#fighting evil sometimes only works by fighting fire with fire after all… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ronibartender · 3 months ago

Text

Out of my control

Summary:

LoA moves to the Day Court after Beron’s death and her and Helion have a baby; Lucien gets a little sister. Lucien meets Y/N when his sister is about 3 yo and he starts courting the her. It quickly becomes clear that the little female does not like Y/N making her gets more and more discouraged, knowing relationships tend not to work if a family doesn’t like the partner. Lucien always brushes it off and tosses it up to his sister being territorial over the brother who used to spend every second he could spare with her but now needs to teach her to share him.

Disclaimer: I give no rights for my work to be replicated, adapted, translated or used for any means. If you have questions please feel free to message me.

A special thanks to @mirandasidefics for beta reading and inspiring me to finally post. Go read her fics on her page, they are amazing!

Lucien POV

“Centuries ago there was a male and a female who fell in love”

“Ewwww!” She giggles.

“Shhhh. This is the story of a female, a spitfire who was carefree and creative and who fell in love with the sun.”

“The sun?”

“The sun. The sun used to sneak into the female’s family estate when all were away and he’d dance with her. He taught her the dances of all the places he had been to and she taught him about the animals that lived near her estate. Her favorite were the birds, she’d take him to the balcony of her estate and they’d feed the birds, sometimes they’d even fly into her hands.”

“They can do that?” Her small voice is full of wonder.

“Yes, but it takes patience. But the sun and the spitfire female had to keep their love a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because the spitfire was betrothed.”

“Beth- betrou- bu- bu- what?”

“Betrothed, she was engaged,” she gasps at that. “But she didn’t want to be. The spitfire’s father had basically sold her to the most powerful male in the land; a king.”

“She didn’t want to be a queen?”

“Maybe she did… but she knew that true love was more important than any crown.”

“Awww” she coos.

“The day for her to wed came and her betrothed- I mean, her new husband, found out about the sun, about how much she loved the sun and how much the sun loved her back. He threatened to-”

“Thhhhh- thhh- teten?”

“Threatened. He promised to do something really bad if she didn’t stop seeing the sun,” she gasps again.

“What did he promise?”

I shrug, “no one knows. But it was scary enough that the spitfire, sad and crying, told the sun they could no longer see one another. And the sun, fearing for her, agreed. And so the sun was gone. And the spitfire’s life became cloudy and colorless. Slowly, her fire didn’t burn as bright. The days dragged on and on and on… she gave that king six sons. One stronger than the last. Taller. Bigger. But… also dumber.” She giggles. “Then a war broke out and all the surrounding kingdoms got together to fight the bad male trying to take away their freedom. Their lives, their cultures and traditions were all at risk… and the sun was there to help them fight, but the spitfire could only watch from a distance. Until one morning, one of the evil males from the bad side of the war, found her taking a walk in the forest. The spitfire, having gone centuries without her training, fled. The male chased her to a cliff and she knew she wasn’t going to make it. No weapons, her powers, out of practice and dull over the years…”

“Oh no…”

“But then, with a burst of blinding light, the sun appeared in front of her again. He drew no weapon but in seconds the bad male was no more. He turned to the spitfire, who watched him in awe and in thanks, who was crying at their mare proximity, and he held her. And they danced again. They danced like they used to. Like no time had passed at all and for a few days, though they met in secret, her world had color again. The fire in her soul burned so violently she couldn’t sit still. But all good things must end, as the bad ones do. And the king found out they’d been dancing,” she gasps yet again. “He promised more bad things… and the sun had to go away again. Months later the spitfire gave birth to another son. He looked much like the others but he was smaller. More delicate. As he grew, he didn’t want to fight, though he learned to defend himself, but he was drawn to the library, he loved to read. So as his brothers were sent to rule parts of their father’s kingdom, the youngest would read, and learn. But he was always treated poorly by his brothers and his father, and he never knew why. They did terrible things to him, took away things that made him happy, took his friends and his books and everything he held dear…” My voice cracks. “So he ran away and went to live with a friend. He made a life for himself, traveling and seeing new places, making new friends. And things were fine… until they weren’t. A mad queen captured all the kings and queens of the neighboring lands and cast a curse on the youngest son, his friend and their kingdoms. They were cursed for 50 years!”

“15 years?!”

I chuckle, “50, 5-0. But a human came and saved them. She beat all the odds and the youngest son was free… for a while. Many bad things kept happening to him but he got through it all and he found his mate!”

“His mate?”

“Yes. They are very rare, but mates are the Mother’s gifts to the fae. They hold the other half of our souls and some say one is never complete until they find their mate. But his mate did not want him. She was hurt and angry at the world and she did not look at him twice. He was hurt, rejected by the one person who was supposed to love him no matter what. But he made it through, little by little, getting stronger with each challenge he faced and conquered. He moved around different kingdoms, fought in a big war and soon he found himself not quite fitting into the places he once did. So he found a new home, with two new friends; a firebird and a misunderstood warrior. Until one day a little bird came to him and told him the story of the spitfire and the sun. And that’s when he knew; he was no prince. The evil king who raised him was not his father… but the sun? The sun was. And the youngest son was light itself.”

“Wow…”

“Yes… it was not easy. The sun didn’t know his love for the spitfire had such an effect. But when he found out the sun shone brighter than he ever had. Taking his offspring, although a grown male, into his kingdom and teaching him things he didn’t even know he was capable of, powers he didn’t know he had. But the young male’s trouble wasn’t over; his mate rejected their bond and he almost died because of it. His parents and his two friends were the ones to keep him alive and helped him. And then the evil king who had raised the male passed away; the spitfire was free too. And she found refuge in the sun’s kingdom. And they danced again, and laughed again and fed the birds again.”

“And they lived happily ever after?” She asks.

“Not yet. Not a decade later, the spitfire was pregnant again, this time with a morning star, Venus.”

“That’s my name!” She claps.

“That’s right. And the lonely boy who finally had the family he always wanted, got a little sister!” She giggles as I blow raspberries on her belly. “Now, go to bed before mom finds out you’re awake.”

“Noooo!” She whines, “I wanna hear it again! I wanna hear it again!” I put her in bed, catching her by the ankle as she tries to crawl away and putting the covers over her.

“You just heard it!” I smile.

“But I want it again!” I kiss her head.

“Tomorrow night,” I exit her room, turning off the lights, the spinning night light casting little suns around her room. I walk to my office, the one Heli- dad gave me a while after I got settled here and started “High Lord training” as he likes to call it. I finish some paperwork before retiring to my chambers, bathing and sleeping.

The next morning, after breakfast I head over to the library. This one is smaller than most of the grand libraries of the Day Court. This is where most of our ancient texts are stored and I’m running an errand for Helion…dad. I walk in and can’t help but notice how it looks so different from most libraries. There are some shelves, yes but the books are covered and bound, protected. There are chests, no doubt filled with parchment and rolls of ancient text. I walk in, looking at the list of texts I’m supposed to retrieve and start searching for the specific books and scrolls he requested so we can go over them this afternoon but many of the covers and titles are covered to keep them protected. I reach for one and…

“Do not touch the books!” A female voice reprimands and I look around to find the source. A female stands, with a stack of books in her arms, at the end of this book shelf. She peaks over her stack of books, “please wait by the front desk and I’ll be with you in a moment,” she walks off and by the time I reach the spot she stood in, looking both ways, she’s gone.

I wait by the “front desk” which consists of a small desk and an uncomfortable looking bench with a few fae lights floating around. Ten minutes go by before the female speed walks behind her desk, “sorry for the wait, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for these,” I hand her the list. Her eyebrows scrunch in concentration as she reads through and her lips twitch and purse.

“Some of these are very ancient texts…” she asks, definitely searching for something as she looks in my eyes. Pausing on the left side of my face and I see it; the fight between wanting to look over my scar and being polite and keeping eye contact with my natural eye.

“Yeah… I know…”

“Alright, it’ll take me a while to get these from storage. If you want to you can come back in about an hour-”

“It’s alright. I’ll wait.” I nod to her and give her a tight lipped smile. She bites her lip and sets my list down on her desk.

“These texts aren’t just something you can check out like a library book. I’ll need to call my superior to get clearance to let them leave this library. And even if I do, it’ll only be for a day or two.”

I blink. “Clearance?”

She nods. “Yes.”

This is awkward, I don’t want to tell her Helion is my father, it’d sound like I’m throwing my title around, “alright. I’ll… be back in an hour then?” She nods and I go to a café nearby to wait.

When I return she has everything ready for me on a small cart. She’s at her desk writing and I clear my throat as I approach. She jumps, “oh! I- I’m sorry,” she scrambles up, looking into my eyes for only a second before casting them down and going to the cart behind her. “Here. It’s all there, bring them back whenever you can and just…” she wrings her hands, “be gentle, please.”

Her demeanor has completely changed from just an hour ago and I have a good idea why. “Thank you. I’ll have them back as soon as I can.”

She nods but her eyes dart from her shoes to the cart to my shoes and then back to hers again. “Take your time,” she mumbles. I don’t know what else to say so I take the cart and roll it until it’s outside the wards protecting the library and winnow to Day Court Palace. This is the part of being a High Lord that Tamlin always hated; how people changed completely once they realized who stood before them. Either shaking with fear or bowing with respect. It’s lonely. And I feel it more everyday, yes I have Venous and my mother and a father who cares and loves me but I crave friends to go out drinking with, to flirt with females, to go hunting or fishing or do anything at all for pleasure and to share it with someone, a friend or otherwise. With a sigh I enter my father’s office, rolling the cart with all the texts he requested on them.

“That took you a while,” he lifts a brow, not in anger but in curiosity.

“Yeah,” I start to take things off the cart and place them on the large, round table in the middle of his office. “The librarian said she needed to get clearance and then it would take a while for her to get everything together.”

“Clarence?” He sounds surprised.

I chuckle, “that’s what I said.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t tell her who you were,” it’s not a question.

I sigh, “no. It feels like bragging… it was never like this in Autumn. They knew me but I was no one, here they-”

“Respect you?” He smirks.

I chuckle, “something like that.”

“Maybe if you were honest but humble they’d warm to you on a personal level, hiding who you are to those who don’t know won’t do you any good. Venus is your only friend and though I love my little morning star, that’s sad.”

As if saying her name summoned her, she busts through the office door, surely running away from her governess again, her crimson curls loose from what looks to be the remnants of a braid.

“Papa! Papa!” She runs in and hides behind his legs as her governess comes in after her, out of breath and apologizing. Helion assures her that it’s alright and he’ll look after his daughter for a while. Venus reaches for one of the books I just placed on the table and I pick her up and bring her away from it. I get one of the other, replaceable, books from a shelf and hand it to her. She opens it to a random page before pretending to read, making up her own story.

(Three Days Later)

I roll the cart into the library and the female is nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” Silence. Eerie silence. I leave the cart near her table and start walking through the stacks. When I’m about to give up I spot the female in the very back balancing on the stool that’s supposed to be behind her desk, reaching for something on the top shelf, her tongue peaks out in concentration. As her fingers brush the object and the stool wobbles. “You want help?” Her head turns so fast I’m sure the stool will tip over but she holds onto the shelf in front of her. She looks like she’s about to give me a scolding until her eyes widen as she meets mine and realization dawns on her face. She turns away and starts to get down.

“No, no. It’s alright the ladder was old and it broke a little while ago. It’s not important, just a little extra organizing.” She bites her lip, facing me, back straight, chin high but eyes avoidant. “Do… you need something… sir- Lord?”

“Lucien.”

“Lord Lucien. Do you need anything?”

I chuckle and walk past her to where the stool is. “Just Lucien is fine. And no, I don’t need anything, I just came to drop off the things I came for a few days ago.” I put my knee on the stool for leverage and push myself up, easily grabbing what she needed from the top shelf.

“Thank you… Lucien,” she bows her head slightly and still won’t look me in the eye as she reaches for the box in my hand. I move it out of her reach, and pick up the stool before she can reach for that too. “I’ve got it,” I start walking back To her desk and she follows, eyeing me and the box like she’s expecting me to drop it. I pretend to and she gasps, desperately taking hold of the box and carrying it the rest of the way, setting it gently on her desk.

“You know… I won’t bite if you look at me.”

“Cause if you did, you’d want seconds,” the smirk comes and goes from her face, replaced by mortification as she scrambles for an apology. “I- I- I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry, it was a reflex, I’m a bit of a jokester at heart, really I mean no offense.” I put both my hands on the table, leaning on it and chuckle at her flushed cheeks, she once again looks down at her table. It’s not a meek gesture, it’s not out of fear but out of respect, for my title, my station… but it is respect, regardless of what it stems from.

I can feel a smirk growing on my face as I concoct my response, “maybe I would,” she whips her head towards me. A hard expression taking over her features, her chin raised just a centimeter higher than humble. She looks me in the eyes for a second. Two. Three. Eyes flickering between russet and gold until her expression softens, her chin lowers and she goes back to looking at her table.

“Thank you for bringing them back. I’m sure you took great care of them…” she gestures to the cart I brought in, looking like she’s about to say more but doesn’t.

Maybe if you were honest but humble they’d warm to you on a personal level…

My father’s words bounce around in my head and I smirk, feeling remnants of my old, rakish self resurfacing for just a moment. She is a beautiful female as far as I can tell, her dress is modest and the library is dark but I'd take a chance, taking her into the sunny streets of the village nearby to see how she looks in that light. “What time do you get out of here? Maybe you can show me a few good places around here.” As if my father hadn’t shown me every nook and cranny of this court.

She blinks, “I don’t think you’d like the village at the time I get off.”

“Why not?”

“Not many fancy restaurants open at 3 am,” I gape slightly.

“3 am?!” She just nods.

“The other girl comes at 2:30 am and stays until 2:30 pm when I come back.”

“12 hour shifts?” She nods, “why so many hours?”

“These are the most ancient texts in the Day Court. This building is protected with every protection spell known to this Court’s High Lord. But they always want someone to look over the books and the artifacts and make sure they’re being taken care of.”

“So what? You don’t have a life?”

She scowls, “I have a life.”

I smirk, enjoying getting under her skin, “oh yeah? What do you do?” I challenge.

“I cook, and I eat, and I read and sleep, and … I…”

“Do everything that has absolutely nothing to do with having a life?” Another scowl. “When’s your day off?”

“Don’t have one,” she takes her stool and pulls it behind her table, sitting.

“Holidays?”

“I work through them.”

“What?!”

“The female who alternates with me has kids. I work holidays so she can be with them.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Mmmm… three years soon. When I first came to the Day Court. They needed someone to fill this position and I was new enough to the Court that I took anything I could get.”

I chuckle, “no wonder you didn’t know who I was, you’ve been living under a rock.”

“Maybe I like my rock,” her eyes narrow again.

“This is the Day Court. When was the last time you went out on a sunny day?”

“I have my lunch outside everyday. We aren’t allowed to eat in here. And I walk to and from work so I see plenty.” There’s no way. She has no idea what she’s missing. Some twisted part of me wants to take this innocent, good little thing and show her every bit of this court, shake up her world and burst this small bubble she’s been living in. To find out what makes her tick…

“I’m picking you up tonight. 3 am sharp.”

“Have you thought that I might have plans?”

“Do you have plans?” I smirk, knowing the answer.

“No, but I could have… had… plans.”

“3 am”

“I’ll be tired.”

“It won’t take long.”

“I’ll be stinky, this place smells of the dead.”

“I’ve stayed here this long, right? Plus, we’ll be outside, I’m sure your stench will be much more tolerable,” I smile and wink. Her hand goes to a mug holding pencils and old ink pens. I’m pretty sure that if we weren’t in such a delicate place and I wasn’t who she knows I am, she’d have thrown it at my head. I smirk and walk out, “see you later!”

I can’t believe I just did that. I haven’t even flirted with a female since the bond snapped with Elain! A weird feeling settles in my chest at the memory of such pain when she outright rejected the bond. I was sure I’d die, and she didn't care, didn’t even seem to feel a fraction of the chest crushing pain I did. I shake the thought away before I chicken out of tonight.

Reader POV

When Marianne walks in I’m ready to bolt out the door, grabbing my bag, hauling it over my shoulder and practically running out the door, hoping to avoid the Day Court heir. Maybe he was right, I have been living under a rock. Maybe I should’ve known who he was. Maybe I should be doing a lot of things. I have a calm, stable job that allows me to work on my own little projects and read my books while on the clock as long as I do everything I need to do for that day. And life is good. I don’t need to get involved with the royalty of this court, especially not for a handsome face. As I’m about to round the building and take the trail to my apartment a body comes into view. “Running away from me, pretty?” He twists a red rose between his fingers.

I roll my eyes, “no. Just a long day.”

“Great. Here,” he hands me the rose with the most feral smirk I’ve ever seen, “to mask your stench.” I bite my tongue to keep my own little come back from making an appearance. Reminding myself that he is Lucien SpellCleaver. He is the High Lord’s son. He is untouchable. “Come,” he speaks softly and extends his elbow for me. I take it, somewhat reluctantly. I take in his clothes; they aren’t usual for the Day Court. People here love wearing loose fitting clothing and as little of it as possible… he wears tight white pants, gold plated boots that raise to his thighs and a loose, cream tunic.

We walk and talk and walk and talk and walk some more. He carries the conversation, quickly catching on that I am not open to sharing. But he is. He tells me about his mother, his father and his sister. He tells me how she’s his world and how she treats him like he hung the moon, the sun and all the stars in the sky. Slowly but surely a smile appears on my face as he talks. Retelling stories of his sister’s shenanigans and how she likes to imitate him. How she is reluctant to go to her lectures and take baths and go to sleep, all because she wants her big brother.

Soon the sound of music fills my ears and I look around, seeing lights ahead. “We’re here,” he says. Earning a grumble from me about how it was about time. We walk closer and see fireflies illuminating the grassy field around a large fire. People are dancing and eating and laughing. Like a little local festival. I smile as kids run around us. “I love this part of the village. They’re not the most well off but the community is so warm and welcoming. They celebrate everything, sometimes nothing at all. I thought someone like you might appreciate it.”

“Someone like me?” I lift a brow.

“You spend your days surrounded by ancient texts that talk about our history. You really want me to believe you’ve never read any of it? It’s an aquired taste… but you learn to find joy in the simple things.”

“So I’m simple?” I say, unimpressed. His eyes narrow, the russet one darkening a shade.

“Stop being a brat and enjoy yourself.” His mechanical eye whirs and the russet one has a fire in it, only for a moment. The demand makes my cheeks heat, a heat that travels down to my core and I clench, hoping to keep the scent from reaching his keen, fae sense of smell. He walks us over to a food stand and they hand us some sort of wrap. I take a bite and moan at the explosion of flavor. “Is that what you sound like in bed?” That smirk again…

Fine. I’ll play along. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Hasn’t the High Lord taught you that such flirtations can be looked down upon by your subjects?”

“They aren’t my ‘subjects,’ they’re my Court. And my father is a big believer of seizing the moment and enjoying life.” I ponder that while taking another bite of the delicious cuisine.

When we’re done eating he takes me to the dance floor. I hesitate but he pulls and pulls and ends up picking me up and taking me there despite my protests that I don’t dance, especially not the kind of dance they were doing… ”I’ve never been here, I don’t know how to move like they do,”

“They’re all doing their own thing. Ignore everyone and just dance with me!” He smiles, my body is stiff so he picks me up and places my feet atop his boots, doing all the work for me. We get a drink and keep dancing. I let loose after the second drink, feeling the liquid courage like electricity in my veins. The alcohol in the Day Court is much stronger than any other place I’ve been to, but it’s also the most delicious. There is such a variety! Sweet and bitter, spicy and soothing… I want to try it all but decide against it as Lucien spins me around and the world keeps moving even after he’s stopped. “Lightweight, are we?”

“I’m not lightweight! I’ve had more than you!” I playfully hit his arm. We laugh and eat some more, dance some more, drink some more… he walks me home and kisses my cheek.

From then on, everyday Lucien appears at the library during my shifts. Once he learns my schedule he starts to pop in to have lunch with me. And he’ll walk me home at unholy hours of the night, giving me flowers and taking me somewhere special along the way every once in a while. His sarcasm comes with a charm that I don’t think he can help. His little jabs make me roll my eyes and smile at the same time.

(Two months later)

“Go out with me.” It’s not a question.

I smile, “no.”

Every few days he’ll ask again. And again. And… again.

Come to dinner with me

Let me take you on a date

Come on, go out with me… please?

Always followed by a spicy comment and that sly smirk of his.

I’ll make it worth your while

You know you want me

I would treat you so good

Each and every line sends a tendril of pleasure down my spine. And every time…

What makes you think I’m interested?

Give up

But he doesn’t, he asks and asks until one night, we’re back at the same place he took me that first night. Fire burning, people dancing, music playing and he spins me around like I’m nothing but a feather in his arms. He sets me down gently and I look up at him. His fiery hair, his mismatched eyes, those perfect, possibly, probably tasty lips, parted as he pants slightly from all the dancing. My eyes land on the scars on the left side of his face. I lift my right hand to it, the other clutching his bicep. “How?” It’s barely a whisper, but he hears it and cringes, realizing what I’m touching, what I’m asking. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“Who?”

“An evil queen,” he smirks.

“Oh… and you’re the knight in shining armor, are you?”

“At the time I was more of the silver tongued best friend of the knight in shining armor,” he smiles down at me, pulling me closer, only slightly. “But I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Fuuuuuckkkk! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckidy fuck fuck…

Fuck it.

I kiss him. hard and deep and full of passion. Would I say the two and a half drinks I had gave me enough courage? Yes. But he’s here, and I’m here and his lips are on mine and it’s heaven. It’s silk and it’s velvet and honey and cinnamon, it’s hot but gentle, firm but oh so sweet. And then he lifts me, wrapping his arms around my thighs, hugging them, not giving me a chance to wrap them around his waist and I’m in heaven, my head is higher than his and I’m in control. He gave me control. I could pull away and be out of his reach but I lean down and move my lips against his. I part my lips for him but he makes to move besides slightly nudging my nose with his. Refusing to take a step he’s not sure I’ll regret. So I take it, I snake my tongue past his parted lips and taste him. And there it is. His appearance screams Autumn Court and even though his scent has the softest hint of aloe vera among the pine and cinnamon and oak, Lucien tastes like Day. It’s inexplicable. He tastes like light. He tastes like all the best things in the world combined, like the land of milk and honey that they pray to the Mother about.

We part and I kiss his scar. I kiss over the marred eyelid and down his cheek, onto his jaw. He lets out a breath. Of arousal? Relief? I don’t know. But the way he says my name…

“(Y/N)”

The sound that comes from me is not appropriate for the current setting so he puts me down and scrambles for my bag, the rose he gave me earlier today poking out the opening. He throws me over his shoulder and runs to my apartment, climbing the stairs until we’re at my door and he puts me down, kissing me again. He doesn’t ask me to open my door. Doesn’t ask me for the keys. He makes no move to go inside and it only makes me want him more.

He pulls away, “go out with me? On a date. A real date.” He presses his forehead to mine. He’s never quite asked those sorts of questions, he’s more so told me to go on a date with him, firm, confident but tonight his voice is borderline begging and through my daze I smirk.

“Will you make it worth my while?”

He smiles and nods, “every second.” He kisses me again but soon we both realize it needs to end. I go into my apartment and he goes back to his palace. I ponder over my night as I bathe and get ready for bed. I can’t do this. The heir of Day? I facepalm and fall down onto my bed, cursing my horny self until I fall asleep.

For our first date Lucien pays the owner of his favorite restaurant to stay open until 4 am. It’s perfect. The soft string music, the food, the bottle of wine he chose and the fae light illuminating the only table occupied. Then he takes me to the observatory and shows me the stars up close.

Dating Lucien is as easy as breathing. He puts great amounts of effort into everything he does and never misses a chance to reassure me and make sure I know that my arms are the ones he wants around his neck, that it’s my lips he wants against his. He never hesitates to kiss me, no matter where we are. He’s playful and lighthearted but also ready and willing to open up and be vulnerable, as hard as it is. Which, in turn, encourages me to do the same.

The first time I let Lucien stay the night I make him promise to behave. Which he does. He showers and changes into sweats and then I shower and change into some modest sleepwear. Besides a few kisses and his hand around my waist, Lucien is the perfect gentlemale. So, in the morning, I decide to surprise him with waffles… wearing his tunic from the night before. I make everything from scratch and as I pour the batter on the hot metal over the fire, warm hands come around my waist.

“It smells delicious,” he kisses my head. Then my temple. Then my cheek and my jaw. Then down my neck and ooohhh… gods.

“You behaved so well last night I thought you deserved a treat!” I smirk.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles as he continues his assault on my neck. He takes one of the cooking waffles and bites into it. “These are amazing!”

“I wasn’t talking about the waffles,” I smirk.

He leans down to my ear and I put away the rest of the batter. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t joke like that.”

“Who said it was a jo-ahhhhh!” He slings me over his shoulder and marches to the bedroom like a male on a mission.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?” The desperation in his voice is prominent and only makes me want him more.

“Yes!” I chuckle. He worships my body, feeling for it like a blind male trying to memorize a line of text. “You… oh! You can be rougher if you want.”

“How rough?” He nips at my ear.

I smirk, “how ever rough you wanna be.” With a growl he only holds back enough to have me pick a safe word before ravaging me in the most delicious ways.

Sex with Lucien is… it simply is. There’s no feeling like it. The fluidity in it. The way he can so effortlessly go from making love with slow, deep strokes to flipping me over and practically breeding me is mind boggling. He’s not afraid to share his kinks and explore my own. And I can never tell what he’ll be in the mood for. Sometimes he’ll want to do nothing but torture and tease me half the night. Others, he’s feral, wanting nothing but to fill me as many times as he can. And some nights, all he wants is to hold my hips tightly as I ride him and call him ‘my good boy.’

Four months into our relationship and I’ve been putting off meeting his family for weeks. I can tell he doesn’t want to push but also doesn’t understand my hesitation. Meeting the parents is a big deal and I’m not ready for the pressure… though putting it off has proven to be more stressful than getting it over with lately. So, here I stand, 8 am, with enchanted flowers in one hand and a book in the other and Lucien’s hand on the small of my back. He refused to let me bring food, stating that his family was hosting breakfast, so I've spent the past week wracking my brain for gifts for his parents. “I can’t.”

“You can!”

“I’m gonna throw up…” and he kisses me.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got you,” his smile is reassuring and his eyes hold no lies. But my mind, my heart, knows that after everything he’s been through. All the things he was willing to share. He would never choose me over his family, at least… not this one. So his attempt at reassurance, for once, falls flat.

His parents come to meet us at the front steps and my legs shake as I curtsy. His mother clicks her tongue, “oh none of that!” She pulls me into a hug that I hesitate to reciprocate due to the suddenness of it. The High Lord laughs at his High Lady’s excitement and kisses my hand once she lets me go. Now I see where Lucien gets his charm…

“Come,” the High Lord’s voice is warm and inviting, “breakfast is being served on the veranda.” He wraps an arm around his lady’s waist and Lucien does the same to me and guides me around the palace. His parents are incredibly welcoming and I notice neither of them wear their crowns or any other marker that would separate them from the common folk.

“Here…” I hand the enchanted flowers to the High Lady, “they’ll stay in bloom for several years.” Then I turn to the High Lord and offer him the hardcover book, “Lucien mentioned you liked his works and I got my hands on an advanced copy of the next book in the series. It’s yours to keep.” He examines the book, the 15th in a fantasy series that had put many readers in a chokehold. The High Lord lets out an excited chuckle before putting an arm around me and whispering to Lucien something about me ‘being a keeper.’ I smile at the compliment and he leads me the rest of the way to the breakfast table, covered in all kinds of dough and jams and juices… everything looks delicious!

It takes a few minutes but I relax, the High Lady not hesitating to ask me every question that pops into her mind. But I’m happy to oblige until…

“Mommy?” A high pitched, clearly sleepy voice asks from the door. All our heads turn to see the newcomer, “why are you having breakfast so early?!” She whines and rubs her eyes. The Day Court is known for late mornings. The High Lord and Lady, being aware of my schedule, offered an earlier breakfast since they were so eager to meet me.

Lady Day picks up her daughter and explains, “we’re meeting Lucien’s girlfriend today, dear. She has to be at work in a few hours so we wanted to meet her while accommodating her schedule.” Her sleepy eyes follow her mother’s finger that’s outstretched towards me. The small female’s eyebrows furrow and before I can fully raise my hand to wave she turns her head and places it on her mother’s shoulder. “Oh come, Vena! Be nice,” the High Lady looks to me then, “she’s… shy. And grumpy in the morning” I nod, even though that sounded nothing like the little girl Lucien has so often described to me.

“You know, Vena… (Y/N) and I were thinking we could take you for ice cream this afternoon during her lunch break.”

“No, thank you,” the little female mumbles into her mother’s shoulder. The slight sting of rejection reaches my body and I fidget, no longer feeling at ease here. Breakfast goes on and the small female doesn’t eat anything, opting to keep her head hidden in her mother’s neck and away from me.

As Lucien and I start to make our way out of the palace, his hand around my waist when we reach footsteps and his arm is yanked from my waist as Venus tugs him back. “Lushy, come play!”

He crouches down to her level and ruffles her hair, “I’ll walk (Y/N) to work and then we can play! Dad and I only have meetings in the evening. And maybe you can rethink that ice cream with me and (Y/N)?” His back is to me but I see the slight nod he gives in my direction. The female simply folds her arms, furrows her eyebrows and pouts.

“It’s ok, Loosh…” I cautiously interrupt, “I can walk to work.” I give him a smile as he turns his head to me, still crouching down.

“No, I want to walk you, her and I have all afternoon,” that million dollar smile appears again and he kisses his sister’s chubby cheeks before standing. I want him to stay. Maybe if I can prove to Venus that I’m not stealing Lucien away she’ll warm to me.

He takes my hands and I squeeze his, “you should stay,” I look down at the pouting female who doesn’t meet my eye. “Maybe you can convince her to get ice cream later,” I smile encouragingly and rise on the balls of my feet to kiss his cheek. He sighs but complies. “Bye Venus!” I smile at her and wave but she doesn’t look, I bite my lip and walk towards the large open doors of the Palace. I don’t look back, but I can hear Lucien quietly scolding her for being rude and her lively changing the subject to what she wants to play.

Around 3 pm Lucien shows up, alone, with two ice creams obviously enchanted not to melt. “Couldn’t convince her, huh?”

He sighs and hands me my ice cream, “no.” He doesn’t say anything else because there is nothing to say. A few minutes pass before I ask the question that’s been bouncing around in my head since I left the palace.

“Do you think there’s anything I can do?”

“She’s… territorial.”

“I’m not stealing you away.” A part of me fears he may believe that’s what I’m trying to do.

“I know that,” he kisses my head with a chuckle, scooching closer. “But she’s little and she’s a bit used to having her way. And I’ll say it; I’m partially responsible. I’ve never had a sibling I was close to and she loves me so much I- I can’t tell her ‘no.’”

I kiss his cheek, remembering all he told me about growing up in Autumn, “I know.”

Lucien smoothly changes the subject to a lighter topic and exerts his power of putting me at ease.

By our 8th month together I’m a somewhat regular visitor to the Day Court Palace. I’ve stayed the night once or twice and the High Lady braided my hair each of those mornings, much to Venus’ distress. Her crimson curls are still too short to braid like mine and her mother tries to appease her with bows and clips but to no avail. I’ve tried and tried to gain her approval but it’s quite clear the small female never wants to be in my company. Soon enough I start to believe there’s something wrong with me… kids can sense those thighs, right? When someone isn’t a good person? Maybe she can sense something the others can’t. And it seems like she will do anything to make me go away at every chance she gets.

Like the time I came looking for Lucien one morning only to find him in the palace’s library with Venus on his shoulder holding a book for her big brother;

“Hey there you two!” I greet.

“Hey!” He greets me with a kiss, “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I had some time and I wanted to bring you these,” I hand him a tray of cupcakes, “my friend had the amazing idea of making cupcakes last night after a few glasses of wine but they didn’t turn out half bad!”

He laughs and looks at the cupcakes, “I hope they taste better than they look?”

“Trust me they - ow!” A hard object comes crashing down on my head and my hand flies to the point of impact.

A soft giggle and a sang out, “sowy,” has Lucien pulling his sister off his shoulders and reprimanding her. She pouts but looks disinterested in his lecture. He puts her down to examine the bump forming on my hairline and she tugs at his pants in protest.

“No, Vena! You could’ve really hurt her!” At his reprimand she huffs and pushes my leg before running out of the library. Lucien fusses over me but the sting on my head is nothing compared to the fire in my veins.

“Go after her.”

“She’s fine.” He tries to move my hand that’s covering the spot the book hit.

“No. I’m fine. Just go after her, I need to go to work anyway.” I take a deep breath and set the cupcake down on a nearby table. He follows, hovering behind me.

“You’re angry?” He’s confused?!

“No.” Yes, “she needs you more than I do,” she does. I turn to kiss his cheek and he goes to kiss my lips. I kiss back but it’s half assed and I kick myself for it. She’s 3, almost 4 years old! How am I letting a child get under my skin like this?

I walk out of the library in a rush, leaving Lucien there with a slight frown on his perfect lips.

Or the time I got off early from work to join them for dinner;

“It’s so lovely to have you around. Lucien seems so much happier when you’re here, like there’s a lightheartedness only you bring out in him.” The High Lady sips her wine as we sit on the balcony after dinner. Below us, Lucien and Helion are sparring, the sight of his bare, scared chest making it hard not to think about how every single inch of that chest feels under my fingers. How I’ve kissed each scar and the sounds he made when I did….

I need a cold shower.

I seemingly get my wish as cold, freezing water pours on my head. My yelp causing the sparring to cease. The cold night air much more prominent now. We all look up to see a giggling Venus holding an empty glass through the marble pillars that make up the balcony above. Her governess rushes to reprimand her and the High Lady rushes to apologize and gets me something to dry myself with. The High Lord offers me a spare room and bath but I decline and Lucien walks me home even after I tell him several times I want to walk alone.

“You could’ve spent the night…”

“You know I don’t like to.”

He sighs, “I don’t like that you don’t like it,” we reach my door and before I can put the key in the lock he takes my hands. “I’m sorry about tonight. I don’t know why Venus keeps doing these things-”

“Because she doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes! It is! And no matter what I do she won’t like me. I’ve tried. I get her gifts and she rolls her eyes or she’ll say she already has that toy. I give her compliments and she acts like I don’t exist! I offer her ice cream, candies, baked goods or even fun activities and she looks at me like I’m a peasant begging for scraps! I can’t even be near you in her presence without getting something thrown, poured or yanked off me!”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“And it’s gonna work this time?” He opens his mouth but ends up biting his lip. And I know this is the beginning of the end. I’d never ask him to choose, that’d be petty and idiotic. And relationships tend not to work if the family doesn’t like one’s partner. “Good night, Loosh.” I kiss him. Deeply, like it’s the last time, before opening my door and heading inside, deciding to take a hot bath.

25 days….

25 days before our one year anniversary and I’m thinking of if I should end it. How I should end it. I sit in the library, having finished all my filing and paperwork early, trying to read my book but I can’t concentrate. My thoughts are too loud.

I know Lucien knows his sister dislikes me but he keeps making excuses!

She’s a prankster

She’s a little jealous, she’s never shared me before

You’re my females, you’ll get along eventually

No. We won’t. We haven’t. And the more time I spend with him, the more time I spend at the palace, the more I realize how this relationship is bound to end. So I sit in my sad little stool and cry.

17 days…

I’m at Day Court Palace early in the morning and I wait for Lucien in his study. I sit there for a moment, I’ve only been in his study a handful of times and never for long. So I leisurely browse the books on his shelves, the maps framed on his walls and after I’ve done about three, slow rounds around the room I allow myself to sit in his chair and look around. I catch a glimpse of a frame on his desk, it’s the letter I wrote him for Solstice, given along with some gift I hated. What do you even give to a male who has it all? So I gave him love and affection. I told him in writing how much he means to me and how much hope I have for us and this relationship.

I frown.

Had. I had hope for it.

I reach for the frame and accidentally knock the trash can under his desk over, “shit.” I push the chair back and get down on my hands and knees to pick up the loose papers. Putting everything back in the bin, a flash of color catches my eye in a crumpled paper. Not a ball but like it was clenched in a fist and tossed aside. I open it up, even though I shouldn’t, in curiosity. The air is taken from me and tears brim my eyes. It’s me. Drawn in crayon, the colorful picture leaves nothing to the imagination regarding how Venus feels about me. The almost 3 year old drew my hair a mess, my clothes in tatters! Sharp teeth, claws, horns and stinky lines above my head. An arrow going from the wrong spelling of my name with a few letters written backwards.

And then there was Lucien, drawn much smaller and with swirls for eyes, like I’m hypnotizing him. I fold the paper, as small as I can and clench it in my hand. I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath. I write Lucien a note and leave it on his desk. Some bull shit about needing to be at the library earlier than expected and I take off, holding myself back from running out of the palace., praying to any gods listening that I don’t bump into any member of the High family.

12 days….

I’ve been putting it off. It’s too hard. Everytime I look at him my heart clenches, begging me to stay, To keep him with me. But then that picture pops into my head and I find myself fighting tears. The drawing lies hidden inside an old book in my nightstand drawer and I think it’s what’s keeping me from sleeping. The day I found the drawing I had been at the palace to tell Lucien that the Library acquired a third person to work there and I now have one day off a week! And I still haven’t told him.

I fooled him two days ago, going to sit at my usual picnic table by the library around my lunch hour but I don’t know if I have the strength to get out of bed today.

But, alas, I do.

I go to the palace, at Lucien’s request from last night, so he can walk me to work. And after two excuses weren’t enough to deter him from walking me, I gave in.

I meet him at the entrance and he kisses me and I go on my tippy toes to deepen it. For a moment everything is ok… it’s moments like these that make me want to stay, makes me want to put up with anything Venus is willing to plan for, to stay here, in this moment, in his arms.

The moment is short lived as I feel a force crash against my leg, causing me to lose my footing and if Lucien wasn’t so fast I’d have hit the floor. I look down to where the impact happened and a pouting Venus stands there, her mother in tow.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N)!” The High Lady apologizes, giving her daughter a dangerous look.

“It’s alright,” I wave off. She’s done worse.

My face might be showing more than I intended because the High Lady’s eyes soften when she meets mine. Offering an apologetic yet understanding expression.

Lucien crouches to her level, “come on Vena… stop this!” He practically begs his sister, tugging at her arms to get her to uncross them but she won’t budge, turning away from him and raising her arms to her mother. My heart aches. I did this. I, somehow, caused this rift between them. I need to do it. Now!

But then he looks at me and I can’t… “I’m sorry about her…” he rubs the back of his neck and I shake my head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he takes my hand, surely ready to walk me to work like everything is fine. “Maybe you should spend some time with her,” I nod to Venus, still clinging to the High Lady.

Lucien shakes his head, “I spent all day with her yesterday and I miss you,” he presses his forehead to mine.

Don’t. Cry. “I missed you too…” I don’t know if I can make it to the library without crying. “But she still needs you. It’s only twenty minutes to the library, I think I’ll survive,” I smile.

“But you walked all the way here! And I want to.”

Before I can respond Venus lets out an unimpressed whine and I want to run out of there. “Maybe she needs more ‘brother time,’” I offer a big smile and force it to reach my eyes.

Lucien deflates a bit but then looks at Venus and sighs, a signal that he’ll comply. “I’ll see you tonight though,” it’s not a question.

I nod, “I’ll see you tonight,” and I back away, letting my hands slip out of his as he stretches out his arms, holding me for as long as he can. As I turn I catch a glimpse of Lady Day, Venus’ face tucked into her neck and that apologetic and understanding expression gaining a hint of sadness.

I was right. I don’t make it to the library without crying.

Lucien comes for lunch and I’m sure he can tell something’s off. I’m quieter through lunch but I tell him it’s a headache and he seems to leave it be.

He picks me up at the end of my shift and takes me to another late night festival. We always have fun at these and I want to cry at how poetic ending this relationship on a night like this feels. I steal every kiss I can. I don’t drink, not a sip. I want this memory untainted. I relish in every last; a last meal, a last laugh, a last hug and dance and whispered words made of honey.

We’re dancing slowly, slightly away form the crowd, my head on his chest, taking in his scent like a female in heat when he speaks up. “You know… we’ve been together almost a year.”

“Yeah.” I look up at him, his eyes are full of something I can’t place.

“And there’s something we need to talk about,” oh gods. He’s gonna do it! I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. If he ends it then I don’t have to, I can have it easy and just cower away once all is said and done. “I know it’s early, but I want you to know…”

Oh no! No, no, no! I read it all wrong! I finally place the emotion on his eyes; love.

No. This can’t be happening. Before he can utter another word, my own come tumbling out of me like word-vomit, “we’re done.”

He chuckles, “We’ll go in a second I need to get this off my chest.”

“No. Lucien…” I back away from his hold slightly, his hand on my biceps and mine on his forearms. “We are done. I-” Be brave. Lift your chin and stay strong. I tell myself. “I’m breaking up with you.” I barely keep my voice from breaking but the silent tears are enough to leave me raw for him to see.

“What?” His question is soft. Innocent.

“I can’t do this-”

“Be with me?”

“Yes.”

A beat. Two. Three… gods. “Why?” I give him a knowing, yet, sad look. He puts a hand on my cheek, “(Y/N)…”

“I’m sorry. But I can’t. It’s never going to work out if she doesn’t like me and I’ve accepted the fact that she doesn’t. She’s your sister and she comes first. I can’t-”

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her understand this time. She’ll warm up to you! I swear!” I’ve never heard him so desperate and it breaks my heart. So much so that I can do little more than shake my head. My cheeks are wet with new and old tears alike. And his eyes are shining with unshed tears too, one slides down his cheek as he blinks. “No,” he breathes, urging me to go back on my decision.

“Yes,” I counter.

“No!”

“Lucien… I can’t do it. I can’t. Me. It’s hurting me.” I gesture to myself. “It’s not just the pranks and the pushing and that scowl she gives me. It’s the fact that she doesn’t like me and worse than that she’s made it clear to everyone! I don’t want to be the reason there’s a rift between you.” I take a step back.

He takes a step forward, “you’re not causing a rift.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” I give him a look that says, don’t lie to me.

“(Y/N) please!”

“You can’t say you didn’t see thi-”

“Don’t do this!”

“Lucie-”

“You want me to beg?” He drops to his knees, holding my waist, “I’ll beg!”

“Get up.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Lucien!” I try to get free from his grip but he holds me tight. People look and walk away slightly so we get the illusion of privacy and the band starts to play a notch louder. “Get. Up.”

He shakes his head and looks up into my eyes, “I love you! There. I said it. I love you! That’s what I was going to tell you.”

I cry more, shaking my head. “It doesn’t change the fac-”

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?! Do you love me back?”

“Lucien…”

“Answer!” He yells. Yes. I want to say. I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you. I love you. I love you. I want to tell him in every way, in every language, twice over for good measure.

“No.”

He deflates. “You’re lying,” he’s sure of himself. I see it in his eyes. There’s no doubt that he knows I love him back and me not saying it doesn’t change the fact that I do.

I finally get out of his hold. He’s on his feet in an instant scrambling to keep a hold of my hands, my wrists, my arms, anything he can grab a hold of to keep me here. I snake my hands away but he keeps chasing them with his own. Every step back for me is just another half step forward for him.

And he begs again, “(Y/N) please! I’ve spent my entire life begging to be loved. Yearning for a love like this! I spent so long thinking I’d never get it, that I don’t deserve it! After my mate rejected me I thought fate had forsaken me and that I was destined to be alone. And when Venus was born I took it as a sign, a sign that I would not be the one to continue my blood line… and then you,” his voice breaks, he still scrambles to catch my avoidant hands. “You give me all I wanted and more… for free. You ask for nothing in return and more than that you make me feel like I actually deserve it! So please, don’t take it away. Stay. Please! Please. Please…”

“You are loved, Lucien. Despite me. You have the loving family you’ve always deserved, you have a sister who loves you to death!”

“That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about and you know it!” He repremends.

I sigh and cup his face, “I am not your person. But she’s out there. And you will find her. And if you truly believe you love me, the wrong person… imagine how much you’ll love the right one when she comes along,” he closes his eyes, leaning into my touch and shaking his head.

“I did find her.” When he opens his eyes I see defeat. I drop my hand form his cheek and try to think of something to say. Something to soothe his aching heart…

But there is nothing.

I back away and he doesn’t follow. I back away again but his feet are planted to his spot. I take a deep breath, taking him in again one last time before the tears blur him to me, allowing my body to turn around and fully walk away from him. I don’t remember getting home or bathing or eating but I wake up with wet hair and dirty dishes the next morning and for the first time since I started working at the library, I send a request to have one of the others fill in for my shift for the next few days.

Lucien’s POV

I cry all the way back to the palace, forcing my breathing to be steady despite how hard my heart is beating against my ribs. I go into a random room, throwing a vase at the wall before crumpling down onto a couch and crying into my hands.

“Darling?” Mom’s soft voice sounds from the door and I can hear her soft, slipper-covered steps making their way to me. “I heard a crash, are you-” a soft gasp leaves her lips as she takes me in. “Oh, dear… I’m so sorry,” she sits beside me and rubs my arms, laying her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t think she’d do it so soon…”

My head whips to her, “what?”

“Well, come now, you must’ve known… or… well… perhaps you didn’t see...”

“See what?”

She bites her lip, “I knew that Venus’ actions bothered her but it wasn’t until this morning that I saw it in her eyes. The resolve, the hurt…”

My blood heats and the fireplace comes to life at my anger, “and you didn’t tell me?” I hiss.

“I was going to warn you tonight. I thought you had more time… I am sorry.”

I cry into her arms, “I love her, mom. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s everything. I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my days by her side. I would give her anything! Anything she wanted I’d give… but the one thing she needed… it wasn’t even mine to give.” I lay on her lap as her thin fingers comb through my hair.

I’m almost asleep when the door opens and shuts, a soft, sleepy voice calls out, “mommy? Mommy, I can’t go back to sleep.”

Venus slowly makes her way to us and I pretend to be asleep. My mother answers her, “what woke you up, sweetheart?”

“I needed potty,” I can hear her yawn.

“Oh! At least you woke up this time, that’s good right?”

There’s a pause before she asks, “why’s Lushy here?”

“Lushy had a rough night,”

“Was (Y/N) mean to him?” Her tone is accusatory, only proving (Y/N) right and it takes everything in me to keep my body from shaking with a guttural sob.

My mother sighs, “(Y/N) won’t be coming around anymore, Venus.”

“Really?” She sounds excited…

“Your brother is very upset by it,” my mother reprimands, “please have some sympathy.”

“Sim- siam- sapaty?”

“Sympathy. Please understand that he’s hurting and don’t look too overjoyed at it.”

“Why did she go?”

Mom lets out another sigh, “it’s complicated, sweetheart.”

“Is this grown up stuff again?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Awwweeeee!” I hear her yawn again and I hear shuffling. Probably the sound of her climbing onto the couch on mom’s other side.

About what feels like an hour later mom whispers, “she’s asleep. Go to bed, darling… at least try to rest.”

I don’t move for a few minutes before getting up and wordlessly going to my room. I bathe in scalding water before plopping down in bed and crying myself to sleep.

The next morning I stay in bed until my hunger forces me to scavenge for food. I’d usually ask the servants to prepare something but I’m not looking forward to any fae interactions. I head to the extremely large kitchen and ask one of the kitchen members I know by name for some of last night's left overs. The kitchen makes little portions of what we don’t eat for either them to take home or to be donated the next day. She hands me a box with yesterday's date on it and I thank her, grabbing a fork and eating on the staff’s table in the kitchen. I use my powers to heat up my food, deciding that eating it cold to torture my self is a little much.

On my way back to my room Vena practically runs into me as she runs away from her governess, “Lushy! Come play with me!”

I shake my head, “I’m not feeling well, Vena, maybe some other time?”

She pouts and then lunges for my leg, hugging it, “I hope you feel betta!”

I hold in tears as I pick her up and kiss her chubby cheeks. She holds my face in her tiny hands and says, “I love you Lushy! Best big brodda ever!” She kisses between my eyebrows and I put her down, telling her to behave for her governess. She runs along accepting that I’m in no condition to play.

I wobble back to my room and collapse back on the bed, crying until I’m dehydrated and I fall asleep again. I can’t fix this. I can’t get her back and I can’t make Vena like her. I’m lost… and she’s lost to me.

#lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra #lucien imagine #lucien x reader #acotar #helion #lady of autumn

104 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 4 months ago

Note

Gator, I think cyborg Mark is really interesting, specifically his cyborg parts, and I have so many little questions to fire at you. :')

1. Does cyborg Mark fix himself? // Like, does he have the tech to fix himself if his limbs get broken or anything, or is there a specific guy who does that for him like Art or Robot (for example) or some1 like that.

> 1.1 And if so, does he allow others to tinker with/on him that either aren't him fixing himself/isn't the designated fixer person or character?

> 1.2 Also would he be sensitive to that, like having his "insides" tampered with, would he have any sensation in those circuits to know what's being prodded and so on inside like his arm, leg, etc lol? I think you mentioned something about his bits being able to be switched around, so I think there could be some sensations he feels at least around his groin area if I'm not mistaken?/. (Feel free to correct)

2. Also does his personality diverge from Canon Mark much, what's it like (the personality)? We know he's a bit insecure about his looks :3 <- cannot remember anything else anymore due to shit for memory.

> 2.1 Does he have any pet peeves?

Feel free to ignore if needed, you don't need to answer everything:3 /gen

Hi anon :3

I've honestly been so hyped and shocked positively that people like my au stuff, since I've never really shared it before and been kinda embarrassed about it, here I go >:3

Cyborg Mark Grayson answers under the cut 🗣️

1. Yes, Cyborg Mark fixes himself if the damage is bad enough. I've explained in another post that he's made out of alloys/metals and nanobots that fix itself with time, like normal wounds just much faster. This also means his robotic body actually grows stronger with time like other Marks, so he's not left behind in that department. For plot reasons, if I were to write fanfic, then the reader would be the one to repair bigger problems or give upgrades, as well as teaching mark how to do the repairs himself.

He doesn't trust Robot, the GDA, the government, or really anybody. There are times where he has to rely on them, but it's clear he doesn't trust them like normal mark does.

1.1 I think he'd allow his lover to tinker with parts, but mainly his hands or like, arms or smth. Something he can easily fix himself, and only if they're truly in a safe situation where he wouldn't need to fight and have to recalibrate his limbs again. He'd also allow his insides to be 'tinkered' in the bedroom.

1.2 his insides are sensitive kinda like nerves, but he can dull it for battle reasons. One of the things he can do that other makes can't is wire play. Meaning that the reader can mess with some of his wires in his back and make him orgasm that way.

After losing the fight with Nolan, Mark didn't even really have genitals since he doesnt exclude waste the same way anymore. But after getting a boyfriend, he looks into ways to get that part of himself back after he feels like he deserves to be happy and enjoy things again. Even better if the reader is smart and helps make them, then they can try them out together.

2. Cyborg Mark is more jaded than canon Mark, he's more like season 3 Mark from the very beginning. He doesn't just kill anybody, but he also knows that sometimes it's a necessary evil. He's always ashamed of killing, but he doesn't actually feel regret or anything about it. This only adds to his constant fear that he's like his dad or that he's becoming some kind of monster.

He will also dissociate in a way when fighting people stronger than him or similar in strength. Blame it on trauma from fighting Nolan, but Mark just recedes into the back of his head and lets instincts and robotics do all the work.

2.1 I think a pet peeve is getting sand in his crevices. Or that the guardians would want him to join them. They'd be more insistent on this universe, as of course robot and the GDA wants in on his tech, but also because he's not actually friends with them.

He can work alongside them, but he doesn't have a friendship with for example Rex or Eve, since they never had time to get close before he was pulverized by his dad and had to learn to live again.

He also doesn't like when people worry too much about him, like his mom, or William who dropped out of college to help mark learn to live again, like walking, motor functions, etc. it's not that he doesn't appreciate it, he just doesn't feel he deserves it and that he robbed the people he cares for of a lot of things. So he has moments where he gets angry, but he always catches himself and feels even worse cuz he thinks he's like his dad.

So yeah, horrible daddy issues too.

#gator rambles #petvincible #cyborg mark Grayson #alternate mark grayson #mark Grayson #original characters #original character #Original alternate mark grayson #invincible

68 notes · View notes

annymation · 2 years ago

Text

Reimagining the characters in Wish

(Part 1- Asha)

Hey guys! I don’t really know how to start this, but let’s just say that I… Didn’t like how Disney’s 100th anniversary movie turned out, like at all.

But I can tell there was a lot of unexplored potential beneath this story, that in my opinion felt overly simple and bare bones.

But if you love it, that’s awesome, more power to you, I wish I could’ve loved it too. And I don’t want to rewrite it to show I’m “better than the writers at Disney” because I’m definitely not lol, I have no experience in writing, and I’m sure they put a lot of passion into the project and I respect them for that. But this movie inspired me with ideas for a different story that I think is worth telling.

But I won’t start telling it today, instead, I'll start a series of blogs sharing my ideas for changes in the characters and their stories, after I get some feedback I will start posting more of the story itself.

If you’re interested, then come along!

Asha✨

Personality

- Asha is a 18 year old girl, with a passion for drawing and helping those around her, sometimes even worrying more about helping others than helping herself

- She’s like a big sister to her 7 friends, always being the voice of reason and acting responsible, but not in a bossy way, she’s actually very playful with them

- To the people of Rosas tho, she's seen as kind of a weirdo, for you see, she spends almost every time of the day drawing in her sketchbook

- She practices everyday to become a better artist, and the people of Rosas find this to be very peculiar, after all, why would you take so much effort to perfect a talent when you can simply wait to turn 18 and wish for the king to make you an amazing artist?

- Asha doesn’t mind these comments, although they have made her less willing to share her drawings with others that aren’t her 7 friends

- As the story progresses we see Asha flourish from a shy and introverted girl to a brave woman who after discovering a terrifying secret about the kingdom’s rulers, steps in and inspires others to join her and fight an evil sorcerer king and his alchemist wife (yes, I made Amaya an alchemist, more on that on part 2 when I talk about how I’d change Magnifico and Amaya)

- Some Disney characters that share similarities with her personality wise are: Belle, Tiana, Pocahontas and Esmeralda

Main Traits:

Calm and mature

Determined

Passionate about her interests (drawing, dancing, philosophy and stars)

Helpful and generous

Perceptive and always questioning things around her that no one pays attention to (like why do all the artists only paint the King and Queen?)

Playful

Compassionate

Backstory

Oooh boy I gave this poor girl so much angst, okay let’s go

Asha grew up with her grandfather, her parents both died in a fire when she was just a baby

(this isn’t just to fit the “haha Disney princess has no parents” cliche, there’s plot relevance in this “mysterious fire” that I’ll talk about later)

Growing up with her grandpa, he’d always support her dream to be an artist, like her mother, who was an art teacher

Her mother not only drew really well, but she also was able to create the illusion that her drawings could move, by flipping through the pages of her sketch books

In other words, her mom was an animator

Asha saw this technic her mom used as a form of magic, so she would often tell her grandpa she wanted to “Do magic just like my mom”

Her father was a philosopher (this was established in the actual movie but never explored haha whyyyy), who taught people that working hard to achieve your dreams is not only rewarding, but also essential, because it’s part of the human nature to persevere and fight for what we believe, even if we fail, even if it’s hard, just keep moving forward.

This philosophy may sound very “umm duh” for me and you since we all know and hear everywhere nothing in life comes for free… But that’s not the case in Rosas

In this rewrite the kingdom wasn’t created by Magnifico, but rather the kingdom has existed for many generations, being ruled by different kings before Magnifico who also granted wishes… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The point is that the culture of just asking the king to give you or make you whatever you want to be has been in this kingdom’s culture since forever, so when Asha’s dad comes out saying “hey! Maybe we should stop just relying on the king to make our dreams come true, right?” He’s actually being quite a revolutionary… and sharing a very dangerous belief to other people…

At this point you might suspect what caused that “mysterious fire”

So, back to Asha, growing up with her grandpa, they shared a lot of happy memories together. Reading her father's books and her mother's art books helped Asha connect with them even tho she never had them in her life.

But as her grandfather grew older, he became senile.

Asha went from being taken care of by her grandpa to being the one who took care of him when she was still around 13 years old, and when she turned 15 her grandfather passed away of old age

Asha went on to live with her best friend Dahlia, the two became like sisters.

Though she managed to move on from the loss of her grandfather, she could never shake the feeling that he died without getting his wish granted... But she had no way to prove that, it was just a feeling

The wish granting system works different in my rewrite, instead of there being a public wish granting ceremony once a month, there would only be a public wish TAKING ceremony, that would work just like in the movie, you turn 18, you go give your wish to the king yada yada yada.

But the wish granting part would work like this: Almost every night the king would release the wishes up in the sky, they would float down like balloons to their respective owners while they sleep, and once they woke up in the morning they'd feel that their wishes were granted, for they would wake up changed.

With this method, there's no way of confirming if someone really got their wish granted or not, unless you went to ask the king.

Asha never did ask the king if he granted her grandfather's wish, but her grandfather would sometimes express how he wasn't feeling completely fulfilled in his life, he felt like there was something... missing.

This feeling of hollowness persisted in him until the very end, no matter how hard Asha tried to help her grandfather, she never knew him as his real self, because he gave part of his soul to the king, the most beautiful part of his soul, his wish.

Asha had no proof that her grandfather didn't get his wish granted, only a gut feeling.

But because of this, Asha wasn't that thrilled to give her own wish to king magnifico, knowing there was the possibility of it never being granted.

Not to mention she didn’t even know what to wish for, “I’m just 18 and you guys expect me to already know what’s my heart’s deepest desire? I’m still figuring that out, all I know is that I wanna draw”

Plus she wanted to follow her father's philosophy and achieve her wish on her own, eventually, when she figured out what her wish even was.

Asha never rebelled against the system tho, she wasn't a confrontational person. She just accepted the people of Rosas preferred to rely on the king's magic, but that just wasn't for her.

However, on her 18 birthday, when it was expected of her to give her wish to the king, she simply said she didn't have a wish, and even if she did she wouldn’t want to hand it over, she wanted to make it come true on her own. This lead to an argument with the king, and after a series of events (that I don't have time to summarize here, but you can find out about it on my rewrite) leads to her finding out a terrible truth about her kingdom. And that's how her story begins.

Design

- I’d keep these braid ornaments that Asha had in the concept art

- Since in my rewrite she’s not that invested in the kingdom of Rosas, I’d remove all the Kingdom of Rosas symbols that are present in her design (there are a LOT of them)

- I’d replace these Rosas insignia with more star and constellations themed symbols, to reflect how Asha believes that the stars are connected to people and they can guide us, just like how her father believed.

Final Thoughts

My intentions with these changes were to give Asha a strong emotional hook, and something that makes her feel relatable.

The emotional hook here is how she spent so much of her life taking care of her grandfather that she kinda never had time to worry about her own desires, that alone can be relatable to caregivers of elderly people that watch their grandparents or even their own parents lose themselves as time passes, and end up worrying more about the person they’re taking care of than themselves.

Asha has this internal emotional conflict where she feels she needs to constantly help others the same way she helped her grandfather, and one of the things she’ll learn as the story progresses is that it’s not selfish of her to want more for HERSELF.

Another thing that would be relatable about Asha is her passion for drawing, and how most people in Rosas would say she’s wasting her time practicing so much when she can just wait until she turns 18 and wish to be amazing at drawing.

She’d never stop believing that taking her time to improve on her talent and trying again and again was worth every second of her time, because let me tell ya folks, drawing is HARD, and animating like Asha’s mom did is even HARDER, it takes a whole lot of practice, and Asha was determined to keep trying.

She’d be much like Belle, remaining true to herself even tho those around her considered her odd, and very passionate about drawing just as much Belle was passionate about reading.

I also find it funny how Asha’s motivations are fairly down to earth, like in Disney movies you usually have:

I want to be free from these palace walls!

I want to explore the ocean!

I want to open a restaurant!

I want to find true love!

And then there’s Asha here like

“My life is fine, I just wanna chill and draw stuff”

And that’s it, but, in her environment where everyone is expected to have this great wish that they have to give to the king so he’ll make it a reality, she’s kinda the odd one out, and I love that. Would be a great subversion of the Disney formula.

Of course after she learns Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions she gets a lot more agency and the desire to save her people, her “call for adventure” if you will.

But what are Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions? Click here for part 2 and find out!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish #reimagined #rewrite #disney #wish 2023 #wish asha #wish star #king magnifico #wish movie #wish disney #wish rambles #wish rewrite #Asha #long post #wishrewrite

403 notes · View notes

blacklegsanjiii · 6 months ago

Note

I'm glad you liked my AU! I think Akainu calling her princess has to do with her family wanting to find her and to use her for their own greed (like marrying her off). So they have informed the marines and given them a photo of young Sanji. Sanji is easily recognazible, even when she is older. With her sun blond hair and twirly eyebrows, she's clearly the second princess of Germa.

She's protected by the Strawhats and Ace who sails with them. I think Sanji would have learned many more things and wouldn't be so feral, only when needed to. And she can be an evil thing when she's angry.

But then all that happens, blah, blah, blah. And the same thing happens and Sanji has to go back to her family. I actually don't have an idea how her family would react to a grown up Sanji who looks exactly like Sora and isn't the sweet docile kid she was when she was younger but a feral, confident and strong woman.

And you can call me Mika, you will surely see me more.

Hi Mika, welcome to the blog! I loved the au. I'm curious what you mean when you say Sanji wouldn't be so feral if she's been alone on an island for years with no contact other than newspapers. I feel like Sanji lost all sense propriety over the years of being alone outside of animals. I think she would have been assimilated into at least three different animal families.

I do think that's what's going on with Akainu and the Navy and Sanji. Sanji doesn't know why they're after her but I think Ivankov still takes her and tries to get her into maiden training but Sanji probably keeps attacking the Okama to the point they just toss clothes at her and slowly gain her trust. I think it also reminds her too much of Germa to take it but she still learns the attack cuisine because she's passionate. She likes the clothes though, they're softer than what she came in. I feel like shoes might be a long work in progress, because they want to help but I feel like it's that scene from ATLA when they're scrubbing Toph's feet but Sanji and them trying to put a pair of tennis shoes on her. Someone also introduces her to cigarettes and she loves them.

And when she's dropped off with Ace and the Strawhat crew, with Marco watching over them and getting to know the crew properly. Marco thanks her for her help as Ace just wraps around her and holds her close and she just leans in, just like that first time she murmurs about how warm he is into his chest. Marco takes a picture to take back to the remnants of the fleet, of those who haven't met her but saw what she did for Ace. Marco also mentions she's absolutely feral, she kicked molten glass the first time they met and Sanji growls at him making him laugh. Luffy talks about how cool she is, what she did during the war. Sanji thinks she might fall asleep from how warm Ace is. She's TOUCH STARVED OKAY?

She doesn't really trust her new crew yet but does one hundred percent, after a talk with Ace after they leave Sabaody and start sailing, try her best to be "nice" and "get to know them". Ace is there to help, usually. Sometimes he's not though and Zoro is goading her into fights a lot, good training he says, and when Ace isn't there Sanji will definitely fall for it. She kicks hard because she hasn't really gotten out of the win or die mentality. Luckily Zoro is tough, even if he seems surprised every time he has to swim back to the ship.

Then in Punk Hazard Ace is doing his best to convince her to put on snow boots. She claims her shoes are fine and Robin, ever so motherly and sweet, says they don't want Sanji to lose her toes to frost bite, it is awfully painful after all. Sanji sets her legs on fire in response. Ace packs boots into a backpack, just in case. Thank God because bodies get swapped as they're saving the kids they find that weird surgeon guy from the Summit War. Nami puts the boots on and glares at Sanji in her body who is pulling at the clothes. Ace is taking several deep breaths and explaining to Sanji she can't risk Nami's body, just like Nami is not risking hers. Law fully stops to ask what the fuck is wrong with her and Ace is looking at him just so very tired and tells him to fuck off for the moment, if Sanji's okay with it they can talk about it later. Law shrugs, switches them again, and leaves. Ace yells at him. When they're leaving, after Sanji has fed all of them and the marines. Smoker keeps looking at Sanji, as is Law but they're looking in different ways and Smoker has been around long enough to know what's going on and Sanji and knows too well. Smoker pulls Sanji away and lets her know, whether it be pity or kindness or some kind or a mixture of the two, he warns her. About what the Vinsmokes are doing and Sanji nods. Smoker pats her head and notices she's smoking now and lights her cigarette. The glare from Ace is fully ignored.

Between Punk Hazard and Dressrosa Sanji lets Law look her over ( @mcnana did this to me) and Law definitely getting his answers to what the fuck is going on. Sanji's been isolated for a while before meeting Ace and the others before going back to only having animals for company. Her reading skills are truly remarkable, she doesn't like talking or shoes. She doesn't like the infirmary and will hide behind Ace. Ace looks unimpressed at Law and Chopper whenever this happens. Robin is giggling at them, Brook is cracking skull jokes, Franky is crying and saying how cute they are, Ace is done. So done. He tells Law to quit studying his girlfriend because he's upsetting her. Law swallows his pride and apologizes. Surprisingly. He does still ask about why Smoker had pulled her aside and she wrinkles her nose at him and walks away. Ace sighs and follows her but Law just frowns. That's just a genuine question because if she has an in with the marines it could be useful. Nami agrees and Usopp says it seemed far more personal than that. Luffy mentions Akainu called her a princess during the war and no one knows what that means and shrug it off for the time being.

Ace doesn't go with her when the crew splits in Dressrosa, instead he sees Sabo for the first time in years and when all the fighting is done Zoro is begging Sabo to not get Ace started on his girlfriend. Sabo grins and tells them all about Koala and Robin giggles every now and then. Ace in turns tells him about Sanji and finding a girl wrapped in a sail and kicking molten glass at him. Sabo says only he could fall in love with a girl like that with the most dead pan expression possible. Ace shrugs, he loves her, and Sabo says he can't wait to meet her before wishing them all well and leaving. When they're leaving and seeing the bounties it's weird because Sanji's first bounty, her first one ever shows an impressive size but also that she's wanted only alive. Ace isn't fucking panicking okay, no matter what anyone says. He's not.

Sanji, meanwhile, is staring at Judge with the recollection of being a child and what happened but he seems taken aback by her appearance. All of them do, but especially Reiju and Judge. Her brothers look like they're seeing a ghost. She's looking at them cautiously and with curiosity. Having escaped so long ago and then living on that isolated island then becoming a pirate, she's forgotten royal standards. One of the boys spooks her and she snarls and she throws him into a wall hard enough to crack it. She sets herself on fire trying to get away when they're sticking the cuffs on her and screaming. She's cursing them and Reiju is remembering her mother yelling at Judge for what he did to the quadruplets, for what he did to her children. Her illness took much from her, including her kids. Seeing Sanji, a carbon copy of the dead queen is upsetting and freeing and so many things that makes Reiju's heart clench and sing and cry and cheer. Then she meets her supposed fiance despite her dating Ace and saying so. The Charlottes are confused, the Vinsmokes are confused, when the Strawhat Pirates show up with Ace and she's trying to get back to them but the cuffs start beeping Sanji is confused. Nami says something about the collars from Sabaody and Sanji doesn't know what that means but she knows they'll blow up her hands. Niji yells 'Mom, you gotta come back!' before realizing what he yelled as the beeping continues and Judge is growing angry. So angry and wrathful and threatens her and she looks so heartbroken as she goes back. They scream for her and when Sanji sneaks out later she says she wants to go home and Ace is promising they'll get her home, get her back to the Sunny and Luffy says he's going to beat up her dad. Sanji says she would like to save her brothers and sister, but Judge is free game.

I think Sanji doesn't really know about the assassination plot, mostly because she's dead set on getting back out. The plan made and at the wedding it kicks off. Ace fully just goes after Judge and Luffy is fighting Katakuri. Pudding's nose is actively bleeding and Chopper is worried about her. It's Yonji who grabs Sanji and carries her away like 'we'll protect you this time, Mom' and Sanji's absolutely not sobbing about that. Nope. She does fire kick him in the face though. And that counts for something. Ichiji is the one who helps her fight after being freed from Yonji. He doesn't call her 'Mom' but he does apologize for the way she was treated as a child. She's staring at him and trying to decide whether or not to bite him. She almost breaks several teeth and Ichiji looks nonplussed by this reaction. Reiju would be laughing if it didn't mean dying. During the escape Ichiji and Reiju slip her their dendens and her raid suit before the crew heads off to Wano.

Upon seeing the rest of the crew and teary hugs in the reunion she even hugs Law because he is her friend. He's been around enough to consider him a friend and he listens. Law's crew loses it at that and Ace fully takes a picture to give to Marco. If Law is beet red no one mentions it, except everyone. Everyone mentions it. Ace nods in solidarity with the captain of the Heart Pirates. Sanji is something feral and special and it's clear everyone meets her falls a little in love with her in their own way.

#black leg sanji #portgas d ace #vinsmoke sanji #fire fist ace #monkey d. luffy #straw hat luffy #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #feral!sanji #fem!sanji #acesan #sanace #strawhat pirates #one piece au #answers

44 notes · View notes

ironmandeficiency · 2 years ago

Text

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

470 notes · View notes

agentstovring · 5 months ago

Text

Need

Title: Need

Pairing: Ian/Anthony (Smosh)

Rating: E for Explicit

Notes: Thank you Snel for always supporting my small but all-consuming bursts of creative energy

You can also find this on Ao3

When Anthony leaves, it happens in increments. Ian sees it coming like a runaway train, but he doesn’t dodge it; he lays down on the tracks, twirls his own mustache, and closes his eyes, waiting for collision. When Anthony finally says it out loud, Ian has already been processing for months.

They’ve known each other for so long, and even though they stopped being friends somewhere along the way, he could have lost all his senses and still felt the shift in the universe when Anthony decided not to suffer quietly any longer.

When Anthony musters up the courage to tell him, Ian puts on a surprised face; Anthony sees right through it, as former best friends do.

The rest of the company is informed as well, and their reactions run the gamut. The cast and crew are devastated, while Defy reps are concerned about optics. Anthony pretends to be optimistic about the future, and Ian pretends to be a stone.

The last weeks of working together reach levels of torture previously outlawed by the Geneva Convention. They get through it because they don’t have a choice; Defy has their finances so deep in the shitter, that neither Anthony nor Ian can afford to break their contracts, so production must go on. Everyone suffers, and everyone keeps showing up to work.

On Anthony’s last day, he buys everyone lunch and puts on a happy mask that just won’t stick. When he leaves, he hugs Ian; not for show, but out of some deeply buried habit. Without knowing it, they simultaneously come to the same realization: They haven’t touched off camera in over a year.

Ian

Let it be known that Ian Andrew Hecox knows how to suffer. He has mastered the subtle art of wallowing. He agonizes with the best of them. In the wake of Anthony’s departure, he reaches new lows in terms of sleep quality, nutrition, work-life balance, and personal hygiene.

The loss of Anthony consistently takes up so much space within him that any other problems or worries arising have nowhere to sit. When Defy shuts down less than two years later, brutalizing his life’s work in the process, Ian barely flinches.

Anthony finds his footing. After an awkward fledging stage, he discovers a format that plays to his strengths, and an audience grows around it, aware of his Smosh past but largely unconcerned with it. Ian watches him evolve and blossom out of his periphery while fighting for his own life. The conviction comes unbidden: “He doesn’t need me anymore.” And the thought fills him with dread.

Anthony

The Defy shutdown is a bittersweet affair; Anthony watches it from the outside, craving a bucket of popcorn, unable to fight off the satisfaction that his personal evil has been defeated. Unfortunately, it comes at the expense of Smosh; and though he barely recognizes it as the labor of love he built with Ian, the anguish is real.

For a while, the Defy garbage fire is the talk of the digital town, and Anthony hears rumors about the chaotic party that happened in the aftermath. People sneaking out props that rightfully belong to Smosh (vital); cameras being stolen (arguably necessary); furniture being destroyed (questionable); and computers being peed on (a choice).

When Smosh is left without a parent company, it could be the end of the channel, and he shamefully wonders if Ian will reach out. If it’s truly over, even though Anthony dipped out early, maybe Ian would want to lay it to rest together. Somehow, though, Anthony doesn’t feel convinced that this is the end. He may not believe in Smosh anymore, but he believes in Ian.

He watches with a sort of awe as Ian not only secures a new company, Mythical; but starts to rebuild Smosh to it’s former – maybe even greater – glory. New cast members; a bigger crew; content that sometimes flops but feels like it once again comes from a place of passion rather than greed.

Anthony watches every video that Ian appears in, and the truth settles in him. “He doesn’t need me anymore.” And the thought fills him with relief.

Ian

After Rhett and Link pull Smosh from the grave, Ian never allows himself to fully relax. Between Anthony’s departure and Defy’s incompetence-slash-betrayal, every small inconvenience feels like another punch to the face. He takes the punches, absorbs them; after a while, he almost relies on them. He feels like a shark, needing to keep moving in order to stay alive.

The ghost of Anthony haunts him on and off the clock. In meetings, he glances at empty chairs, imagining his former best friend sitting there, holding back a laugh as Ian makes jerkoff motions when someone mentions the algorithm.

When he gets stuck creatively, which seems to happen more and more, he misses their chaotic brainstorming sessions, fueled by caffein and takeout, talking and laughing into the light morning hours. When a video does well, he wonders if Anthony sees it pop up on YouTube; he wonders if Anthony ever watches the stuff they do.

The continuous “ Where’s Anthony”-jokes hurt him, but he decides that it would hurt more if they stopped. At least the jokes mean that Anthony’s spirit still lives at Smosh; everyone who works there, even people who started after he left and have never worked alongside him, still know and reference him.

Anthony

Anthony only properly starts to heal once he decides that Ian no longer needs him. He walks into therapy with a renewed sense of purpose, sits down in the plush chair and tells his therapist that he wants to talk about Ian. The therapist is stunned, because she's been trying to get him to talk about Ian for the past several years. They've talked about Smosh at length, but he's only mentioned Ian in passing and never separately from Smosh.

Now, he lets it all out. He starts from the beginning, fondly remembering their budding friendship; he talks about building Smosh the Website and turning it into a shared thing between them, knowing the risks of mixing business and friendship. He cries quietly, his therapist never once rushing him, as he processes and mourns the loss of their bond. He smiles ruefully as he allows himself to be sentimental for a moment; blushes as he lets himself be proud of their shared body of work.

When his therapist hints at the possibility of a future for him and Ian, a new business venture or a friendship independent of Smosh, he shrinks slightly in his seat. "I told you; he doesn't need me anymore."

His therapist shrugs. "Need isn't the only thing that brings people together, Anthony."

Ian

Women are terrifying. Ian has known this for a long time, but it can still surprise him just how effortlessly calculating they can be. Dianna called him three days ago and invited him out to try a new restaurant; when he'd asked who else would be there - just to be a dick, honestly - she'd casually said, "A few friends," not committing to any names before pressing him for an answer.

He'd said yes, because he likes Dianna, and he likes most of her friends, and he really likes Ethiopian food. Though now, less than an hour before he was supposed to be at the restaurant, he’s rethinking liking Dianna.

She'd called under the guise of giving parking instructions, and then, as he’s half-listening and buttoning up a patterned shirt, she slips in, "Oh, and Anthony's coming."

He freezes with his fingers on the top button. After a beat of silence, he picks his phone off the bed, hoping Dianna will sense his glare through the call.

"What the fuck," he says flatly. "Anthony's coming, you're telling me that now?"

"Maybe I just found out."

"Oh, you just found out that you invited him? Really snuck that past yourself 'til now, huh?"

"I'm sorry, sheesh, I'll call him and tell him not to come."

"Obviously don't do that, Dianna!" He sighs, trying to calm down. "It's fine, I was just surprised; I'm sorry for yelling."

Dianna hums noncommittally, but when she speaks again, she sounds nervous. "Are you still coming? Please still come."

"Of course I'm still coming," he says, looking himself up and down in the mirror. "It'll be nice to see him again."

"Awesome! He's single, by the way."

"Bye, Dianna, see you there!"

Anthony When Dianna texts and asks him to come to dinner, Anthony accepts without hesitation. He loves Ethiopian food, which tends to have a lot of vegan options, and Dianna always has the inside scoop on up-and-coming restaurants. There is an added bonus, too; Dianna is really more Ian's friend than his, and he suspects he's been invited because Ian is gonna be there.

In the hours leading up to the dinner, he is nauseous with anxiety, but as soon as he steps into the restaurant and spots the rest of the party at their table, a strange calm falls over him. Of course, when he spots Ian - who in turn spots him - a flutter of butterflies swirls in his stomach, and he can’t hold back a smile. Ian returns it.

For a second it feels like the surroundings blur and all he can see is Ian. He holds eye contact all the way to the table, only breaking it to greet everyone else and take his seat. He suspects it’s no coincidence that the only empty chair is right across the table from Ian.

"Hi," he says breathlessly, trying to seem casual while fighting for his life.

"Hi," Ian responds. "Good to see you."

"You too."

For all that Anthony wants to catch up with Ian, he’s very aware of the other people at the table; most of whom seem unaware of Dianna’s obvious scheme and therefore do their best to include him and Ian in their conversation. He can’t be too upset about it; it’s less nerve-wracking than speaking to Ian directly; he can’t say everything he wants to with an audience anyway.

Besides, Ian is clearly in a good mood; someone at the table has complained about the number of ads she gets for ad-free mobile games, and questions how they’re making money. This has sent Ian off on an immediate rant.

"It's all data mining," he says for the third time in just as many minutes, a little too loud for a public place. "It's not just shady, it's straight up predatory; they collect everything they can get their hands on and sell it to the highest bidder. This is why we need better legislation-"

If Anthony could see himself from the outside, he’s pretty sure he'd have literal hearts in his eyes.

Ian & Anthony

Eventually dinner wraps up, and the group finds themselves outside, saying goodbye as they head for their respective cars and Ubers. Ian and Anthony hang back, soon finding themselves alone in the parking lot. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The evening air blows an empty plastic bag past them, like the inner-city version of a tumbleweed, and they both sputter with laughter.

As they collect themselves, Ian clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, man.”

Ian fears that the conversation is over; that he has to drive home with no closure whatsoever; but then Anthony’s eyes sparkle with that familiar warmth, and he says, “Do you maybe wanna come over to my place? Not now, I mean, but.. tomorrow?"

Delight and nervousness battle it out in Ian’s stomach; he thankfully catches himself before it shows on his face, managing a casual expression. “Sure, uh, text me when you're done doing, like, sunrise yoga or whatever."

Instead of dignifying the jab with a response, Anthony pulls Ian in for a warm hug, relishing how he tenses up for only a second before relaxing into the embrace.

"I'll text you as soon as the shaman leaves," Anthony quips. Pulling away, he puts his hands in his pockets, walking backwards towards his car. "I'd invite you over to talk tonight, but I had wine with dinner; might do something impulsive."

Ian scoffs and shakes his head, but there’s no missing the blush rising in his cheeks.

"Sure," he says about 20 seconds too late, giving Anthony a small wave as he also starts to leave. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Anthony echoes with a smile, and it feels as if no time has passed.

The next day, Ian ends up at Anthony's place just in time for a late breakfast. The number of dishes littering the dining table tells Ian that Anthony has been stress-cooking, and he can’t help the warm feeling in his chest; clearly, this is important to both of them. He’s also touched to find that Anthony has remembered to get gluten-free bread for him; and as he tucks into a surprisingly flavorful tofu scramble, he’s overwhelmed with affection for his former best friend.

Here they are, the two of them, sharing a meal in Anthony's home as they have done a thousand times before in what felt like another lifetime. Conversation comes easy but stays light. The most recent earthquake in L.A.; the mayoral election; family members they know; friends they share. Smalltalk that should feel shallow but holds so many years of intimate knowledge of one another.

They finish eating but keep talking as they clear the table and load the dishwasher, tiptoeing towards the reason they’re there. Anthony asks about Smosh the way any friend of Ian's would, as if it hasn’t been the source of so much hurt; and Ian answers as if it’s just a place where he works, and not a house haunted by Anthony's absence.

Once there’s nothing left to clean and tidy, they go to the living room; Ian takes a seat on the couch while Anthony drops into the nearest chair. There’s a beat of silence. For the millionth time, Anthony thinks about the fight that never happened; he left Smosh without the screaming argument he half-expected. Ian just let him go.

He’s often wondered if a loud fight would have given him closure. Still, he hopes they’re not about to have that fight now. He couldn’t bear it. Sitting in his sunlit living room with Ian is the happiest he’s felt in years. As much as he wants this to be a new beginning, wants to keep the peace, there’s something he needs to say.

“I think a part of me wanted you to come after me, a big part even. In the beginning, when I was so angry at you, I wanted you to come knocking just so I could reject you. I know that’s awful, but it’s the truth.”

“I can’t say I don’t get it.”

“It took me a long time to stop being angry, and then I was just sad; I started wanting you to reach out, so I had an excuse to come back.”

“You wouldn’t have come back,” Ian says, shell-shocked and in denial.

“I would have.”

“Being under Defy nearly killed you!”

“Yeah, and coming back would have been stupid, but I would have. I was so scared of starting over without you; I would have come crawling back just to not risk failing. But you never came after me; and when Defy went down, you still didn’t.” Anthony cracks a smile. “You kept fighting. When Mythical bought Smosh, you still kept fighting. You brought our dream back to life with a team of amazing people around you. It hurt that you didn’t need me anymore, but I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s not true; I never stopped needing you.”

“Then why didn’t you come after me? Out of pride?”

“Usually pride would be a safe bet, but not this time. I wanted to chase you down the day you left. I lay in bed that night imagining myself driving over to your place, begging you to come back; but I knew you wouldn’t. And even though I didn’t wanna admit it to myself, I knew you were right to leave. After you left, I don’t know if you saw much of the content-“

“I did,” Anthony says, grimacing.

“Fuck. I was really hoping you didn’t; I was gonna make it sound not so bad, but.. Yeah, it got really bad; and when the shutdown happened, I almost lost hope. Without Smosh, I had nothing to offer you. So, I went looking for a new parent company, and- Look, you know I love Rhett and Link, but I chose Mythical solely because they were the ones willing to give us the most creative control.”

“It was the right choice.”

Ian smiles slightly. “I think so. They’re good Southern boys, and I trust them. Even though some people might say, don’t mix business and friendship- Uh, I guess we’d know about that; and Rhett and Link are childhood best friends anyway-“

“Ian,” Anthony says, stopping Ian’s rambling instantly.

“Mmyes?”

“What do you mean by ‘Without Smosh, I had nothing to offer you’?”

Ian adjusts his glasses, swallows once, and adjusts his glasses again before saying, “I didn’t wanna live the rest of my life not talking to you. Smosh was wrecked, but I thought, if I fixed it, there was a chance that I could have you back.”

“You worked your ass off to find a new parent company; and hired good people; and created better content; just to get me back? Not because you wanted to see Smosh back on its feet?”

“Come on, man, you think I have integrity like that?”

“I know you do,” Anthony says, and he can’t hold back a smile. “I’m honored, though.”

“You should be! It was stressful, and now I can’t have gluten anymore.”

“You think the gluten intolerance is because of stress? Not your aging body?”

Ian looks away, pouting, “We can’t all look like a piece of paper someone used to test their markers.”

“That’s sloppy, try again.”

“You look like a Halloween costume called Sexy Rorschach Test.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Anthony teases, looking at Ian with a mockery of a smolder.

Ian’s upper lip curls in annoyance. “You know you look good..”

“You look good too.”

Ian scoffs. “When we left dinner the other night, I looked like a Republican senator who’d just picked up a sex worker.”

Anthony bursts out laughing and falls back into the chair, his feet coming off the ground as his knees pull towards his chest. Ian watches him, trying to keep a straight face even as his shoulders shake slightly with held-in laughter. When Anthony gets a hold of himself, wiping a few tears off his face, the look he gives Ian is impossibly fond.

"You know I'd never make you pay for it," he says, a little too earnestly for a joke. Ian blushes, even as he scrunches up his nose.

"Wow, thanks so much," he says flatly, sending them both into a fit of giggles. When it subsides, Anthony lets out a little sigh. He looks serious again, and the words that follow don’t come easy.

“I didn't know you were struggling too, not 'til later. At the time, I thought you’d just stopped giving a shit. I couldn’t bear it; Smosh was our baby, and watching you be so casual about losing it was driving me crazy. But on top of that..” he hesitates for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Worse than that, I thought you’d stopped caring about me.”

"I could never. The truth is, at some point, I knew that you were gonna leave, before you said anything," Ian fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt cuff. "I gave up. I thought I'd already lost you; and if I'd admitted to myself how bad things were with Defy, I would have left, too. But that would mean losing Smosh completely, and then I'd have nothing to offer you.

I hung in there because I thought, if I get through this, if I can fix it, maybe he'll come back. Things got worse before they got better, and then you seemed to be doing so well. By the time I felt like Smosh was back on track, you were so successful on your own; I couldn't imagine you wanting to come back."

"Ian, what-" Anthony tries not to let frustration get the best of him. "That’s the second time you’ve said that: Without Smosh you had nothing to offer me? I loved Smosh, still do, but what you and I have has always mattered more."

This is it, Ian knows. This is the moment to be completely honest and vulnerable; speak now or forever hold your peace. Tell Anthony everything and let the chips fall where they may; or keep up the white lie that has fueled the fire leading to Anthony's departure. Here they are, hanging out for the first time in years, and as much as it terrifies Ian to threaten this budding new beginning, he knows he has to be honest.

He takes a deep breath, voice shaking slightly as he struggles to get the words out. "I'm not saying this was in any way reasonable, but.. I thought, if I didn't have Smosh as a buffer, I would ruin everything. I knew I could never have you the way I wanted, but with Smosh, at least there'd be this big thing keeping us together."

When he finally dares to look at Anthony, he finds him staring, stunned. "The way you wanted? We're best friends, did you want.. more?"

This is it. "Yes, I wanted- I want," Ian sighs, closing his eyes. "I never wanted to risk Smosh, and I especially never wanted to risk our friendship, but yes. Anthony, I'm so s-"

"I'm in love with you."

Ian's eyes fly open. "What?!"

Anthony rises to his feet, sits back down, gets back up, and starts pacing nervously. "Fuck, I can't believe I just said that."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, obviously!"

Ian gets up as well but stays in place as he watches Anthony do a lap around the living room. “You were in love with me and you never told me?”

“You never told me either!”

“Well, obviously not! What if it had ruined our friendship and the company we built together?”

A laugh sputters out of Anthony, stopping him in his tracks. He comes closer, carefully, as if unsure if he’s allowed. “I guess I can’t really throw stones when.. I’m a house of glass.”

Ian frowns. “What?”

“I don’t know, I can’t think right now, can I just-?”

Anthony takes another step forward and reaches for Ian, pulling him closer by his shirt. Ian goes willingly. He closes his eyes as he feels Anthony's breath on his chin. When their lips meet, Anthony sighs happily, and neither of them pull away to end the kiss, instead deepening it.

The idea that Anthony has to lean down to kiss him has Ian swooning a little. He's left antiquated ideas of masculinity behind long ago, uninterested in being a man's man; emotional vulnerability is old hat at this point; but being cradled in Anthony's arms still makes him feel safer and more protected than he's ever thought another man could make him.

He flicks his tongue over Anthony's bottom lip and is immediately granted access. Their combined breaths grow heavier, and hands start to explore. Ian sneaks a hand under Anthony's shirt, feeling delirious as abs flex under his touch. Anthony, made shameless by his arousal, doesn’t hesitate to grab a handful of Ian's ass and pull him even closer. Feeling the press of Anthony's hard-on against his stomach, Ian moans into the kiss and pulls back.

"Sorry, sorry," Anthony says, swallowing hard. "That was a lot."

"Don't be sorry; I was gonna suggest we move it to the bedroom."

For all that he's fantasized about it, Ian could never have imagined how having sex with Anthony would really be. In their friendship, they were always equals; in Anthony's bedroom, he takes charge, gently but firmly moving Ian around. He takes his sweet time laying him down on soft sheets, kissing and stroking each new section of skin exposed as they undress each other. When he pulls off Ian's t-shirt and throws it aside, Ian feels a flash of panic, insecurity surging.

They’ve seen each other in various stages of undress countless times; but since it happened last, Anthony discovered the healing powers of yoga and 5-hour tattoo sessions, while Ian put Smosh first and sacrificed all means of self-care. Instinctively, he covers his soft stomach, but Anthony is quick to catch his wrists, pinning them down by Ian's sides.

"Excuse me, I need a tidy workspace," he says, ignoring Ian's noise of discontent.

Releasing Ian's wrists, Anthony runs his hands up to Ian's chest and squeezes appreciatingly, earning himself a glare. "Are you having fun?"

"So much fun."

Ian sighs, accepting his fate; it’s hard to be truly upset when Anthony seems so genuinely into his body, needing to touch and taste everything. It’s not until they are in their underwear that Anthony seems hesitant. He stands next to the bed, paused with his hands on the waistband of his briefs, ready to pull them down, when he seems to have a dip in confidence.

His eyes are dark with lust but all too serious when they seek out Ian's. "Is this crazy?"

Ian pretends to think about it, then nods. "It's pretty crazy. Show me your cock."

Anthony sputters out a laugh, collecting himself as he sits down on the bed next to Ian. He strokes Ian's thigh, giving it an approving squeeze, willing his eyes to stop roaming while he voices his concern.

"I'm serious, Ian, are we being crazy? We've been apart for a while; now we're reconnecting and we're jumping right into bed? I don't wanna ruin this before it begins; this is not gonna be a hook-up and then radio silence, I won't do it."

Ian raises himself up on his elbow, "That's not gonna happen, I promise. I know this is all going so fast, but at the same time, I've been wanting this for literal years."

"Me too," Anthony says quietly.

"And we've both done anal before."

Anthony blushes, averting his eyes as he can’t fight back a smile. "Yeah, but I haven't been on the receiving end."

"Well, I have, so no worries."

"You've bottomed?!" Anthony whips his head back, staring incredulously. "I didn't know that, when was this? With who?"

Ian chuckles, endeared by Anthony seeming offended that Ian hasn't told him. After all, there was a time when they shared every little detail of their dating and sex lives; and Ian bottoming would definitely have been a big conversation, likely the day after it happened.

He shrugs, trying to sound casual. "An ex-girlfriend I was with for a year or so; you haven't met her, it started and ended while we've been apart. I let her peg me."

Anthony swallows, folding his arms across his chest. He nods slowly. "How was it?"

"I liked it. Only did it twice, though; while it was happening, I couldn't stop thinking about this guy I'm in love with."

Anthony scoffs out a laugh, but a blush rises to his cheeks. He gives Ian a gentle push, making him lie back, leaning down to join their lips for another kiss. It turns intense again almost immediately, and soon they are both panting heavily against each other’s mouths. Anthony backs off, ignoring Ian's protests; he shoves his briefs down and manages to kick them off before reaching for Ian's as well.

Ian consents with a distracted nod as he stares at Anthony's hard cock, his stomach flipping with anticipation at the size of him. He's seen it before, but not fully hard and not when he felt that he was allowed to look. Then, before he can register what is happening, Anthony has straddled him. "If you want me to bottom, you need to rearrange."

"Patience, baby, I just wanna see.."

Ian tries really hard to ignore how being called baby by Anthony is making him feel, instead watching as Anthony pushes down his own erection so it lays flush against Ian's stomach. He groans and his cock twitches. The look Ian shoots him is both amused and judgmental. "Are you measuring?"

"No, this would be measuring," Anthony says, taking both their cocks in his hand. Ian's hips buck slightly at the contact. Anthony chuckles, eyes darkening. "I was just checking how deep in your guts I'm gonna be."

Ian just barely manages to hold back a whimper, instead raising one knee to kick Anthony in the back.

"Go get lube, you freak. You have lube, right?"

Anthony's face blanches momentarily, then he dismounts and flees the room, coming back seconds later with a bright purple tube of lube, brand new with the plastic seal still on. He holds it up for Ian to see, holding his other hand up behind it like a beauty influencer showing off a product. Ian motions for him to get things moving and he grins, taking off the plastic seal.

"Adam & Eve sponsored some videos; they sent me a bunch of stuff. That drawer is full of condoms," he says with a nod, indicating the nightstand to Ian's left. Ian opens the drawer, which does indeed contain at least a dozen 10-packs of condoms. He opens a full pack and takes one out, turning it between his fingers.

"Full because you don't ever use them," he says teasingly.

Anthony doesn’t laugh. He throws the plastic seal in the trash and brings the lube over to the bed. He sets it down on the nightstand for a moment, reaching down to carefully take off Ian's glasses, looking into his eyes as he lowers them.

"Yeah, I haven't been interested in anyone else in a long time."

For someone jittery with eagerness, Anthony demonstrates extreme patience as he opens Ian up with slick fingers. Ian is choking back moans, leaking onto his own stomach as he gives Anthony the little guidance he needs. The memory of getting prepped by his ex-girlfriend is distant and growing dimmer by the minute. Anthony is less practiced, but he makes up for it in awed enthusiasm, eyes flickering from Ian's blushing face to his hole clenching around Anthony's fingers.

Soon Ian decides that Anthony has made sufficient room for himself and pulls him closer, kissing him messily as he rolls on a condom. Anthony lines himself up and presses his lips to Ian's neck as he inserts himself, little by little as Ian adjusts. When he finally bottoms out, Ian shudders out a moan, shaking hands finding Anthony's hips.

"Don't move."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, I just don't wanna come yet."

Anthony snickers, placing a row of slow kisses from Ian's jaw to his shoulder. "I'm flattered."

"So full of yourself."

"I think you're one who's full of me, actually."

Ian rolls his eyes and Anthony laughs, gently brushing hair off Ian's damp forehead. They lock eyes, and for a moment time stands still as the weight of the moment hits them; after years spent missing each other, stumbling through the dull ache of loss, they have found their way back to each other in a way neither of them had dared hope for.

Part of Ian wants this moment to go on forever, savor their closeness for as long as he can before something else can try to break them. The rest of him, however, is very aware of Anthony's cock brushing his prostate.

“Okay,” he says in an outbreath. "Move."

Anthony does. He starts slow, careful and deliberate, rolling his hips in short, measured thrusts while searching Ian's face for signs of discomfort. The stretch is delicious even after his thorough prep, and Ian sighs in pleasure, pulling him in for a messy kiss, urging him to pick up the pace. Their combined sounds mix with birdsong from outside and in the midst of it, even with his face scrunched up in pleasure, Ian can't help but smile at the fact that he's having what may be the best lay of his life in broad daylight with his best friend.

Anthony slows down slightly, returning the smile, puzzled. "Why are you smiling?"

"You're still my best friend."

Anthony's hips jerks forward and a small moan startles out of him. He blushes and hides his face while Ian cackles. "Did that do something for you? You out here getting off on the power of friendship?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Before Ian can crack another joke, Anthony kisses him and speeds up his thrusts again, harder now, tapping his prostate on every turn. Ian groans against his lips, fingers digging into his sides, and Anthony pulls one of Ian's legs around himself to get deeper. They gasp into each other's mouths, bodies moving in perfect sync with each other as they always did. Anthony nips the sensitive skin under Ian's ear and revels in the whimper he gets in response.

"I'm close," Ian grits out as his cock twitches between their bodies.

Anthony nods jerkily in agreement, kissing him reassuringly. He gets a hand between them to jerk Ian off with a firm grip. "Me too, I'm- I'll follow you."

Promise? Ian thinks, and then he tumbles over the edge, moaning out a string of fuck-fuck-fuck as cum splatters up his chest. Anthony's rhythm falters at the sight, and as Ian tightens further around him, he surges forward to bring their sweaty foreheads together.

"Oh, oh my-" The sentence bleeds into a deep groan as he comes.

The rolls of his hips slow to a stop, and he brings their mouths together for another kiss. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath. Anthony's stomach flexes and unflexes a few times as the last traces of his orgasm ebb out, inadvertently rubbing against Ian's oversensitive cock and making him whimper.

Anthony pulls back, giggling. Running soothing fingers up and down Ian's chest, he carefully pulls out, and - slightly wobbly - he gets out of bed to dispose of the condom. He returns just in time to see Ian's eyes slip shut, and huffs out a laugh at the sight.

"Don't fall asleep, we gotta to clean up."

"Okay," Ian whispers but makes no effort to stay awake. Just before he knocks out completely, he's vaguely aware of Anthony wiping down both off their chests using Ian's t-shirt. Bastard.

Ian traces one line of Anthony’s tattoos across his chest, following its path downwards while Anthony watches his concentrated face with a fond smirk. When the line ends in a swirl by his groin, Ian flattens his hand on Anthony’s hip, thumbing the slightly protruding bone.

“They say that there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.“

Anthony nods slowly. “At the end of the inky swirl it’s a dick instead.”

“I think I like that better.”

“I’m sure you do, gaylord.”

“Excuse me?!” Ian yells, and Anthony lets out a cackling laugh, not stopping even as he takes a pillow to the face. Ian straddles him, poking his fingers into Anthony’s sides. “You just had sex with a guy, I was there, and you’re calling me a gaylord?”

“Mercy!” Anthony yelps, still laughing, as he squirms to avoid Ian’s prodding fingers.

“Mercy? How about ��sorry’! You don’t get to call me a gaylord, gaylord!”

Anthony catches both of his wrists, wheezing from laughter and tickles. “Sorry, I’m sorry!”

Ian lets his arms go limp and sighs, rolling his eyes. Anthony giggles and shakes his hands a little, making Ian’s arms wiggle. When he releases them, Ian plants his hands flat on Anthony’s chest, forcing a small ‘oomph’ out of him.

“I don’t think you’re sorry.”

Anthony’s eyes widen ever so slightly as a small jolt of anxiety runs through him. “What do you mean?”

“If you were really sorry,” Ian says, scowl softening into a grin. “you wouldn’t be at half-mast right now. Can’t even have a naked man sitting on you without getting a boner.”

“I feel like that’s a normal reaction.”

“You would feel like that, gaylord.”

Barking out a laugh, Anthony grips Ian’s hips and rolls them over. “You’re the gay one,” he says, panting with effort as he tries to pin Ian down, surprised at the amount of strength necessary. He’s suddenly reminded that Ian used to be something of an athlete.

Ian struggles half-heartedly .“Everyone always said you’re the pretty one, and I think we know what that means!”

Anthony snorts, finally trapping Ian’s wrists against the mattress, hips pressed between his legs to hold him in place. He’s fully hard now, and Ian is catching up quick. Anthony leans down and captures his lips in a slow, wet kiss. Ian moans against him and it’s like music to his ears. He pulls back, huffing out a small laugh when Ian tries to follow.

“If I say that I’m the gay one, can I fuck you again?”

Ian pretends to think about it, even as Anthony feels his cock twitch against his abdomen. Ian sighs dramatically. “Fine, but no take-backsies; if I let you put your dick in me again, you’re the gay one forever.”

Anthony sits back on his heels, eyes darkening as he pushes Ian’s thighs towards his torso. “Deal.”

After round two, they both drop into an unplanned nap. When they rouse, the early evening sun casts a soft, peachy pink glow over their tired bodies as they slowly get out of bed. Ian groans in pain and supports himself on the nightstand before taking a few unsteady steps. Anthony winces, shooting him an apologetic look.

“Shit, sorry, did I..?”

Ian waves dismissively. “Not my ass, my back; next time you decide to put me in a mating press, let me limber up first.”

“I know a guy who can teach you some yoga.”

Ian ignores him and they end up in the shower. Anthony insists on washing Ian’s hair and immediately gets shampoo in his eyes, giggling uncontrollably as he helps wash it out. Ian soaps up Anthony’s pecs for several minutes with a look of deep concentration and Anthony gets hard again.

“So definitely just your back hurts, right?” Anthony says, sneaking a hand down to Ian’s ass.

They do rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to leave the hot shower and fetch the lube. Anthony loses and pads barefoot to the bedroom, leaving a trail of water. When he returns, he pulls Ian out of the shower anyway and bends him over the bathroom counter.

Ian hisses as his bare stomach makes contact with cold marble, followed by a second hiss when Anthony pushes inside of him for the third time that day. Maybe he is a little sore, but he doesn’t even consider saying stop, especially when Anthony moans beautifully behind him.

Instead, he says, “I don’t know if I can come again,” and before Anthony can ask, “Don’t stop.”

Anthony grunts in response and fuck into him with small, shallow movements, clearly trying to be careful. It’s very sweet, Ian thinks, but it won’t do. He reaches behind him and grabs one of Anthony’s wrists, pulling him closer.

“We get it, you have a big dick; now stop fucking me from 10 feet away, I’m freezing.”

Anthony chuckles fondly and kisses a few waterdrops off Ian’s back, mesmerized by the goosebumps spreading across his pale skin. Sliding his arms around Ian’s waist, he shuffles closer, plastering his front to Ian’s back and burying his cock as deep as it will go.

Ian moans in pleasure and pain as he clenches around him, and nods with determination. “Alright, gaylord, get it done.”

Anthony huffs out a laugh in response. He barely pulls out, instead rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts, nailing Ian’s prostate every time. Their combined moans echo off the bathroom tiles as Anthony makes short work of it; they’re both too tired and sore for this. Just this once, though, overstimulation is his friend, and he jerks Ian off in time with his thrusts, all but forcing his third orgasm out of him.

Ian yelps and shakes as few drops of cum drip onto the floor, and his body vice grips around Anthony, pulling his release from him. Ian’s knees wobble and it’s only Anthony’s body on his that keeps him from sliding onto the floor in a boneless heap.

Anthony presses his lips against Ian’s neck and doesn’t move for a good minute, breathing laboriously against his sensitive skin. Finally, having caught his breath, he lifts his head just enough to whisper, “I’m gonna pull out, are you standing?”

Ian nods, not sure if it’s true or not, and Anthony very carefully disconnects them, making soothing noises as Ian grimaces. Despite his protests, Anthony runs him a bath. He dozes off in the hot water, waking up momentarily to see Anthony sitting on the bathmat next to the tub, making sure he doesn’t drown. He’s reading a book about mindfulness, occasionally glancing at Ian, checking on him. Ian smiles softly before slipping back into slumber. The second time he wakes up, the water is tepid, and Anthony is asking for his takeout order.

Once the food arrives, they set up camp in the living room. Ian sits sidesaddle on the couch with a soft pillow under him, wearing Antony’s top sheet like a toga. Anthony is next to him, manspreading in his bathrobe and boxers. They eat in relative silence with Planet Earth playing on the big TV.

After slurping up the last of his pho, Ian sets down the bowl and chopsticks and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Okay, this might sound crazy, but-“

Anthony groans around a mouthful of vegan spring roll. “If you wanna go again, you can sit on it; I’m not getting up.”

Ian snorts, feeling his cheeks flush. “Jesus, that’s not what I meant; besides, my ass needs like, three business days to recover. Maybe let me finish?”

“I had you finishing a lot,” Anthony mumbles. Ian shoots him a look and he chuckles, holding a hand up in defense. Setting down his empty food container, he shifts one leg onto the couch to better face Ian.

“Sorry, finish your sentence, please. This might sound crazy, buuuut..?”

Ian looks into his eyes, and for one brief moment, they’re 16 again, sitting on Anthony’s bed in his childhood bedroom, brainstorming sketch ideas. Their shared history spans two decades, and he wouldn’t do a thing differently out of fear that they would end up anywhere but here. In the present, Anthony’s heart thumps; Ian looks as radiant and unafraid as Anthony always remembers him, and the look he gives Anthony is bright like the sun. “What if we bought back Smosh?”

#ianthony #ian hecox #anthony padilla #smosh #fanfiction #by me #smoshblr #shambolicrube #blondeforyou #let me know what you think!

33 notes · View notes

acquired-stardust · 1 month ago

Text

Gaming Spotlight #19: Megaman X (1993)

Acquired Stardust's Spotlight series returns for the month of May! Larsa takes the reigns this month with an article on standout Super Nintendo title Mega Man X, which has a special place in their heart as a devout Capcom fan. Come read along below the cut!

It may be hard to believe with how infrequently the series gets new games in the present day but indeed there was a point where Mega Man (also known as Rock Man in Japan) was the mascot of Capcom's golden age in the 1980s/1990s. It was thanks to Capcom-created series like Mega Man, Street Fighter, Breath of Fire, and eventually in the latter parts of the 90s with Resident Evil that the company began to be considered by many as one of the best game developers of their time, perhaps a distinction they have earned again in the present day thanks to the continued success of their releases after a period of more middling reception starting in the 2000s. During the best times for the company it feels Capcom had an unmatched level of coolness and artistry to their many works that made their games feel that much more significant than they would have otherwise.

And much like the Capcom of the present day their output of quality games stands out as a particularly noteworthy aspect. It feels there are times where Capcom has discovered the secret cheat code of game development where they somehow find a way to not sacrifice quality while maintaining a high output of quantity; or maybe they can at times be so good at being in tune with their fanbase that they trick us into thinking they have that code. And then well naturally the tide pulls back to reveal in their darker times that Capcom's quantity can often be their undoing by 'flooding the market' so to speak, causing a negative effect which we have seen with Mega Man as well as their fighting game franchises.

No matter the era of Capcom the one thing that seems consistent with them is that they weren't afraid shake up an established franchise to make them feel fresh, sometimes to mixed results.

One of Capcom's most successful examples of a shake up of an established series could be seen with Mega Man X. This game was designed to be the series' first foray into Nintendo's newest hardware at the time, the Super Nintendo. The choice to make MMX was a necessary iterative move on Capcom's part that signaled to consumers distinct difference from the classic series, as they previously released Mega Man titles 1-6 on the Nintendo Entertainment System alone, with Mega Man 6 having released only a mere month before the release of Mega Man X. One could be right to assume a MM7 as their first Mega Man title on the SNES would be a difficult title to sell to the public at the time. MMX originally known as "Super Mega Man", an earlier scrapped working title, would be a big departure for the series as a game.

By 1993 it was time for Capcom's beloved mascot to enter the glorious 16-bit age. MMX was designed with the intention to be an evolution of everything that the original games were before it while feeling all the more new thanks to Capcom's impressive usage of the more advanced SNES hardware. Due to this new leap in technology the game would be designed to be more colorful, faster paced, and overall more complex than the previous series.

Responsible for ushering in Mega Man's official arrival on 16-bit hardware, the development team for MMX featured an all-star of game development. This team would be in part led by a young member of team who had in his hands in many aspects of the game, Keiji Inafune. These days Inafune is perhaps more infamously known than celebrated nowadays due to the various ways he would torch his reputation in the future but he does deserve a lot of credit for the first four games in the MMX series, making important contributions like the designs of characters such as the iconic Zero and his general influence over seemingly all aspects of the game. The development of MMX is often told as story about Inafune's legacy due to the nature of common storytelling on the subject so it would be easy to solely focus on his notable contributions. However there were other talented developers who also worked on the game that in my opinion also deserve some shout outs too.

Developers such as Tokuro Fujiwara (credited as Professor F) helped oversee the project as a producer and would go on to make Tomba. Kazunori Tazaki (credited as Ikki) wore many hats when it came to the art of MMX, whose impact on gaming is still felt today due most notably in recent times for his contribution as the lead character modeler of Bayonetta, Metal Gear Rising and Nier Automata. Hayato Kaji, one of the art designers of the game, would also be responsible for designing the titular main character, X. One would be remiss to not mention the sounds of MMX, created by a team of composers who were tasked to make a game that sounded little like what came before it.

Mega Man X was as much as sequel as it was a departure for the larger Mega Man franchise that existed at the time. Mega Man was already an established icon in gaming just a step below Mario or Sonic at the time that this new Mega Man series was conceived. Being treated as a new series that built on what had came previously before it, the story was darker and more serious in tone in contrast to the original series. Being in a new setting the story would no longer revolve around the rivalry between Dr. Light and Dr. Wily over their differing point of view on robotics. Instead this story would be focused on a new threat.

By the time of the events of MMX take place many years have passed since the days of the original Mega Man series. The original Mega Man series took place in the vague undefined years of "20XX" and now we are set in the years of "21XX" which means MMX would be set around hundred years later. Much of the story within Mega Man X is set up through the game's opening intro scene - perhaps the last log about his research written by Dr. Light, imparting his last will to whomever would one day discover his laboratory. The details of the log, which entirely revolved around his magnum opus: an android who represented a new advanced form of robotic life.

The game's instruction manual acted as supplemental material and would further explain everything the player is meant to know heading into this new adventure often from a in-universe perspective. Much of the plot for this game is written to the player through the journal notes of a new character, Dr. Cain who we will get to later. This method to convey information to a player through a manual is a lost art these days as physical media in the gaming world has became increasingly phased out with each subsequent hardware generation. These days games no longer come with instruction booklets, at most they come with downloadable content vouchers or small pamphlets to advertise other products. Yes, long gone are the days of completely colored and highly detailed instruction manuals that were supplementary material to a player's experience with a video game.

As anyone who played the original series would know, Dr. Light was a reputable genius who believed that robots could do much to benefit mankind if they are to strictly obey the famed "Three Rules of Robotics" as laid out by Isaac Asimov. However unlike his previous creation "Mega Man", who was programmed to strictly follow the laws of robotics, this new creation simply named "X" was beyond these limitations. X was designed to be a successor to Dr. Light's previous greatest creation, Mega Man, whom Light treated as a son. This relationship is even reflected in X's appearance as he resembles a slightly older teenage form of Mega Man.

In order to truly be a successor, X was created to be far more advanced. So much so that he could develop his own emotions and free will, meaning his personality was not bound to any hard pre-programmed limitations like his predecessor. He believes this new creation X would be a being of infinite potential and possibilities - this meant ultimately that X would think and feel like a human being, free to choose his own path in life.

Light was not just simply cautious he was outright afraid of X's potential destructive capabilities falling into the wrong hands, or perhaps worse, his beloved creation willingly choosing to turn against the human race. Further stoking his concerns was that Dr. Light feared that his own life would not last much longer due to his old age and he would not personally be able to guide X in the future to come. Furthermore in Dr Light's last testament he lamented he had nobody else living whom he could trust to carry on his work. So it was for these reasons which Dr. Light took it upon himself to seal X away in a capsule hidden under his laboratory where X would undergo a rigorous diagnostics program to iron out any foreseeable issues.

This testing program which would take 30 years to complete with the goal being that by the end of it all that X would be immune to any viruses or malfunction by his time of waking. X was created in hopes he would decide to live alongside humanity in peace for himself and hopefully as a last resort be able to fight in defense of humanity against catastrophe with his incredible combat capabilities. Ideally he could live out in peace in the future if that same future allowed him to do so.

As feared, it was true that X would be Dr. Light's final gift to the world as he sadly passed away shortly after the automated testing began on his final creation. X would stay in isolation for over a hundred years until he was discovered by another revolutionary mind, the aforementioned Dr. Cain. The man was a scientist much like Dr. Light was in his own time but Cain was more focused on environmental endeavors. Never one to let his time go to waste, Cain was an on an excursion to find fossils of ancient Japanese plants for his research and he instead stumbled upon something else entirely - a laboratory lost to time. The same lab which which once belonged to Dr. Light and where X remained dormant. Dr. Cain would awaken X and immediately be astounded by his advanced technological workings.

Cain eagerly used the schematics he found in the lab in the hopes of using this technology to benefit the state of the world and the human race at large. Dr. Cain would replicate the incredible technology that created X and quickly the world entered a new, more advanced age. This new copied technology gave a birth to a new race of robots known as "Reploids", a name short for "Replicated Androids", a term roughly meaning 'beings copied from X's specifications'. Each of these new Reploids were all customized personally by Dr. Cain on an individual level to handle different tasks alongside humanity and were crafted with the best of intentions to aid the world, much like the classic series' Robot Masters. However in Cain's rush to do great things he would cut corners in the creation of his Reploids. Within short order things took a turn for the worse as many of these Reploids malfunctioned and in turn lost their free will. Before long as the number of malfunctioning Reploids grew they would come to be labeled as "Mavericks" - carriers of the "Maverick Virus", a strain of computer virus which causes Reploids to lose their own thoughts to madness.

Unlike X, who went through decades of testing imposed by his creator Dr. Light, these new copied creations were not subjected to the same testing process, with Dr. Cain rushing them to task and ultimately leaving them vulnerable. As a response to the increasing threat posed by these Maverick Reploids it was then that Dr. Cain would decide to create a Reploid-led police force known as "The Maverick Hunters", led by his own personal greatest creation, a further advanced Repiold with the greatest capacity for combat of his creations named Sigma. Created to bring order to the world before things got out of control, it was by Cain's hand that Sigma was molded to be the commander of the Maverick Hunters, a squad of combat-capable Repiolds with the mission of routing the dangerous Maverick types.

Unfortunately, despite being more advanced than his fellow Reploids, Sigma too would be vulnerable to the virus and turn Maverick himself, declaring war on all of humanity as well as those who supported them. Whether through malfunction or plain fear, other Repiolds on the police force felt compelled to follow under Sigma's command in his new ambitions against the human race. This would be what ultimately kicks off the events of the game itself. Much like his predecessor, X was an optimistic being who detested violence, but would understand the necessity of fighting for the betterment of the world. X reluctantly accepts that his responsibility as "Maverick Hunter" would mean he must put Sigma and the rebel army down to achieve peace, and joining in the defense of humanity would be the few Maverick Hunters left, now led by a red warrior with flowing blonde hair armed with the Z-Buster known as Zero, the now most senior member left in the squad after Sigma's revolt shrank their ranks. Zero serves as a partner of X in the war against the Mavericks, somebody that X looks up to as a mentor figure.

As for the gameplay, this game feels like a treat to play with highly responsive controls on its native hardware. The game wastes no time in giving you chance to learn it as right away you are thrown into the front line, being dropped into the iconic highway stage to defend a city under assault and while tackling this first mission Zero may assist X when necessary. Perhaps your first impression as you control X for the first time is that things may feel familiar yet distinctly different from the original series. MMX is more demanding on the player expecting you to think fast and be ready with more complex inputs. X feels more responsive to player's input, more than Mega Man ever did previously, and his buster cannon, the X-Buster, feels much more powerful as a default weapon by comparison to the classic Mega Buster. This new higher level of action created more of a need for tight controls and as a result X was given the helpful ability to kick off walls. This ability alone changes how you may think of maneuvering around stages natively to allow for more mobility options whether you are in the heat of battle against a boss or attempting to avoid a stage hazard, also providing plenty of opportunities to save yourself during precarious jumps. Often in Mega Man X well timed positioning and movement is even more important than your offensive capabilities. Additionally much like the previous series with the successful defeat of a stage boss you will obtain a new special weapon you can freely toggle through to use at any time. These Maverick weapons are worthwhile to experiment with when given the chance and mastering how to use them will make your time with this game that much more fun. Maybe the most noteworthy innovative feature of Mega Man X is the ability to evolve X's native capabilities and theoretical limitless potential by equipping armor found in mostly optional to discover capsules scattered throughout levels. These capsules too were created by Dr. Light before his passing and allows the genius to support X from beyond the grave. As you collect every individual piece of armor the appearance of X's sprite will change along the way. X will go from heavily resembling an older teenage version of his predecessor to looking more distinct clad in bright colors. These newer vibrant colors of X's first armored form feel like a direct homage to some of Japan's beloved mecha franchises.

The hunting for armor upgrades aspect of the game goes a long way in establishing the story told here. From the point of view of the player these armor upgrades might reflects X's character growth throughout the journey gaining the confidence to truly own his new identity and responsibilities as defender of peace against the Maverick revolt. All in all the armor system is delight, it feels good to be made stronger and the capabilities bestowed by the armor pieces can change how you can interact with the game's world. Thankfully this idea of building power through exploration established in this first title turned out to be so popular that every subsequent MMX released is sure to include the hunt for new armor parts to equip onto our hero for the purpose of overcoming whatever obstacles lay in his way.

As for the armor parts in this game there are the boot armor upgrade that gives X the ability to dash, make longer jumps, and break certain objects with the wall kick, further advancing the platforming aspects of the game. The helmet upgrade gives X the ability to break certain objects with a headbutt and nullifies the damage of most falling debris. The body armor upgrade cuts down the incoming damage X takes from attacks. Last but certainly not least, the buster cannon upgrade powers up X's weaponry which allows him to charge his arm cannon attack even further and this upgrade also allows X to charge Maverick weapons (obtained through defeating the game's various boss characters much like the classic Mega Man series) resulting in even more devastating special attacks. As a fun aside, the idea of MMX's armor parts system apparently came from the surging popularity of role playing games in Japan.

Speaking of special attacks, there is even a hidden Dr. Light capsule containing a special final upgrade. This last capsule is where X can learn how to do the Hadoken, one of the signature moves from Capcom's megahit Street Fighter series, which Dr. Light claims to have learned by personally training under a waterfall in the background of the stage where you can find the capsule. To perform this attack you must do the actual input for the special move as featured in the fighting game series it hails from. I have to say that I thought this easter egg was awesome and when I was a young kid, it made me feel like that perhaps the Mega Man games may theoretically take place in the same world as Street Fighter.

The Hadoken is hugely satisfying to pull off and the massive power of the attack is unmatched. There are few things that feel as delightful as getting X to throw a well-timed Hadoken at an enemy at the last possible moment before you take a hit. Like so many other elements that comprise this game it reinforces that Mega Man X is a game that feels fantastic to play and the basis of this gameplay will be drawn on for many future titles in the series.

On my most recent revisit I found that the gameplay of MMX still holds up well to this day and it is still one of the best action platformer games there has been to date in my opinion. I think to add to it all is the feeling of your skills as a player growing alongside X as he gets more confidence and becomes stronger too. To further illustrate the leap between Mega Man games up until this point, you could say the real-world technological leap between the hardware of the original series and the X series mirrors the fictional technological hardware leap between Mega Man and X.

After successfully clearing the opening stage you will be brought to the iconic Mega Man stage select screen. The eight Maverick commanders represent one of the game's eight opening stages, representing a key locale in their world they seized and hold under occupation. These Mavericks leaders being Chill Penguin, Flame Mammoth, Boomer Kuwanger, Sting Chameleon, Spark Mandrill, Storm Eagle, Armored Armadillo, and Launch Octopus. Each of them make for memorable challenges to overcome as their designs are fascinating and their animations in combat full of personality. Something that makes these Mavericks stand apart from the Robot Master bosses from the original series is that the Mavericks tend to have been built in the image of animals, allowing a lot of variances in their designs.

Each of the stages these Mavericks occupy must be liberated from them before you are able to invade Sigma's Fortress at the end, in a formula familiar for players of the classic series. One of the key things that make this first game in the Mega Man X stand out from the crowd are the stages themselves. Every stage in MMX feels like a character all its own with distinct visual flair and adrenaline pumping music. The stages are a blast to play and serve as a great canvas to employ the more complex gameplay elements of the series, and still hold up will against any example found in the series or even genre up to the present day. Of course one shouldn't forget these areas are also ripe with secrets such as the previously mentioned armor capsules as well as heart containers to increase your max health bar.

The stage select formula featured here is very much like the classic Robot Master stages of the older series but like with many aspects of MMX there is an evolution on the previously established formula of the series at play here. Traditionally in Mega Man you find whichever stage you think you can best tackle with the buster cannon and clear that one first, then using the weapon you earn from defeating that stage's boss to make an informed choice of which boss to challenge next, by estimating who is weak to the weapon you earned previously in a manner reflecting rock-paper-scissors. You repeat this until you get through all eight stages and then go to the final boss's lair, typically Dr. Wily's castle in the classic series, where you will fiercely battle through a gauntlet of new extra stages and after a climatic final boss fight ultimately save the day.

However in MMX, while the core formula remains intact, there are now even more choices because you have new engaging ways to interact with the game itself. Some boss weapons can open up new means of traversal, and as mentioned earlier the same goes to some of the armor upgrades. The thing that makes MMX1 stand out in this regard from other Mega Man games is that occasionally you may find that a Maverick weapon like Boomer Kuwanger's "Boomerang Cutter" can actually cut off the parts of a few enemies, altering their combat behavior even though the weapon in these instances itself isn't doing bonus damage, and this aspect may change your routing through the nonlinear stage select.

Another innovative measure is that even the stages themselves can change depending on the order you are able to take down the Maverick bosses. By defeating Chill Penguin at his snow research facility for example you will receive the dash boots armor upgrade, and the resulting climate change will cause Flame Mammoth's burning factory to cool down. This choice makes an otherwise difficult stage like the factory much easier to traverse due to the lava hazards being removed and now opening up new routes to otherwise unobtainable items.

For instance if you decide to deal with Flame Mammoth first that will give you access to the Maverick weapon "Fire Wave" which is the strongest weapon to utilize against Chill Penguin, as fire is his weakness. Despite not being the weakness of Storm Eagle, you can make the battle against him more manageable with proper use of the boots' dash ability. Furthermore if you decide to take down Storm Eagle then afterward the airship that you fight Storm Eagle on will crash to the ground, causing a power outage in Spark Mandrill's power plant stage, resulting in blackouts throughout the stage altering the hazards found in it. There are even more effects than this one can make on the world depending on how you play, not all of which will necessarily make the game easier, but I will leave that for you to discover for yourself one day.

The art team did a fantastic job of creating a dark futuristic world that still feels very much alive but not unfriendly or overly grim, and certainly not too far removed from the classic series that came before it. There are a great amount of graphical effects done through smart use of sprite techniques that are utter eye-candy, such as the shattering glass in Storm Eagle's stage. To speak on another aspect of the art of course the character designs are incredible, characters such as X and Zero are still being widely recognized to this day as gaming icons even for those who have never played these games before. Just as well, each of the Maverick bosses are also very visually memorable.

But as much as I praise the visual design this is a game that is as delightful to listen to as it is to look at. The weapons have such cool sound effects and even the movement sounds cool which creates a positive feedback loop of trying to get the most out of your gameplay. The soundtrack is strong, bringing high energy and urgency as the mood requires. Songs such as Spark Mandrill, Chill Penguin, Storm Eagle, and more populate my playlists to this day. MMX radically shaped my taste in art as a whole as I am sure that it has for some people reading this spotlight.

All these aspects that made up this title really resonate with people and Mega Man X has become a cult classic, fondly looked at long after the days of its initial success as a best-selling Super Nintendo title. Even for its time Mega Man X as a video game was a massive success for Capcom selling over a million SNES carts, which for the time was a smash hit. Following this first game would result in several direct sequels to follow it up over the years, turning it into a full blown series proving the team behind it was able to get Mega Man X to step out of the original Mega Man's shadow.

Eventually over a decade after the original release Capcom would remake the initial Mega Man X as Maverick Hunter X, a game with perhaps a more fitting title for the series, on Sony's Playstation Portable. The remake would serve as a reboot for Mega Man X as a whole, intended to be a new starting point for the series. As a game it featured more bells and whistles, including a fearsome fan favorite character, the Maverick known as Vile, becoming playable for the first time. Sadly this reboot sold poorly and Capcom has since seemingly abandoned the series outside of bundling the games up into collections. Unfortunately these collections, while nice, do have significant extra input lag not present in their original releases which could hamper the experience.

Despite the setbacks the series have faced over the years it still feels like the legacy of Mega Man X is still strong to this day. It is a title still held in high regard and the proof of that is everywhere as other games still draw to it for inspiration such as the Azure Striker Gunvolt, The Messenger, Shovel Knight and a slew of other indie game titles created decades after the first MMX game. Kohei Horikoshi, the creator of the ultra popular My Hero Academia manga and anime series, has also cited the MMX series as a point of inspiration from his childhood which you can really feel in his art.

Even the sounds of the game have stood the test of time, and its soundtrack has been the subject of countless remix and arrangement albums in the years since. MMX would in more recent times go on to be a staple of the speed-running community and for me it was the first game that I got wrapped up in myself, attempting to speedrun MMX because the game is so appealing to play. The first MMX is a standout hit, even among a series known for outstanding titles, and it should be on every gamer's bucket list to try out for themselves.

In closing Mega Man X is an incredible game in my opinion well worth the time for anybody of any age to play. The challenge of the game can feel harsh yet fair, without much in the way of "cheap deaths" or timer wasters. For those looking for a higher level of difficulty I recommend you try a "X-Buster"-only playthrough, this challenge run can greatly change how you approach each boss battle. And while the story of the game itself is simple enough, the world which Capcom created still holds up as one of their best efforts.

A gem hidden among the stones, Mega Man X is undoubtedly stardust.

-- Larsa

19 notes · View notes

partycatty · 2 years ago

Text

liu kang > in the new era

reader used to be a sweetheart and hero in the previous timeline, but something changed this time around.

warnings: :(, i'm a bit of a yapper in this one

notes: idk this one kinda flew off the handle but i had a vision

masterlist <3

•liu kang creating everyone with the strength and humility he carried in thunder god raiden's honor following becoming keeper of time

•he made everyone beautiful, everyone worthy and capable of good, honest work and for that he was proud

•of course, some of them strayed from the ideal path and sought to increase their strength, but perhaps it was always in their character to conquer. that, liu kang couldn't change.

•but you... it was you that he least expected to abandon that honor you always had.

•you were a good fighter, an honest worker and a force to be reckoned with when it came to kicking shao kahn's ass. the shaolins looked up to you. the shirai ryu used you as an example. the lin kuei knew not to fuck with you. the special forces practically begged you to lead their army alongside the Cage-Blade family.

•he could have had you, the romantic attraction was heavily implicated. but alas, the only time you two interacted was during a horrific Koliseum brawl or otherwise breaking bones.

•the last time he saw you was before his battle with kronika. you said you hoped to see him after the battle, and perhaps get to know each other sometime.

•he was sad to see that version of you erased from existence, but you were absolutely first on his list of people to shape. it felt wrong at first, to create you from nothing like the god he was. but he wouldn't be able to make a perfect world without you.

•when he came to your home to recruit you, he was nearly winded with your beauty. you looked just like he remembered, but with an innocent sparkle in your eyes, the eyes that were yet to see murder and magic. skin that wasn't stained with deep red blood. clothes that were neat and ordinary.

•you were always so curious, so willing to step in where you were needed. so it came as no surprise when you asked the fire god where to begin to defend earthrealm.

•months of training passed, and you naturally found that fighting skill. you joked about how it must be in your blood to know how to fight, and liu kang would hold his tongue, his eyes staring down at you with that deep feeling of loss and longing. he would simply smile and innocently agree.

•the time came for you to confront shang tsung in his laboratory and take him in for questioning. you went with the other earthrealmers, yet found yourself naturally leading the way.

•kenshi lost his eyesight, johnny got his shit kicked in, and kung lao got clotheslined. you were the only one of the group to remain conscious. shang tsung inspected you closely, claiming that you were just what he was looking for.

•you go missing for over a month. liu kang gets the help of the royal family despite their lack of knowledge about the mission in the first place. everyone is searching for you, and he has to resist the urge to burn down every forest and smash every boulder until he finds you.

•the hunt for you turns into a search for your body, as most presume you dead. it brings a heavy blanket of depression over the earthrealmers and liu kang.

•liu kang spends far more time than usual in his personal quarters, meditating with a tense posture. how could he let you get away from him? it nearly drives him mad, missing you dearly, but he wouldn't be able to express it. you were your new era self, with no clue about your previous self.

•the mourning only lasts so long before an all-out timeline war begins, and liu kang has to shove past the grief eating away at his godlike heart and gather the titans and heroes of other timelines to band together and defeat titan shang tsung.

•liu kang stands at the foot of the pyramid, fists clenched and jaw shut tight. behind him are hundreds, thousands of pure-hearted titans, ready to combat evil. the tension only grows when titan shang tsung saunters into view, a dark aura surrounding himself.

•"there is nowhere to run, shang tsung," liu kang shouts upward at his mortal enemy, channeling his anger of his lost love. "nowhere to hide. we have banded together to rid all timelines of your evil. the threat you pose to them ends today. in all timelines, the arc of history bends toward justice."

•"such certainty, liu kang, that this battle will end in your favor," shang tsung replies with a devilish smirk, a peculiar confidence radiating from his words. "in this timeline, it bends toward me."

•and from behind shang tsung, you walk out, eyes dark and wearing armor that resembles an enemy. your mind had been corrupted by power. after being captured, you were passed onto titan shang tsung, who knew of your strength and potential from the previous timeline. he filled your mind with ideas of power and endless possibilities at the cost of betraying Earthrealm.

•liu kang does not often feel physical emotion, but seeing you in that moment crushed him. his stance faltered and his arms lowered to his sides. the once innocent glimmer he saw in you was now gone.

•liu kang fights his way up the stairs, sending various evil versions of his friends into the green, hellish pit. he knocked the glasses off of dark star cage, beat kitana kahn into submission, and even took down a fiery scorp lao.

•when he makes his way up to the top, winded but still ready to battle if needed, he feels that pang in his chest return when he sees you stand beside shang tsung in a fighting stance.

•"please... i do not wish to fight you," liu kang tries to reason with you with a hint of desperation. "it is not too late to return to the light."

•"i know of your deceptive behavior, fire god," you reply with a nasty tone, mind corrupted by shang tsung's lies and delusions. "i will not hesitate to take you down."

•liu kang really, really did not want to fight you. he couldn't even use the defense that you weren't his (y/n). but you were. you were from his timeline. he made you, and fucked up. bad.

•all he could do was stand there, fists clenching and unclenching rapidly as he debated his options. but all the while, he held eye contact with you and your snarling face. you looked at him like he was a villain, because you were convinced that he was.

•for the first time in eons, liu kang wondered if resetting the timeline would be best. he knew he shouldn't, he saw what the power did to kronika. but god, it had never been that tempting until this very moment.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #liu kang #liu kang x reader #crying screaming throwing up rn

310 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 1 year ago

Note

I'm seeing a lot of asks about this and I want to give my two cents: I'm cool with Bruce being a bad father, but only if DC admits that he is a bad father.

You can't have him doing downright abusive shit only to never address it. The only character that consistently criticizes Bruce parenting is painted as entitled and vindictive. I genuinely think the reason why we can't have a decent Red Hood arc is because if you want Jason to make sense you're gonna have to admit Bruce is a fucked up father or rewrite canon.

Same reason for Tim "never aging", not so much physically but emotionally. Because to have the character establish itself like Nightwing did you would need to address at some point all the bullshit he went through. Even with Dick. Like sometimes it looks like they want to recognize how being raised by Batman fucked him up by they end up settling for "oh it's the pressure". Like that's the most DC will say "Batman puts his kids under a lot of pressure buuuuuut it's justified because they're fighting evil :)".

Not just the kids, I think Batman himself would be so much more interesting if DC was willing to let him confront these things. As a redemption arc or as a fatal flaw that keeps his family at arms length. But they want to have their cake (have Batman be edgy and give the Robins Character Development™ through good old child abuse) and eat it (have Batman be Dad of the year). And that's what doesn't work.

Batfam fandom is great because you have people making content for Good Father Bruce, Bad Dad Bruce (he's trying and it's a bit funny/tragic), Awful Father Bruce (with no intention of changing. Every option is way more interesting than DC's directionless mess. Like, we don't even need them to make Bruce Good™ we just want them to pick a side and stick to it.

Thank you. My gods that sums it up perfectly.

Like, I've got no problem consuming Good Dad Bruce content... if it's not the comics. The animated stuff is usually fine, and fanwork is also great. There's a ton to like about it.

Hell, I'm even chill if Bruce makes mistakes and errors and fucks up with his kids. That's realistic, as long as they address that he did, in fact, do that shit. They need to talk about how his actions have hurt his kids and his relationships with them. He can try to do better, or he can stay distant with his kids because of it (low to no contact). It's truly not that difficult to chat about.

Now, media that addresses all of the horrid stuff he's done and considers realistic reactions/solutions to it? Fantastic. I love that so much. It's so cathartic watching him get his ass handed to him.

It's not necessary, though. I'm chill with good dad Bruce.

Despite that, outright ignoring what he does or brushing it under the rug? That's horrific. That reads like a sickening cycle of abuse, and I can't stand it. It's the exact same shit an abuser pulls by harming their victim (psychologically, mentally, physically, etc.), apologizing (ish), finding a way to pin the blame back on the victim, and then love bombing. Like, my gods. Bruce will beat the shit out of Jason and say it's Jason's fault for killing someone... "I wouldn't harm you/take a machine to permanetly fuck up your brain if you didn't do that. It's not my fault that I decided to hurt you. It's your fault that I did."

I just fucking can't.

I think Tim, with his little statement of "I don't expect you to apologize" after Bruce caused him to have a nervous breakdown post 16th birthday, that's a close approximation to admitting that Bruce is a piece of shit that does tendencies like an abuser. No matter what someone's intentions are, they should still apologize if they've cause unjustified/unintentional harm. Only assholes who don't regret their actions or people who feel their actions are justified won't apologize. There's times when apologizing isn't necessary or desired. That's fine. I won't apologize if Comic!Bruce and I are in a room, and I "accidentally" set him on fire.

Yet, Bruce is out here fucking up his kids. At the very LEAST, they deserve a fucking apology. Maybe a restraining order.

I ranted a bit. My bad. Anyways, have DC acknowledge the shitty actions Bruce does or don't have him do them. It's simple.

#dc comics #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne bashing #tw abuse #tw child abuse

73 notes · View notes

ominus-potato · 6 months ago

Note

all the afterlife’s opinions on wren and Niles (Including Greg)

Zero: you mean like their relationship? Uhh well I definitely wasn’t expecting it. And admittedly, it does scare me a little sometimes, but they both seem happy so who am I to judge?

Fred: I’m not really all that close to Niles after what he did. He tried apologising and all that but that doesn’t change the fact that he hurt a lot of people. He wants to date a cowboy? Fine. Just as long as he’s not bothering anyone else.

Spudnick: I don’t really know either of them so I don’t actually have an opinion on them.

Desti: They need to work on their PDA. I don’t like walking to my room and seeing those two necking it on with each other. I mean would it kill them to keep it in their simulation??

Axol: They’re both evil bastards so they deserve each other. I agree with Desti, although I believe they should stay in Wren’s simulation permanently so we never have to see them around.

Terrence: *clicking noises* translation: I like messing with them.

Box Club Leader: Niles is the one true creation of the God Box. And because of that, whom he lays with is held in the same regard as him. PRAISE BE THE GOD BOX AND ALL OF ITS CREATIONS!

Francis: Huh? I don’t care about that. If they wanna be lame and shoot eachother every day then they can. I’ve got better things to do.

…..

Francis: They don’t just fight? They kiss too? Ohhhh so it’s a BL… not my cup of tea personally but whatever floats their boat.

Greg: *alien noises* translation: Due to their similarities both in character and, motivation, deaths and their relationship with their manipulators/victims, it would be fair to assume that the relationship that the two of them share will likely be long lasting and prosperous. Bringing many years of happiness to both parties as their invigorating duels will keep a fire burning within them that no other soul, dead or alive, could replicate.

Niles: me and Wren? Eh, what can I say? He’s hot for a squid. Sharp, cunning, dangerous, etc. He’s the only guy here who really gets me, you know? He can relate to what I’ve been through and it’s really nice to have someone here who can do that.

Wren: well, he sure ain’t a terrible shot. Gives me a good run for my money. A challenge in more ways than one. But, at the end of the day, I know he’s there for me. I can always rely on him if I need to and I honestly enjoy being around the guy. He’s good company and he helped me figure out a bunch of stuff about myself. I love the guy..

#smg4 #Wreniles #smg4 wreniles #smg4 oneshot wren #smg4 niles #niles x oneshot wren #smg4 Greg #smg4 Desti #smg4 Terrence #smg4 axol #smg4 zero #smg4 spudnick #smg4 fred #smg4 Francis #smg4 box club leader #ominus potato asks

29 notes · View notes

scentedpepper · 1 year ago

Text

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. I | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None (?) see below

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader [not 'til pt. 2]

Author Note(s): Guys, let's note RE is a game where big monster throws you into wall and you eat herb to heal. This idea is very much so present here however, I wanted to incorporate some realism as well while still maintaining that superhuman feeling to y/n.

This is again targeted at male readers because they don't get enough attention BUT you can pretty much still read it despite your gender!!

This takes place AFTER the mission to rescue Ashley but not too long after.

There's pretty much no content warnings for this one other then like description of injuries.

Oh, also Luis is alive in pt.2 because I love him

You can't remember the last time in the past four months when you'd actually been able to breathe.

Every inhale had been choked with spores, filled with the odors of infection and death; every exhale had brought on chills, fearing what genetic monstrosity might rise up behind you.

You'd be a fool to think that sitting back in your cot, against a tree, some abandoned building wall or even within the warmth of DSO headquarters would grant you it. A deep inhale. A calming expansion of your lungs.

Because there was your partner, Leon S. Kennedy, butting his head. Like the virus scratching up your insides, clawing to the top until it etched its fingernails against the walls of your throat and brought upon a sharp, painful cough.

It's been nearly a year now. 10 months and a half. And you weren't sure if this was like the phase married couples went through where the adoration melted and was replaced by hot pits of lava and fire shooting out your mouth with every word or– well, there was no or. That just seemed to be where you and Leon sat, in limbo, glaring at each other from across the rope.

Only good thing about ropes was climbing them. Scaling it up to get the advantage, bring him down so you could win. Everything was a game with you two, always had been. Didn't know when it started but knew when the tension began to boil over.

Maybe you should've seen it. Hell, with the way you two complained to your superior for a partner switch –or rather no partner at all– you should've expected. Expected it like you expect a high-speed car to mangle your body after deliberately stepping into its path.

That's what it felt like sometimes with you two. A car crash.

When you first met, you were like two dull kitchen knives being pressed and sliced against each other until an edge formed. Sure, the rough, uncut, jagged edge hurt with every prick and prod but it was the start to a bond. And then you were learning to work the edges on each other's weapons to ensure a lethal and clean cut. —Until, you weren't.

He was civil enough in the beginning —and so were you.

But when things began to slip into that weird, unspoken comfortableness of having a missions partner. The one where you find yourself up shits creek together, bathing in lakes and rivers and showering under the rain together. The one where your hearts are sewn intricately within each others and the responsibility of one another's lives rest against your shoulders.

That one.

That's when things began to slowly unravel for you and Leon.

And now you were here.

Free falling from the side of a mountain.

Deeper and deeper.

Winding, swirling, spinning.

And you're grasping. Grasping for the rope like Leon is.

Your fingers graze it, trap it, and you fight to ignore the razor sharp burn of it against your palms.

But your body isn't stilling yet, and your grip isn't strong enough, and you're being slammed into the harsh rock of the mountain.

It falls again.

This happens two more times over.

And on the last, you're holding on for much, much longer and you almost believe you're stable when your eyes begin searching for your partner.

He's gone.

The ropes blowing in the wind.

He's gone.

Your eyes move rapidly, panicked but before you can do much of anything the wind catches up to you again and your body is crashing right back into the mountain side.

Upon collision, you lose your grip and you're plummeting.

You don't have time to think about your partner as your raw hand clamps down on the rope for the fourth time. Your red palms leave your life line stained and your grip slippery but the blood, or the wind, or the friction, or the speed, or even the rain isn't what sends you fumbling in the air like a baby bird this time.

There's a pop. A sick crunch.

You don't hear it over the rain and wind and the beat of your own heart.

But you feel it.

The pain isn't delayed. It's hot and sharp and sends an immediate chorus of curses from your mouth as your arm goes limp. No grip. Nothing.

You have nothing.

Your body is in gravity's hands. You can't reach the rope. And your right arm is flailing in the wind like a deflated balloon of some sort.

The trees come on quickly.

But for a long moment you stare at the wall you had so harshly collided into, disorientated, your body shifting and swaying with the rushing of the wind.

In another moment, you think there's hands on you.

Frantic and needing, fighting for balance, fighting to save you.

But they're only your own.

And you're ignoring the slight pain that slips through the pump of your adrenaline as you fight against the wind to grab your right arm and tuck it beneath your chest.

Your body curls in on itself, your head tucks into your knees and your free arm wraps around the top of your head, securing yourself into place.

For seconds that feel too long, there's nothing but the rush of wind in your ears and it's almost peaceful. Like floating, drifting, basking.

But then your body is crashing violently, violently through the trees, through a bunch of saplings. Your ears pick up on their snapping, crunching, –it's fleeting. Your body's slowing down considerably but the ground hasn't met you yet. The weight is shifting, your body is jerking and dipping destructively and suddenly, your stomach feels unsettled.

But then you go still. Completely.

The rain stops.

The wind stops.

It's for two seconds, maybe three. Then your ears cut back into reality and your eyes peel open and you find yourself on an enormous branch, right in the crook of its "elbow" so to say. Your body bounces up, nearly slips from the spot, but your left arm shoots out, tightens and your knuckles turn white.

It's not enough.

You're slipping.

Fingers dancing over the wet tree bark as you begin to lose your balance completely, unable to spread yourself out enough because of your hurt arm. You fight but you fall, landing hard on the next branch below. And the next one beneath it.

Violent coughs threaten to bubble through your throat with the impact but you push them down. Because right now pain is a good thing. Means that everything is alive.

Your back feels like it might snap in half if you hit one more branch. So you opt for your stomach and maybe then you can brace yourself, grab something, anything.

Your ribs make contact first. Your body twirls. Not an inch unscathed.

Again and again, you meet with the branches until you fear that it may never end.

But then there's warmth. It's enveloping you and for a moment you think it's your own blood. Or the air being knocked from your lungs when your body finally lands in its final resting spot.

No.

These arms...

"Reach, to the side!"

There it is.

A small bit of bark you can snatch.

You latch onto it, press yourself against the tree.

"Alright, I got you. " Leon whispers above you but it feels too far away as you allow your left arm to slacken, resting the rest of your weight on the tree.

"Shoulder?"

He's asking about the limp, near useless thing that was hanging by your side. You open your mouth to respond, not with much success. The movement nearly cuts it off.

"Yes..." The word forces itself out, strained and bitter. And then you're shaking your head and swallowing past the lump in your throat. "No, I think it's dislocated. "

"Can you manage?" His assessment of you is quick.

"I can't move it. " You spit out and your words are still breathless. Winded. With your face buried in the tree bark, one cheek against the cool, rough surface, you scoff, "Don't think 'm goin' anywhere. "

You want to laugh. But there's nothing funny about this. Just empty air and a thick heat that seems to be simmering between the two of you. The tension is threatening to spill.

"Stay here. "

His voice is too far. His weight is leaving your branch. And your fingers grab ahold of the fabric of his sleeve.

"Where're you going?"

Leon hesitates.

"Ada can help us. "

Your breath whips back into your body.

"Ada?" You question and your eyes are searching, really taking him in now. His form. The rain has soaked him. His breathing is just as heavy. His jacket has the largest tear down the side, the lining popping at the seams and tucked into his waistband is a hookshot. Adas.

"When the fuck did Ada get here?" Your tone is one of bewilderment as you stare at your partner and finally put together how he went so unscathed.

"Back on the mountain. "

"Shes been following us you?" You inquire.

"I didn't realize she was there until she was grabbing me out the air. "

"For a top agent, you got shit on her, Leon. "

It's out of your mouth in a hurry, a slap to the face. It's anger on your part. You turn your cheek against the tree and your eyes focus on the town, not Leon.

You hold grudges. Not that he knew the reason for this one.

He's silent for a moment, his anger seeping through it as he scans the surrounding area. Looking for Ada, no doubt.

But in a little voice he hums a retort.

"Could say the same thing for you. "

Your head snaps up, cheek no longer nursing the rough grooves and ridges in the bark.

"'Scuse me?”

He's quiet again.

"Oh, you don't have some bitch-ass comment to make?"

"Are we really fighting right now?" He looks at your with narrowed eyes and whip of emphasis on his tongue.

"I'm just speaking in a language I've only ever known with you. "

"What does that mean?" He says, turning his attention on you full now.

"Don't act all almighty, Kennedy. I've treated you a hell of a lot better than you have me. ”

"Oh, my bad. What am I? Your husband?" The annoyance is obvious. His voice grows sharp and jabs at your neck as if threatening to slit it. "Because the whole relationship rule to the game is when you see the one person you hate in this godforsaken town you fucking say it. "

You say nothing.

It strikes a chord in you. Rocks you.

But you light like gasoline at what he's referencing and you're opening your mouth again.

"I don't hate Luis. " You spit it out before your voice falls flat and its like a cool cord wrapping around his neck and choking him.

He makes a noise of bewilderment and his mouth falls open.

"I–" His words catch on his tongue as his adam's apple bobs in his throat.

His eyes search for yours, dark and boring into them with a burning intensity that nearly turns your insides out. Or maybe that's your adrenaline. You're not sure.

"I'm getting Ada. " It's final.

And then he's slipping down the tree without a sound. Just him. Your teeth grit into each other, hand clinging to the tree bark.

You and Leon. Tearing at each other like it's a five dollar shirt.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #angst #male reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #luis sera x reader

66 notes · View notes

inktrailing · 1 year ago

Text

C3E100 SPOILERS

A planetar with a lot of angry things to say / Twitch 03:02:10

this is a long one but I wanted to do this part okay ... also I have an empty brain right now and transcribing is mindless work for me but I think I'm done now

The Raven Queen: "Who sent you?"

Garathran: "I come under my own power. Those that command me tossed aside their scepter of command, tossed aside their very ideals, values, that which they had sworn to do. I followed my commander here."

Corellon, the Arch Heart: "And who is your commander?"

Garathran: "My commander... is the solar Acastriel. I am Garathran. I am a planetar sworn to the service of the Celestial Heights."

Corellon, the Arch Heart: "So, why are you here?"

Garathran: (to Corellon) "Mortal form, I suppose generous in the body of a construct." (to the Raven Queen) "And I suppose that is not your first time wearing mortal form. After all, these rules and edicts are not for you, are they? And never were. What binds you that so binds us? What binds you?"

Corellon, the Arch Heart: "Oh dear. You're getting angry now."

Garathran: "I have been angry. One by one, quiet, the Calamity fading, this great destruction, Domunas gone. Marquet burned, Exandrians dead, us marching to war over and over and over again for those that cannot die and seem unwilling to kill each other."

Corellon, the Arch Heart: "Hmmm."

Garathran: "Cries of misery and destruction were not enough to stay your hands! What stayed the hands of the gods? What called truce between you and the--" (sputters)

And here, before he can even say 'Betrayers', you watch a Celestial, crafted to defeat the forces of evil, made be your hands to fight in holy war, who has been left for years without your guidance or instruction in a truce you called.

Garathran: "What did you think? What did you think would happen when word spread throughout the Celestial ranks? That we would wait for slaughter to commence again after the threat to you, and you alone, had been destroyed? I find you sickening."

And you see here that a little bit of fire moves around the edge of the planetar's eyes.

The Raven Queen: "You speak of things you don't understand, child."

Garathran: (scoffs) "I'm not a child. I'm a construct, only a real one."

Corellon, the Arch Heart: (laughs) "Come. Let me embrace you." The skin begins to almost thread its way towards his fingers as he begins pulling the fire and trying to almost take the anger out of the situation.

You reach out in an attempt to alleviate this. You see that Garathran steps back and says -

Garathran: "Don't take it!! It's mine! Please don't take it. You made us to be good. You made us to fight. It was supposed to be right. Sealing the Betrayers, putting them in the shadows again. I have slain devils for a century thinking it was right and then one day I'm told to sheath my sword.

"And Acastriel comes to us who wonder why and says, 'Do you know what they are doing? Do you know what they're doing? It's a war to us. To them, it is a squabble.' Why did you make us? Why did you make all of this? When you knew that you were hurting this world, why didn't you just leave?"

Corellon, the Arch Heart: "Look. I must say that you are caught in something that obviously is difficult. It's completely incomprehensible to you. I see your pain. I feel it. And you know, sometimes I even ask myself: why are we doing this? This fighting, constant bickering, it's endless. But sometimes, there's a beauty in not understanding. You just play by the rules, as one of my favorites would say. Ignorance can be bliss.

"Now hear me, and hear me very, very carefully. This threat, this thing that threatens us will soon threaten you, and there is no end. At least with us, there is some form of control. It's just the way things are. So please, humor us. What do you know of your time being here, of this thing that threatens the very existence of us?

"And I promise you, we will give you purpose back, for you are our children after all."

Garathran: "With deference to the hands that move creation, if you wanted to make us to serve the gods, you should not have made us good."

(Garathran reaches up and slits his own throat.) And the planetar falls to the ground, dead.

#critical role #critical role campaign 3 #critical role downfall #exu: downfall #c3e100 #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #critical role downfall spoilers #transcript

22 notes · View notes

ark-inkweaving · 1 month ago

Text

Character File DE01: Zeno

"All I ever wanted was to make you proud. I keep trying all the time. But you could ask me to jump off a bridge tomorrow and even if I did it still wouldn't be enough, would it?"

Basics

Legal Name ⛧ Zeno Ruggeri

Age ⛧ 18

Pronouns ⛧ He/Him

Orientation ⛧ Gay

Skin ⛧ Pale

Build ⛧ Buff, Muscular

Height ⛧ 1.75 m / 5' 9''

Eye Color ⛧ Light Blue

Hair ⛧ Black, Straight, pretty much a Mullet

Occupation ⛧ High School Student

Notable Features ⛧ N/A

Work Specific

Faction ⛧ Order of the Exorcists

Status ⛧ Backup

Position ⛧ Frontline

Role ⛧ Secondary Attacker

Style ⛧ Overwhelming Brute Force

Elemental Alignment ⛧ Fire

Alias ⛧ Ignis

Personality

Zeno is rather quiet and introverted. he struggles a lot with connecting with others and often ends up putting his own foot in his mouth when he tries to talk to others. he's very easily frustrated, but tends much more to act on his emotions rather than process them. he's spontaneous to a fault and gets himself into a lot of trouble for it

Likes ⛧ old electronics, skateboarding, parkour, graffiti, art, martial arts, rock music

Dislikes ⛧ yelling, prejudiced people, being kept in the dark, being compared to his sister, his school

Speaking Style ⛧ quite quiet most of the time, and spends more time listening to others than talking. very direct and semi-informal, though not particularly rude as a standard. does tend to swear a lot when relaxed or comfortable though. only uses nicknames with people he's particularly close to, or if it's the other person's personal preference

Clothing Style ⛧ mildly loose comfortable clothes that are good to move in. not very colorful and prefers all-black or mostly black outfits. doesn't care much for style, but has a preference for graphic tees and ripped jeans. mostly wears shoes that are good to walk or run in. not a fan of jewelry, most he'll wear is a necklace

[backstory and taglist under the cut] [TW: Emotional Abuse]

Backstory

Zeno grew up being taught about "spirits" (the Fabeirs) and demons, and the evils of the world. that justice always prevails and that sometimes it's up to the common people to take care of things, and both his grandfather and his mother cultivated his passion for comics into an idealized version of vigilantism. at the same time, Zeno was held to a high standard of responsibility and "being good", higher than what his older sister Diana was subjected to. his one escape in his childhood was Diana's school friend Alice, who was just as into comics as him but disliked by his mother for her curiosity and tendency to get into fights when Zeno was ten, Alice was involved in a family incident and subsequently moved out of the country with her mother. the two remained in contact through Diana and another external friend, Gaia, mostly through phone calls and over the internet. at the same time, Diana and Zeno were brought in on the family secret, though a year apart: a set of magical artefacts that granted the bearer superhero-like powers, used to hunt down the Fabeirs and Harbingers as those were dangerous. the two started training to wield them almost immediately. Diana was out on the field by the time she was thirteen, and Zeno soon after turning twelve, only accompanied by their mother for the first year or so. while Diana seemed to be a natural, Zeno was constantly criticized over every mistake or imperfection. he dropped many of his interests in an attempt to get his parents' and grandfather's approval and still, as the group of Fabeir hunters expanded, his grandfather never let him fully into the team. his only solaces were the tentative friendships with his team mates and the steady and deep friendship with Alice. the two slowly became each other's confidant, with Zeno having Alice's back as she started going by Ike, questioning their gender and ultimately came out as trans, while Ike encouraged Zeno to take back up art and skateboarding and not to give much weight to his grandfather's opinion. still, Zeno remains majorly under his parents' thumb, while only secretly rebelling through art, music and the occasional night out graffiting subway walls or parkouring

❊

⛧ In Destiny We Trust (Not) Taglist ⛧ @elkieselkiewrites @wildweeds @mymomsaysbobcipher

#ark originals #ark character files #ark destiny #idwtn character files #idwtn zeno #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #character intro

6 notes · View notes

wasted-women · 2 years ago

Text

ROUND 1C, MATCH 1 OUT OF 8!

Cause of Death & Propaganda Under the Cut:

Allison Argent

Cause of Death: Stabbed by a demon

Propaganda:

She's so cool! She fights with a bow and arrow, she has complicated feelings on her werewolf boyfriend and is allowed to work through that, she's best friends with another girl who's also a banshee (should've dated her) and one of her first scenes is her hitting a dog with her car and bringing it to a vet(she's a mess! She's caring)

she was the protag's girlfriend and only died because the actress had to leave the show. it left a hole in the show that they never really managed to fill, and she is only really brought up to say "let's do this, it's what allison would tell us to do" or "I wish she was here." her father stays on the show and helps them in her memory but he and the protag suffer and learn from it the way most male characters in this trope do. she is brought back to life in the movie but it was mostly an excuse to get the cast back together again and took place years after the show finished. I don't really feel that it counts since she died in season 3 and the show had 6 seasons.

Jenny Calendar

Cause of Death: Neck snapped

Propaganda:

Jenny is so beloved to me. She was sent to Sunnydale, California to watch over the vampire that killed her family (Angel), told that he was supposed to suffer for all eternity, but after he saved her life + after she spent some time with him and the people who cared about him, she realized that she'd changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with continuing a mission of vengeance -- especially since Angel's girlfriend Buffy was also the mentee/surrogate daughter of Jenny's boyfriend Giles! Messy! Despite this, when Angel lost his soul and it came out that Jenny had been sent there to watch him, Jenny was immediately blamed, even though she'd had no idea that Angel would turn evil and TOLD everyone as much! She decided to try and find a way to resurrect old magic and give Angel his soul back, and Angel killed her in retaliation. Parts of the fandom talk about Jenny's death like it was necessary/a good thing/a good writing choice, but I don't think it was. Jenny's death is talked about by the showrunners as "proving that anyone could die," and her dead body was placed in Giles's bed, surrounded by red roses, subsequently inspiring him to try to go on a suicide mission and kill Angel. When the kids are looking at a drawing of her dead body, one of them says, "Wow. Poor Giles." Her death is very clearly engineered to raise the stakes by emphasizing how sad it is for Giles to lose her, and before her death, nearly all of her scenes centered around being Giles's girlfriend/love interest. She was never given a chance to develop as a character, and the only backstory they gave her was designed to push her towards death.

Amber Volakis

Cause of Death: Organ failure after bus crash

Propaganda:

This show likes to introduce new casts of supporting characters and cycle through old ones (some of them leave, some of them stay in reduced roles, and sometimes they come back into a main role later, but sometimes they don't) and I do like that. Amber was probably one of the best ones introduced in the row of new characters in Season 4 and even stayed interesting after being fired. I wasn't a big fan of her dating Wilson but it wasn't the worst thing. And then she was killed off. And her death basically only existed to make Wilson sad, or House sad and "crazy", and just. I don't know. It sucked that her death even happened when she had so much more potential as a living character!

#wasted women poll #round 1 #round 1c #allison argent #teen wolf #jenny calendar #buffy the vampire slayer #amber volakis #house md #house m.d.#poll bracket #poll tournament #character polls #polls

64 notes · View notes

hunterssm00n · 1 year ago

Text

Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

౨ৎ

I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

#sotl #silence of the lambs #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #hannibal 2001 #my drabbles #my work #mine**#my writing #drabble #hannibal x clarice #fanfiction #fanfic #slasher community #slasher fandom #clannibal #ao3 #hunterssm00n

36 notes · View notes