “You can’t seriously just pull something like that right now,” he mumbles. “Sounding like that fucking suicidal maniac … this is all your fault, Eren.”

He whirls around and draws his blades. The sudden movement startles everyone out of their shock. Raising one blade high above his head, he screams, “Hey! Since when were we taught to let our comrades fight alone?!”

Multiple heads turn his way. You feel Marco give you a last, tight squeeze before he lets go.

Jean continues screaming over to the next roof, pointing the tip of his blade at them. “Or do you guys want to end up as actual cowards?!”

From the other end of the roof, someone else—Sasha—screams, “Yeah! You think Instructor Shadis is gonna let this slide? Come on, you cowards! You weaklings! Morons!”

Something stirs among the cadets. You can’t believe it works, but they move and draw their blades and even though they still look scared shitless, they also look stubborn and spiteful. Ready to fight.

“I have to go back to my squad,” Marco says beside you. He gives your shoulder a solid pat and smiles tentatively. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

You nod and watch him move across the roof towards Reiner and the rest. When he passes Jean, they share some quiet words and briefly squeeze each other’s arms before Marco leaves.

“This is gonna be tough,” Jean says when he steps up next to you. You shudder and collect yourself, rub away the wetness from your cheeks. When Jean doesn’t defer to your loss, you know it’s only to protect you. You’ll have time to break down later. If “later” exists for you. “But you managed to kill one of them, right?” He points to your holster where a pair of blades is missing.

“Yeah —” Your voice breaks. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I got one.”

“Good.” He juts his chin forward. “I don’t trust half of these guys not to stab themselves with their blades when zipping up their boots.”

“It’s still scary,” you say. Jean turns to you. “I killed one, but I’m still scared.”

His eyes soften. “Good. Fear keeps you humble. But that doesn’t mean you’re not brave.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s being scared and still doing what you have to do despite it.” He looks out over the roofs—your Jeanie, who looks so much older than you remember after just a few hours— “Marco told me that.”

Something infinitely warm spreads in your chest. You take Jean’s hand and effortlessly win the thumb war, squeezing his thumb because you don’t give him a minute to catch up to what’s going on. “Let’s go kick some Titan ass then.”

It’s true what they say. That the best way for team building is under attack, screaming, yelling and in pain.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Armin watching you with eyes so full of grief and yearning, it’s not difficult to know what’s going inside him, and you hurt all over for him and his loss.

Losing Emil all those years back, the wounds always feel fresh like a cut you keep on reopening. But losing Jean today would mean losing a limb; another part of your body. It would mean the part of your soul residing in his body shattering and you’ve already lived part of your life cleaved in half. If the rest were gone too, nothing but a hollow shell would remain.

You’ve already lost Mina and Eren today. You won’t lose anyone else.

So in that single moment, when you look at Armin, and he looks to Jean, and Jean looks to you, you realise that all three of you would lay down your life for each other. They don’t teach you that at Cadet Corps: that you will find people so important to you because of the years you’ve fought and bled together that you will kill and die for each other. Live for each other. Such is the honour and duty of a soldier.

“I’ll go after Mikasa,” Armin says. He’s dried the last tears, and now only the red, swollen skin around his eyes betrays that he has cried. “You two take care. We’ll meet up at HQ.”

“It’s Mikasa we’re talking about, she won’t need it … but still, look after her.” Jean gives Armin a hard clap on his back. “We’ll see you on the other side.”

Armin nods, then disappears down the roof.

Jean and you follow the others. It doesn’t take long until you catch up to them. They’re standing in line at the edge of a roof, looking down at Titans roaming the streets.

“Why is nobody moving?” Jean asks. “HQ’s right there.”

“How do you expect us to pass those fucking monsters?” A Cadet with deep wrinkles on his forehead and a sharp chin whirls on Jean as though he alone is at fault for the current Titan invasion. Out of instinct, you step into his path, shielding Jean, and the cadet bumps into you and startles back.

“You’ve got a functioning ODM gear, right? Then use it,” you snap back.

The cadet scowls down at you, mutters “bitch” and turns away to another group of rookies who look unsure about this whole plan. But you can’t allow yourself to hesitate now that there is at least something you can do. This plan is better than not doing anything, and the last thing you owe to the dead is at least trying to move forward.

“Not all of us will make it,” Jean says as he surveys the streets. His voice is low, as if not to let anyone else hear and spread panic. “Not today. Not tomorrow. If there even is a tomorrow.”

“Yeah, if.” You stare down at the blades in your hands and angle them left and right until they catch the sliver of sunlight peeking through grey clouds. It’s stopped raining. Maybe that’s a sign. “It’s still worth trying.”

Jean exhales audibly. He surveys the hesitating soldiers lining up on the roofs, waiting for something, and then at the Titans that have finally sensed the living nearby and look around as though scenting their fear. A myriad of emotions flash across Jean’s face. Doubt. Resolve. Back to hesitation, then fear. You can see it in his eyes, he’s concocting something, but before you can ask, he screws his eyes shut, opens his mouth and roars: “EVERYONE MOVE OUT WHILE WE STILL CAN!”

The first line of cadets jumps. Jean’s face—pale and wide-eyed—turns to you for a second, imploring you to do what you don’t know, and then he follows them and doesn’t look back. For a moment, fear that you’ve already lost him grips you tight enough to suffocate. But he is an exceptional flyer—almost as good as Mikasa. He’s excelled at every flying test.

Only until today, the dummies haven’t tried to kill you.

Rolling your head until a bone in your neck cracks and relieving some tension, you’re about to walk off the roof when you hear something like a roar in the distance. When you turn around, nothing seems out of the ordinary. There’s nothing apart from the stomping of approaching Titans. A large bird—a hawk, maybe—soars in long lazy circles over the houses, an elegant black boomerang against the silvery sky.

Do it like that, you think. The sky is the only place where you have a chance against them.

When you fall, the wire bounces you back up right before hitting the ground, sending you higher than the rooftops and opening up the sight of all hell breaking loose.

The cadets look like small flies buzzing around in search for the exit—easy pickings for the Titans to fish out of the sky. For monsters this big, some of them move awfully nimble. Only a hair’s breadth away from you, a gigantic hand arches through the sky—closing around another cadet who was following right behind you. His screams suffocate inside the giant’s palm as one squeeze is enough to crush his lungs and bones. Your stomach churns when you hear the wet crunch of snapping bones—but that’s also when you realise the danger of this altitude.

You don’t think. Smashing your fingers into the levers, you let the wires wheel out and fall. There is so much screaming around you—somewhere in there you can hear your name—but when you evade an outstretched hand and drop to the Titan’s knee-height, you find new anchor points and real the wires back in. The metal of your gas canisters scratching across the ground makes an awful noise—heat sparks behind you as the friction grates the metal surface off. You release all the leftover gas and pray momentum carries you back up into the sky and through one of the windows of the building.

With death breathing down your neck, you throw caution out and manoeuvre recklessly between the Titan’s feet, shifting left—no, right, back to left, faster and faster until you see HQ towering above you. The wires reach their end point. You take the swing at full speed, soar higher in a wide arc and curl into a ball, bracing for impact.

Glass shatters when you smash through the window, taking off your momentum. When your feet hit the ground, you stumble and try to brake the rest of the speed—and slam right into a bookshelf. Books topple off from the impact, their spiky edges punching more bruises into your skin, but you barely feel the pain. More windows break behind you, sharp shards fly like rain in a storm. You whirl around, scanning faces to see who has managed to outrun the Titans.

There’s Sasha, Reiner, Bertholdt. A few nameless faces—all with eyes spread wide from horror at the cost that they made it. They survived. When they all stand and catch their breaths, the sudden silence is deafening.

Heavy steps come up from behind you, and before you can turn, you’re nearly knocked flat as Jean wraps the entirety of his body around you.

“Dear Lord. [Name]. [Name] [Last Name].” He holds you even tighter. “Don’t you do something stupid like that ever again.”

He’s talking about that reckless evasive manoeuvre—to close to the ground, to the Titan’s feet. You can hardly imagine what it must have looked like from all the way up where he’s been. You can hardly imagine how close you’d been to be trampled to death in the first place.

So you don’t say anything, just press your face into his chest and let yourself at last be held. You put your arms around him. Everything about him is so familiar, from the lingering apple scent—the same as his mother, to the sharp angle of the collarbone that rests just under your chin. He says your name again, repeats it over and over until your hands reach up and cup his face.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. We’re fine,” you speak over Jean’s frantic prayer of your name. “Everything’s OK, Jean.” You press your foreheads together until his laboured breath slows down slightly. Behind you, you feel another set of arms wrap around the pair of you—Marco, manifesting the long-ago threatened Jean-Marco-you sandwich. You don’t mind it.

It feels safe, and good to be held so tightly, so secure after everything you’ve been through—when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend like you’re all children playing a game, reckless and young, tumbling into each other with the wild abandon of those who have never known themselves apart and have no reason to doubt that the others will always be there, holding on to them and holding them up when they can’t stand longer.

When you’ve rebuilt your reassurance that you’re fine, you let go and survey the room. Only then you realise that a lot less have managed to reach HQ than expected.

Jean suddenly sags against you, and it takes both Marco and you to hold him up. His voice is barely a whisper. “I told them to move. I gave the order. How many people died because of me?”

“A lot more would have if you had not taken the lead,” Marco replies immediately with a ferocity you’ve never heard from him. You can see his knuckles turn white where he’s holding Jean up by his elbow. “We would still be out there if it wasn’t for you, Jean.”

Jean doesn’t look as if he’s listening. His eyes flicker across the room, and then they pause, and the remaining colour drains from his skin; it’s like watching a fire flicker and go out. You follow his sight. In the far corner, below a heavy office desk, a handful of cadets are cowering and staring up at you through big, frightened eyes. The girl has blood splattered over half her face, the source a motionless body in front of them with half his head missing.

Everything clicks into picture. Why nobody had supplied you with gas. Why HQ was so awfully silent. Why nobody had come to help.

You feel Jean’s whole body twitch. Before you can catch him, he springs forward and drags one cadet out from his hiding spot by the collar. Jean’s punch lands right across his jaw, sending him back to the floor. “You abandoned us!” Jean screams, lunging forward again—or tries to, but Marco is holding him back, his arms fastened around Jean’s torso. “People are dead because of you!”

There’s more shuffling when the girl scrambles out from under the table. “The Titans overran the supply room!” she shrieks back. Tears cut a dirt path across her cheeks. She has freckles, you notice distantly. Freckles, like Mina. Suddenly the anger at being abandoned evaporates and only cold remains in its place. “There was nothing we could do, nothing!”

“It’s your job to deal with it anyway!” You’ve never seen Jean this furious. It’s justified, but pointless, you realise. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring back the dead.

“Jean—” you begin.

The wall on the left side explodes, sending boulders and debris flying. Light pours through the hole into the dark room for a moment, before it is blocked out by a huge head. The Titan grins so hard it nearly splits its face in two.

Nobody moves for a second.

Then they move all at once.

Cadets lunge for the small door at the opposite side from the hole in the wall, trampling and stumbling over knocked over books and papers. Glass crunches under their feet, the sound like bones breaking. Someone slams their elbow into your side to get you out of the way, knocking all air out of your lungs. Marco seizes your arm and pulls you out of their way before you get slammed to the ground. He’s shouting something but the overwhelming screams of those fleeing drowns whatever he’s saying. But then he turns his head, his dark eyes wide. A muscle clenches in his jaw.

Jean. He’s just standing there, frozen to the spot. Staring at the Titans. It’s like all life is draining out of him—there is no willpower to run or fight as though happiness and laughter has never existed. He’s giving up.

You move against the tide—towards him, towards the leering Titans and their hideous faces, and clasp Jean’s hand.

When the walls come tumbling down, you hold hands, just like you did all those years ago with Emil.

This time, you won’t let go, no matter what.

The Titan jerks.

Jean is holding your hand so hard you fear your bones might break.

Something moves.

For one second, the Titan’s shadow swallows you whole, and then—a fist the size of a small carriage slams into the Titan’s face, sending it flying. Light pours through the hole. In their place another Titan stands, and it roars so loudly you cover your ears. His scream fills every narrow street and bounces off the buildings like a crack opening the earth’s crust, the boom and tremor of an earthquake.

Your mind doesn’t fully comprehend what is going on. The simplest answer is the obvious: A Titan is fighting another Titan. But that is impossible. It cannot be.

It roars again, blood-churning and bone-splitting—it is magnificent, almost, for it feels as though someone took the fury of the human race and incarnated it into this desperate howl.

Anger that is cathartic.

Liberating, almost, to know that to all things housed in her silence, nature offers her violence.

A/N: "To all things housed in her silence, nature offers a violence" is a line from Hozier's "Blood Upon the Snow". I highly recommend you guys check it out!! The song fits the hidden plot of this story SO AMAZINGLY I just had to sneak it in as a homage to the Faerie King himself. I also went back and edited a few things in chapter 13 to weave the theme into the story. Idk, it's such a small, unimportant thing haha. but i really really like it and it will make more sense on the long run, I promise.

Taglist: @arisu003, @brooki, @prttyangelz, @honeylmnade, @berriesandcrem, @im-just-star-dust

Not sure if I got everyone from my taglist, so feel free to confirm/remind me/join!

#phill.swyaatl #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot reader insert

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loregoddess · 2 years ago

Note

ask meme for albert legend of dragoon? (i tap my pointer fingers together) :D also hi fellow LoD enjoyer

oho, one of my favorite characters!

How I feel about this character: Honestly, I love Albert, one of my original favorite characters going back to when I was very young watching my mom play the game. He's just such a pleasant, down-to-earth guy for being, y'know, a king who got stuck with the throne at a young age. Absolutely wonderful character. Also he has my favorite additions of any of the characters.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I'll be honest, I don't really ship him with anyone (his age difference with Lavitz is a bit too large for my own comfort, even though they have decent chemistry). I know his relationship with Emille is like, canon and all, and I'm fine with it, but I kinda wish the writers had written it a little bit more...romantically. "Love at first sight" isn't really the best romance trope in my opinion.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Lavitz, obviously, but I also love that Albert gets into a few of Meru's shenanigans. Like yeah, Haschel is usually her partner in crime, but Albert was very much a part of the "let's listen in on Dart and Shana" post-St. Louvia, and before that he sought out Meru to "hang out with his friends" on the Queen Fury.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Not about Albert's characterization per se, but a lot of online guides talk about needing to have Albert or Kongol as part of the permanent party to use as tanks and like, I get it, but it's also not true. You can use literally any combination of characters, and so long as you know how to use them you can not only beat the final boss, but the secret superboss as well (though I will admit, using Rose with either Meru or Shana/Miranda would be one hell of a challenge bc of how much Rose's stat growth drops late-game). Like, don't get me wrong, Albert is fantastic to use in battle, and once you patch his magic defense, he's basically unstoppable, but I have very much beat the game without using either him or Kongol before.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Aside from "please, for the love of love, give him a more believable and well-written romance arc", I really wish we got to see more of Lavitz and Albert's interactions in-game, since most of what we hear about their dynamic is secondhand, after Lavitz's death. Building up their relationship more would've made the scene at Mayfil so much more impactful.

my OTP: Shipping and handling not covered at this station for this character.

my cross over ship: I have exactly one cross-over ship which is also more platonic than romantic, and it involves no characters from LoD. It's also a secret to everyone.

a headcanon fact: Not entirely headcanon, but more a theory that I have about the dragoon spirits and their chosen wielders, but I think an integral driving force of Albert's character is fear. This is partly because all the other wielders of the Jade Dragoon spirit are driven by fear, in some way or another, but the trait isn't as obvious with Albert until later in the game where he actually expresses some deeper anxiety over the world ending (as compared to a few of the other characters). Moreover though, I think a lot of Albert's "fear" actually centers around his kingdom and his own ability to lead it well, as his personal battle on the Moon is with his uncle, the dialogue of which directly addresses Albert's worry over his own weakness as a leader, as well as his realization that his strength comes from his bonds with his companions, and that he will be able to lead his country better than his father or uncle could. (Notably, everyone's personal battle on the Moon has them overcoming whatever integral negative "dragoon trait" is holding them back). I dunno if any of that makes sense, because any time I've tried to sit down and write out my theories for the dragoon spirits and the personalities/characterization of their wielders, I get my thoughts all mixed up, but...yeah.

NOT a headcanon fact, but a canon fact, according to fan translations from the Japanese guidebook, which has extensive notes on all the characters, Albert hates tomatoes. I think this is the funniest piece of trivia the writers could have added, bc it never comes up in the game, it's literally just an obscure fact hidden away in the Japanese guidebook. Absolutely excellent.

#hmmm I don't talk specifics about LoD and the characters I love but I sure do love them a lot #inkysqueed #ask meme #I still don't have an ask tag #also hi back fellow LoD enjoyer!!

5 notes · View notes

barbex · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 5,141 times in 2022

125 posts created (2%)

5,016 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@potatowitch

@dadrunkwriting

@tea42

@noire-pandora

@justcallmecappy

I tagged 5,031 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#dragon age - 2,559 posts

#anders - 948 posts

#fenris - 888 posts

#dragon age fanfiction - 552 posts

#fenris x anders - 462 posts

#hawke - 437 posts

#fenders - 373 posts

#fenris!! - 304 posts

#mass effect - 248 posts

#fenris x hawke - 218 posts

Longest Tag: 84 characters

#like i'm fiddling with headers and eraser tools for my fucking fic headers for hours

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

I would love to see a scene where an argument happens, but the characters resolve things by the end (or at least come to a mutual understanding of their differences). Happy Friday and happy writing!

Thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting. Not sure this is what you had in mind but fenders happend.

---

“What do you want, mage?” Fenris snarls as Anders strolls into the mansion as if he owns the place. Not that the door is in any shape to actually hold off intruders.

“Excuse me, just wanting to check on that burn at your side,” Anders says, ignoring Fenris’ glare with a bored expression. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I saw you catching a full blast from that demon.”

Fenris winces as he looks down at his side. He took the armor off already, but his undershirt sticks painfully to the weeping wound. “Why do you care?”

Anders rolls his eyes at Fenris. “Are you serious? I’m a healer, I guess I just can’t help myself. I don’t want to see my friends die of infections.”

Fenris looks at Anders. He holds himself tall and proud, but he leans on his staff, keeping weight off his left side. “I don’t want your magic on me.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware.” Anders throws an angry look at him. “What has magic touched that it didn’t spoil, isn’t that what you said? And you’re right, of course, the chantry tells us all the time that we are a mistake by the Maker. Me, that little girl in the courtyard, that stupid Emile — mistakes, mistakes, all of us. Although, Emile makes one wonder...”

He doesn’t want to hear this. “I apologise.”

“Fuck you. Don’t throw out some weak apology just to shut me up.” Anders steps closer and points at the stain on his shirt. “Let me see that. It has to be cleaned and I have a salve to stave off the infection.”

“A salve?”

“Classic and traditional. No magic.” Anders kneels down, picking and pulling at the hem of his shirt. “This is gonna hurt.”

“Do it quickly.” Fenris clenches his jaw, bracing himself for the pain as Anders rips the fabric away from the wound. The pain is excruciating and he breathes hard against it.

“You are allowed to make a sound, you know?”

Fenris opens his eyes, realising only now that he squeezed them shut. He glares at Anders. “Ow.”

Anders snorts. “Aren’t you tough.” He wets a clean piece of cloth with something from a bottle and begins to clean the wound. It burns. “You know that this would all be much easier with magic, right?”

Fenris sighs. Anders has healed everyone in Hawke’s group several times, including himself. There is no point in making things more difficult for him, despite his distrust of magic. “Use magic then. Make it quick.”

Anders’ eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut again. He cleans the wound with a swipe of his hands and then lets them hover, golden glow sinking from his hands into Fenris�� side. It feels warm, gentle. Nothing like the nightmares that keep haunting him.

“I want to apologise, truly,” Fenris says quietly.

Anders opens his eyes as the glow from his hands disappears. “I understand why you react like you do, and I shouldn’t rile you up all the time. I guess I have to apologise too. So we’re even. You should apologise to Hawke, though.” He frowns at Fenris. “She really loves you, you know?”

“I will.”

Anders looks up at him, his fingertip sliding over the edge of the healed wound. For a moment, there is something in his eyes that Fenris can’t read and it’s gone just as quickly. He turns away, gets up and is two steps away when Fenris notices how cold he suddenly is.

“Anders,” he calls after him. “Thank you.”

Anders looks over his shoulder, something painful in his expression. He nods and slips out of the room without another word.

Fenris glares at the clutch of mushrooms next to the door as if they could tell him why he feels so strange now.

49 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

I'm dumb and can't find the prompt lists so I'll freestyle, if I may, with Fenders: head in lap.

No one is dumb here. This was a wonderful prompt and you just know me and my fenders obsession! For @dadrunkwriting tonight.

---

The first time, it was Fenris. Sleeping with his head in Anders' lap.

Nobody quite remembers how it happened, Isabela had brought some special rum and the night in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man quickly turned into the kind of comfortable, hazy memory, where nobody can quite recall how the evening ended. All Anders remembers is that he woke up when his head dropped against the wall and when he looked down, there was Fenris, sleeping in his lap.

Some time later, Fenris woke up, sat up, and looked around with a scowl as if the world had wronged him. Anders quickly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He never mentioned the incident to anybody, but something changed between them afterwards. They still bickered and disagreed, but it was less vicious.

The other time, it is Anders, falling asleep with his head in Fenris' lap. They are outside, near the coast, and it's such a beautiful, warm night that they didn't bother to put up the tents. The fire is already low and Isabela tells a story from her travels, something outrageous of an antivan tradition about dancing naked around a fire. Anders is almost sure she made that up.

But it's soothing to listen to her, and Anders stretches himself out on his side, with his arm bent under his head, closing his eyes. Under Isabela's warm voice, waves crash gently to the shore in the distance. Soon he doesn't listen to the story anymore and just lets the sounds wash over him.

When he opens his eyes again, stars shine above him. The fire is down to glowing embers, not giving off much light anymore, and the sky above is a dome of chandeliers. Stars blink everywhere, more than he has ever seen. He's so captivated by the beauty above, he doesn't notice Fenris' presence for a while. When he realizes that the softness under his neck is not his pack, but Fenris' thigh, he freezes.

Of course, Fenris notices right away. Anders feels the muscles in his thigh tense under his neck. He moves to scoot away or get up, to give Fenris space.

"You don't have to move," Fenris says, his voice low and calm.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Anders slowly relaxes, he practically feels his vertebrae popping back into place. He looks further up, finding Fenris' face among the stars, framed by his shining white hair. A third moon in his sky.

Fenris turns his face a minuscule amount, his eyes meeting Anders'. "May I touch your hair?"

Anders stares, trapped in the fairies' call that is Fenris' green eyes. "Sure."

Fenris' fingers slide into his hair, pushing the hair-tie out. He brushes through Anders' hair, carefully picking at tangles, until his fingers can slide through it without resistance. Anders closes his eyes. It feels wonderful. Fenris' fingers gently scratching over his scalp and then brushing down his hair. He's dozing off again, exhaustion catching up with him.

When he wakes again, the sun is rising. His head still rests on Fenris' thigh and Varric very deliberately turns his back to them, after winking at him. Anders swallows a groan, Varric surely will never let this go. He turns back, expecting Fenris to look at him, but his eyes are closed. He sleeps, sitting. His back bend and his head hanging, with one hand on Anders' chest and the other on the pommel of his sword next to him.

This is probably how he slept as a bodyguard, Anders realizes with a start. Sitting at the ready, unable to lie down and truly sleep. As he sits up, Fenris' eyes fly open, his hand tightening around his sword.

"It's alright, you should lie down and really rest." Anders scoots to the side and gestures to the space next to him. "Come, lie down."

Fenris' eyes widen. He moves slowly, as if he expects to be reprimanded, but at last he settles down with his back to Anders and when Anders wraps his arm around him, he only lets out a long breath.

Anders stuffs a rolled-up blanket under their heads and moves closer to Fenris, just shy of pressing his nose into Fenris' hair. "Isn't that better?"

"Yes." Fenris scoots a little bit closer. "It is nice."

Anders tightens his arm around Fenris' waist. "Now we're even for sleeping in each other's lap."

Fenris flinches. "You remember that?"

"Yes, I do."

"So..."

Anders waits, even though it takes all his patience to wait for Fenris to finish his sentence. "So?" he finally asks.

"So next time, I'll be the one holding you as we sleep."

For several seconds, Anders forgets to breathe. "Next time?"

See the full post

50 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

I wish you would write a scene about red wine stained lips with Fenris and whoever else you want :) Hope you have fun tonight!

Thank you for this prompt!

Another fenders ficlet for @dadrunkwriting on this Friday.

---

"And I fold," Donnic says.

"Yeah, me too." Anders stares at his miserable hand for a moment longer and then lets the cards fall on the table. Wicked Grace has never been his game. Why he even comes to these games, in Fenris' mansion, he doesn't quite know.

Looking at their host, a hot blush creeps up his neck. Yes, he does know.

Fenris looks at his cards, the tip of his tongue brushing over his wine-stained lips.

In the daydreams Anders likes to have, he gets to kiss those lips, gets to taste the traces of wine on them and feel them yield to his tongue as he explores his mouth. In his dreams, he gets to trail kisses all over Fenris' body, finding out how far the white markings go.

But here, in the real world, Fenris doesn't even look at him. At least he doesn't call him an abomination anymore and the way he calls him 'mage', sounds almost friendly, sometimes.

Anders pushes his chair back and walks through the kitchen into the small garden that the mansion has been built around. Once, this probably had been some decorative, orlesian monstrosity, with bushes cut in animal shapes and poisonous flowers. But years of neglect have transformed it into a jungle, with vine covered trees straining upwards and covering the patch of sky above him with a net of vines and leaves. He looks up, watching the stars twinkle through the gaps in the natural canopy.

"Mage," Fenris calls out to him, his voice low and calm.

Anders startles. "I just wanted to catch some fresh air. Is it my turn again?"

Fenris' silhouette is dark against the warm light of the kitchen, his face not visible. "The others left."

"Oh." Anders looks up at the stars one more time. "I guess I lost sense of time." He walks back to the bright frame of the kitchen door, where Fenris is waiting. "Sorry, I'm getting out of your hair."

Fenris steps aside to let him go inside. "You're not... you're not in my hair."

"I know, it's just a phrase." Anders hurries into the main hall to get his staff from where it leans against the wall. "I wonder where that expression comes from, originally. Did people pull each other's hair to get their attention? How weird would that be, right?" Anders forces his mouth to shut, he always babbles when he's nervous and Fenris' frown clearly tells him how annoying he is.

Grabbing his staff, some of the tension flows from his shoulders. He always feels safer with his staff. "There, off I go." He doesn't dare to look at Fenris, at the disapproving scowl he surely wears.

"Mage."

Fenris' voice stops him mid-step in front of the door. "Yes?" He turns around, slowly, bracing himself for... something.

"When we were playing," Fenris says, his gaze falling to his hands, "you kept looking at my face. Why?"

"Oh, that was nothing." Anders smiles and shakes his head and nearly misses the angry frown growing on Fenris' forehead.

Fenris glares at him. "Is it amusing to look at my disfigurement?"

"Your disfigure... what?" Anders turns fully to Fenris now. "There is nothing disfiguring about you, at all."

"Then what were you looking at?"

Anders takes a step closer and raises his hand to Fenris' face. Watching him for a violent reaction, he brushes his thumb over Fenris' lower lip. "The wine stained your lips. They looked so red all evening." He pulls his hand away again, and presses the pad of his thumb against his own lip, as if he's kissing it.

Fenris' eyes widen, and Anders hurries out of the door, before Fenris can snap out of his shock and decides to pull Anders' heart out of his chest.

52 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

I wish you would write a scene where Fenris has to be the one to take care of Anders rather than the other way around - whether that be in a domestic sense, a medical/battle sense, or otherwise

Such a good prompt, thank you! This is for @dadrunkwriting on this here Friday.

Fenris x Anders, fenders fic, illness

---

The lantern is out but Fenris tries the door with his good arm. It's not locked. Careless. The mage is always too careless, thinking that nothing can happen to him down here, as if templars and killers never come this far. If Hawke loses her favorite healer, she will be very upset. He steps into the room, his eyes adjusting quickly to the low light.

"Serah Fenris, I'm sorry, the clinic is closed," one of Anders' helpers calls to him from a table where she folds linen by the light of a candle. She looks at how he cradles his arm and takes the candle over to him. "Let me see your arm. I can't heal it like Anders, but I can help you in the traditional way."

"Linette!" Anders' voice comes from behind the curtain that separates the clinic from his private room. "Let me see his arm."

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Linette scolds.

"I can't sleep when I can't breathe. Come in here, Fenris."

Anders' voice is nasal, and he sniffles after each sentence. When Fenris steps behind the curtain, it's obvious why. The mage is sick. He quickly hides his red nose behind a neckerchief that he binds tightly over his nose and mouth, but Fenris saw it.

"You don't have to hide your face, mage."

Anders rolls his eyes. "I'm not. I just don't want you to catch it, too. You should cover your nose too, just to be safe." Anders throws a piece of cloth towards him from a pile of neatly folded fabric. "It's clean, Linette even ironed it."

Fenris folds the roughly square piece of red cloth into a triangle and ties it over his nose. The mage waves him closer and looks at Fenris' arm. "It's not broken, just strained. Have Linette put the green salve on it and tie it in a splint and it should be good in about two weeks." He makes a vague gesture and turns around, blowing his nose.

Fenris lets the curtain fall closed behind him and watches as Linette stabilizes his arm.

"I hope he sleeps now," she says.

"He seems tired."

"Pah," Linette huffs. "He's always tired. Healing takes so much out of him and then all the adventures you and your friends drag him out on." She tightens that bandage and checks it over. "I'm glad he's getting out into the sun sometimes, but I think you're asking too much of him. There, that should hold for a while. You can take it off to wash yourself, but make sure to put it back on afterwards."

Fenris still wonders about what Linette said as she ushers him out of the door. The mage always healed them without complaint. It never even occurred to Fenris that it would be taxing. When Danarius saw fit to heal him, he either had the healer sent away quickly afterwards, or he did it himself, as a reward. Fenris was expected to be affectionate afterwards and held him as he rested. He never made the connection that Danarius was tired from healing.

"We're going home now, healer!" Linette and an elven woman call into the empty room and pull the door closed behind them. Fenris hears them talking as they walk past him.

"He shouldn't be alone."

"No, but I have the kids at home, I can't stay."

"I tell Vershe to take watch at the door later on."

The women walk on, too far away to listen to them, and Fenris still stands frozen to the spot. The mage shouldn't be alone. He has helped so many people; he has helped Fenris without ever asking for a reward. He shouldn't be alone when he's sick.

Fenris turns back to the clinic, opens the door, and sets the plank across to keep it closed. They'll be safe from surprises at least.

"Hello?" comes Anders' congested voice from behind the curtain.

"It's me, Fenris." He pulls the cloth back over his nose and slides the curtain to the side. "You should sleep."

"I'm trying. My nose keeps me up."

"Why don't you just heal yourself?"

Anders sinks back on his pillow, breathing through his open mouth. "I wish I could. But something about this stops the magic from reaching myself. Why are you here?"

"You shouldn't be alone."

See the full post

59 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy Friday! I would love to see a fic where one character is in prison and their partner is visiting for the first time. For Fenris/Anders? Or whichever pairing you think would work best. :)

Thank you for this prompt! For some reason, Varric wanted to tell this story.

For @dadrunkwriting on this Friday:

---

"Where is he?"

Varric jerks so hard in shock that he spills tea all over himself. "Andraste's dirty knickers."

Fenris steps in front of him, murderous rage in his eyes. "Where. Is. Anders?"

"And hello to you too, my dear Fenris." Fenris' gauntleted hand tightens around the lapel of Varric's jacket and her hears the fabric rip. "You know, it's not quite so easy to get clothes for dwarves up here. It's a long way through the Frostbacks for traders to come to Skyhold."

"Varric," Fenris says with a warning growl under his voice.

"I can take you to him, just... promise you won't freak out."

"I will promise no such thing." Fenris lets go of Varric's jacket and steps back.

"It was worth a shot." Varric pulls at the hem of his shirt and jacket until it feels right again and darts to walk towards the stairs leading to the lower levels. "How did you even get in?" he asks to fill the silence.

"Cullen. He knows me."

Varric looks over his shoulder to throw Fenris a doubtful look. "That's usually not exactly an endorsement."

Fenris doesn't say another word but the anger clinging to him is like a palatable force. The deeper they get under Skyhold, the deeper Fenris' frown becomes. Finally they reach the dungeons. Varric gestures towards the prison cells, only a little surprised to see Cullen already waiting for them in front of Anders' cell.

"Fenris," Cullen says, stepping in his way. "You may speak with him but he has to stay in the cell. Don't try to break him out, you'll be only making it worse."

Fenris just stares at Cullen, his hands clenching at his sides. At last, Cullen steps aside and Fenris rushes towards the cell with three long strides. "Anders," he calls into the cell.

Varric steps closer, looking into the cell. The cold stone floor is covered with straw and a mat and a pile of rough blankets act as a bed. Only when the pile of blankets moves, does he realize that a person is somewhere under that. Anders peers out of the pile, his eyes red-rimmed and tired.

"Fenris? What are you doing here?"

At the sound of his voice, Fenris sinks to his knees, his hands tightening around the vertical bars that separate them. "Did you think I would not find you?"

Anders sits up, scooting closer to the bars. "I didn't think you would look."

Varric hurries to step back, to give the two a little bit privacy. Their voices lower, it's almost just a whisper. Anders' softly, halting and stumbling, and Fenris' harsh, hissing until he suddenly softens, quietly pleading.

At some point, Fenris turns, looking over his shoulder at Cullen. "Magebane? Is that how the Inquisition treats mages now?"

Cullen sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, that's how we treat mages who happen to be prisoners. It would make little sense to lock up a mage who can free himself in seconds."

"Why is he locked up?" Fenris asks, looking at Anders again. "He came to you on his own accord, turning himself in."

"Tomorrow is his trial. The Inquisitor will decide."

Fenris stretches his hand through the bars and lays his palm on Anders' cheek. "The Inquisitor is a judge now? By which law?" His thumb wipes a tear away from Anders' lower eyelid.

Cullen sighs again. "Don't you start. You have to come with me now.

"I'm staying here."

"You can't, you —" One look from Fenris has Cullen snap his mouth shut. "Fine." He turns on his heels and stomps up the stairs. "Are you coming, Varric? I'm going to lock the main door."

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69 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #look ma I have original posts!

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leemonayde · 2 months ago

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ok I've put some thought into it.

What I think would belong in a Ratatouille Sequel, in my personal and biased opinion:

Linguini and Colette would be a step further into their relationship.

This really depends on how much time has passed (I think it would have to be a year) but based on how close they were after they started dating and in the epilogue portion of the movie, it would make complete sense for them to be making a "next step." I don't know if this means moving in together, marriage, or maybe even like having a child, but it wouldn't make sense if that wasn't a thing that happened.

2. The whole Remy doing FSL (French Sign Language) thing.

I already talked about this a little in the last post, but Remy needs to have better communication with the characters. I believe that he would also start learning how to write.

3. There would be some kind of "soup" scene

you know the scene from the first movie where Remy makes that first soup and the vibes are just off the chart? This would be necessary in a sequel. But it would need buildup. I imagine that the events of the movie cause Remy to lose track of the *true* meaning of cooking, where he finds himself obsessed and not enjoying it the craft. Then, he turns to a pot, and stops for second, before becoming completely lost in cooking. It would be a beautiful scene, a wonderful moment, and the best damn soup the world had ever tasted.

4. Most importantly, Remy would get very politicly active about speaking out for rat-kind.

There is no way you can tell me that Remy would be ok with hiding in the restaurant without anyone in the outside world knowing he was making the food. I think this is one of the more commonly forgotton plot points, but Remy was obsessed with making a change, not only for himself, but for all rats.

He always wanted a better life for himself and his family, and was ready to fight for it, which is exactly what he did. Of course, it didn't seem that Remy accomplished this goal to the fullest. Sure, he got a small rat cafe running so that his family could eat good food, but that doesn't solve the whole rat = kill issue.

And the second piece. Remy does not sit well without getting recognized for his talent. That much was obvious when he almost outed Linguini when he was interviewed by the press. He got jealous, and angry when Linguini took credit, even if it was to protect him.

With both of these combined, I firmly believe that this concept would take the main story. Remy would want to be public, and he would take every chance he got to speak his truth. In a way, this attitude can already be seen in the short, Your Friend the Rat (its really cute I recommend watching it if you can). Not even 20 seconds in, and he's already on a roll. I couldn't find the clip but heres the dialogue.

Remy: Hello, I'm Remy, and this is my brother Emile.

Emile: (waves) Hi.

Remy: We're here to speak out on behalf of oppressed rats everywhere.

Emile: (groans) Oh man.

Remy: Rats who don't have the access to media that our movie affords us.

Emile: We're speaking out?

Remy: Yes, we have to. (slams paw into other) We rats need to take a stand.

The other rats may not be completely with him on it, but we already know that other's disapproval never stopped Remy before.

I feel that its important to note that I am not asking for there to be a Ratatouille sequel. The original is a masterpiece and I'd honestly be scared of Disney ruining any attempt at a second movie. That is to say, if they did ever make one, you can absolutely trust that I will be in the theatre watching it on opening night.

#ratatouille #remy #linguini #Collete #Emile #I spent way too much time thinking about this #Why do I feel like Gordon Ramsay would find his way into the movie #I don't think it would even make sense #But he would find a way

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bulgariansumo · 1 year ago

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After sliding around my OCs like an abacus for a while, I have finally maybe definitively sorted them based on how normal they act vs. how mentally ill they are.

Here's the blank, btw.

I was gonna write notes on why I placed each character where I did, but that might fill up the entire chart. I'll just put those thoughts under the cut.

Galactiquest

Leon's Normality: He's a little dense and has more childlike wonder than is expected at his age, but he's otherwise normal.

Leon's Mental Health: Up until Angelo showed up on the ship, he was living his best life. He doesn't really have hang ups aside from that situation. It is a lot to deal with though, so I put him low on the mentally well half.

Mia's Normality: Mia could blend into any crowd. However, she's a little more socially averse than the average person.

Mia's Mental Health: Sees herself as a cog in a machine and numbs herself out of fear of having her joy crushed. Not great.

Roxie's Normality: Roxie lives in her own world, and doesn't bother being normal.

Roxie's Mental Health: Her fear of death influences her life more than she lets others know. Otherwise, she's having fun.

Jun's Normality: They're a little goofy at times, but always down to earth.

Jun's Mental Health: They're doing well in general, but there is something to be said about them agreeing to go on such a dangerous mission while being aware of the consequences.

Aiden Normality: While he's not exactly weird by nature, he ignores social norms if they get in the way of what he's trying to do.

Aiden's Mental Health: A strict upbringing, homelessness, and prison took a toll on him, but he's doing pretty well despite all that.

Angelo's Normality: He tries to be normal around most people, but has some cryptid-like behaviors. He also gets really intense about people who are nice to him.

Angelo's Mental Health: He is an anxious mess whose self-esteem is below the ground. A very sad boy.

Emil's Normality: Acts mostly normal due to years of picking up on social cues, but seems to always be putting on a performance.

Emil's Mental Health: People pleasing disease. Also riddled with insecurities.

Lorenzo's Normality: Strict and cold to the point where it unnerves most of his peers.

Lorenzo's Mental Health: Raised to be paranoid. Also holds himself to a high standard mentally, physically, and morally. He's very anxious about social situations, but he doesn't realize this and won't admit it.

Hinimato

Higgy's Normality: Off-camera, Higgy is arrogant, rude, and blunt. Most people are either intimidated or annoyed by him.

Higgy's Mental Health: People wonder what caused Higgy to be the way he is. There's no answer. He's not hurting in the same way as the other people I put in the Mentally Ill half, but he does cause a lot of his own stress and problems. Also he's a workaholic and a perfectionist and proud of it.

Nicky's Normality: Nicky acts charming in front of cameras and people he wants to make a good impression on, but outside of that, he is extremely bizarre.

Nicky's Mental Health: Nicky is almost always having a good time. His only real issue is not feeling responsible enough.

Maxy's Normality: His bold and loud personality attracts many friends and fans, though he can be a little childish.

Maxy's Mental Health: He's got some insecurities related to his biological father and frustrations about his brother Toni latching onto Higgy instead of him. Otherwise, he's doing great!

Toni's Normality: He's very childlike for his age and feminine for a boy, traits that are toned down some for the cameras. He also likes bugs. Before he got famous, his peers picked on him a lot for these things, as well as his academic struggles.

Toni's Mental Health: He may not think much of himself, but he holds the belief that everyone deserves basic kindness. Though he's got a few crises going on related to his gender and growing up.

Mai's Normality: She doesn't try to be normal, but she is for the most part. However, when she's not, she is very much not. She'll say something like "As your benevolent leader..." or "Well duh, I'm invincible!" and fully believe in it.

Mai's Mental Health: Raised to believe nothing less than being the best is good enough, Mai doesn't fully consider herself human. Little mistakes that others would not think twice about become full-blown crises for her, but she doesn't allow herself to acknowledge that she made a mistake, so she just convinces herself of her own lies. It's bad!

Kenji's Normality: He really is just some guy.

Kenji's Mental Health: All the plants and coffee in the world is not going to fix his workaholism. It doesn't help that between his boss and his students, he feels like he's the glue keeping that company together. All in all though, he feels like he's living a full life, much better than when he was performing on stage.

Benji's Normality: He's a little eccentric and prone to taking risks, but that's just part of the charm of being a funny uncle (figure)!

Benji's Mental Health: If his husband weren't so far away, he'd be doing good. Kenji taking a vacation for once in his life might also help.

Tsuki's Normality - She's abnormally shrewd for her age, but otherwise, she's a normal, big sisterly type of girl.

Tsuki's Mental Health - She's pretty put together, but taking on the responsibility of protecting her friend's jobs from company executives has to take some kind of toll.

#oc meme #ocs #galactiquest #hinimato

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bvannn · 2 years ago

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Weekly Recap Feb 3 2023

Not too much to say about this week. I had far more work than anticipated but tried to do pet projects regardless.

My main focus this week was Tim and Emile’s test animation. I storyboarded it, to which I am satisfactory (though may tweak some areas). I have begun keyframing, and discovered that I can reliably use the models asymmetrically so long as I adjust a couple pieces. This is wonderful, as it means I do not need to make new pieces. I am still uncertain how I will do the direct interaction, but I have part of a plan, which will be adjusted as needed.

In the coming weeks I hope to create some more clip studio assets for these animations, including the stray sketchy lines, dry ink lines, impact bursts, potentially a generic background, etc. that I include in my individual art, as well as some glitchy effects for Jon and maybe some blurs for fast motion. I want my art style to stay distinct and a bit messy, so I want to include that in the animations as well.

On the topic of TRG, Colosseum is approaching! Last year I did a few art pieces of some of the ‘bumpers’ that played before or after segments (for those unfamiliar, these were short skits the participants wrote, acted, and recorded). I don’t believe I ever posted those to this account, so I will likely do that, as well as drawing some more. We got a new batch of skits last year, including some instant hits including ‘Cardboard Jon’ and ‘I took a Few Liberties’. As much as I would love to animate these, most of these skits would involve rigs I do not have built yet, and will not for a while, so I will stick with single illustrations, or potentially comics, at the very most a short gif in reference to a skit. I may reawaken my Twitter to post these, though afterwards it will become dormant again.

I have also been rewatching TRG’s older videos, in part to select a clip to animate, but also to buffer my volatile mood as of late. Rage helps writing stories, but hurts many other functions, so I can’t let it linger more than a couple hours.

Unfortunately I have made little significant progress with stories to speak of this week. Rage helps build despicable villains, though I have focused on them enough as of late. I have devised a few henchmen for both the primary and secondary stories I am working on, which greatly assist in characterization of the villain in the primary story, and push the plot and raise the stakes of the secondary story. I hope I can use these characters to assist in structure of both stories, and that I may do proper art of each soon as well.

Unfortunately, the USB port on my computer is broken, significantly reducing capacity for art, as I can no longer use my art tablet. The port should be fixed late Monday, and a USB hub item I had ordered for unrelated reasons (I wanna draw and watch cartoons on my fire stick at the same time) should be arriving this weekend hopefully, so this should be a very momentary delay in work, and I can still work on animations so long as I don’t need new storyboards.

I fulfilled the Inktober 52 prompt barely on time this week, this will likely repeat. I wish to get better with placing my sketchy lines, and more practice on both paper and digital are required.

I got scouted for the newgrounds portal this week, which is wonderful as it confirms my art is at the standards of newgrounds. This is wonderful news for my confidence, I hope I can provide a halfway decent drawing to the website every once in a while as a thanks!

I have thrown together some music to potentially rearrange and create original songs from, though this would need testing. I do not expect to have time for this in the coming week, though I may throw more measures together.

Main plans for the coming week are to chip away at the test animation, work on story outline/structure, inktober 52, and at least one TRG Colosseum drawing. Anything else is a fun bonus.

#weekly update

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biohazard-inevitable · 4 years ago

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Storm

Part of Monster and Man universe featuring the characters of Penelope and Scylla owned by my ever closest friend, @emile-hides

Thunder cracked through the skies as lights filled the clouds, rain pouring down outside the old laboratory hidden amongst the massive pines and evergreens of the forest just outside of town. Water pattered down from the skies on the glass roof of the observatory where Doctor Scylla Phoenix stood, looking into the skies alight with electric currents, a storm like no other. Truly facinating, this storm. In it, electric currents jolted and danced in the clouds, performing a brilliant light show unlike any other in nature.

The only other noise in the room apart from the rain was that of pen on paper as the doctor scrawled out the various data readings from the tools set up around the observatory. The readings of this storm were incredible, even the doctor’s fine salt and pepper hair stood on end with the electricity in the air, filling every breath with a sharp, electrified air. Another gunshot of a crack filled the air as lightning struck the greenhouse, glass shattering from the heat of natural electric current soaring through air molecules at such a great speed and intensity. Exhilarating.

Doctor Pheonix scrawled down more data in his notes, his stern expression not leaving his face as he was filled with facination at this unique weather phenomenon. As he wrote more data onto his clipboard, a crash interrupted his thoughts, turning his stern expression into a scowl as he swiftly turned around.

“Penelope, I thought I told you not to disturb my research tonight with your frivolous-“ The Doctor’s voice stilled as his cold gray eyes laid upon a beast rather than his eccentric roomate.

The beast stared back, only one wild eye while the other half of its face covered by dark, black hair, two goat-like ears peeking out from the messy mop, decorated with white dots and white fluff peaking from the insides. As it inched out even more, Doctor Phoenix could see the rest of its mangled, sewn together body. Its upper body was mostly human, patches of skin of all different races sewn together and hands that ended in sharp, glinting claws. As for the creature’s bottom half, there was no humanity in that. With one leg of a horse and the other the upper half human and the lower half of a goat’s, it was hardly a surprise that a long reptilian tail snaked out from behind it’s body, most likely that of a gator. The beast growled a most agressive snarl, barring its rows of jagged teeth for the doctor to see.

“Penelope!” The doctor shouted out, retreiving an invention of his that shot metal, for self defense of course. “Get in here immediately!”

With another loud, clumsy stumble into the observatory, a tall man entered with firey red hair and crisp golden eyes, his darkened, tan skin glistening with blood from an unknown source with every shock of lightning that brightened the room.

“Yes Pheo dearest?” The man teased with a ditzy smirk before looking around, his eyes laying upon the creature. “Oh my creation! I-it’s alive! It’s walking! It’s fantastic!” He exclaimed with a beaming grin, running towards the likely dangerous creature.

“You made this thing Pen?!” The Doctor shouted with facination seeping into the edges of his voice. Perhaps this was the reason he had saved this hick of a man’s life from death row, though it seemed to be a mystery to the both of them how this creature was alive and breathing.

“Oh indeed I did, but I didn’t intend for this beauty to be alive!” Pen said with a giggle, watching as his beast flinched away from him, backing up against the wall, cornered by the two humans. “It’s okay little one! I made you! I suppose this makes me a father of sorts doesn’t it?”

“Don’t call yourself a father, this is a creature, you didn’t birth-“ The Doctor was unfortunately interrupted by a sharp, amazed gasp from the redhead.

“I’m a dad. I’m. A dad.” Pen began in a fatherly mantra. “I’M A DAD!” The creature flinched at the loud exclamation with a dog-like whine, lielly having sensitive hearing. “Apologies my son, my darling.” Pen apologized lovingly, gently petting down the creature’s ears.

“It is not human, it does not have a gender and you are not the father-“ The Doctor tried to reason, no information getting to the tall man he shared a bed with.

“Oh what should we name him? Ronnie perhaps? No, heavens not thats a ridiculous name for such a majestic creature of my creation!” Pen gently carressed the creature’s ears, eyeing the pattern on the ears with adoration. “Oh the way his ears have such a lovely pattern on them... I reckon we call you Domino! How does that sound my lovely, lovely creation?”

The creature gave a purring growl, half nervous, half accepting Penny as his father figure and leaning into the touch, very tired from his newfound oxygen in his sewn together lungs and the life that the freak electrical storm that had just finished its dramatic showing in the skies gave to him. And thus began Domino’s new life, a freak of natured but loved by one.

#monster and man #monster and man universe #Domino #chimera oc #monster oc #oc story #emile makes the most wonderful characters to write #crazy bois #we’ve settled on Pen being so hick and I’m in live with it #hick dad #and i thove describing natural events like this #like how cool is all of this man #real frankenstein esque

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skittidyne · 3 years ago

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hi skitty!! im a huge fan of bbac forever and im sooo excited at the prospect of originale!! i was wondering if theres anything u can share about the story - just fun facts n shit, little tidbits if u will. im rereading the chapters u put up ages ago and it just made me so excited to eventually read it!!

aww, thank you anon! ;v; i'm also very excited (and nervous) to share originale with the world. but there's plenty i can share!

most nosebleeds are, very tragically, mostly only in backstory

the first book covers through to the dreamlands incident*

*with some major edits of the plot timeline prior to that...

there are two puns in the story, one of which is pulled from bbac itself ("wouldn't dream of it" in regard to the dreamlands). the other one is a stealth pun and i hope one day someone figures it out

the main cast are named after various horror creators (and characters), and i specifically gave yui's role to a lady called hayley west so she is, in fact, h. west reanimator

several beta readers have mentioned disliking a certain character and i am TICKLED by it, especially considering he was a fan fave in bbac

i do not have a title for the second book yet .__. but i have names for books 4 and 5

given that three of the main characters (vivienne, mark, and hayley) are weebs, i'll work a haikyuu reference or nine into it eventually, but not yet

shockingly i am not as in love with the kitsune role (now gumiho!) as i was with futakuchi. but i still enjoy writing fox spirits!

i have zero idea what to envision for covers

i have looked into hardcovers if i self-publish

it'll be around 400 pages (first book)

i have the shirt picked out i'll wear for when i make announcement pics for social media

instead of visions only toward the end we'll have shorter ones as interstitials between all the chapters for the series to hammer in that natalie is a stealth mc

i am undecided on whether to go romantic or platonic for two pairings that were full ships in bbac

i am GUTTED that i had to move one character's introduction and thus role into book 2 onward, because she's great and hilarious, and it's extra hilarious because we actually know her by two different roles in the book and i'm wondering at what point people will realize that. also she speaks like a valley girl twitch gamer. because she is one.

sam appears very much to be the fan favorite character so far. which is so valid he's such a good bean

i'm heavily considering moving up my deadline to publish to this summer ("skitty, it's may" yeah i know) so i can hopefully help finance a move

i very much want to write a creature compendium side book a la fantastic beasts and probably will eventually given that it's already partially written (the issue is illustrations...)

mirai (one of the tengu) turned out to be a stealth fave to write because they are SUCH a hot mess but also go :3! whenever their love interest is around

i'm writing mass effect fanfic now and i thank god every day i have so much practice writing weird-ass backward knees with the tengu for those aliens

the afanc is in book 2

there will be more than one old moon ball in the series because i am NOT writing on a half-year timeline ever again (did you guys know what my current mass effect novel has)

the jackalope's name is pyewacket

isaac will get his familiar way earlier than kenma did but it will still be midna and she will still look like this because that is vital to my wellbeing

sunshine remains sunshine because he's actually a multidimensional immortal cat, that's what the failed experiment did to him

my dad made the eventual hunting knife emil will have, because he's just extra like that. in the book it has a partial werewolf bone handle. i cannot legally state what the real counterpart handle is. but i'm also thinking about doing a giveaway way later in the series for it (because apparently it's legal to ship knives in the us! thanks america) because i like to be entrepreneurial and think about fun marketing things. it's also fun to think about "hey you like this book series? enter this giveaway! you can win A KNIFE"

(along that vein there are also keychain bottles of angel blood, demon blood, and luck...)

#how to put the romance back in necromancy #ask #anonymous #i have described the cats more lovingly than any love interest in that book

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procrastinatorproject · 2 years ago

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For the fic asks, two heart emoji and a clown walk into an ask box:

💖 What made you start writing?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Ohhh, what illustrious guests! Thank you so much for visiting my inbox! Let's see....

Sparkly Heart (💖): What made you start writing?

For as long as I can remember, I have been making up stories in my head. I was fully 20 years old before I realized I could probably call this "daydreaming", for me it was always just "making up stories".

I started writing them down in earnest when I was... 11, I think? Took me a few more years to find out I had technically been writing something called "fanfiction", and other people did it, too!

I basically didn't read or write any fic for 10 years, before I slowly started to rediscover it in 2019. I couldn't even tell you what got the ball rolling. I'm pretty sure it was the discovery that this kind of story I had tended towards and always felt deeply ashamed for enjoying not only had a name (Hurt/Comfort), it was so incredibly popular it had a nickname (whump) and entire fests and huge communities dedicated to it! And then I discovered Musketeer fics and the wonderful, wonderful people writing them.

And then season 1 of Star Trek: Picard aired, and against my expectations, I fell instantly in love with it. And a lot of people whose Musketeers fics I loved also started getting into the Aramis in Space fandom. And I started out 2020 by thinking: "I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to write, and at some point, maybe in a year or so, I might have enough practice and be good enough that I dare post something I have written. Maybe."

Sharing the first bit of substantial writing I had created in ten years with a friend was one of the most insanely nerve-wrecking experiences, but it was also exhilarating! My conviction to wait and practice for a year or so before posting anything went out the window pretty quickly, and I posted the very first real story I had put on paper. The first story in my life I ever finished, I think. And then the dam was broken.

And MY GOD the amazing friends and community this adventure has brought me 🥰

Dancing Hearts (💞): Who's your comfort character?

Er... I think it's going to come as a surprise to absolutely no-one that it's Emil 🙈

I just... I love to read and write stories with this man in them. He is snarky and irreverent but also caring and kind, under the slightly exasperated exterior (because he is part of Rios, so how could he possibly be anything else?)

I have loved him from the very first moment he stalked onto my tv screen, and I can't wait to continue writing things to give him more life and adventures.

And I should probably mention the other holos, too. Those five hyper-competent disaster boys make me feel all warm and fuzzy and at home, and if I could only ever write stories about them for the rest of my life, I'd be content.

Clown Face (🤡): What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

The entirety of A Night at the Opera.

I laugh at my own jokes and my own writing A Lot. But this one... when I started dreaming up the idea for it, I think I spent a good fifteen minutes sitting in my armchair and just cackling like a maniac!

And then there were so many jokes and exchanges in it that just made me laugh out loud when they occurred to me, and then again when I wrote them down, and then again every time I reread them.

But as a taste, I am always going to be proud of this particular exchange (talking about the roomba-like cleaning bots):

Xyr leaned around the Tactical Hologram to get a better look, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his injured hand. “So, what exactly is it you hope to do with the bot if you catch it?”

“Emmet and I have some exciting ideas to increase their defensive capabilities”, Enoch replied, rising slightly from his crouch to get a look of the action over the top of the others’ heads.

“I don’t know, they already seem plenty capable. The way they keep disappearing to evade capture?”

[...]

“Just imagine what they could do with a few added features.” Enoch waggled his eyebrows again.

Xyr seemed deeply intrigued. “What sort of features?”

Enoch said “Statically charged forcefields”, at exactly the same moment that Emmet said “Knives.”

I don't know why this one gets me so hard, but I always burst out laughing at "knives" 🙈🤣

Thank you so much for your ask, this was a blast!

If anyone else would like to join the fun, here is the list of questions 😁

#lili's writing adventures #writing #fanfiction #star trek picard fanfiction #a night at the opera #@curator on ao3

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silma-words · 3 years ago

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Another prompt for Adrian and MC...

Number 5 / "say please"

not sure how you want to take this one, but I thought the smut could be next level... have fun! 😂

N/A: Omg I cannot thank you enough for this prompt @mssukeyna! This was so much fun, and a great prompt to push me a little out of my comfort zone! I literally woke up 2h earlier every day so that I could write more before work ;) I hope you’ll like it!

~~~~~

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Explicit (NSFW, 18+)

Genre: Smut.Smut.Smut

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – ‘Inevitable - Arc I: Before we part’ (Masterlist)

Summary: “We are travelling for business, Ellie, we’ll have to behave like professionals”, he had warned her, although he did not look so convinced about it himself….

Inspired by the following nsfw-prompts: #5. for sex in public / “say please”

Words: 4200

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down to business (Part I?)

Getting to travel was one of the perks Ellie enjoyed the most about her job as the CEO’s personal assistant. She never really had any opportunity to get out of her small town before she moved to NYC, and had always been of a curious nature. This job was a dream come true on that matter. But some trips were better than others. The ones that revolved around business negotiations, although exciting in their own ways, were not her favourites. By far, the ones she preferred were the ones that were meant for networking, for Adrian to maintain his relationships with previous business partners. There had not been many of those since she had started working at Raines Corp. but she loved those very much. These business trips revolved mostly around socializing. And socializing was one of her strengths.

But the reason she liked these trips the most was not because of the fancy dinner parties, the pricey hotels, or the designer dresses she got to wear to play the part. No. What she liked the most were the times she could have to herself in between social events, to explore around and satiate her curiosity about ‘the rest of the world’, and the times when she could get Adrian all to herself. He was more relaxed during these trips. More light hearted. More playful. As well as more tuned to her cues than when they were travelling for more serious business. And that, she loved to play around with. A lot.

Adrian was always doing his best to keep up the façade of the boss-assistant interactions between them when they were in public. And she completely understood why. Truly. But that was also so tempting for her to do her best to weave her way through that invisible barrier he was tentatively setting between them.

She would brush his fingers when he would hand her a drink. Sneak a hand up his thigh under the table at dinner. Fiddle with her long strands of hair to attract his attention to her neckline. Oh, his poker face was good. Spot on. Decades of practice truly paying off. But whenever she played her cards well, she could see that façade slowly crumble down. His cheeks slightly changing colour as she would whisper sweet - well maybe not so sweet - nothings to his ear. His Adam’s apple moving slightly at the sight of her legs shifting as she would change position on her seat, her skin exposed through the slit of her dress. His speech suddenly stammering slightly as she would slowly caress the inside of his calf with her foot, whenever she had been sitting across from him at dinner and had felt bold enough to risk reaching blindly under the cover of the table cloth.

She always made sure to keep her face composed so that the other guests would not notice how Adrian’s reactions were directly connected to her. But she would also cast him a challenging look as soon as the moment had passed, to make it perfectly clear that the game was on. And never once had she received back any kind of response that would indicate that Adrian was not on board with this. He might play the game by pretending that this behaviour was totally unprofessional, but they both knew that Adrian had never been anyone who cared much about the rules.

This time, their ‘socialising trip’ had led them further from home than ever before. Ellie was finally given the chance to fly out of the country and get a glimpse at Europe, with their first stops leaving her in awe at the wonders of the Italian countryside where they had stayed for five days to catch up with a couple of Adrian’s old ‘friends’ who had chosen to retire there. She did enjoy the socializing parts way more than she had anticipated: who would have dared to complain about the exquisite cuisine, the tours of the vineyards, the breath-taking views over lakes and mountains, and the luxurious guestrooms they could discreetly retreat to when the schmoozing was getting boring and the yearning had become too much.

The last part of their ten-days trip had also reached beyond of her expectations: she had always dreamt of discovering France, and although their journey would not grant her her secret wish of seeing Paris, she found out that the luxurious hills and valleys of the South-West of France were as equally magnificent as what she had seen so far over the last few days. There was so much history around, old medieval castles and ancient caves that she wished she could explore, that her curiosity and excitement seemed to be only matched by Adrian’s nerdy enthusiasm. European history was not necessarily his strongest suit, but he did know quite a few things about it, and gladly shared with her his knowledge about the places they travelled through. His expertise on French wines was definitely spot on though. And kind of sexy too.

Their guest was – unsurprisingly – a wealthy investor who had inherited a prosperous estate from his great-grandfather who was, originally, the business partner Adrian had been trading with at the beginning of the twentieth-century. Pretending to be his own descendant was apparently something Adrian was quite used to. Even though their current host – Emile – was pretty obnoxious.

They dined, visited local investors, attended a couple of art exhibitions grand opening nights. And indulged on wine, local delicacies, and smouldering gazes in between polite handshakes and casual conversations. Ellie’s French was not really up to the challenge when other guests could not speak English, but luckily Adrian was doing quite well in that department – another sexy trait to add to that very long list that Ellie kept filling up in her head.

That night, their host had been planning a special treat for his guests – Adrian and Ellie among a larger group of about thirty: a tour of his private ‘art collection’, followed by a fancy garden-party on his estate. Ellie had been looking forward to it, until the tour had started and she had realised that most of these ‘pieces of art’ were actually ancient remains that Emile had bought from lucky ‘discoverers’ around the world and snatched from the hands of archaeologists and museums to fill up his own little private gallery. As the tour was going on, she kept grumbling by Adrian’s side, drawing the attention of a few other guests that were marvelling at these stolen relics and obviously did not care much about how these had been acquired. As the group proceeded to move on to the next room, Adrian discreetly motioned her to move aside and slow her pace, grinning at her once they had managed to place themselves at the tail of the touring group.

“I know this is grating you, but this is quite a common thing these days – there is no point sulking about it now while there is not much we can do about it”.

“You’re the one to talk, ‘Mr-I-glare-at-that-old-British-dude-for-buying-an-original-John Trumbull-canvas-to-decorate-his-guestroom’!”, she retorted challengingly. “These objects are as important to historians as those Revolutionary War paintings you keep talking about. They shouldn’t be kept in here only to be displayed once a year to a bunch of rich morons who care more about how much he paid for it than about what these objects were”.

“I know, I know…” Adrian admitted with a sight, raising his hands in surrender. “But as I said, there is not much we can do about it now. Let try to survive through this tour and enjoy the night.”

Rolling her eyes, Ellie let out an annoyed sight and finally nodded, her tensed shoulders still betraying her frustration.

The tour proceeded, Adrian and Ellie sharing eye rolls and annoyed looks every time Emile would brag about the price of a unique item. They always kept behind when they could, making a point of looking at some of the glass panels in detail to at least try to learn a little something out of this display of wealth. But that revealed to be a nearly impossible endeavour. There was barely any labels or information attached to these objects whatsoever. Nothing there to keep them distracted from that never ending tour. Well. Apart from each other.

It started with just the tingle of his breath in her neck as he was hovering above her to look at an old grease-lamp from some ancient cave. And then continued as she would casually hook her arm through his while staring at the antic statue of a Roman god. And a brush of his fingers down her spine as he stood behind her pretending to listen to Emile’s dull blabber. Her hand sneaking along the side of his thigh as they followed the group around. The light pressure of his hand on her lower back as he led her to move past him into yet another room.

Pretending to pay attention to their host was increasingly difficult. Preventing their faces from betraying their very unprofessional thoughts even more so.

“I know I have said this before but…”, Adrian whispered in her ear, a playful smile forming on his lips, “I love that little tempter of yours… it makes me feel… a lot of things”.

He could hear Ellie’s heartbeat race in her chest at his words, even though she was keeping her eyes trained on the display panel before them, doing her best to keep her composure while the predatory tone in his voice was making her knees tremble slightly. The other guests were buzzing around them, pointing at glass display cases here and architectural features there, oblivious to the heat surrounding the two secret lovers as if the bubble Adrian and Ellie had formed around them had turned them into two of those trinkets exposed around the room that nobody was truly paying attention to.

Trying to break through the thick air that had been lingering between them, Ellie shifted on her heels to follow the flock of people that were regrouping to move along, casting a knowing smile at Adrian, and holding his gaze for a few seconds before walking away.

But before she could turn left into the next corridor, she felt his arm wrap around her middle, only to swiftly whoosh her aside to a secluded corner of the room, out of sight from the rest of the group thanks to one of the strong pillars that supported the roof of the exhibition room. A gasp escaped her lips as he sprung her around, pressing her back against the cold marble as he eagerly captured her lips in a searing kiss, his hands pressed against her neck, and his torso edging closer to her chest as she was gradually yielding to his powerful embrace.

Trailing her fingers up his neck until they reached his hair, she eventually gave a gentle tug so that she could make a break for air, their lips just a few inches apart as she teased, breathless: “I thought we had to keep our public appearances strictly professional, Mr Raines?”

She felt his grin against her mouth more than she could see it. “Well, what we are doing now is purely professional, Miss Reed. If there was anyone left around to see us, I’d just explain how I was telling all about...” he paused to nibble at her lower lip for a few seconds, “... about the sturdiness of these eighteenth-century pillars...”.

“Eighteenth century, han?” she giggled against his lips, her voice catching in her throat to form a silent moan as Adrian’s mouth began to trail down her chin to follow her jawline.

Her mind struggling between the will to keep her eyes open to check that no one was in sight, and the tantalizing swirls of his tongue against the skin beneath her ear, the shivers that were running down her spine quickly sorted that battle for her. She let her eyelids drop and her head fall back to rest against the stone behind her, focusing only on Adrian’s touch and on the way his hands had now started to drift from her neck to her shoulders, inching lower and lower as his mouth tasted the salt of the skin down her neck and along her collarbone.

Her hands unconsciously travelling from his hair to his back, they suddenly grabbed his shoulders a little tighter to press him closer as she felt him reach for the fabric of her dress to bunch the black silk over her hips. It took all of her will to remain silent when Adrian wedged his knee between her legs, her lips tightening in a thin line to repress a whimper as his fingers trailed down one of her thigh to her knee so he could lift her leg up against his hip, pressing himself forward to conquer the empty space between them.

She could feel his grin against her windpipes when her hips started to grind against his of their own accord, the tight grip of his fingers against her rear sending waves of heat down to where their bodies met.

“I think one of us should keep an eye on that corridor, in case anyone is sent out to look for us” he whispered against her skin, before lifting his gaze back to her, his golden eyes glimmering with mischief. “Would that be a mission you’d be happy to take on, Miss Reed?”

“Of course” she manages to answer, her voice croaking from anticipation.

“Good.” he grins. “Then, you’ll have to face the other way…”

She barely had time to register what he meant before she felt the heat of his body replace the cold marble that had been pressing against her back. She instinctively reached forward to place her palms on the pillar as Adrian resumed his pressing touches eagerly, one arm wrapped around her chest to keep her close, and the other finding its way between her thighs.

She could peek at the corridor ahead of them from where they stood, most of their bodies hidden by the imposing column that seemed to edge closer and closer to her as Adrian’s touch became more insistent. But being able to see ahead did not mean that she was actually looking. Even if she had wanted to fulfil her ‘mission’, the pressure of his left palm against her thigh and the hand that slipped under the fabric of her cleavage made it near impossible to focus on the task. The soft bites and kisses her neck were subjected to were not helping either.

Not being able to see or touch him was like torture, his quiet groans vibrating from his chest to her ribs, and his arousal pressing firmly against her back like a wicked promise that was for now beyond reach. Her back arched involuntarily when a firm hand grabbed her breast, his warm breath beneath her ear betraying his grin as the fingers on her thigh started to wander towards the edge of her underwear, playing with the seam of the lace before sneaking underneath with a deliberate slowness that had her whimper behind her tightened lips.

The light graze of his fingertips against her swollen nerves was all that was needed to weaken all muscles in her body, making both of them dangerously tumble forward as her arms gave in, removing the only leverage she had against Adrian’s pressure in her back, which had been keeping her so far from being flushed against the cold marble with no room to escape the sweet torment of his heated caresses.

Even though her eyes were now shut, she knew that Adrian was watching closely her features when she let her head fall back to rest in his shoulder, her brain going into overdrive when his touch became more pressing, kneading her breast and drawing lazy circles against her centre relentlessly. It was not long before she lost the last bit of control she had left over her own body, her lips parting slightly to let a moan escape, quickly muffled by Adrian’s mouth covering hers in an attempt to preserve the silence around them.

That might have worked perfectly, if only he had been able to kiss her with more restraint. Instead, his tongue had quickly found its way through her parted lips, brushing hers in patterns mirroring the movement of his fingertips between her legs, swallowing her whines as if he could taste her own pleasure through the ragged sounds that he was drawing out of her.

She was itching to touch him. One of her hands had left the cold surface of the pillar to find its way to his head and tangle in his hair, her entire body squirming against his to seek the friction that she was craving for. She knew he was trying to make her lose her mind. And it was working. She could feel his fingers slide gradually further down against her core, dipping into the wetness of her folds before retreating back, drawing growl after growl each time.

She could tell Adrian was relishing this by the way the corners of his mouth curled against hers. It was only when he suddenly pulled away from her swollen lips that she finally opened her eyes again, the lust and wickedness of his gaze sending a shiver all the way down to her toes. He had stopped moving, simply holding her petite form against his chest as tight as deemed possible, his golden eyes anchored to hers with an unmistakable gleam of challenge and promise.

“Adrian…” she mumbled feebly, desperately trying to grind against him but unable to resist his hold on her.

He smiled, remaining silent for a few seconds, before finally breaking the stillness with a low, husky voice, in a tone that was somehow both inviting and commanding: “Say please”.

There was no hesitation in her response, no control, her rasped voice echoing around the room as she begged, breathless: “Adrian, pleeeaaase…”

Thankfully, he did not make her say it again, barely waiting a few seconds before plugging a finger into her dampened slit, followed nearly immediately by a second, resuming his circular patterns over her swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. Withdrawing and dipping back into her with maddening slowness, she could feel her muscles clench around his fingers and her knees start to quiver as the pleasure was slowly building in.

Her dilated pupils could not tear away from his golden eyes, silently begging for more as he increased his pace, his hips grinding voraciously against her back, his mouth inches from hers as if resisting the urge to kiss her so that he could revel in the sweet music of her feverish whines echoing around them.

“Adrian… this is… so…” she tried to mutter between her gasps.

Adrian’s eyes flashed with a voracious gleam as he purred against her lips with a proud smirk, “so… good?”.

Her lips pursed weakly to form a teasing grin. “So… unprofessional”.

His smirk only widened further at her words, his hands suddenly moving away from her burning skin to grip her hips, making her head jerk up from his shoulder in surprise. She was about to complain when he swiftly swirled her body around and crashed his lips onto hers, pushing her back against the pillar, the contrast between the cold marble and the heat of her skin making her jump a little in his grasp.

It was not long before Adrian’s hands had found their way back beneath her dress, his fingers reaching hurriedly for the hem of her thong as his mouth started to descend from her mouth to her chin, roaming over her neck and her collarbone, until he sunk to his knees before her, skipping the parts of her that were covered by fabric to head straight for the space right below her navel. Dragging her underwear down her legs, he only broke the contact between his warm lips and her skin so that he could guide the lace over her heels, quickly shoving the fabric in his pocket before capturing her pulsing nub between his lips, not wasting any minute before expertly starting to explore her aching core, nibbling and suckling with an unmatched dedication.

Her hands were roaming all over his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and pushing her hips forward to demand more, her lower lip caught between her teeth to repress the urge to cry out with every stroke of his tongue, or every time the deft fingers that were slithering up and down her inner thigh came close enough to tease her entrance before retreating back wickedly. As much as part of her wanted to pull him back up to his feet and beg him to take her now, the other part could not even fathom the idea of making him stop his godly work between her legs.

There was no more coherent thought going through her fogged brain. Fragmentary visions of heated memories and unspoken fantasies were flashing before her eyes, mingling with the rousing sight of Adrian down on his knees before her, tasting her fervently in every way that she had ever dreamt of being tasted.

When she felt the intoxicating warmth of his mouth suddenly leave her centre, her mind unconsciously thanked him for ending this sweet torture, expecting the yearning in her core to be satiated soon enough when she would finally get to feel him inside her.

But that sweet release never came.

It took her a few seconds to realise that Adrian had jerked back up to his feet and hurriedly pulled down the fabric of her dress, unceremoniously grabbing Ellie’s waist to move her away from their hiding spot, releasing his grip once she was standing beside him in front of one of the display cases, their back turned away from the corridor.

She had to grip the edge of the display case to keep herself steady, her knees still trembling from Adrian’s handywork just a few seconds before, her eyes opening and closing at a maddening pace to try to clear her clouded brain and regain her senses. It was only when she heard the distinct sound of a pair of heels echoing towards them that she finally understood.

“Monsieur Raines?”, they heard a woman’s voice call out at a distance.

Adrian’s cheeks were flushed, and his hair completely tousled, but he made a quick work of fixing it as well as fixing his shirt with a smirk, mastering the art of regaining his composure in a flick of an eye, like the annoyingly perfect businessman that he was. Ellie fumbled around in an attempt to do the same, fully aware that she would never be able to be as efficient as Adrian, especially in the state of desperate yearning that he had just put her through. She was still panting, her heart thumping in her chest, pupils dilated and cheeks hot from so much blood rushing to her face, both from arousal and from the embarrassment that she knew was about to come.

Ellie jumped a little when the woman’s voice finally reached the room they were in: “Ah, Monsieur Raines! Je vous ai trouvé! Le buffet va commencer, si vous voulez bien rejoindre les autres invités dans le jardin?”.

Ellie had no clue what the woman had just said, and was in no shape to turn around and let the woman see the state of her. She was so grateful that Adrian knew exactly what to say and how to behave casually to buy her a few more minutes to sort out the mess he had made of her… although hearing him speak French was not helping much getting her arousal under control, as he politely answered the woman: “Merci, nous vous rejoignons dans quelques instants.”.

Ellie sighted with relief when she heard the woman’s footsteps retreat, turning around to face him, glaring at him with her best attempt at a reproachful scowl.

“That was….” she started, before being interrupted by Adrian’s mouth on hers, as he pressed a soft kiss on her swollen lips, before pulling away slowly with a grin.

“… unprofessional?” he teased, earning a falsely unamused eye-roll in return.

“We better get going, the party is starting, and all of the other guests are gathered in the gardens now” he announced, translating what the woman had said, but not releasing Ellie from his embrace just yet.

“I am in no state for socialising now” she admitted with a grimace, although she could not fight the teasing grin that was starting to form on her face. “I will never be able to focus properly after this… all I will be thinking about is sorting out this… hum, unfinished business…”

Adrian’s hold tightened a little more around her waist at her words, his eyes still gleaming with mischief and never leaving hers when he stepped slowly away, grabbing her hand to start dragging them both away from the room.

His voice was husky and full of promise when he casually answered with a teasing smile: “Well… unfortunately, we’ll have to play along a little bit longer I’m afraid… but I will certainly be looking forward all evening to the second part of this… unfinished business…”.

~~~

N/A: If anyone else is as eager as Adrian to see how ‘Part II’ of their little ‘public indiscretions’ is going to play out, let me know, and I’d be happy to oblige 😉 This prompt has inspired me way too much, thank you so much for the ask @mssukeyna 😉

~~~

Tagging @adriansbiss , @itsjustwinter , @shanzay44 , @purvishraick, @thefrenchiemama

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#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #cfwc #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #asked and answered

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liria10 · 3 years ago

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Favorite Benny books?

Ok so. Tumblr crashed as I was typing this on mobile. I am retyping it on desktop cause fuck this site, and I Have Opinions, and my friend I will let you hear them or so help me!

.... This got. Really. Really long. I am adding a read more to spare you guys from that.

Ok so! As a preface, I haven't read many VNAs with Benny in it, and of her solo books, I still have 2 of her Legion books to read.

I'm going to (re)start this with the VNAs!

Love and War: a very classic answer perhaps, but it is a really good introduction for Benny, even if the book has its flaws and can certainly show its age nowadays. Cornell absolutely nails her right off the bat, and from her very first page, Benny is just a character that keeps you interested. Not only does she work great as a counter to both Seven and Ace, but she also brings a breath of life to the whole range the way only a prose character can.

Plus, I think one of the greatest successes of that book lies in how Benny appears as a rounded and flawed person from the beginning. She’s not your ordinary girl dragged to a whirlwind of adventure and an universe of wonders, but an older, adult woman, with a good chunk of life experience and adventures already behind her, and while setting foot inside the TARDIS opens up a new and unexpected chapter in her life, it does also remain just that. A chapter. Benny had a life before the Doctor, and from that moment, while noone could have predicted it then, she would have one after him as well.

The Left-Handed Hummingbird: I just finished that one last week, so it’s obviously both fresh in my mind, and one I'm thinking highly of at the moment. Well I mean, it’s Orman! Or course I love it. She really is great at writing both intricate, large stories, and yet focusing on the personal, on the human side of things. And I find that this book does a great job at putting benny in the role of the grounding presence both for ace and the doctor, as well as exploring how time traveling as they do, and dealing with seven’s schemes can be frustrating for benny. That whole tardis team is a mess, and none of these people really… work well together, but it’s because they’re so dysfunctioning that they’re fascinating, and orman absolutely nails that.

Theater of War: A very different type of book, it is honestly a fun romp, and it has Benny being an actual archeologist, down to dealing with the academia side of things. And it’s the little things, but I love it when Benny books remember that about her tbh? Also, it has some nice theater theming, and well, as an introduction for brax, it certainly works well! It’s one of those VNAs that I think is just fun. A well crafted story with good takes on the characters, that’s always enjoyable to me!

Return of the Living Dad: Orman again?? What a surprise! But frankly, I love how this book is all about Benny and her daddy issues, be it with the Doctor or well, her actual dad. Between that, her budding marriage with Jason, and finding out so many old wounds reopened, I just. Really love how raw Benny can be under Orman’s pen? How underneath it all, she still has that side of the scared orphan that lost both parents to a war she was far, far too young to ever comprehend, and how that just left her rebelling against the world in general, and resenting deep down her parents for that abandon. I mean, it’s neat character stuff, but it can very easily be written as dull & cliche shitte you know? And Orman really… always get down to the heart of it all, and boi does it make for some great reading.

The Dying Days: It’s a very fun book, and well, technically works as the first round for Benny as the lead woman after all! It’s a joy all throughout, triumphant where it needs to be, and managing to both celebrate the Doctor and what he brought to the VNAs, as well as setting up the stage for Benny to go on to her own range. It’s basically one last run of the old team, and well. I do love Benny & Eight, and yes I am blaming Parkin for it. Also, big brained take to have Eight give her Wolsey because I love that cat and Benny deserves a cute kitty in her life. We all do.

Ok!! Now on to the NA, and my personal favorite era!

Dragon’s Wrath: It’s a fun one!! I do really like the story being centered again on archeology first and foremost, and it’s a good romp that has some really good take on Benny. Especially the trial scenes, I love how those one get down to Benny as someone who despite everything, loves history, and cares very very deeply about the artifacts she uncovers. Also, it introduces brax as a mainstay of the dellah era, and does so in a rather nice way. Overall, a very enjoyable book!

Beyond the Sun: Benny & students stranded on a planet with mystery to uncover, that’s already a fun premise, and then throw in all the various queer themes present, especially with Emile, and the whole scene of them all in drag performing on top of a bus, and it’s just a rather good book. Plus, I love how it mirrors the whole VNA Doctor mantra, except with a very Benny twist. Sometimes cruel, sometimes cowardly, but trying her damndest to do good. And well, that’s just Benny isn’t it? I always harp on about the very heart of Benny being her humanity, and if there’s something that book highlights, it’s that.

Deadfall: Jason takes center stage in this one, and well, I do really love Jason. It’s overall a fun book with some nice lore ideas, and I love how it works Cwej in the whole Dellah setting. Also, at least it’s a story with Jason in the lead that doesn’t end in utter tragedy, and that’s always nice!

Tempest: Ok so. That book isn’t great. The story’s cliche, the characters aren’t the best, and the plot itself? Forgettable, it’s another in the list of “sort of base under siege story in the dellah era” which you’d think wouldn’t be super common and yet! So… why am I listing it here? Cause the concept of the planet!! The idea of a world of storms and disaster, run through via a blind train as the only means of transport? The fantastic animal life described in it??? That book left an impression of me, and that’s not something I can say of all of the others.

The Medusa Effect: … Justin Richard writes a good Benny. Like, legit. I love how that one really works with the setting & history of Dellah, and gives further information on the planet’s involvement with the Dalek war. Plus, it also got some really, really nice aesthetics. I am soft for good aesthetics ok? Benny, dancing with a skeleton on the deck of an old spaceship made to look like a cruise liner in an hallucination/dream sequence type of thing? Sign me right up!

Beige Planet Mars: That one is a blast. I remember just, absolutely loving it when I read it tbh. Between the overall description of Mars, the further Lore Implication of the Mars invasion & all that, as well as it basically being one last round of more… Normal dellah books before everything goes to hell? It’s one i’d highly recommend if you want to have a good time.

Tears of the Oracle: Probably my favorite of that whole range? (apart from dead romance, which I am not counting as a benny book) I love just, how much overall… feelings isn’t quite the words i’m looking for, but i can’t think of a better way to put it… there is throughout the book? It was thought to be the end of the NA as it was written and well, that shows. I love how it weaves the whole mystery of “what happened to that legendary archaeologists?” with the whole side of what’s basically some of the only survivors from dellah going on one last round of discovery. The status quo of the range was destroyed quite a few books before that one, but imo, it’s there that they take the time to stop for a bit, and just. Deals with what that means in actuality. And ngl, I love the entire sequence of Benny & Brax walking through the wreckage of what used to be their home, it’s a scene that works really, really well.

And well, it does a great job at setting up the future as well after all! Yes, there’s still 3 books after it, but when you look at where Big Finish picked up… they went for what Tears of the Oracle was setting up. It really makes the transition flows well between those two, unlike my rambling for a full paragraph before going to “here’s the BF books I like”

The Doomsday Manuscript: A very good start for the range! Not only does it set up the whole collection, but it also introduces the Fifth Axis as a major threat, and does so in a wonderfully well paced book that keeps you hooked throughout. I like how it also sets up Jason’s loss as something Benny is still suffering over, as well as how she hasn’t lost hope in finding him again. Plus frankly, it’s also a really good story.

The Glass Prison: You’d think that for a book where Benny spends the majority of it in prison and not very active due to being near the end of her pregnancy, not much would happen, but the way Jacqueline Rayner builds up an atmosphere of unease, mistrust and a genuine disturbing ambiance throughout the book is just, fantastic.

Genius Loci: This book. This book!!! Ben Aaronovitch writes an absolutely powerful story of Benny as a young woman, lost and finding herself faced with far more responsibility than she ever thought possible. The way he writes the whole mystery, while also making Benny as a 20yo not only believable, but quite distinct from Benny as the adult we’ve all come to know and love is just. So good. My main grip with this book is how abruptly it ends, and how we’ll never get the sequel. I want to read Terra Incognita and more of Benny slowly finding herself damn it!

Dead Men Diaries: Just like Doomsday Manuscript, does a great job at establishing the collection as well as the recurring cast. I really enjoy most of the stories in it, and I think BF started out so strong on those books srsly!

A Life in Pieces: I love it so much. It’s pure brax at his most manipulative, and for such petty reasons. I really like how it both deals with the aftermath of the Fifth Axis occupation, as well as the repercussions Brax’s schemes have for the people living on the collection. Also, it’s just 3 very good novellas in a row that build up to something more, and I always like seeing that.

Nobody’s Children: That book has the best Draconian story in the entirety of doctor who and related. Like, yeah just that. It’s also nice to see the fallout of the Mim/Draconian war. It’s one I didn’t expect a lot out of, and frankly, I ended up really loving it.

The Vampire Curse: The middle novella is one I absolutely hated, but the other two are really good, and mixing benny and vampires is just, very fun. Also!! Predating the Predator is in it, and it is a really good take on vampires in a science fiction setting that also has some nice creep factor as well, and manages to be both a good vampire story, and a good sci fi story, which isn’t always an easy balance to find.

Life During Wartime: It’s a surprisingly hard hitting anthology about living under a fascist regime, and the compromises you have to make, the personal sacrifices and small rebellions. Honestly, there’s a lot I love about it, but certainly one of my favorite moment, is when Benny, having to dine with one of the officers, miss jones & jason, sees that the officer is nearly on to her hiding peter away, and that split second moment of “if I have to, I am willing to kill everyone in this room to protect my son” before he just laughs it off, it’s a lot of tiny moments that build up to a really well done ambiance tbh.

Something Changed: While it did the terrible, terrible sin of introducing Doggles to the world, I really love the concept of every chapter after the first being a different split universe, and how they’re all spiraling more & more out of control. It’s got some really good stories in between too, though they can also be rather hit & miss. An aspect I love about it too is how impactful Wolsey’s death ends up being.

Present Danger: That one is fun, I love how it’s basically everyone vs the deindum, a situation slipping more and more out of control, mixed with some neat stuff one the deindum’s whole temporal deal. It’s again a bit hit & miss, but it’s still a blast, and as the last anthology of the collection era, it does send it all off with a bang.

Welp. Far, far too many words later, and here we are!!! I love Benny a lot ngl, and I genuinely think that prose is the medium best suited for her. I have been rather disappointed with the more modern books, I find them far more bland than what I personally expect from Benny but ah well. Can’t always get everything.

And while it’s neither a book, nor even an official story in any mean, the fanfic “Sepelio” that’s an Hannibal au set in the Dellah era is great, and the benny story I have been enjoying the most lately. I would be remiss not to at least mention it!

#ask #ask tag #bernice summerfield #.... Look I love benny probably a bit too much for my own good

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kaiserin-astraia · 3 years ago

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NieR's Project Gestalt

So after several nights losing sleep over this, I decided to write down my biggest issue with the NieR series: project gestalt. It’s pretty unanimously agreed by fans that project gestalt was probably the worst plan in the history of plans, executed in the laziest way possible. And yet, I couldn't help but obsess over how project gestalt could have been salvaged, even after the events of ending E of nier replicant.

This is the part where I say: I’m going to spoiling the hell out of NieR: Replicant and in some capacity NieR: Automata. If you don’t want to be spoiled, then get out now — that being said, if you’re sticking around anyway, I’ll be attempting to give summaries and explanations to concepts in the games that are relevant, so that we are all on the same page. also also I only know the high level details of the Drakengard series & won't be touching on it much.

So. What the hell was project gestalt?

Project gestalt was the terrible and last ditch effort to save humanity from a widespread pandemic called white chlorination syndrome, or WCS. WCS was caused by a literal inter dimensional fight between a red dragon and demon baby thing that resulted in the death of both and the deterioration of their corpses causing salt (also called Maso particles) to fall from the sky. If you got infected, the Cult of the Watchers gave you the choice of losing your free will and fighting for them as a soldier in the Legion, or turning into a pile of salt and dying. BrandonSP has a wonderful video talking about the Legion and the Nier universe leading up to the events of Nier: Replicant that I’ll link if you want to know more about this history (here), but all you need to know is: humanity is on the brink of extinction and the planet is no longer inhabitable in its current state.

Project Gestalt discovered that the way humans could escape extinction is by separating their souls from their bodies — the soul having no physical form is immortal & immune to maso, while the body without a soul can't become infected, because there’s no consciousness to force into a demon deal, I guess. You know, I realized while writing this that it’s not clear why separating soul from body actually worked to prevent WCS, but whatever it worked because Yoko Taro Said So.

However, separating body from soul was no easy task; upon doing so, most people’s souls would instantly go berserk, turning into mindless violent entities. The first success was the playable character of Nier: Replicant, who I’m going to call Nier. Upon this first success, the governments of the world convinced / coerced him into cooperating with the Project, and he became the cornerstone for all the “gestalts” aka the souls separated from their bodies.

Just to keep everyone up to pace, gestalts are the souls separated from their bodies, otherwise known as “shades” in Nier: Replicant.

So Project Gestalt’s planned chain of events was as followed:

1. All remaining humans would undergo gestalt-ing 2. The resulting replicants (aka, the soulless bodies) and androids would fight and defeat the legion & clean up the planet so that it was habitable again … which meant containing or eradicating the leftover maso covering the planet. 3. Once ready for rehabilitation, Grimoire Weiss and Grimoire Nior would merge into each other, causing all gestalt souls to snap into their respective replicants starting with Nier 4. Profit. Seems a simple plan, right? Well, not even a single step of that plan worked. By the end of Nier: Replicant ending E, Nier’s Gestalt, aka the shadow lord, has been killed by his own replicant; the replicants have gained sentience and I would argue their own souls, and many gestalts have relapsed into becoming violent, nonsensical entities. The insta-snap grimoires are dead, too, and-- Oh there’s the tiny issue that when a gestalt relapses, their corresponding replicant gets something called the “black scrawl”, a painful and terminal disease. Once a gestalt relapses or dies, their replicant can’t be recreated (well... mostly) and because the original gestalt, the shadow lord, is dead, all the other gestalts are doomed to eventually relapse or die as well, and thus humanity goes extinct. This is where I call bullshit. There’s little known about the time period between Nier: Replicant and Nier: Automata— especially the time of the gestalt and replicants decline. The game(s) leads you to believe that nothing can be done because the soul snapping Grimoires are dead and so is the original gestalt. However, there is tons of evidence in the game itself that implies it’s not so simple, and truly the true tragedy is that simply, everyone gave up — or more likely, Yoko Taro didn’t want us to think this hard, lol. Well TOO BAD, I can’t stop thinking about it so finally let’s actually talk about how to save humanity. First of all, I read on Reddit how it seems to be that the androids Devola and Popula are only two units, and with their demise in Nier: Replicant that project gestalt is doomed to failure. However, Nier: Automata clearly talks about how there were several Devola and Popula model pairs in different cities/continents. There’s no way that only our Devola and Popula in Nier: Replicant knew how to merge a gestalt with its replicant; such vital information would be stored in every android related to the project, and these models were quite literally created to oversee it. So. Idk why the hell the project was allowed to even get so disorganized, but regardless, after the the Shadow Lord and grimoires die, the remaining Devola and Popula units should have immediately made a plan B. There were several big issues with the state of the world before, so we’ll tackle them one by one for the biggest chance of success. 1. All relapsed gestalts need to be eradicated or contained. Their violence has lead replicants to attack them back and view them as monsters, leading to meaningless conflict. If the Devola and Popula units are programmed not to harm the gestalts because they are the 'true humans', they need to make new units ala A2 or 2B to take care of it. Because we know that android technology is already there, evidenced by the Memory Tree, and Devola and Popula, it follows this is definitely possible.

2. There should be three divisions of research made as follows:

2.1 Research into the effects of mismatched replicants merged with gestalts, like Kaine. Because the clock is ticking, there’s unfortunately no time to gawk at morals. Taking volunteers, even 1 success could be the difference between extinction or survival.

2.2 Creating and housing “iced” or “stasis” gestalts, while replicant bodies are “grown” for them. Because replicants have formed their own identities, they should try to create/raise replicants completely asleep/comatose. If not this, research into putting gestalts into their proper replicants at infant stage can be tried. (Note: replicants were infertile, hence why replicants had to be made, not born of sexual reproduction. Yoko Taro said that replicants couldn’t reproduce because they didn’t have their souls, however I think this was just a comment said to cover a plot hole.)

2.3 Research into whether replicants truly have souls or not, and whether something can be done to allow them to reproduce. Regarding the soul issue, it’s heavily implied that the Memory Tree, having absorbed the memories of so many replicants, began growing a soul of its own (that Nier killed, thinking it was a shade, oops). Now, how is that possible? It shouldn’t be, unless the replicants had made their own or unless a soul being created was possible. If we want to get fancy, a fourth division could be organized to study Emil and the weapons project that experimented on him, with an emphasis on how to either reverse the effects or if any information can be gleaned from them regarding the soul.

2.4 Black scrawl 2 electric boogaloo: it’s said in the project gestalt files that they couldn’t find a cure or reason for this phenomenon, but if we’re trying to cover our bases, another research division should be created to investigate and attempt to cure it. It seems to be a magical malady, so I wonder if Emil would be able to help... or even Kaine.

3. (Moving along...) More androids should be created to build cities / homes / areas of civilization for the newly reformed humans to re-habitat. This is said to be a goal of the androids in Nier: Automata, and they were doing a piss poor job — maybe if they got started earlier they’d have a better shot. The replicants were/are already living in medieval levels of squalor and poverty, which is ridiculous considering the android's technology is so advanced.

4. No more lies: though in my plan, replicants shouldn’t have to be created except to be possessed, but if they are created and allowed to mature into a sentient age, replicants should be educated and informed about the truth of their existence — this is for many reasons. First, that way replicants will be less likely to fear and attack shades they see; two, worst comes to worst, they may be more willing to share their bodies with their gestalts and who knows? Maybe they’d merge naturally. Three, no replicant would be allowed to get strong enough to defeat an android (or two -- seriously, what were the twins thinking letting Nier get so powerful?).

Hopefully this makes it very obvious that the death of humanity was entirely the fault of Project Gestalt itself and the androids meant to oversee it -- at least the androids have the excuse of being programmed to act a certain way, but still. It's so frustrating that we just have to accept that humanity was doomed even though, by its own lore, there was a lot that could have been done to attempt to save humans. Like, I love you, Yoko Taro, but gees.

anyway if you've read all this I'm so sorry but also I'm REALLY interested to hear what y'all think about the Nier universe and it's facets. idek why I've got such deep brainworms but here we are.

P.S. As of writing this, I've played some Nier: Reincarnation and it just further implies that the way they created and treated replicants was both A) awful, holy shit, it's so bad, and B) ill-advised on every level. I don't want to spoil but good lord. Honestly, I think at this point YT just wants to express/nail home that humanity was doomed to fail because of its own cruelty and flaws. ok ill shut up now bye love u

#nier replicant ver.1.22474487139...#nier replicant spoilers #nier automata #nier lore #rant #nier project gestalt #long post #nier lore discussion

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