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yanderefairyangel · 11 months ago

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Shez is another cans of worm.

Shez is supposed to be Byleth rival in absolutely every way.

Byleth is cold, Shez is hard boiled. Byleth is introverted and has problem with communication, Shez is extraverted and brash. Byleth is quiet, Shez is loud. Byleth is clever, Shez is.... well, an idiot. However they have common points in how they are still pretty idealistic despite their conditions as a merc and all that. Byleth is the "champion of the Nabateans" while Shez is that of the Agarthans... and apparently on accident since : 1) Arval just decided to awake in that timeline and we are never explained why 2)Somehow Thales and co decided to take advantage of their link with the Adestrian empire to make Eddie their "ultimate weapon" 3) Been a long time but from what I recall Thales and co have a beef with Epipi and thus Arvie.

Now the whole problem with Shez is that their motivation makes 0 sense. Like none. In reality they don't seek to avenge their dead coworkers since they themselves admit to be one heck of a pragmatic person, they just wanna revenge because they got beaten the heck out of by Byleth which resulted in their death in the Houses timeline. They are supposed to be seeking revenge for their captain and all that but all of this fall flat down because of how they slopply introduced the possiblity to recruit Byleth... like... couldn't you do that but better because what the heck was even that ? This makes even less sense because Shez state at least once or twice that they might love money but they never accept one job before they honnored their current contract which is supposed to show their loyalty... supposed because they gave up their revenge in the laziest way possible

Basically is Shez evil ? I don't think so. Sure, in GW it's because they open their big mouth that Claude decided to become king however : 1) Shez had no idea that's how Claude would do any of the thing he did 2) Shez, when seeing Claude do his thing, doesn't react well to it at all, they are even the one calling him out (and also calling Leonie out on her ****sheet, thank you SHEZ!) 3) Claude would have done what he did with or without Shez. Look at SF. You join Eddie, yet Claude still does his thing. That's because the impostor that is Khalid von Riegan is basically Claude without guidance. Not without the proper guidance, but without guidance period. Byleth and Shez have a different realtionship with the Lords. Byleth is more of an advisor and guide as a teacher. Shez, their classmate, just help them throught their path without taking on the role of an advisor. Again, they are a merc and their classmate. So if anything Shez can come across as amoral but even then they clearly are supposed to have a moral highground. They are a merc so they just follow orders.

Would Shez recruit Byleth, they would bond with them and when Epi does his thing, Shez tries everything they can to not kill Byleth. Does Shez keep their power ? Yes... because why would they lose them ? Byleth lost them because defeating Rhea and Setheth and Flayn resulted in the destruction of the Nabateans race (since Macuil and Indech doesn't exist in that route). The source of Shez power doesn't come from the Agarthans but Arval/Epimenides. While for Byleth it's Sothis, Rhea's mom. Her crest stone breaks because you broke her heart by killing her children when you were the closest friend she had. The only way for Shez to "betray" Arval is through the secret ending. So when they recruit Byleth.

What is said about Eddie can apply to all three Lords, they are all at their worst. Shez isn't their guide unlike Byleth, their role is drastically different and that's something that's striking in how Shez, who is hardly younger then Byleth, is placed as a classmate rather then a teacher when Byleth themselves could have been a student as well. They are just following the flow of what the lords wants. Does this means they'll accept whatever happens ? No.

Look at how they react at Claude's route after Randolph is being sacrificed. Shez have their own limits as well, they clearly won't sit well with serving someone they know is evil, and this is pretty obvious to how worried they are that Arval was Epiminedes all along and that might be a demon and also that Arval was using them all along. That which ... Byleth apparently inspired by Sothis herself end up reassuring them on that matter.

So basically is Shez evil ? No. Is Shez like any character in this forsaken game victim of Hopes terrible wonky writing ? OH YEAH. Because if we have to discuss Shez we will have to open the full can of worms of all the nonsensical change that occured in that timeline such as : Why did Arval saved Shez only in that timeline ? Did Shez actually managed to survive in Houses but then why do they never meet the Lords instead of Byleth ? Why does Thales and etc choose to create their own ultimate weapon instead of seeking for a way to manipulate Epipi's vessel ? Were there other "creations" like Shez for Epipi ? Why doesn't Eddie need the dubstep cult in that timeline ? If she doesn't need them anymore then why the heck does the Kostas plot point still exist ? Why is Eddie surprised to find Monica when we know through Houses she is at least aware of the kidnapping that the Agarthans are doing ? Why couldn't Eddie do half of the thing she did in Hopes in Houses since she openly faces the Agarthans ? Why does Byleth seems to know more about Fodlan in that game then in Houses ? Why does Sothis remember everything in that timeline ? Why can she awake and have Byleth have their mint hair without vanishing into oblivion for half of the plot except to wake Byleth and if you dediced that you like easter egg and marry her ? Why does Byleth get possesed by Sothis to save them in their fight with Shez and eventually if Jeralt dies but that never happens in Houses ?Why is the argument to recruit Byleth such a slop ? Why is there still no snow in Faerghus ?

Is Shez evil?

The thought occurred to me last night, but I think it's worth discussing. Do we play as an evil character in Hopes? Now, the Hopes!Devs did say that the war wasn't a matter of good vs evil and that it's all a matter of perspective. However, they also said that Hopes wasn't meant to replace Houses, and therefore we can apply the morality of Houses to it.

Shez is implied to be from Shambhala, making them an Agarthan. We all know that the Fodlan games use Buddhist symbolism, and Agartha is where the Asura's were banished by the Bodhisattva when they became drunk on their own power and from there they wage war against the Bodhisattva and the benevolent devas. Tellingly, Shez's unique final class is Asura, cementing this idea.

When I was looking up stuff concerning the Asuras and their world, I found this.

Nichiren defines the characteristic of (The world of the Asuras) as “perverse,” or more literally, “fawning and crooked.” Out of extreme pride or a sense of superiority, people in this condition tend to conceal their real motives and flatter others to win praise. While outwardly courteous, however, they inwardly look down on others. Such a person’s self-image is distorted and unbalanced, colored by extreme pride or a sense of superiority; the self is perceived as extremely large and important, and others as small and unimportant. Those who remain in this state ultimately do harm to themselves through their own conceit.

There was something about this that really hit with Shez. Shez's motivation is to get revenge on Byleth for wiping out their former mercenary unit. It seems like a normal motivation, but Shez also has quotes where they talk about how what happened to them is just the nature of the profession. These quotes make Shez come across as hypocritical. But the nature of the Asura realm would suggest that Shez is just putting on a metaphorical mask, saying things that sound nice while keeping their true motives hidden. It's still on Shez on whether or not they go after Byleth, and Arval not letting go of this motivation, attacking Byleth that leads to Arval's own downfall.

But at the same time, Shez doesn't lose their power like what happens to Byleth at the end of Flower. They don't stop being an Asura. They will still support Edelgard even though her path is supposed to be immoral according to Houses. Shez can confirm that Edelgard is oppressing the commoners under her rule, but unlike Byleth won't lead the BE in opposing her. Their influence on Claude ultimately leads to Claude going down a similar path, meaning it's because of Shez that Claude kills Rhea as he gives into his own hatred. Even with Dimitri, Shez had no problem when Dimitri and company's motives for the war changed to revenge, and Dimitri then continues the war after the defeat of Edelgard and Thales in order to punish the Empire. Then there's Shez's whole “I'm just a merc” gig, he's saying he's nothing more than someone paid to kill others regardless of morality.

With this in mind, we can make a judgement call. Shez, despite appearances, isn't a moral person. Shez might believe that this war is morally ambiguous, who is right or wrong a matter of perspective, but they're someone who kills for money as well as using the war for revenge which could put them into immoral territory, as they're willing to facilitate the suffering of others for their own goals, a big no-no in Buddhism. They don't care if they're the aggressor or playing defence. They're not amoral, ignorant of and not influenced by morality, like Byleth starts off as and from that they end up poisoning Fodlan. Because Shez shows up as the lords flee Kostas, they don't meet Byleth at Remire. They don't lead the lords to a better Fodlan, they just help them fight a war that's not even over at the end of the route.

Shez might appear to be nice, but we should have known better after Edelgard. As to whether they're evil, evil is defined as being “profoundly immoral.” Shez killing Byleth and by extension Sothis, living up to being an Asura, would push them into being evil, and their POV goes against the morality of Houses. That, and the Asura realm is called one of the four evil paths.

#fire emblem #fire emblem 3 hopes #fire emblem 3 houses #I don't believe one second it was on purpose #they clearly wanted Shez to be a honest kind of guy #so the hypocrisy thing is once again the writing mess up #would it have been better if Shez and Epi were the actual antagonist in Houses

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

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A Kiss To Build a Dream On

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Monster Boss x F!Worker Warnings: Blood mention, Violence, fluff, confusion of intention, gang boss, ladies go crazy for a sharp dressed man, cursing, sex, teleporting to avoid explaining

word Count: 7885

Tender isn’t a word anyone would use to describe the boss, but for her he can’t be anything but.

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I roughly slam the door, grumbling to myself as I stomp towards the backrooms of the office. My fists stay firmly clenched at my sides as fire burns from within my chest. The bruises ache along my face, my cheek and eye throbbing with every beat of my heart. I shoulder check workers at I storm to my bunk at the end of the hall, not even bothering to deal with anyone's teasing today.

The door is in sight, the sweet relief of solitude isn’t enough to stifle the anger. Knowing I'm going in there to lick my wounds like some child or weakling. When I reach the peaceful silence of my own room I begin angrily wrestling off my clothes, tossing the lightly blood-splattered garments to the corner. Grabbing some clothes off the floor I march into the bathroom. Throwing on some baggy pants and a tank top, I look in the mirror.

For the first time this day, my anger steps aside. The sight of my swelling eye and split cheek is shocking. I've been hit before, it's not really new, but it's never been so startling. My cheek wound has bled enough to dribble down to my collar. The line of blood ends where my shirt was, no doubt the clothing is sporting a lovely red spot. I guess that's what happens when someone plays cheap with a jewelry covered punch. The rage boils once more till I spit in the sink.

I can't bring myself to look any longer. Rushing out into the main room I grumble once more. A tantrum in the making, I throw my fists around, I bare my teeth towards the floor, I kick at anything decorating the ground. Clothes get pushed around the room, thunking against the wall. A suitcase gets launched under the bed and a wall is hit for good measures.

As I seethe to myself I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I go stalk still, turning slowly to the poor soul who decided it would be a good time to check-in. A well dress man is inspecting a wrecked shirt, the same shirt I wore minutes before. He admires the bloodstain near the neckline, thumbing the spot with a lax face.

"Sir," I play my best pleasant voice," now is not a good time." it all comes out terse and strained but it's the best I can do. Boss hums, still looking at my shirt. It takes a few seconds before he bothers looking my way. His dark complexation almost shadows the flex of his brow when he catches sight of my beaten self. His quickly flexing jaw is just barely noticeable in the darkness of the corner.

"So it would seem," he answers smoothly. He tosses the shirt to the side without care, adjusting his hat before he steps further into the room. His intrusion is unwelcome, to say the least, and him stepping closer boils my blood even more.

"Sir," I growl," It's really not a good time." typical boss continues to ignore me, succeeding like he always does when we talk in making me grind my teeth to dust. He hums in answer again, walking till he is a few feet in front of me. His hands are clasped behind his back, his brow low as he regards me.

"I will ask this once," he starts," what happened?"

I sneer, immediately answering," Nothing, everything is fine." he responds with a tilt of his head, watching me with an almost amused look. We stare each other down, stubbornness helping me with this battle. The boss has a tendency in sticking his nose in other people's business. Which is fine for everyone else, a good trait to have a boss who takes care of his people, but it’s not fine for me. I don't want his constant attention, sticking around to rub my nose in it. He never has to say anything, his judging look is enough to knock me down a peg.

As I stew in my thoughts he reaches out and grabs my jaw. His fingers dig into my skin, demanding absolute cooperation. I know better than to move, stiffening as I fight the urge to jerk away from his scrutiny. He leans down close, looking over the cuts, tilting my head this way and that.

"Rings or knuckles," he asks casually.

My jaw pops," Rings."

He hums," Howley boys or street wolves?"

I scoff," pixie chicks." he nods, dropping my jaw in favor of using his phone. The device appears in a blink, acting like it was always there. He clicks away at the phone lazily for a short moment before poofing it away as quickly as it appeared. Without a word, he grabs my shoulder and walks me into the bathroom. Too curious, I let him guide me to sit on the toilet. I sit and watch him work near the sink, opening the medicine cabinet.

"What are you doing," I ask, tilting forward to get a better look. Before I can get a look around the mirror he shuts it.

"You have no bandages," he scoffs. The tone sounds scolding like I'm some child being talked down by a parent. I quickly catch on to what's happening, I don't much care for it.

I stand," no, get out. I'd like to be alone now to tend to my ego and I don't need you here to yell about how dumb I am." before I could walk around him towards the beds he grabs me once more and twists me back to the bathroom.

"No, sit," he shoves me towards the toilet," I am tending to you now." my anger rolls in again like the second coming of a storm. I don't need his pity or favor, I can take care of myself.

"What does it matter? It's not like you care," I pout, stewing in rumbling fury. I don't bother to stand again, knowing his great power that rivals many. He is a supervillain in his own right, a blight on society but a hero to some. I can't see him as a bad person but I know the lengths he has gone to to be where he is. You gotta crack a few eggs, you know?

I don't notice him staring down at me, too busy glaring at the wall to notice. It's not till he grabs my jaw again do I bother to pay him any mind. When our eyes meet I am startled by his depth. His face demands attention at this moment, locking me in his stare. My feelings dissipate till only alarm is left. Reprimand feels like my likely outcome. No one talks to the boss this way. He is known for his kindness as well as his ire and ire is the side I'm most likely to meet.

The boss watches me, his eyes darting between my own as his jaw clicks. I can't lie and say I'm not worried at this moment, because I am. You never know what little things will set someone off, just like I don't know what level of pain I will be receiving. Perhaps a good talking to about respect, he likes to go on and on about that. Maybe an addition to my weekly chores, that's a fair punishment. I can't think straight with his breath ghosting over my face.

It's when I'm at my wit's end does he move, pulling my face towards his. He gently presses his lips to mine, closing his eyes as he does. I stare blankly at him, stock still under his soft lips. He doesn't pry for more, leaning back shortly after in favor of looking at me. I still look straight, startled by the outcome I could have never expected. He chuckles, smiling as he shakes his head. At the cute sound, I look to him, trying my best to gauge the situation better.

"wha-," he shuts my mouth before I can ask.

"You are to remain silent while I tend to you," he states firmly. I simply nod, still too shocked to really have the energy to do anything but listen. He watches me a moment more before standing and fiddling with the sink.

The boss does as he says, tending to my wounds like a close friend. He is delicate in his touches, warning me before any intentional pain. It's weird, no other way to say it. I have no idea what's happening besides the obvious. He is cleaning up my busted face, but I don't know why.

Once he is satisfied with his chore he straightens up and walks me out of the bathroom. I stop in the middle of the room, looking up to him for guidance. He quirks a brow, just barely smiling to himself.

"If I knew a silly little kiss would stifle your anger I would have done it sooner," he chuckles. I fluster at the comment, looking away for the first time since the kiss. As I chew on my cheek, trying to sort through the tangle of thoughts and feelings, he turns me towards him. His hold is sweet, gentle, unlike before. He pets at my cheek, lightly grazing the cut with his thumb. Before I can react he is gone.

I stare dumbfounded into the room, confused above anything else. I try to sort through the event, trying to find the angle he is working. So many things go through my head till absolutely nothing makes sense.

Though one thing is for sure. This warm feeling in my chest won't go away.

The boss doesn't act differently when I see him around the facility. He is his prim and proper self, still bullying the underlings into working to their best and intimidating visitors. Though its been mere days, I feel like more is to be expected. With every passing minute, hour, day, I expect something to happen. As time goes on the feeling grows till every sighting of him makes me tense with expectation. Was this his plan? To make me tense at every turn till I'm forced to confront him less I go crazy? Or was it to keep me on my toes, perhaps I've been too lax around here and he knows the best way to keep me stressed.

Either way, it's working.

I work the cameras one night, lounging in an old rickety chair as I watch the cameras around the building. This chore is the simplest but the most tedious. No one wants watcher duty, it's an all-night endeavor. Nothing happens and god forbid you get caught slacking off when higher-ups walk by. The punishments are easily dished out around here. So staying alert and awake is for the best.

As the night goes on I can feel myself falling off, drifting in and out of rest. It gets so bad that I fall asleep dreaming I'm still working. I try to pinch myself awake, walk around a bit, but nothing works. I damn near fall off my seat when a loud clinking noise wakes me. As I startle the seat tries to roll too far back but is stopped by a sturdy hand. I snap my head up and around, disoriented above anything else. Looking to my right my eyes immediately meet all too familiar ones.

"I wasn't sleeping," I quickly shout at the boss," I was watching the cameras." I stare wide-eyed at him, hearting pumping quickly from the startling wake-up.

The boss snorts," I'm sure you were."

"yes, I was," I clear my throat," what are you doing down here?" he watches me a moment longer, his arm still clasping the back of my chair. With an amused huff, he grabs something off the table, hiding it in his fist. He holds it over my lap, waiting on me. I reach out, curious, palm awaiting.

"a gift," he answers as he drops shiny pieces into my hand. Three rings lay in my palm, all gold with obnoxiously large gems in the middle. I look at them confused, lifting one to investigate.

"what are," I look up towards the boss, the words dying off my lip. He is gone. Looking around the room for another second before I look down at the rings. The single one I'm holding looks well worn, some of the metal corroding away. The gem is annoyingly bright green with dirty specks. On closer look, I can see dried blood in the corners and grooves. The ring actually looks familiar, looking at it makes my cheek ache.

What is the boss doing with the pixie chick's ring?

I want to corner him, question his intentions with bringing the 'gifts'. It's unheard of for the boss to take souvenirs, he isn't a bragging kind of man. It's also strange for him to bring them to someone as a present. The message is clear, he hurt them for me. A man like him doesn't just give out something like this without earning it to begin with. He got those rings not with theft but other illegal means. I understand that much, what I don't get is why.

I try to hunt him down but he is always around the corner before I can get to him. Each time I swear I can see a little smile, teasing me with this weird little game of chase. Every night I go to bed without answers is like losing a battle I never wanted to have.

It's one night that the unanswered questions pick at me till my last strand of patience is frayed. I storm out of bed, throwing on a hoodie before I enter the public spaces of the compound. This late I have a guess where the boss is residing, well two guesses.

I try his quarters first, knocking first as I don't have a death wish. With no answer, I don't try to push my luck and head to his office. When I round the private hallway I see the light on, coming out from under the farthest door. I pull some last-second courage and storm down. I grab the handle and with a last confident breath, I open.

The scene before me freezes as all details sort in my brain. Two people in the room, one is obvious, the boss. The other is a worn man, bruised and beaten in a chair. I can't look away from the man as a strange fog covers his neck. A nasty gash in the center of the fog's attention, seeming to pour into the wound. The gash looks to be pulled in every direction, blood drenching the man's shirt. I know if his mouth wasn't gagged he would be screaming loud enough for the entire building to hear.

"What do you need," The boss steals my attention. I look from the tied-up man to the annoyance of the week. He doesn't look angry like I would assume, having heard horrid tales of others falling into this same mistake. I don't trust the casualness of him cleaning his hands with a dirty towel.

"Sorry, sir," I bow my head," I will meet with you when you aren't entertaining company." I offer the joke in hopes of lessening the ire he may release later. The boss snorts with a smile, shaking his head as he tosses the towel aside. Not waiting for an answer I slide back into the hall, closing the door quietly behind me.

Well, that went well enough.

In the morning I force myself to submit to this strangeness that has corrupted the boss and I's interactions. I've known of the man since I was in my mid-teens, I've worked for him since my early 20s. There is no way I truly know how the man acts in his day to day life. I know he is an ornery kind of man, though a little mischievous, and that’s the most I know of him. Perhaps this is normal. It's best not to harp on these things that are out of my control.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to ignore his presence in any room I enter. The cat and mouse game seems to have switched with me running from him. I feel like a coward, though it is a reasonable choice to just drop it. I never run from anyone, least of all some cocky villain type.

I go about my nightly routine in the bathroom, spitting into the sink before suckling water from my palm. Walking into the main room I pause looking at the well-dressed man in my room.

"Evening, sir," I say confused. At my introduction, he turns, keeping his arms clasped behind his back. He regards me with a small smirk, mostly keeping his feelings to himself.

"You wished to speak with me," he shrugs," here I am."

I nod," yea, it's not too important now, I sorted it out myself." it’s a lie, I have nothing figured out. His instances of manipulation have named him as conniving. I don't want to be the centerpiece in such affairs.

"hm," he clicks his tongue," shame. Leaving me so curious now, how could I depart with such a tempting question resting on the edge of my mind." his smirk forms into a Cheshire grin that brings thoughts into focus. It seems I've already captured his attention, perhaps have had it all along.

"No, no, it's not anything you would need to bother with," I try to wave him off. He doesn't budge, instead, taking a few steps closer. I step equally back. He huffs in amusement, pushing onward till I'm forced to stop against a bed. He crowds me, yet keeping a platonic distance.

"I'm insulted you assume that any of your worries would be below my standings, I wish to make your life easier whenever I can," he purrs, breaking the platonic distance," Did you like your gift?" my body tenses in alarm, feelings waring as I try to remain passive.

"T-the rings," I ask.

He nods," I don't think the Pixie Chicks will be missing them, they offered them so freely." I wish to scoff at him, nearly amused at his suggestion that they would offer him anything such as their jewelry.

"They didn't seem willing to part with them before," I somehow manage to tease back. His smile grows, tilting his head as he regards me.

"Not at first," he leans toward my cheek," but after a short visit they were more than willing."

I get fuzzy the closer he gets, feeling his hot breath brush over my face. It's hard to decide the right course of action. Push him away and deal with whatever reaction he deems appropriate, or let him be and see where this is going. The second choice is hard, his nearness muddles my ideas and actions. How could I be swayed by some man nearing my personal space? His kiss beforehand was quick and unintimidating, there was no build-up. Now it feels like an anvil swaying precariously on a snapping rope.

"Why are you here," I find myself asking. I fight the urge to raise my hand to his chest and push him away, not truly knowing if I would push him away. He leans in closer, crowding me nearly on the bed. I fall back onto a hand, holding myself propped up less I wish to lay on the sheets. His grin stretches wider.

"Well, you asked for me," he answers in a deep rumble. The change in tone is startling, fogging my brain more. It's hard to think, nothing is connecting in my brain. I want to push him, but I can't. I want to crawl away, but I can't. I want to pull him closer, but…

"I mean," I swallow," what are you doing in my room?"

"because you feel safest here," he answers.

"Why should it matter if I feel safe," I watch him. He straightens slightly, looking down at me with a lax stare.

"You ask too many questions," he mumbles before pushing forward and kissing me. I gasp, falling back onto both hands. The kiss breaks for just a moment before he is falling onto his hands, framing me as he crowds me on the bed. I'm not sure what to do now, having little to no experience in this. I'm not flirty or sexy, I can't bother with things such as making out or relationships. Though now I wish I knew just a little bit.

The boss grabs me by the hips and shifts me up the bed, crawling over me as I fall to my back. He straddles a thigh, his hands coming up to frame my head. I watch him stare down at me, his mouth lightly parts with a dazed look. Before I can bother with words he takes my lips for his once more. It's surprisingly passionate, to that I'm stunned. I expected demanding from a man like him, not affectionate. I timidly return the kiss, not knowing what to do but knowing I want to do it. Before I can get into it he lifts away, though not far.

He watches me a moment, gauging my reaction. His eyes are squinted, seeming to wait for a response, a response I don't provide. I look up at him, nearly panting in this strange rush of emotions and touch.

"What are you feeling," he asks skeptically.

I lick my lips," flustered." he hums, still trying to piece together something.

"flustered is good," he nods to himself, falling back to my mouth. I startle once more, still utterly confused at the turn of the night. Yet, I can't make myself stop it. I reach up and fist his tailored jacket, not knowing if I should tug him closer. The need to touch him is strong but the anxiety of everything else lingers.

The boss stuns me more as he grabs my hand holding his clothes and slings it around his shoulder. Quickly I take hold of the shirt from this angle, indirectly pulling him closer. My other hand shyly joins the first, cupping the back of his head in a timid touch.

"Doing good," he purrs, licking at my lips as he slowly settles himself on his forearms. He expertly parts my lips, telling me to let him in. I open, clenching a fistful of hair when he invades my mouth. When I tug on the bit of hair he moans, the sound felt in my mouth, felt on my tongue. The already eager kiss ramps in excitement when his hands start to trail down my body. He simply slides his hands under my shirt, holding my waist with a warm grip. His thumbs pet at my skin but stay otherwise still.

The moment seems to stretch on for hours, my discretions melting away into heart fluttering enjoyment. He doesn't push, keeping the mood just semi-erotic. I appreciate it though I'm utterly confused. What does he think he can gain from this? Surely a man like him doesn't just kiss random staff members without having some secret motive. I'm just a grunt, nothing more and nothing less. I surely hope he doesn't think he could manipulate me into sleeping with him. No, that won't do at all.

"Sir," I mumble against his lips as I try to pull away. He trails after my mouth, only pausing mid-action.

"yes," he asks. I shift back away from him, getting a better look at his closed eyes and wet parted lips.

"We should stop," I fluster. I drop my arms from around him, using them to push myself up and away. He squints his eyes open enough to watch me lounge against the wall, feet still partially under him. Looking between my eyes he sighs, dropping his head shortly after.

"Alright," he huffs," It is late, I will be on my way now." he shifts back onto his knees, rubbing at his face before righting his hat and clothes. Next, he stands up off the bed and passes me a final glance, ready to blink away.

"wait," I surprise myself by saying," can you answer one question?"

He tilts his head," besides that question?"

"yes," I deadpan," besides that one."

He smirks, clasping his hands behind his back," alright, I think I can allow one more question." I want to snort, amused but annoyed by his words. I keep quiet.

"are you," I start, worried to continue," are you going to use me?" I look at every twitch of his face with an eagle-like focus. Every nuance is jotted down as I watch him. He simply smiles, his face projecting amused affection. He then steps forward, leaning over the bed to cup my face.

"No," he answers shortly. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, watching himself do so. With a final sigh, he blinks away, no evidence of him ever being here besides my wet lips and fluttering heart.

"damn," I fall to my side," there goes my night."

The next couple of days are a whirlwind of strange. The game of chase is completely let go in favor of a game of chicken. His attentions have gone from nothing to constant. When we are ever around each other -which is way more common as of late- he attempts to touch me in some way. Though his posture and face stay casual, if not bored, he still cups my hips and trails his fingers over my spine like he is anything but bored.

Some nights he pays a visit, kissing me senseless till he decides I'm thoroughly flustered. He tries to edge me on, even taking to teasing to further some agenda I can't even bother to figure out. Though he said he wouldn't use me I feel like a toy. He comes to me with minimal conversation and shoves his tongue down my throat. The small conversations are filled with double meanings and unsaid words. He is hinting to something and I can't figure out what. I feel like a source of entertainment, picked at till he gains whatever he needed. The stress is getting to me, I've had enough.

I wait patiently in my room, leg bouncing against the bed as I cross my arms. I'm going to confront him tonight, I'm going to get some answers. This little game has to stop less I want my heart to fall victim to some scheming. Time draws on and on till its far pass the time he visits. I reluctantly settle into bed, dread, and stress muddling my brain.

The next night I wait patiently again, knowing he doesn't go for two nights in a row. I wait and wait, looking to the clock more than necessary. It’s when its well past midnight that I call it a night. Dread and stress fade out as worry takes its place.

The day after I set out to catch sight of the boss. I search high and low, keeping to the commons places in hopes of a casual encounter. I see no hide or hair of him. As I march around the facility, doing chores, that I hear about everyone avoiding the boss. It seems the man in charge has had a bit of a temper since this morning, shutting out everyone as he sits in his office.

The idea of visiting his office is appealing, knowing it to be the best time to get answers if he is mad. Anger brings out the truth. Surely I can go visit him and ask a question or two, not risking my life in the process. Though I think lowly of his intention I think he truly has no intention of maiming me.

With that decided I casually head upstairs towards his office. I make it to the familiar hallway, feeling the instinctual dread of being there. No one wants to be in this hallway, knowing who is working just at the end. Though I come here from my own free volition it's still a habit to fear this part of the building.

I walk to the door at the end, already hearing voices halfway down. As I get closer I can hear yelling. I listen intently, hearing stomping footsteps and a thing or two being knocked over. It’s when I hear a loud thud do I pick up the pace. I stop near the door, anxiety drenching my body as curiosity keeps me up. The sound of meaty thumps can be heard before a whimper.

"You are a piece of shit," a quick thunk follows," scum of the fucking earth, and that's something coming from me." I can hear the boss talking- more like yelling- behind the door. It sounds like he is entertaining again.

"boss," someone answers weakly," I'm sorry." a deep clink comes shortly after the man's words.

"Sorry doesn't earn my trust back," the boss snarls," Sorry doesn't fucking get Bradshaw off my fucking back!" the meaty claps come shortly after, repeating in alarming frequency. I step to the door, my body repealing against the idea of opening it and interrupting the important meeting.

I know who the boss is, always have. He does some shady stuff with some shady people, I being one of them. I get what's going on in there, a lesson is being learned. It's something that is understood by all who work here, don't cross the boss. Though it seems the poor idiot in there hasn't learned that though.

I don’t hear anything for a good while. It's to be assumed that business has been taken care of. Either way, I stay put, leaning closer to the door when I hear another softer voice. I try to make out some words, being more nosy this moment than I have my entire life. The softer voice only speaks for a brief moment, followed by the Boss with another set of short words.

As I focus on the door I don't hear steps walking up behind me. Only when someone grabs my shoulders do I jump. I jerk in this person's hold, stiffening as their fingers dig into my skin. I twist to look over at them, seeing a large man with a gruff-looking face. He offers no words, instead, reaching in front of me to grab the door handle.

The gruff man guides me into the room, holding firmly onto my shoulders. I look to the room, immediately finding a man collapsed on the floor covered in swelling bruises and deep cuts. He is mostly unrecognizable, his face beaten to a pulp. If I am to assume correctly, then he is dead.

"Clean this up before he stains the floor," the boss grunts as he wipes his hands with a dirty rag.

The gruff man behind me speaks," and what would you like me to do with her?" as he asks the boss snaps around, meeting my eyes quickly. He looks to me confused, twisting completely around as he drops the rag to the table.

"I'd like you to fucking let her go," the boss growls to the man," I am the only one allowed to deal with her." the clear hostility means nothing to the man behind me. He lets go and casually shuffles to the man on the floor, hefting him over his shoulders with ease. I watch the boss look to the two, following them with his eyes till the door shuts behind me. Once the door clicks does he look to me once again.

"Hello, doll," his ire drops to the familiar ease he adopts when around me. He leans back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His barely buttoned shirt wrinkles, his cuffed sleeves looking strange so far up his arms. I've never seen him so underdressed, though most would still consider his outfit formal.

"Hello," I answer guarded. I don't expect a warm welcome like this when I've been caught snooping.

"What brings you to my humble abode," he tilts his head with a small smile. It's strange to see such a night and day to his previous anger. He was screaming and beating a man into the floor. Now he is his typical charming self in a matter of seconds. I don't buy it.

"I haven't seen you in a couple days," I say, crossing my arms in the process. He gives me a once over, his smile peeling further over his cheeks.

"Miss me or something," he teases.

I scoff," or something." he chuckles, walking away from his desk to walk the room.

"Or something," he looks at the messy floor," what would that something be?" I follow him with my eyes as he skirts around me, keeping a distance. I don't bother turning around when he walks behind my back, taking the second to compose my thoughts and feelings. As of late, he has been popular in making my heart flutter like a caged bird.

"You haven't been around," I shrug," I was curious." he scoffs, seeming to understand my roundabout way of saying I've missed him. Which I guess is true, but I'd argue I want answers more than his company. Though both wouldn't be too bad.

He comes into my peripheral," I've been busy, I hope I haven't left you in need of anything in my absents."

"no," I turn away blushing," I haven't been…in need or anything. Just conflicted on some things." he hums, staying just in the corner of my eye. I can feel his eyes wandering over my body, trying to pick at every tick and twitch.

"would your confliction be related to the question you asked me the other night," he asks. I almost turn to him then, wanting to see his face, needing to see his reaction. I don't though, staring at his desk straight ahead.

"Perhaps," I answer. He huffs, his steps coming closer till I feel his heat against my back.

"do you think lowly of me," he says near my ear," do you believe I am truly a villain incapable of pure intent?"

"sometimes," I nearly whisper. I feel his sigh fan over my back. He steps closer, his front nearly touching me.

"Do you truly believe I would betray you," he asks. The question startles me, only for the reason that there is blood staining the floor beside us. "Would you betray me," he whispers against my ear. The threat feels looming as I look to the crime scene. Would I betray him if given the chance, the answer feels almost obvious.

"I don't," I huff," I don't think I could if I tried."

The boss hums approvingly, circling his arms around my hips to pull me flush to his front. His chin rests upon my shoulder, his head leaning against mine. The smell of his cologne is nearly suffocating in its intoxication. I awkwardly grab his arms, resting my hands on him.

"I don't think I could betray you if I tried," he answers similarly," you seem to have grown on me." I squeeze at his arm.

"Honestly," I ask skeptically," you truly mean me no harm, emotional or otherwise?" though he has answered this it still doesn't sit in my head, proof being demanded after every answer.

He turns and presses a shallow kiss to my neck," I could never hurt you, doll, I only wish to adore you." I turn to him, wishing above all else to believe him. He leans ever so close, his tempting kiss just in my reach.

"Prove it," I bait.

"gladly," he answers.

Quickly he has my lips captured, demanding more than ever before. His tongue takes no time delving into my mouth, circling my tongue in a sweet caress. I would have fallen if it weren't for his strong hold on my hips, instead, I keep myself propped up by him. When minimal thought comes back do I twist in his hold and tug him closer by his collar. I need his affection, crave it above all else. Thrusting my tongue into his mouth I take back some control I've lacked in these few days. He startles this time, groaning with a chuckle as I fist his hair.

"doll," he laughs into the kiss," I thought I was proving my affections here."

"then catch up," I tease, taking his mouth for mine once more. He growls, a sound I haven't really heard from him before, and lifts me. I yelp, holding tightly to his shoulders as my pelvis meets his lower stomach. His smile spread across his face as he squeezes my thighs.

"Sorry, doll, but I'm the boss here," he nips at my lips, lapping at them shortly after. His normally sweet kisses are oh so more divine now as fire is brought into the mix. My insides nearly throb with a need I've rarely ever felt before. I want him- oh god do I want him.

As we attack each other I hear a quick whoosh by my ears, my hair quickly flicking in the wind. I open my eyes enough to see out the corners that we aren't in the same room. I dislodge from him, looking around the bedroom we have teleported to.

"your room," I ask, having never been here before.

"Yes," he watches me," Is that a problem?"

I look to him with a cheeky smile," no." I continue where we left off, suckling his tongue. He walks us somewhere, the destination not particularly important in my mind. What feels more important is the insistent throbbing in my crotch. I find myself bucking into him, grinding myself into his firm stomach.

The boss rips his mouth from mine as I fall backward. I clench at his shirt, gasping when something springy shapes to my back. I drop my hands back, feeling soft sheets below me. I look up to him, quirking a brow. He shrugs, falling over me in a familiar position. Though this time he angles himself in a way I can finally feel his hardon poking me. I groan at the feeling, wanting to grab him right now.

Everything seemingly melds together, one moment I'm in his office, and next, I'm in his room. One second I have a shirt on and next, I'm laying in only my underwear. Him being left in only his hat and pants. The boss admires me for a second, the rush of erotic sensations nearly paused. His look is fierce, fire pouring from his gaze, but it still has room for affection and true admiration.

"so damn beautiful," he pets at my chest. He fondles my boob, thumbing my nipple with an all too excited gleam in his eye. "I could wreck you so easily," he ponders aloud. I reach up to his bare chest, running my fingers from his sternum down to his pants.

"I thought you wanted to adore me," I smirk, tugging him closer by his belt. He falls to his hands, cradling my head in his arms.

"Doll, I want to do everything to you," he purrs, attacking my neck with love bites. I hum, slowly flicking off his belt and reaching into his pants. He stiffens, grunting as I grab him.

"big words from a big man," I tease, stroking his cock.

He shutters," you don't know big yet, doll. Now be a good girl and let your boss go."

I let him go, slowly sliding my hand out of his pants," yes, sir."

The boss lets out a shaky breath, dropping his head to my shoulder for a moment. My nails glide over his stomach towards his chest and back down. I allow him a second, though that's all he needs.

He sits up, pushing off his pants but keeping his boxers. I admire the tent, feeling oh so powerful at the moment. I did that, I am the one who turned him on. That thought alone makes me feel ten feet tall.

I hardly notice when his hand trails up my thigh till he hooks a finger over my underwear. He tugs them down, grinning to himself as my mound is revealed. He tosses the clothing away without a care, quickly reaching out to thumb at my lips. The subtle soft feeling of his touch is nearly enough to make me groan in anticipation. I want him to touch me, I need him to touch me. He does as I silently plead, sliding a finger between my folds. He swipes up toward my clit, massaging so smoothly.

"So wet," he purrs," so wet for me." I don't bother with words as he delves his fingers lower, poking at my entrance with great amusement. I engulf his fingers as he pushes them in, slowly pumping them in and out with a curled retreat. My legs spread further apart on their own as I relish in the lazy strokes.

"Sir," I sigh. He looks up to me, his gaze is all too alluring. My teeth grind as I fight back the urge to buck towards him. God, I need him. His head tilts so slightly as he sighs, his fingers retreat shortly after. He crawls back above me, cleaning off his fingers with his tongue as he does.

"Why must you pull me in so easily," he asks as he discards his last remaining clothing," I want nothing more than to feast upon you but your hungry looks demand more." I reach up and cup his face then adjusting his hat that he kept upon his head. His cock pokes at my crotch, gently sliding at my lips as he lightly jerks his hips.

I pap his cheek," get over it, I've been hungry all week because of you."

He scoffs," all you had to do was ask."

"like I could get the chance to with your tongue down my throat at every turn," I answer. He laughs, looking down between us to grab at himself.

"I think you could have found a way to ask if you truly wanted to," he answers absently as he pushes his tip forward. I suck in a choked breath, tense against the sudden entry. The stretch of just his tip is already fulfilling to someone so starved this past month. He bucks shallowly forward, inching himself in slowly. He soon hilts, looking back up at me with a relieved face.

"I couldn't ask when I didn't know the true intentions," I mumble as my attention is solely drawn to his filling cock. My leg hikes over his hip, pulling him closer. He drops a hand to that thigh, bouncing his hips in slow short drives.

"Well," he kisses at my cheek," do you know my intention now?" I turn to him, meeting his eyes in such a vulnerable moment. Everything I feel is lain bare, the tenderness I feel towards him shining brightly. I cup his cheek, his short bucks ceasing.

"That really depends on after," I nearly whisper. He doesn't answer, instead, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. As he claims me his hips drawback before snapping forward in a breathtaking thrust. He starts a demanding pace, taking and giving in equal parts. His cock hits deep, stoking a fire that I felt was already an inferno. I fall away from his lips, whimpering against him as he plows into me. Our hips clap as the bed squeaks. I now know what it feels like to be on the other side of the wall, not to hear but to be part of the ruckus.

The boss forces pleasure from me with every buck of his hips. I whimper and grind into him, not being able to stay still as my insides crescendo. I barely notice how silent he is, me making enough noise for the both of us. He watches me steadily fall apart, in complete rapture at my noises. A hand sneaks between us, running through my curls before resting upon my engorged clit. I seethe at the gentle prod, crying out as he starts small circles. As I shout for him does he make a sound, a gentle gasp as his lips part.

I feel burned, hot, and demanding at this moment. My insides flutter with its oncoming orgasm. I yell and scream, reaching out to pull him closer as I have no better idea. I suddenly sit on the cusp of true pleasure, my body stiffening as just a breeze could push me over. I reach for him, pulling him in for a wet kiss. He allows it, briefly, pulling away as I fall.

The boss watches me, his face contorting in near pain. His hips stutter as my insides clench him tightly. I can barely keep focus enough to watch him as I arch and writhe below. My screams stutter out till I'm left silent, panting as he continues my orgasm with his unstoppable thrusts.

"Please," I beg. Begging for him to stop, begging for him to keep going. I somehow keep focus enough to watch him, watch him sigh and grunt till his hips slap to mine with one final buck. He drops his head to my shoulder, panting against my ear as he rolls his hips. I can feel his heat, feel his cum paint my insides. I am unable to do anything but hug him close and catch my breath

It takes longer than I thought possible to come back to myself. I'm still left panting under him, only able to listen to his own ragged breathing. I pet at his sweaty back, running the ends of my nails over his shoulder. We just hold one another, lost in the bliss.

"you steal my heart, doll," he mumbles in my hair," how could I ever part from you when you sing so beautifully for me?" I chuckle, not being able to form words just yet. The boss turns us on our sides, cradling me to his chest so tenderly. He pets at my hair, burying his nose against my temple. "I fear I have stronger feelings than first intended," he whispers," I will not leave you for more than a second at a time, my heart couldn't take more than that."

"do you always get this poetic after sex," I ask. He scoffs, reaching down to grab my thigh. He pulls my leg over his hip once more, petting up towards my ass. He gives me a quick slap, jiggling my rear as he does. I yelp, squeezing him when I do. He grunts, baring his teeth. He chuckles shortly after

"only for you, love," he answers," only for you."

I sigh, sliding my hand between us to pet at his chest. I want to give those words back, as I mean them just as truly as he does. The words sit on the end of my tongue, ready to be broadcasted to the world. It takes me a moment to gain courage, still resting securely in his arms.

"I love you," I barely get out. He holds me closer, nuzzling my head.

"I love you, too," he answers in kind. I try to fight off the smile spreading across my face but it's damn near impossible. I smile to myself and close my eyes.

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

my intention never go as planned. i was struggling to write and i saw a cute post on villain with a soft spot for his lover. so i write a small tid bit, the part where he tends to her wounds. IT WASN’T SUPPOSE TO BE 7K WORDS! like how? i stayed up till 2am writing this. i’m just a sap, through and through.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#monster boyfriend #gangster boss #mob boss #the boss #exophilia #fluff #Enigma-IM #a kiss to build a dream on #armstrong

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jencsi · 3 years ago

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Let’s Talk- Finn and Russell;

From the very beginning, we get the hint, notion, presence of a deeper connection between Julie Finlay and DB Russell. In Seeing Red, when she hears him, not even having to look and know he’s there during the crime scene reconstruction, just his voice alone makes her roll her eyes, gets her fired up with some sort of passion, anger, emotional reaction. As evidenced from their conversation about the blood spatter case, her resistance to proceed further with him again shows she is not quite over what has happened to them in the past and it makes viewers want to know, what the heck happened? What could this seemingly unbothered hippie like guy have ever done to cross this already sullen yet spirited woman? Despite her futile attempts to deflect him, she cannot help but be drawn to the case, he sought her out after all, he must be desperate. When she retrieves the file he leaves behind and it piques her interest, she gives in, with probably a lot of hemming and hawing off screen, before venturing to CSI for the first time.

That single solitary scene cemented in my brain their dynamic from that day forward. There was no going back for me. Whatever they had in the past, whether that be something romantic, friendly or just work related, my soul ached to know more and even better, my heart yearned to watch them more, to listen, to observe the bantar, the sarcasm, the snark, the sheer and utter pure honesty that comes from their conversations. DB Russell is not trying to trick Finn, he’s not trying to make her figure out some silly puzzle or game, he just wants her expertise and guidance. Once she accepts his offer, her personality begins to shine via her work (Should I wrap it up and take it back to the lab? Took the words right out of my mouth smart ass” “You know me so well” “And you know blood, better than anyone I know”) her bonding with her colleagues, and even better, the little hints at what was between her and Russell back in Seattle.

When we finally do get to see that past revealed, ripped open like a fresh wound, via CSI on Fire, we see the headstrong and overheated Finn on a mission, prove that Tom Cooley is a killer and bring justice to the families of his victims. Of course that journey is not without complications and wild accusations, of course Finn would never kill anyone, that I firmly believe, unless of course it’s to save a friend or colleague (saving Greg from that supposed innocent victim of the Gig Harbor Killer in The Twin Paradox) but Cooley rattles her, gets under her skin in a way different from Russell. In fact it’s Russell warning her to be careful, to go with caution, but her typical rebellious nature of “I’m not listening” pushes her further to the truth and to danger at every turn.

Her tone when speaking to Russell about the discovery of Cooley’s body in his hotel shifts our thinking that maybe she isn’t the same person she was two years ago. If what we are observing right now is the casual cool collected Finn, just how reckless was she in Seattle? She feels the disappointment from Russell in his tone, the way he looks at her, and she hates that, she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially him. His presence in her life since the Seattle days has created this combination of not wanting to let him down or disappoint him mixed with her fierce loyalty to the truth, to the victims and their families, clashing with her exuberant personality.

With CSI on Fire resolved, Finn melts back into a rhythm with her ex-husband, also a component of her former life in Seattle, all seems right between Russell and her, a trademark of their friendship, forgiveness and acceptance.

Looking at their dynamic from the perspective of the actors who portray them, Ted Danson has referred to them as the bickersons, like oil and water, but at the same time, Finn/Elisabeth and her characters intrusiveness helps him do his job better and see things clearly when it comes to cases as well as other aspects of his characters life. Elisabeth meanwhile seemed to enjoy the back and forth dialogue and the testiness of their relationship, she seemed invested in their past in Seattle and wondered where the writers would take that.

In Homecoming, the season 12 finale, we see corruption and problems arise amongst the police force and Russell apologies for seeming to drag Finn into this mess and bringing her there to work but she states that she makes her own decisions and doesn’t seem bothered by the issues until she is thrown into the chaos of it all when she trails Crenshaw and stumbles into the violence they have created around them with the assistance of McKeen and Kimball.

The Finn and Russell dynamic gets tested here when Katie, Russell’s grand daughter is kidnapped and Finn attempts to save her. In the chaos, she sends Katie out into the unknown alone while she does battle with Crenshaw (a violent but epic struggle, major kudos to the stunt work they did here, it felt so real and made me love Finn even more, seeing how far Elisabeth was willing to take this character) Russell is devastated to learn Finn let Katie escape alone but is also distraught knowing both were hurt and in danger. His anger at Finn boils over when she insists she’s fine, how he refers to her as “Finn” on the phone instead of the sweeter Jules we are used to hearing, and when she discusses the case with him in the bedroom where Katie was taken from and he punched the wall, leading to a missed clue. Despite the resentment towards her, they figure out Katie’s whereabouts and stop McKeen from carrying out his plans. We can see and feel Finn’s guilt deep down for her mistakes, even if everything works out, the way she stands holding the phone, the way she looks at Moreno who tries to assure her it will be okay.

At the end of Karma To Burn, Finn and Russell reconcile again, not so much with words but in the way she snaps him out of his fantasy of ever having to use his gun in a real life situation, of how far he was almost pushed to the brink when it comes to saving his work family, not just Katie. His use of the nickname Jules on several occasions, something she claims to hate but also doesn’t, comes back when Barbara inquires if she will stay for dinner. All is well again.

The final blow and perhaps the deepest cut of their relationship occurs with the reopening of the Gig Harbor Killer case. From the get go, we start off with a bang, literally and figuratively. It is Russell who is at the mercy of Winthrop who demands he admit they did not capture the correct killer in order to relinquish Finn from the confines of her bomb invested car. With much reluctance, he admits their mistake and Finn is spared. The hug they share in the parking lot after she is freed breaks me every time and just further adds to the complicated but always present nature of their relationship. The next go around, Maya, Russell’s daughter is targeted, but this time, she is used as bait to try and lure the copycat out to play and be captured. When that fails, Finn unwillingly becomes the next target and once again Russell is thrown for a loop. This time however, there is no mercy, no chance at redemption, Finn is ripped from him violently and with no regard. Worse still, we get to see a tiny bit of his life afterwards, via CSI Cyber, when he observes another coma patient in Hack ER. Avery Ryan takes notice of his demeanor and quietly brings up Finn. Russell’s memories play out in quick flashbacks and we see where his heart belonged the entire time. He speaks of reading to her, hoping she’d wake up, then darkness, never to see her eyes pierce him again, no more bantar, no more snark, no more intrusiveness. The fact that almost a whole year later we get a resolution for Finn and get to see Russell pine for her one last time gives us closure and really showcases how strong this bond was for three and a half years.

I will always wish for a better outcome for Finn, as originally scripted, but somewhere in the chaos of writing and producing, we lost her. I will always be sad we didn’t get to see more of Russell at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. That emotion would have been so raw and real coming from Ted. These characters deserved a proper ending and reunification because it just wasn’t justified to wreck their metaphorical ship that was so strong and sailing along fine before colliding with the iceberg of violence. Nevertheless, this dynamic holds strong in my heart to this day. There are plenty more examples to pull from the show, every time they chatted about cases and made progress just by talking it out, every time they fought about their thought processes and reckless behavior, every soft sweet utterance of “Jules” will forever gut me, weaken me, bring me to my knees, but somehow give me strength. That’s how powerful their relationship was and appeared to me on screen, they were a paradox, love, hate, push, pull, oil and water as Ted stated before, give and take, and boy did they give me so much more than any naysayer could ever attempt to take from me. No matter where anyone stands on the fandom line, so much heart and soul went into Russell and Finn, and when you really sit down and watch and listen with perspective and acceptance, you can see it and feel it. I think that type of power transcends just your typical acting alone, it truly feels real. Give me that dynamic everyday, sign me up. I don’t think I’ll ever be as lucky as I was to witness such greatness on the screen between these two. Good things don’t happen twice, as I have unfortunately learned the hard way over the years, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

But in the heart and soul of Russell and Finn is an incredible ability to keep a stronghold on viewers like me, or maybe not, maybe I’m just crazy, but here were are, years after things have ended and the screen has faded to black.

#julie finlay #db russell #ted danson #elisabeth shue #thank you for coming to this ted talk #literally #csi crime scene investigation #that novel I’ve been working on #here you go #let’s talk

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ddixons-angel · 4 years ago

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Fated: Season 5

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: And we’re back! So last week, our group finally made it to Alexandria and Gloria found her sister was there too! As I expected, she wasn’t very well liked xD she does get better though... eventually :P I really can’t wait to see what you guys think of this chapter, hehe let’s get into it!

Chapter 9

The next day, the group had been told to explore, get to know the place and meet people. Rick was surprisingly encouraging of it and so the group took off. Gloria decided to leave her daggers at home, she had planned to check out the community’s infirmary and if she was to work there, having daggers strapped to her sides may not be the best first impression. Gloria walks out to the porch where Daryl was seated on the floor, his back leaning on the rails. She looks at him and tilts her head, blinking.

“What are you doing just sitting there?” she asks, taking a few steps to him.

He shrugs, “‘m good here.”

“Are you sure? You can take a walk with me,” Gloria says with a smile.

“The sun’s out, thought ya only liked full moon walks.” Daryl says, a hint of a smile on his lips.

She chuckles and shakes her head, “I like walks with you, sun or moon.”

“Ya go off, I’ll be here...” Daryl says, not moving from his spot on the porch floor.

“Okay, I’m just going to check out the infirmary, I’ll be back soon,” she tells him as she starts to go down the steps.

“Ya ain’ gon’ bring yer daggers?” Daryl calls out as he notices he doesn’t have her weapons on her.

“I don’t think I’ll need them, pretty sure I can take down anyone who comes at me here,” Gloria says, earning a snort of a laugh from Daryl.

“I think we should check out their pantry, see how well they do on runs,” Glenn says as he walks out of the house and down the steps with Maggie trailing behind him.

“Room for one more?” Gloria calls out as she follows suit behind her brother.

Glenn chuckles at her choice of words then the three of them walk down the street together. They come across the house that is supposedly Gena’s house, she made sure to let Glenn know which one was her’s. A young man around Glenn’s age steps down the porch of that house and both Glenn and Gloria stop in their tracks when they see who the man is. Maggie looks at the two in confusion, trying to figure out why they both stopped dead in their tracks.

“You’re kidding me... right?” Glenn groans.

“Okay... who else are we going to find here...” Gloria grimaces.

“Glenn! Gloria!” the young man who came out of Gena’s house runs towards them and tackles Glenn in a hug as Gloria swiftly dodged out of the way.

Glenn makes a face at his sister just before the man pulls away, grinning at Glenn, “I seriously can’t believe you’re here, man!”

“Jacob... I can’t believe it either,” Glenn says, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“I never thought I’d ever see you again!” Jacob grins.

“I never wanted to see you again...” Gloria mumbles under her breath, making Jacob look at her, but he still had a grin on his face.

“Gloria... I missed you so much!” he says as he makes his way towards her.

“W-woah!” Gloria exclaims as Jacob picks her up in a hug.

“You have no idea how happy I was when Gena told me you’re both here,” Jacob says, putting Gloria down and looking back at Glenn.

When Jacob turns to look at Glenn, Gloria signals to him that she is going to go and to keep him distracted. He catches her eye and nods, knowing just how uncomfortable Jacob made her feel.

“Yeah...” Glenn says, then he gestures to Maggie, “this is Maggie, my wife.”

“Oh right! I heard from Gena that you got married in this? Woah, she’s a beauty, man.” Jacob says, shaking Maggie’s hand.

As they make small talk, Gloria backs away and mouths ‘I love you, brother’ to Glenn then she quickly takes her leave. She turns on the next street over where the infirmary was located, Aaron had let her know where it was earlier. Gloria walks up the steps to the building and knocks on the door, waiting a short moment before the door opened.

“Hi?” a woman with red hair in a ponytail, and glasses greets her, seeming somewhat nervous at Gloria’s sudden appearance.

“Hi, um, I’m Gloria.” she smiles at the woman.

“I’m Denise,” she says, awkwardly waving her hand.

“I’m part of the new group that came in yesterday, pretty sure everyone knows about us...” Gloria says, causing Denise to nod, “I just wanted to check out the infirmary, I’m apparently gonna be one of the medics working with the doctor? Pete, I think his name was?”

“Oh! You’re one of the new medics! Well, I’m one of the... other medics, please come in,” Denise says with a smile as she invites her into the infirmary, “did you want me to get Pete? I can if you want me to.”

Gloria chuckles and shakes her head, “it’s okay, I don’t actually start until tomorrow, at least that’s what Deanna told all of us. I just wanted to check it out here, if the doctor’s not in I wouldn’t want to bother him on his downtime given he always has to be on-call.”

Denise nods, pursing her lips, “you... actually worked in a hospital... didn’t you?”

Gloria nods but furrows her brows, noticing the woman’s drop in facial expression, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing... just... Pete’s a surgeon, you worked in a hospital, and the other medic probably has some experience in being a medic... meanwhile, there’s me, a psychiatrist.” Denise sighs, slumping down on the empty patient bed.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gloria says, “a psychiatrist is still a doctor, no matter what.”

“I’m useless when it comes to saving lives and in emergencies,” Denise looks down.

“A psychiatrist heals wounds people can’t see.” Gloria tells her, making Denise look up at her.

“Did you get that out of a book or something?” she asks.

“I think I heard it somewhere,” Gloria says, making the other woman chuckle, “it’s okay for you not to have experience in these things. When this all started, I barely had experience.”

“Really?” Denise furrows her brows, “but I heard from Deanna that you helped stop someone’s bleeding.”

“That was after the world ended. Before that, I would just watch the doctors do all the work since I was only an intern. The most I did was give shots and stitches,” Gloria explains.

“At least you still have experience with stitches... You know I planned to become a surgeon?” Denise says, a sad smile on her face, “it’s what I wanted to be but then... my anxiety acted up and then the panic attacks... and that’s when I got really interested in psychiatry.”

“I know what you mean, we probably have the most stressful and pressuring job there is now,” Gloria sighs, “but hey, we’ll work through it all together.”

“I’ll just stand in your way...” Denise looks down again.

“Denise,” Gloria calls out, making the other woman look up at her, “I’ll be right with you, I just need you to try, okay?”

Denise ponders her words for a moment before nodding with a smile on her face. Gloria understood what Denise was going through with the pressures and stressfulness of being in the medical field. She’d felt it while she was an intern and even more so after the world ended. Gloria felt that Denise was a good person who wanted to do her best. She knew that with the proper encouragement and guidance, Denise would become a fine medic.

---

Back at the house, Daryl was pacing around the living room, driving himself absolutely crazy. The others had been out for a few hours already to explore the community, leaving him at the house alone with his thoughts. He didn’t care that the people in Alexandria were watching him, eyeing him like a hawk and judging him. He knew they would no matter what, and that wasn’t what bothered him. What plagued his mind was him seeing another man hug his girl.

Since Daryl remained on the porch when Glenn, Gloria, and Maggie left to explore the place, he was able to hear when an unfamiliar male voice called out to the siblings. He turned to catch the man picking up Gloria in a hug, regardless of her being visibly uncomfortable towards him, and seeing that made his blood boil. It took everything in him to not run over and punch the man in the face. Daryl trusted her, of course he trusted her, he just hated seeing someone who was not him embrace her the way he did.

“Hey Daryl,” Glenn says, interrupting his pacing as he walks into the house with Maggie behind him, “everything okay?”

Daryl looks at him, mid-step and nods at him in acknowledgement. He felt stupid for feeling the way he did, but he really needed to know who the hell that guy was.

“Yo Glenn...” he calls out just as he’s about to sit on the sofa.

“Yeah?” he responds, looking at Daryl.

“Come here for a sec?” Daryl says, beckoning him over to the kitchen counter where he stood.

Glenn furrows his brow as he walks over to him, “what’s up?”

Daryl hesitates for a moment, biting his thumb nail nervously, “that guy... who is he...?”

“What guy...?” Glenn tilts his head in confusion.

“Don’ be playin’ dumb, tha’ prick tha’ hugged ya an’ Gloria,” Daryl says, frustration in his voice as his patience was running out.

“Oh, Jacob?” Glenn clarifies.

“Whatever his name is, who is he?” Daryl persists.

Glenn finally realizes what’s going on with Daryl and has to keep himself from chuckling, “he’s a guy on Aiden’s run team, used to be a cop before all this, but he’s not someone you need to worry about.”

“Ya know him from before?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah, we went to the same highschool, and his sister is Gena's best friend,” Glenn tells him truthfully.

“So, he’s yer friend too...” Daryl says, not liking this.

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend...” Glenn says, earning an eyebrow raise from Daryl, “I knew him before highschool because of Gena and he was in a few of my classes but we barely even talked. He was one of those jocks who always thought they’re better than everyone else.”

“Ya were friends with that kind o’ person?” Daryl asks, furrowing his brow in confusion, he thought that Glenn was saying he wasn't his friend just so he felt better about not liking the guy.

“I told you, we aren’t exactly friends,” Glenn says then sighs when Daryl stares at him, “okay, long story short... he bullied me in highschool.”

Daryl narrows his eyes at him, he knew Glenn wasn't the type to fight back, especially not in his teen years. He wanted to tell him that he should have told his older sister, but knowing how Glenn is, he wouldn't want to potentially ruin his sister's friendship with Jacob's sister. Now, Gloria on the other hand, Daryl was sure that she'd do something about it.

“Gloria wouldn’ let that slide...” he says.

“She wouldn’t... and she didn’t. When she found out, the next day she found him and punched him in the face,” Glenn chuckles at the memory then sighs, “but then that’s when he apparently fell in love with her...”

“What?” Daryl frowns at that, “what kind o’ masochist prick is he..?”

Glenn shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I just remember that he couldn’t stop bothering her after that... asshole even used me to get her to go on a few dates with him.”

“What?!” Daryl exclaims, he couldn’t stop the jealousy from exploding inside him as he registered Glenn’s words.

“He threatened to keep bullying me if she didn’t...” Glenn sighs as he looks down, “I practically begged her not to go and that I could take whatever he threw at me but you know her...”

Daryl sighs heavily and nods, knowing how protective Gloria is over Glenn, she would have done anything to prevent Glenn from getting bullied, even going on dates with a prick. The thought of it made Daryl uneasy and curiosity plagued his mind again as he wondered what they did on those dates, or rather what that guy tried to do on those dates. Glenn seems to catch onto his uneasiness as he snaps Daryl out of his thoughts when he puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about him, though. Gloria still kinda hates him,” Glenn says with a chuckle.

“Ya tellin’ me not to worry about her ex who might still be in love with her?” Daryl asks rhetorically.

"Gloria says he’s just a guy she went on a few dates with to save my ass, nothing more.” Glenn reassures him “yeah, he might still be in love with her or whatever, but she doesn’t care. She cares about you, Daryl. And if it makes you feel any better, I approve of you, not Jacob.”

Daryl scoffs playfully, and he nods, “thanks...”

“No problem,” Glenn smiles at him, patting his arm, “also, let me know if you’re ever planning to kick his ass, I’d love to join in.”

Daryl snorts a laugh at his words and nods again, wordlessly promising Glenn to let him know. He felt himself more at ease after talking to Glenn, although he didn’t like that they would be living in a community with someone from Gloria’s past but he had to deal with it. Later in the evening, Gloria had come back to the house and she told Daryl about Denise. He was happy for her that she made a new friend at the community, all the while he kept quiet as he listened to her talk about her day. Daryl felt that he didn’t need to bother confronting Gloria about Jacob, he was a person from her past.

---

Next Chapter

Okay so! I know that Denise doesn’t actually appear in the show until Season 6 but I love her and she deserved so much more so I just added her here haha and then we have another new character (you all probably already hate him too xD) who triggered a jealous Daryl. Reason why I thought that it was best to add more characters from Glenn and Gloria’s life before the apocalypse is because it wouldn’t really make sense to me for Gena to come to a community alone without any friends since it seemed that everyone in Alexandria originally has a family with them. Also, I just really love writing Daryl and Glenn moments ❤❤❤ Please let me know what you think about this chapter and what you guys think will happen! ^^

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!):

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rabble-dabble · 4 years ago

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The Cancer King's Court ~ The Humans

Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde, and Jade Harley/The Crimson Defender, The Lady Clairvoyant, and The Witch Scientist.

This version of Dave Strider came very close to becoming Davesprite in his timeline. Up until his final conversation with Rose.

Dave can’t stand the thought of leaving Rose to die all alone by herself. He’d grown close to her after spending so long with her in a doomed timeline. He couldn’t bare to lose her. So, he gets an idea.

If he goes God-Tier, he could potentially bring Rose back in time with him. So, Dave puts off time traveling back in exchange for reaching his quest bed. Upon going God-Tier, Dave brings Rose with him back in time to save her life, seeing how he can now just fly over to her planet and pick her up.

The two explain their situation to their doppelgangers, causing them both to pester John to try and stop him from following Terezi’s advice. Like in canon, John reconsiders and manages to avoid dying. God-Tier Dave is now able to steamroll the challenges of LOHAC with ease, guiding everyone and their counterparts to their quest beds so that they can reach God-Tier as well. Ultimately, this seems like the best case scenario…. until everyone discovers the timeline is now doomed.

Simply put, Dave was supposed to become Davesprite and Rose was supposed to be left behind. Because that didn’t happen, Paradox Space judged the session to be void.

This effects Dave more than he lets on, since it was his decision to take Rose with him in the first place. Both Roses are able to sus this out pretty easily, even as he tries to bottle it up, and they motivate John, Jade, and Other Dave to comfort him. The Roses conclude that the Horrorterrors may be able to help them, so they go to them for guidance.

The Horrorterrors remember a similar situation with one of their “chosen”, so they inform The Invincible Heir of the situation. Equius gets Karkat to bring him and Nepeta in to investigate. After seeing how well they’ve managed to ace their session, the Meowrails decide it would be a good idea to get some of them to join the Court.

Equius approaches the Roses first, believing them to be “human highbloods of proper breeding and stature” that he can easily approach. While they mistake his mannerisms for humility at first, they quickly put the pieces together and explain, no, humans don’t have a caste system. Nepeta takes Equius aside so he can recuperate and the two come back after a moment. They explain that they may have a means of salvaging their doomed timeline. However, it would require some morally dubious actions.

While the moirails do preface the info with the knowledge that all these atrocities will be undone, the Roses are still pretty horrified. They meet up with humans to discuss this and, at first, it seems like everyone is in favor of rejecting the offer outright. Until Dave speaks up. He and Rose came from a doomed timeline because John was manipulated. They ended up landing right in another one because Dave trying to save his only remaining friend was arbitrarily declared a mistake. Who’s to say that this isn’t happening to thosands of other versions of them across the multiverse?

Rose recognizes he’s only saying this to vent out his guilt and counters that they have no way of knowing if the offer is legitimate. Equius and Nepeta’s explanation sounded almost cultish from their perspective, after all. Dave immediately concedes and almost finds himself confessing how much all of this is weighing on him.

Then John and Jade raise their points. If these guys are willing to kill thousands of people, what will they do to them if they refuse the offer? A doubly valid point, seeing how the Court specifically targets God-Tiers.

Silence reigns over the humans. Equius and Nepeta had been so polite that they hadn’t even considered how pressed up against the wall they were.

So, they change gears into figuring out a plan to beat the Cancer King’s Court.

Dave, Rose, and Jade decide to go undercover. Pretending to agree to the offer so that they could find intel to Other Dave, Other Rose, and John. After all, the Court would probably be interested in having a Time Player, a Space Player, and a Seer on their team. The home team would still have two of those advantages at least, so their not losing much.

Dave, Rose, and Jade meet up with the moirails and say that they agree, on the sole condition that Other Dave, Other Rose, and John are spared. Equius and Nepeta agree and the three and inducted in.

Karkat doesn’t buy this for a second.

From what he remembers, the humans are a lot more intolerant of morally dubious actions. So, he decides to test their loyalty. He sends the three of them to gather up a bunch of God-Tiers for him to absorb, sending Gamzee with them so he can poke and prod at their minds all the while. Gamzee reports back that they’re spies after reading their minds and asks permission to kill them. Karkat shuts that down and chews him out for it. He instead takes the humans aside so he can convince them.

Firstly, he proves his intentions to them by making a big show of reviving a timeline left destroyed by Lord English in front of the whole Court, instructing them to act like this is a normal thing. He allows the destoyed civilizations within to rebuild and guides them to prosper. Then, he shows them what The Condescension is capable of with her current power, letting them witness how she bends fate to her will. If he has that power, he could not only fix their doomed timelines, but save all doomed timelines everywhere.

He leaves them to think things over and immediately begins indoctrinating the revived timeline into his army. Another pawn towards his end game. They are indebted to their King, after all.

From the humans perspective, however, he made incredibly valid points. He revived an entire timeline, showing that his good intentions are genuine. Plus, the Condescension shows just what kind of horrific evil he’s up against and the kind of power he’ll have by the end of it. That last note leaves Rose hesitant. Power corrupts, after all. Dave and Jade are a lot more trusting, out of desperation and naivety respectively.

But, all the same, they know their friends probably won’t accept this. Rose elects to be the one to give the intel. They all agree, she’s the only one capable of lying to them. Even if it hurts like hell.

The Humans play the same role in the Court as Tavros does. People are more inclinded to trust them, so they’re good for gathering up God-Tiers. And, if they need to drag those God-Tiers in by force, a Time Player and a Space Player are hard to beat.

The Humans get along well with the trolls, all things considered. It helps that they couldn’t spend much time with them and are going in with a mostly clean slate.

The sole exception is Dave and Terezi. After all, Terezi is the whole reason Dave’s timeline was doomed. Terezi is willing to accept full responsibility, however, and apologizes for what her counterpart did in his timeline.

The two are able to get past that eventually, but Terezi soon starts asking some uncomfortable questions.

“JOHN’S TRUST 1N YOU S4V3D H1S L1F3. DON’T YOU F33L… D1RTY B3TR4Y1NG H1M L1K3 TH1S?”

“ok but like i’m not though. he’ll understand that. …he has to.”

How much of that is The Hung Jury and how much is Main Terezi, I’ll leave up to you.

Conversations between Rose and Kanaya are awkward here. Their romance was a bit of a boil. Rose barely knows this Kanaya, which throws her through a loop given they’re narried married in this timeline. The whole thing is rather surreal for both of them.

Ironically, the troll Rose spends most of her time with is Gamzee. Gamzee insists on having “smart sister poke around in this thinkpan of mine”. While Rose enjoys psycho analyzing him, that’s not what he’s there for. In truth, he’s planting thoughts into her head psionically. Making her side with the King more. He knows she’s the weak link in the human’s loyalty, so he’s going to keep her on lock.

Conversely, Jade spends most of her time with Tavros. They bond over a shared love of animals and over their timelines getting screwed for actions well outside their control. It helps that Tav is still nursing his crush on her. She’s lucky Gamzee hasn’t noticed.

To the King, the humans are among him most effective enforcers. If only their friends could see them now…

OKAY THE HUMANS BEING SMART IN THE BEGINNING AND THINKING LIKE “But what happens to us if we don’t go along” I LOVE I VERY MUCH LOVE THANKS

also I’m torn at the thought that dave is just thinking he fucked up because he wanted to save everyone even the doomed ones and he believes it’s his fault for making this doomed timeline I'm ;0;

AND THEN THE LYING LIKE I MIGHT CRY

also i’d like to think that john, double rose and double dave definitely knows somethings the Fuck Up (or at least rose and dave, john on the sense that he knows his friends are definitely more antsy around them now) and also that they hang out and converse a lot just being “left alone” in that timeline while their friends go obey king karkat’s orders. i mean they wouldn’t just SIT there, not dave or especially rose, so I bet they’d also kinda go out in the furthest ring in their timeline to try and find some info on cancer king while their friends are away. and then they might become a threat....

JSAHDFKASHDJ IM GOING TOO LONGER HERE’S YA ART!!

i mixed the three into kinda “team uniforms” because i’d imagine as being humans and having a very bad relationship with trolls in general (hello john almost dying called?? they want their timeline back) and when they first joined it kinda inforced on them that they’re a team collecting info for their friends back in the other timeline and looking like BFF gang with their stupid cool hoodies and jeans (lol!)

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beeblebrox-be-damned · 5 years ago

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Hotel Happenings, Part 2

Alpha!Stucky x Reader

TW: blood, birth, angst-ish stuff.

AN: Hooooooooooo boy extensive plot chapter. I swear, we’ll get to good stuff soon. Probably. Hopefully. Idk tbh. I start writing and then they kinda take on a life of their own and then we end up with a multi-part fic instea dof the originally intended oneshot. AN Part 2- Electric Boogaloo: I’ll be reblogging this later with the taglist for people who wanted to be tagged. My brain is running on empty at this point, its 4 AM, I need sleep fdjmfdmkdfvmk

Long ago, as the primordial oceans churned and raged, a species that would later rise to dominion over the primitive planet was in the early stages of formation. It was in these barest of centuries when a great divergence took place among the genetic makeup of the creatures. A rift caused by the shifting of the planet’s crust formed, cleaving the small but steadily growing population in two.

It is in this way that one species may become two separate species, though still inextricably intertwined by common ancestors. And thus, the world beget the Humans and the Designates.

It is possible that the change would have occurred even without the rift, though it would have happened at a much slower rate. As it was, the two species, while alike in almost all ways, were unable to breed when they once more found each other.

Humans, despite lacking the prolificacy of Designates, swarmed the Earth quickly. To do so, they pushed the Designates nearly to the brink of extinction. Even today, Designates make up the minority of the Earth’s sentient inhabitants. A deep rift, this time not literal, formed between the two over the millennia that spanned the development of the modern world.

The separation of species, however, was not complete. Despite being unable to interbreed, which would have led to the eventual “out-breeding” of the Designate traits, it was apparent that one species could, through circumstances not yet understood by modern-day science, bare members of the other. It was possible for a pairing of two Humans to bring forth a Designate child and vice versa, though the anomaly remains incredibly rare.

It is possible that it wasn’t as rare as it seems. Taboo as it is to most civilized creatures, the destruction or abandonment of undesired offspring is not unheard of in the natural world. Take the instance of an albino rabbit born into a litter of normally coloured siblings. It is normal for the mother to shun the out-of-place offspring, resulting in its untimely demise. With the deep hatred between the two species it is not unfathomable that a Human or a Designate may allow offspring born of their counterpart species to die, leading to a skewed statistical error of reported counter-births.

While hatred wanes, some remain that still hold deep, unfounded malice towards the other species, as it was that led to the abandonment of our dear main character…

……………………………

“C’mon, c’mon. It’ll be okay… just a little further and then we can- can-” the man’s words stuttered to a stop with a distressed whine. His Alpha tugged at his hand, urging him to allow her to sit and rest. One of her hands clutched her swollen belly tightly, her face twisted in agony.

“No, ‘Mega. I need to sit. F-uck.” Her words were tight, pained. A gust of wind brushed her hair away from her face as she slid to the ground, letting go of her distressed Omega’s hand. She leaned against a tree as he crouched down beside her. He gave a small whine, fear shining in his wide eyes.

The moon, covered with piebald clouds, provided very little light in the forest. He couldn’t see the red, but he could smell the blood. His frantic whines grew louder. His panting Alpha reached up and stroked her hand over his cheek. “Hush now, it’ll be alright. We’ll just have to- ah!” Her words cut off in a sharp cry of agony. After a moment, she regained her breath. “Y-your jacket, give me your jacket,” she sputtered, “Can’t wait any longer.”

Her Omega, despite his panic, obeyed promptly. He shrugged the ragged jacket off of his thin shoulders and with the Alpha’s guidance, spread it beneath her. Her hair clung to her forehead as she groaned, her Omega watching by helplessly.

“Alpha, we need to get to a hospital, need to get help-” he cried, hands scrambling feebly to try to assist with the birth. “There’s so much blood- oh god there’s so much blood.” Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, mingling with the rain that spat from the sky.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” the Alpha said weakly, taking one of his bloodied hands in her own. Her thumb stroked his skin softly as she locked her gaze on his. It pained her more than the physical pain of birth to see her beloved so distraught. “It will be alright, I promise.” Her voice was steadily growing weaker, the blood pooling around her. “Just… hold my hand. She’s almost here.”

He held her hand tightly, too afraid to look, too afraid to see how much blood was leaching from her body. She could feel the infant crowing, almost ready. She wished it had been different, wished she could watch her first pup grow up. Gripping her Omega’s hand tightly and using her last reserve of strength, she gave a final harsh push. A wail greeted her ears as she slipped into the velveteen darkness.

The Omega listen to the child wail, frozen in place. He could feel it in his bond when his Alpha’s last breath left her body. He leapt onto her, frantically trying to breathe life back into her limp form. His heart wrenched in his chest as the hopelessness of it hit him. His a loud cry he stood, turning his face away as he screamed curses towards the inky tree-tops.

A whine reminded him of the new life. Swallowing another scream, he turned to gaze upon the pup he had sired. He laughed through his grief as he realized it was indeed a girl, just as his Alpha had thought. They hadn’t been able to go to the doctor to find out for sure, too poor to pay the bills, too poor to even afford proper clothing. But they had each other.

They had each other. No more.

He leaned down, gathering his daughter in the bloodied rag of a jacket he had worn. He sobbed, eyes shut tight as the pain hit him in waves. As he stared at the infant, he realized just how tiny she was. Horror and rage slowly crept over him, and his frown grew into a sneer.

“Y-you,” he growled, “you’re human.” There was venom in his voice, centuries of hatred. Had the light been stronger, he may have seen he was mistaken. But perhaps not. The scent glands of a premature Designated infant are very difficult to locate, nor do they produce any of the scent that differentiates the two species.

He stood, holding the infant far from his body. “A human… a human killed her.” His voice rose in pitch. “A human killed my Alpha. You killed her,” he screamed. “You killed her!”

Part of him wanted to toss the infant to the ground and run, but something kept him from doing so. With an angered sob, he clutched the baby close again. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nor did he want to raise this pup, this human, on his own.

It was then, as he looked up, that he happened to glimpse a small glint of light through the trees. An old woman had just happened to be awake then, unable to sleep though she did not know why. He stumbled forward, eyes fixed on the light. A window came into view, illuminating a trellis-archway above a doorstep.

The scent of wisteria hung heavily in the air as the infant cried.

……………………….

The woman brushed the hair off of her neck, wincing as sweat caused it to cling to her skin. Steam rose from the large pots on the stove and heat poured from the oven. The windows were open as wide as they could go, but it did little to ease the stifling heat of the small kitchen.

Turning on her heel, she walked over to the door, pushing it open and haphazardly fanning it back and forth in an attempt to stir up the air. After a moment she gave up, opting instead to prop it open. She really needed to get a fan or something to put in the kitchen. This old building just wasn’t very well ventilated, and the air conditioning on this side had never worked quite properly after it was installed. She never bothered to have it repaired since it still worked in the guest rooms and the second floor. There just wasn’t the money in the bank account to do it.

Content that the potatoes were far enough away from boiling over and the roast wasn’t going anywhere, she ducked out of the hot room and strolled down the short hall between the dining area, kitchen, and foyer. Ro was still in the office, her usual spot. Before she had lost her sight, she would spend hours looking out the office’s large window to observe the wildlife. It held especially fond memories, she had told the woman once, because that was the first room she ever held her in after she’d been left outside the foyer doorsteps.

The woman knocked on the door, signaling her presence so she wouldn’t startle the elderly lady. Of course, she probably had heard her coming down the hall, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “Yes?” came the reply promptly.

The woman pushed open the door and stepped inside, propping it open wide. She sat down in a comfortable chair across from Ro’s rocker, wiping at her sweat-sticky forehead. “It’s awful warm today, isn’t it?”

Ro raised her eyebrow, pursing her lips. “Not particularly, but I can imagine it mus’ be hot in that stuffy little kitchen. How’s the roast comin’ along?” Her gnarled hands rested on her lap, clasping each other lightly.

The woman smiled. “It’s in the oven as we speak. Had to get out the big one we’d saved in the freezer. Got a lot of guests today.” She paused a moment, thinking. “How’d you know we were having roast?”

Ro chuckled. “Silly girl. I can smell it. Smells real nice too. Did ye’ use rosemary?” Her face was turned towards the window, the light from it highlighting each smile-line and wrinkle that the woman loved so dearly. As time she had to spend with her adoptive guardian grew shorter, she spent more time committing each detail about her to memory.

“Yeah, fresh from the garden. I added a little thyme too, but not a whole lot.” She leaned forward and took one of Ro’s hands in her own, smiling as Ro gently squeezed her fingers. “You’ll never guess who our guests are, Mama. I was so shocked I almost passed clean out.”

Ro turned towards her, eyebrow raised. “Yeah? Who is it, baby?” Her wispy hair circled her face loosely where it had slipped out of the confines of her bun.

“You remember a few years back when that mind-controlled man invaded New York with aliens?” the woman asked, remembering the chaos that had been broadcast live on all the major news channels. Ro nodded, pursing her lips as she remembered.

“Those were nasty lookin’ creatures,” she said, shaking her head. “Nasty, nasty, nasty.”

“Agreed,” said the woman, finding herself nodding even though her companion couldn’t see it. “Anyway, there were those people that defeated them and chased the rest of them off. The Avengers.”

Ro nodded, licking her lips. “Now you aren’t tellin’ me,” she said, “that the Avengers are staying at our hotel, are you?” The quirk of her eyebrow marked her slight disbelief.

“Yup, they are. No- I’m not kidding.” She replied, watching the surprised look on Ro’s face. “And he’s with them, Mama.”

Ro laughed loudly, rocking back in her chair for a moment. “Well I’ll be darned,” she said, chuckling excitedly. “Never in my life did I ever think I’d get to meet the Captain America himself in person, let alone havin’ him an; his whole team stay in the hotel! My, my, this world sure is a funny place.”

Ro had spent many nights tucking her into bed and telling her stories when she was young. Often times, the stories were mostly true, centered around Ro’s favorite hero from World War 2, Captain America. As the woman got older, she figured out that Ro had had a bit of a crush on him, as most women of his time probably had. It had come as a great surprise to both of them when the word got out his body had been found- alive. Ro had clapped her hands and declared that miracles really did happen.

“Dinner will be ready soon, do you want to go ahead down to the dining room?” Ro released the woman’s hand and nodded, allowing her to stand. She walked to the corner of the room and retrieved Ro’s wheelchair, bringing it over to her. She helped her stand and situate herself in the wheelchair.

As they moved past the open kitchen, the woman winced at the heat. Even being in Ro’s cooled office, she still was uncomfortably warm. Ro seemed to sense her discomfort, tilting her head with a quizzical stare as the woman situated her at the dining table.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” the woman asked as she pulled open the chest of drawers where the good silverware was kept. She and Ro wouldn’t usually use it, as most guests opted to dine out in the town, but this was a special occasion to warrant the carefully polished utensils.

Ro hummed thoughtfully. “Nothin’ baby, you just seems a little off today. You sure you ain’t feelin’ unwell?” She couldn’t see her ward, but she could hear there was something unusual just by the change in the pace of the woman’s steps. They were almost sluggish.

The woman carefully spread the tablecloth over the hard oak table, moving on to place dishes at each seat. “To be perfectly honest, I’m a bit tired I suppose. I think the heat has me down,” she admitted, smoothing the tablecloth idly as she examined herself.

Ro frowned, worried. “Baby, it’s not that hot out. C’mere,” she said, beckoning with one hand. The woman came over obediently, knowing Ro wouldn’t take no for an answer. She knelt beside the wheelchair, allowing Ro to place her hand against her forehead. It was cold, pleasantly so. She nearly found herself leaning into the touch. “Child, you are positively burning up! If it weren’t for your tone a’ voice, I’d say you had a fever.”

The woman stood. “Odd. Other than the warmth, I feel fine.” She laid out napkins and the silverware, making sure each place was properly set. Perhaps if they made a good impression on their guests, they’d recommend the place to others. Wistful thinking, honestly, but it was worth a shot.

Ro pursed her lips, her worry clearly written across her face. “If you insist, baby. Just take it easy after dinner. The dishes ‘ll wait until morning just fine.”

The woman smiled. “Alright, Mama, whatever you say.” Satisfied the table was set properly, she returned to the kitchen to finish prepping the meal.

…………………..

“Alright, Mama, ready?” the woman asked, making sure Ro was comfortably seated in the chairlift to their upstairs residency. She pressed the button, briefly pausing to make sure the chair was running properly before turning and folding up the wheelchair so she could carry it with a bit more ease up the stairs. “So,” she asked as she followed Ro up the stairs, “what’d you think of the Avengers?”

Ro gave a hearty laugh, grinning widely. “They are somethin’ else! I tell you what, I’m glad they’re stayin’ for a couple days. They’ve gotta be the liveliest bunch we’ve had here in years.”

The woman smiled as they reached the top of the stairs, unfolding the wheelchair and assisting Ro back into it. The elderly lady could walk short distances with a walker to the bathroom and such, but you both agreed it was far safer for her to use the wheelchair for most things. The woman had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t mind caring for Ro but had agreed at Ro’s stubborn insistence that should the burden ever be too much, she would take her to the local retirement home.

“I’ve got to agree with you there, Mama.” She took Ro to her room, making sure everything was in order for the night. She waited outside the door as Ro readied herself for bed. “So, what’d you think about Captain Rog-, er, Steve?” Steve had insisted on them referring to him by his first name, as did most of the others, including Bucky. He had seemed almost embarrassed to request being called James instead of ‘Mr. Barnes’, but the grin he wore hearing it was certainly a sight to behold.

Ro shuffled out of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping off her houseshoes. The woman leaned over and carefully undid her bun, setting the pins on the nightstand and grabbing a hairbrush. “He’s such a charmer,” Ro said, “just like he was back in the day. And such a sweetheart! I swear, that man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. And his friend seems awful nice too. What was his name? James?”

The woman smiled softly as she finished combing Ro’s hair. “They are quite nice, aren’t they. I can’t believe they offered to help clean up after dinner. I guess that’s the sort of kindness people have been loosing, huh?” she sighed.

Ro smiled and patted her hand. “Baby, sometimes kindness is all we got. I’m proud of you, did you know that? So proud.” She paused, squeezing her hand tightly. “I’m glad you showed up on my doorstep. Who knew such a tiny little thing would grow up to be such a strong lady.”

The woman smiled, eyes misting as she walked towards the bedroom door. “It’s all because of you, Mama Ro. You’ve taught me a lot. Sleep well, call for me if you need anything. Love you.” She shut the door partway and departed to her own room across the hall, opening the window wide to let in the cool night air before she baked in her own skin.

Ro settled back into her pillows. Her face was aimed towards her own window, moonlight highlighting the wise elder’s features. “I don’t know if it’s all ‘cause of me,” she murmured to herself. “Beginin’ to think it may be heritage too.” She chuckled to herself. “My baby ain’t human at all. This is one funny world.”

………………………..

Downstairs, two men were settling into bed, eagerly settling into the crisp, clean-smelling sheets that bore the faint scent of the woman, who they were now sure was an Omega, who’d placed them earlier.

“Jesus, Steve, that was a good meal. She sure can cook,” Buck said, turning over on his side to face his longtime friend and partner. It was a bit odd for two Alphas to be in a relationship, let alone one so long-term, without an Omega to accompany them, but Bucky felt sure that was going to change soon.

Steve smiled, stifling a yawn. “Absolutely. I could get used to that.” He chuckled, resting his arms behind his head, contentment washing over him. It was silent for several minutes, but then Steve spoke up again. “So, we’re gonna talk about what’s going on, right? I could tell by the look on your face soon as we walked into the dining room that you could smell her too.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, alright, I did. She’s definitely an Omega. So faint though, kinda strange.” The only Designates he’d ever known who’d been so faint of scent were the ones who’d been on heavy suppressants for much longer than the recommended usage period, but that couldn’t be the case with the hostess seeing as she thought she was human.

“Did it- well, no, maybe it was just my imagination- well, did it maybe smell to you like she’s going into, well, y’know…” Steve glanced over at Bucky with his eyebrows raised, reluctant to say what was on the tip of his tongue.

“Heat?” Bucky snorted at Steve’s coyness. “So strong I thought I was gonna pop a goddamn knot right in the middle of dinner. Super-soldier senses are both a blessing and a curse. Nat and Bruce had it lucky.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “I guess what I’m thinking is… what if she’s never had much contact with other Designates and that delayed… stuff? Maybe our scents or something, I don’t know, triggered her presentation.”

Bucky rolled onto his stomach, wrapping one arm around Steve’s torso as he buried his face in his pillow. “We can look into it tomorrow. For now, get some sleep punk. G’night.”

Steve smiled. “Night.”

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Kikimora and King Parallels?

All right, so some discussions I’ve had with @50shades-of-blue have got me further thinking with the idea of Kikimora being King’s parallel. Honestly, I could just be projecting my speculation onto her… But with the smug way she passive-aggressively talks to Lilith in front of those kids, and how quick she is to cave into Luz’s threats while otherwise trying to be proper…

…She lowkey gives me vibes of King, if he like. Had access to ACTUAL power and authority, like he rode on the coattails of Luz or Eda as they ascended, and he KNOWS he’s above everybody else as a result of this! And he’s proud and smug of it, like, “Look at my friend, they’re so cool and powerful! And I’m THEIR friend, what’re you gonna do about it!?” There’s that subtle energy of being a little shit and a gremlin beneath it all… And Kiki comes across as more ‘mature’ because she’s had more experience, access to lessons on ‘proper manners and dignity’, and isn’t constantly frustrated by a lowly position in society and is thus less prone to temper tantrums, but.

By the end of the day, she’s still a gremlin, and like King, she can get in over her head; So at the first sight of a legitimate issue, she caves into Luz’s threats (though this could just be blamed on runtime issues), just as King quickly defaults to getting the help of someone like Hooty, or running from Half-Cursed Eda! But maybe like King (or not these characters are also contrasts as well), Kikimora is someone who WILL lay her life down whenever her friends are directly threatened… Hence her genuine concern at seeing what Luz did to Belos, and insisting she avenge him afterwards.

Then, there’s what @50shades-of-blue suggested about Kikimora having been with Belos since the very beginning… Like, the concept of her having been a lowly grifter/scavenger like King, a petty thief down-on-her-luck and with a napoleon complex because of how helpless she was… But she takes to Belos, and acts as a bad-idea friend and lowkey enabler, sort of like King with Luz… But there IS some tenderness and genuine sweetness, perhaps! Like maybe Kikimora DOES care for Belos as an actual friend and not just a vehicle for power (not to say she doesn’t enjoy those benefits either)…

And you know how King is an author and talks big of himself? If Kikimora is his parallel, then what if she was someone who helped Belos write propaganda and speeches, helped persuade the Boiling Isles to how GREAT this dude was, wrote history in his favor and basically acted as his hype-woman? Sort of like King, but he’s directing his hype-talk towards his friends, which is also something he’d totally do!

Alternatively, perhaps her relationship with Belos is a lot less warm… Again, as a contrast to Luz and King amidst the parallels, and like how Lilith and Amity are a lot colder and more professional towards one another! Perhaps as a dark reflection of Luz and King’s friendship, Belos and Kikimora only really value one another for what the other can provide; Belos lets Kiki around because she acts as his public face, hyping him up to young generations and spreading his lies to the news outlets. While Kiki supports Belos, because this means power and authority- Almost commensalistic, but Kikimora still has her own things to provide!

Maybe Kikimora’s relationship with Belos is like King, where she gets away with stuff because she can basically ‘hide behind Belos’ for protection, even if she’s also capable of magic as well! Can you imagine a younger Kiki acting like King, getting a younger Belos roped into her ludicrous schemes to get power or money or whatever, and like Luz, Belos goes along with it… But because he’s not exactly Luz, Belos keeps doing things without really considering the consequences? And he rises as Kikimora’s ‘top minion’ but eventually seizes control for himself… But at the same time he still keeps Kikimora around as a friend and a subordinate, you know?

And so it’s this idea of Kikimora having lowkey raised him/assisted in his rise to power, kind of like King was a reliable friend to Luz and treats her like as his ‘top minion’, but also as a real friend and makes sure to give her emotional support and love himself! And just as Luz is shaping up to be a powerful witch and likes to humor King’s fantasies, Kikimora helped Belos ‘ascend’ from common thief, as he began to take initiative and control once he got used to how things worked! Just as Luz makes the decision to challenge Belos in Eda’s absence, while King happily follows, even if he also sees himself as having to take care of and protect Luz, regardless of the fact that it’s likely to be the other way around!

Imagine Belos and Kiki having been like Luz and King, except there’s no Eda to keep them in line… Perhaps their relationship was also a bit more toxic, with Kikimora treating Belos more like an underling at times, but either way some fondness still existed, so when Belos DID rise and ‘overthrow’ Kiki, he still kept her around as a subordinate… Maybe in part to flex the reversal of roles, and because she has genuine use as his hype-woman and not somebody who’s a walking, melting body horror of a flesh-puppet.

But still; Imagine Dark Luz and King, except they’re just very selfish and enabling towards one another without stopping for self-reflection! Perhaps some issues will come into play about Kiki wanting Belos for himself or something alone those lines, or Belos forgetting about his friend in favor of other connections… Who knows? If Belos is Luz if she never learned her lessons, then perhaps Kikimora could be King sans character development!

What if when Belos and Kiki first met, she also threatened to eat him or whatever like King joked about, and for a while Belos was legit afraid of this… But he also still hung around her because she provided companionship and guidance! Like Luz and King, troublemakers with hearts of gold, but those hearts are only directed towards one another, mostly, and otherwise they do NOT care about how others are harmed! Basically just utter children by this point.

For all we know, Kiki’s own past immaturity (a mirror to King’s) lowkey influenced Belos into becoming the horrific, genocidal dictator he is today, a man with no regards for the lives of others he doesn’t care about or who don’t ‘fit in’ with this ideals! Like, perhaps like King during Really Small Problems, Kikimora didn’t want to lose Belos and was possessive of him…

But instead of maturing, Kikimora opted to isolate Belos from any other friends and positive influences, which contributed to Belos becoming so terrible! And if Belos realizes this, or does… Would he care? Would he care on the principle of how reliable Kiki is to him, or have they reached a point where she’d never betray him regardless because of what SHE has to lose? Not to mention how Belos may see his current path in life as the ‘proper’ one, so perhaps Kiki isolating him was for the best….

Maybe it’ll directly parallel King’s antics with the Trash Slug, or Sergeant New Guy; Maybe Kiki was even deliberately harsh towards Belos to keep her sense of power and control, but also to keep him dependent upon her… But in the end, Belos became stronger and rebelled! But at the same time, he still kept Kikimora around… Perhaps because there was still some fondness there? Because they still had uses for one another? Maybe Kikimora still has some level of control and manipulation over Belos, at least enough to convince him to keep her around, even if she’s no longer in charge like she used to be…

And just as Belos may be codependent and even parasitic to the Titan, perhaps Kikimora is the same to him as well? Or at the very least it’s a lot better… Could you imagine if Belos ‘realizes’ Kikimora’s power/manipulation over him? And Belos decides that he’s had enough of her ‘parasitically’ riding on his coattails, but not providing him anything that couldn’t easily be replaced… So he cuts ties by firing Kikimora and replacing her? And alone and dejected, Kiki has nowhere else to gobesides the Owl House?

Alternatively, Kikimora acts as the only person Belos will listen to that can actively act as a buffer between him and going completely all-out with no reservations or brakes… But then Belos decides to ‘discard’ her because he thinks Kikimora is limiting him, when in reality he’s actually keeping Belos from going too far? Maybe she’ll act as his Voice of Reason, as the only person Belos will listen to when it comes to criticisms and reconsidering his actions…

Only for that to abruptly end as the Day of Unity nears and Belos becomes more anxious? As Belos’ public face, Kikimora could function as someone who reins the Emperor in. because she’s most familiar with/concerned about the Emperor’s Coven appearing palatable to Belos’ subjects, given how that’s her entire job? So she’ll sometimes advise Belos NOT to utterly eradicate this small community off the face (not the actual skull) of the Boiling Isles, just beat them into submission?

Not out of a genuine concern for these people, mostly just to be pragmatic, and/or she IS concerned about Belos getting a little too nuts… Then again, we also see Kikimora suggest attacking the Owl House in retaliation for Belos’ damage, and it’s Belos who makes the decision on his own to ‘sate’ the public by pretending to spare Eda’s life, and doesn’t bother trying to actively arrest/suppress them –even if they’re in the middle of the Conformatorium- because that’s just not necessary, and he has better things to do?

So perhaps instead, Kikimora will operate from an inferiority complex and be the hotheaded one, like King, vouching for Belos to utterly annihilate his opponents, just as King tells Luz to ‘beat up the man and steal his things’, while Belos/Luz offer a more calm, pragmatic approach that doesn’t require violence because they’re more practical like that? Or alternatively…

It’s BOTH options, just like how King will sometimes encourage Luz to decimate their opponents, but when the time calls for it, he can act as a voice of reason and tell Luz NOT to challenge the Emperor himself! Sometimes Belos wants to commit genocide and Kiki has to rein him in, because what of his reputation…? And sometimes Kikimora will want to go for the nuclear option while Belos calmly suggests just reasoning with people and keeping them satisfied!

Kikimora suggests making petrifications hidden from the public to prevent them from turning on Belos… But then the Season Finale happens, she feels power slipping away and panics in-part because of her inferiority complex, so she suggests petrifying the ENTIRE crowd as an example! And of course, Belos calmly reminds Kikimora that this isn’t necessary, that believe it or not, people won’t rebel if they’re given what they want!

Kikimora advises revenge against the Owl House because her pride has been hurt, because she’s felt threatened and vulnerable for the first time in a LONG while, which means she has to utterly eradicate the opposition to leave no room for doubt who’s in charge, to leave no chance of more threats? But Belos is calm, and has control of the situation, he’s not as insecure as Kikimora and is thus less liable to acting rashly when he feels threatened. In essence, they both take turns sharing the brain cell… Just like Luz and King!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house kikimora #the owl house king #the owl house belos #emperor belos #the owl house luz #luz noceda #speculation #theory

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erpsoftware · 3 years ago

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10 Essential Characteristics For The Successful Implementation of ERP

Good ERP software is more than just good software. It involves an institutional commitment to connecting resources, processes, and people. It can be achieved with sound data practice deployment as part of a broader university-wide web strategy.

The successful implementation of ERP needs proper alignment of system requirements, cost, user training, and alteration management within the organization premises. It is obvious to face obstacles during the initial stages because of changes in the process. Without a doubt, working with ERP software makes the process simple and easy. Some important reasons for ERP system implementation are enhancing efficiency followed by cost advantage. Two third of the manufacturers and distributors claim that ERP system implementation proves to be successful and beneficial for them.

Companies spent approximately 17 weeks selecting an appropriate ERP system for themselves. On the whole, 87% of the organizations seek guidance for ERP implementation. Not only this, but 67% of the organizations seem guidance for ERP planning only. The greatest influencers in purchasing ERP software were employees from the IT department, and finance & accounting.

Stories of devastating ERP implementations are more than enough for the assurance of CEOs’ and CIOs’ sleepless nights looking at the probability to implement manufacturing ERP systems.

The question arises, what should you do for the assurance of the success of your project?

is the list of 10 essential characteristics for the successful implementation of ERP.

Plan the Project Carefully

Ensure that your timeline is realistic. It is crucial to have a clear image in mind about what needs to be done and who will do it. It is the basic stuff, but this is always worthwhile to put effort into the project planning before the project development and deployment initiates.

Focus on Expected Advantages

How will you define successful implementation? The habitual criteria of on-budget and on-time cannot measure success. The real success of the project lies in achieving the expected business advantages. Business advantages realization should be integral to every part of the project.

Have a Clear Image of The Project Scope

The major risk in most of the projects is scope creep. Potentially, it is a killer as it eats into resources such as people and money. This can have a complicating impact on the other elements of the project. This can probably delay the project.

Select the Right Software

It might seem obvious, but this does not mandatorily happen. ERP production management vendors are bullish when it boils down to the software capabilities they are selling. You need to put them through a structured and rigorous selection procedure. The purpose of this is to discover that which ERP software suits your business best.

Pick the Best Possible Implementation Team

The most common problem is underestimating the requirements from the internal project team. The skills, efforts, and experiences of the project team are crucial to deploying the project successfully. Liberate your trustworthy people for the project. Also, accept the reality that their capabilities to perform their usual jobs are going to be very limited for the project's duration. It may involve backfilling to release people or can be expensive. People that you require for your project team are probably those you cannot afford to lose. Remember that the time that your team spends on the project is a multiple of the time needed from the ERP vendor. It will reshape the dimensions of your business operations for the upcoming years.

Choose the Right Implementation Partner

Selecting the right implementation partner is as important as selecting the right ERP software. This is the ERP implementation company you will be relying on because of their experience and expertise. They will be impactful for implementing and getting the best out of the software that you are considering implementing.

Ensure Adequate End-User Training

It is easy to think that all the hard work has been done after putting tremendous effort into configuring and designing. Production management systems cannot operate by themselves. Users need to be trained on how to run the system properly. You might come across such users who have not used ERP systems before. Skip training at your own risk, especially mobile or remote users.

Ensure Commitment From the Top

Why should you care when your organization faces that senior management is not behind the project 100%? The project is required to be seen running from top to bottom. Conflicts between projects and day-to-day business operations will evolve. Such issues are required to be managed vigilantly and carefully.

Manage Changes Effectively

Introduction and implementation of the new system mean that things will surely change within the premises or organization. But business processes, procedures, and operations will change. Simultaneously, the job role definition will update. It is a high possibility that some roles may cease to exist. There is also the possibility that users might be fearful of what transformations mean for them. Acquisition of changes is not an easy task for an immense amount of people. You have a much better chance of a trouble-free cutover if you manage changes proactively.

Do Not Forget About the Report

Reporting is the most crucial characteristic for ERP successful implementation. Just think about or present systems and the reports that you utilize to perform business operations. Now observe how long it takes you to develop a wide range of reports that you currently use. During ERP implementation, it is crucial to answer that will the new system deliver all the reports that you require out of the box? The most usual answer to this question is probably not. It boils down to the fact that it is crucial to develop a list of those reports that are required to carry out business operations from Day 1.

Among the plethora of existing ERPs for the manufacturing industry, MIE Trak Pro is the best of all. MIE Trak Pro possesses all the essential characteristics listed above for the successful implementation of ERP. One word that completely describes this best ERP software is flexibility.

So stop burning daylight and visit MIE Trak Pro’s official website now!

#Successful Implementation of ERP #ERP System Implementation #ERP Implementation Company #ERP Software for Manufacturing #Manufacturing ERP #ERP Software #best erp software

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wordfires · 4 years ago

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zoril & ildien

this is eventually going to be a larger project but for now this is some character backstory for two of the dnd characters im currently playing! for some frame of reference zoril is a tiefling eventual warlock of the fiend (his patron is a plotpoint that hasn’t come up yet in what i’ve written bu o do know who it is) and ildien is a fallen aasimar shadow sorcerer and yes the “lore” gets a bit weird but they’re both for one shots its about fun not accuracy

anyway both of these are on the longer end and the format is a bit weird so im putting the first section of each character above the cut, but they’re separate in their (almost) entirety below the cut

Zoril was never a truly quiet child— he was never going to be anything else. In a different life, a different time, perhaps. But in this one, his life was chosen first by his mother when she left him to be raised alone by his father.

It was no fault of hers, really. It can be difficult to co-parent a child when the other parent in question is one of the kings of the nine hells.

But this is not a tale of unlikely parents. It is of unlikely children. And first, is Zoril.

Zoril was raised bouncing between the hells, never staying particularly long in one before he was passed to the next, although his time in his father’s domain was always the longest. The other rulers didn’t quite understand why the tiefling child was left to live very long, much less run amok among the denizens of the underworld.

Ildien had often wondered why his parents had left him. Many would have been grateful to have the celestials near. He often came to the conclusion that he had never looked precisely good-bringing. He had never really looked precisely human, as far as he could remember. Not that he was, but he had heard of others like him who could blend in with ease.

He had been told by those that had raised him that his parents had come to the church stammering and clutching at themselves like madness had overtaken them, muttering strange things about their child. The church Elder had asked to see the child, only for it to be thrown into her arms as the couple backed away and never returned.

Of course Ildien was only told this when the Elder had died.

It was no fault of hers, really. It can be difficult to co-parent a child when the other parent in question is one of the kings of the nine hells.

But this is not a tale of unlikely parents. It is of unlikely children. And first, is Zoril.

But Zoril’s father had his reasons. Zoril hoped this was the case, anyway. His father was the only one who never seemed to, at least overtly, cast him away. And so, despite bouncing between others, he was always Zoril, Prince of the Hells and Heir to Mephistopheles’ throne, should he ever leave it.

He had his tutors in the form of the souls who had made bargains with his father, though they always seemed to be removed whenever they attempted to reveal any regrets they may have had about the deals they made. He made friends with the passing imps and quasits, coercing devils into joining his games.

But there were also the lessons of his father, beginning as Zoril grew into his horns. Lessons taught within the palace walls. Never to perform a task without proper payment, to always know when respect and treachery are due. To know that even though his mother had given Zoril fire when he lived in a realm of ice and his nature was freer than the strict hierarchies of the hells, he was a Prince of Cania, that he was owed his rights to the world. But also to know that these rights must, at times, come second to the end goals of ambition.

And as Zoril continued to grow into these lessons and his adolescence, he was allowed and encouraged to begin to venture into the material planes, however he could. To witness the mortal lifespan he was left with, and the mortal souls he may one day be able to take.

His time on the surface was yet another teacher. Of want and desire by those who were raised with mortality. Of the passion it brings. As well as how to remain in the shadows, and when to leave them. How to grow close to another and leave them behind, desperate and ready to make a bargain.

But many of these required quiet, and as he grew taller into adulthood, Zoril found that endless energy again boiling underneath his skin, tired of being taught.

And so he found what he considered the second-best thing mortals had ever dreamed up: brawling.

He was always faster than he was strong, charming more often than fighting, but he could never argue against an adrenaline rush.

His trips into the material plane began bringing him more scars than potential souls for the devils of his home, and as he marched, smiling, into the palace of Cania, Mephistopheles had laughed, a great deep thing, gesturing with one clawed hand toward serving devils. And so his weapons training finally began.

It was not too many years after this that he was one of the top fighters at a ring he had come to frequent. Despite its allowance of magic, Zoril had taken to maces and flails rather than learning spells, letting the illusion of strength and slowness keep his opponents surprised.

It was a night like any other at first. He had been on a roll, undefeated for a week. But the whispers around the room as he readied himself spoke of a newcomer, some challenger from out of town, apparently desperate to fight someone who could pose a threat.

He wanted to laugh as he checked the leather grip of his favoured weapon. Instead, he volunteered to be the one to graciously defeat whoever this mysterious newcomer was. Then he laughed, joining the others around him as another fighter clapped his back and Zoril stepped into the ring.

If he had any less composure he was sure the newcomer would’ve knocked the grin right off his face as his laughter trailed off and he swung his flail up over his shoulder, barely thinking enough to not himself.

They were tall, towering even over the elaborate spines and curls that Zoril’s horns had grown into. Long dark hair tumbled onto pale purple-grey shoulders that sloped gently up into a set face and bright-burning purple eyes. Elaborate red acolyte’s robes draped over their frame, giving away their origins.

At least to anyone watching— Zoril himself was utterly lost in the newcomer, looking them up and down, barely catching himself as a wave of fire was hurled in his direction.

---

Of course Ildien was only told this when the Elder had died.

He had been 12 at the time. Until then he had been told that the elder, Elder Calla, was his mother. Then another acolyte had snidely commented that he didn’t have the right to mourn, after all, she wasn’t even really related to him. He had been told the real story later that night.

It was not long after that when Ildien’s magic began to change. It had always been something they could do, it came naturally. But light grew to darkness, the blossoming healing abilities seemed to wither away as he began to drift farther from human, even away from the celestial blood in his veins.

It was then, too, that Hadrariel became as distant as the light that once surrounded him.

Until that point, Hadrariel has been a constant companion, whispering kind words and gentle guidances, a second parent. In young Ildien’s eyes, another liar.

Truly it was not Hadrariel’s fault— though perhaps it was not Ildien’s either. It had been a long day, the day of Elder Calla’s funeral ceremonies. The loss was still sharp, and the leering gazes of older acolytes and unspoken words were constant needles, pressing into his skin. He had been the last to speak to the Elder, and was, therefore, the last to bid his farewell before the body was burned.

The memory of it was still a burning sear. The peace in the lifelessness of the corpse, another deception. The pitying eyes of her replacement. The ever-pressing gazes around him, narrowed eyes and silent laughter. And then the faint weight of Hadrariel’s gaze, an invisible hand on Ildien’s shoulder.

Shadows had lashed out of him, tipping the room into the grey of twilight, before the sudden pitch black of night as pain had ripped through him, tearing him to pieces.

Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The shadow fled from the room, slinking back to the soles of Ildien’s feet as he gazed at the skeletal remains of his wings, on display of their own accord. The absence of the weight of their feathers echoed in the void left behind by Hadrariel’s flight and the strange stillness in his chest.

He had looked on, to Calla’s body.

It was the last time he cried.

The following years were long— Ildien was yet an acolyte of the church of [], he had his duties and still lived within the church. But the laughter that may have turned to friendship instead turned to fear and quick glances. The new Elder was not kind as Calla had been. Ildien was labelled a bad omen, banned from certain ceremonies.

Most ceremonies aside from funerals, in fact. At these he was allowed, if only so no one else had to be near the corpse.

When not being put to the undesirable tasks, Ildien remained in his room, watching the torch fire make shadows dance across the wall as he read himself to restless sleep. Time seemed to pass slowly and quickly all at once, slipping through his fingers as he gazed on, indifferent.

He knew the church would release him once he was of age, no longer obligated to keep him as their ward. The only thing that had stopped them from throwing him out sooner was the new Elder’s idea of image.

But as he grew closer to this release from the church, it grew impossible to passively be feared. To allow the world to pass him by.

So rather than read himself to sleep watching the shadows, Ildien looked at what cast them, studying the flames licking at the air. He let his magic follow it’s new call into fire and shadow, falling in love with it. He let himself smile for the first time in years as fire danced across his shoulders as his feet moved in the rhythm of the shadows below him.

Ildien had not thought the new Elder, Varif, cared enough to pay him mind outside of when necessary, but when he was called to speak in front of him it was not long before the Elder’s intentions were revealed.

Varif had, in fact, been watching Ildien, and he had deemed worthy of the grand gesture the church needed to make to bring the community back into the fold.

Ildien only learned when the gesture was as it was happening. He was kept in a room away from his own, with only his shadows for company in the weeks leading up to the event.

When the door to his chamber opened as his eyes adjusted, Ildien was pulled and shoved into flowing ceremonial garb layered with dust, a uniform he hadn’t seen before. A scroll was pressed into his hands as he was pushed to an altar.

He remembered blinking the setting sunlight out of his eyes, looking to Elder Varif, grinning, and to a figure opposite him on the altar, decorated in the bones of an ox, eyes closed. The face of one of the newest acolytes in the shadow of the ox’s skull.

Ildien had looked down at the words on the scroll, the idea of this gesture clicking place in his head. He glanced once to the other acolyte, their eyes blearily opening, panic raising their eyebrows. He glanced to the Elder, grin settling into smug satisfaction.

He stepped towards the acolyte, putting them within arms reach, letting a smile of his own stretch across his face as he snatched the ox skull, planting it on his own head and swinging to face the Elder, outstretched arms coming together to hurl fire at the Varif.

It really was only meant to maim, for the most part. But as the Elder’s body hit the floor, the spark that had ignited his rebellion quieted, and there was an utter silence the same as Calla’s funeral.

He felt his heart beat once in his chest.

And he ran, the air on his face reigniting him— a grin stretched across his face as he threw layers of the constraining upper garment off and let the flowing skirts fly in the wind as his feet pounded stone and dirt.

He ran through the city, taking unfamiliar turns, whooping as he clutched the stolen skull to his head, not even quite sure why he took it. He did mean to stop before he ran into any buildings, but he was looking over his shoulder as his feet carried him into a small, dimly lit tavern, tumbling through a swinging door on the back wall into a somehow much larger space.

He was only able to pull himself to a stop just before he would have slammed into a wall of muscle glowering up at him.

A blur of questions were asked, lies flowing quicker out of his mouth than he could think about what he was saying and the next second he stood in a ring with wooden walls and a packed sand floor, the most stunning tiefling he had ever seen standing across from him. Their skin was dark red like deep flame, pitch coloured horns reaching into the shadows above their head, a flail was swung over shoulders covered only by a light tunic, black sleeves billowing ever so slightly as Ildien’s eyes were drawn down to the tiefling’s cloven hooves and then back up to gleaming eyes and sharp fangs poking out of a rakish grin.

Ildien felt his breath rush out of him, fire leaping out of his fingertips, his instincts remembering that this was meant to be a fight seconds before he remembered he hadn’t said he was here to gawk at the fighters, instead he had let himself lie that he wanted to be one of them.

#wylan writes #character sketch #dnd character #character backstory #short story #anyway as always i do appreciate any and all feedback #specifically right now bc most of my dnd friends are players in one or both one shots so i cant reveal a n y t h i n g #and its t e r r i b l e #plus i didnt even get to half the fun stuff in these sections so i can't even talk about it yet bc these end 7-8ish years before present day

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myfeetkeepdancing · 5 years ago

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Judge, Jury and Peter | AU!Peter Parker x Male!reader

Words: 4360

A/N: This is something I’ve always wanted to write. The setting and characters as a whole are something I hope to explore more in the future. But for now, this is it. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

———-

The wooden beams creaked eerily as your leather boot rested on the last step of the staircase. Your eyes scour into the leading corridor. Vigilant of your surroundings, searching the darkness for the slightest movement. Through the red and orange tongues of fire that were consuming the floor. Crackling, as the fire hungrily fed itself on the wooden construction. Rapidly climbing up the wall, gripping every opportunity to expand.

From your point of view, you could easily sense the nefarious footprints, mismatched, and each foot of different size. The dark energies that brought forth this wicked evil radiated from the blackened wood. Its tracks leading further down the hallway. With the wide brim of your hat, you shield yourself from the dancing flames consuming the roof, casting an orange glow down the hall. The damage was insignificant compared to the innocent lives lost in previous days.

The horror was unforeseen. Slaughtering the innocent. Unnecessary bloodshed because of an incompetent Burgomeister. Your blood boils warm by the thought of the many lives there could have been saved if they acted quicker.

Yet you need not any guidance nor clues to know where to move next. The terrified screams of a man echoed down the hall. With keen senses and sharp of mind. You cautiously stride down the hall—the flames licking at your boots and long black leather cape, hanging from your shoulders. Eyes fixated on the heavy oak door down the hall. You are aware that the heels of your boots announce your arrival. With every step, the hard leather thumped against the wood.

You let your gloved hand slide from the sheathed rapier. With such close quarters, it would only limit you. There was only one option.

One shot.

Reaching underneath your cloak, the palm of your hand meets the butt of your flintlock pistol. Carefully drawing it from its holster. With a click, the thumb of your hand cocks the hammer backward. The index finger resting on the trigger, teasing the spring of the mechanism. With the other hand, you clutch the symbol of your god, dangling around your neck. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you mutter a quick prayer to yourself. Bolstering your courage. Heighten your awareness and quicken your reflexes. Preparing you for the worst. As for the last twelve moons, you had witnessed enough horrors. Making you even more determined to end this.

Little light came from within the room itself. And as the door creaked open on its heavy hinges. You sight the abomination. The repugnant stench catches your nostrils. Sickening you. Revolting you. Even in your studies, you had never seen such cruelties. Patches of rotten skin, bulbous heaps of flesh, pulsating, hairy outgrowths, dripping with gory substances, sewn together by the fabric of ruinous magics. In horror, you watch its pseudo-corporeal body slump away from the desk. The creature had extended its arm, contorting its limb in inhuman ways, right through the desk to snatch the man. Indicating by the splinters and books scattered across the floor. Loathsome sounds came from its jaw as it animated in unusual ways. Before gaping wide open. The screams of the men, dangling in the monster’s grasps, brings you back to your senses.

Its head snapped towards you. Forcing you to meet it otherworldly gaze. Its sockets were devout of any life. Instead, deep, menacing orbs of humanlike size started glistened with a fiery green spark as it takes you in. Insane gibbering laughter cackled from its jaw. Revealing a set of malformed serrated fangs of various sizes. Raising its other arm, you gaze as the skin rips open, protruding claw-like blades from within the flesh. Gradually growing outward.

You could feel it’s green light seep into you through your eyes. Clouding your thoughts, weakening you. Paralyzing your every nerve. Numbing your will. But with a quick prayer, you shake the blasphemous magic from your mind. Feeling the warmth radiate through your body. The strength returning to your arms and legs.

In that time, the creature had taken steps towards you. Bringing it’s clawed arm up in such swiftness. Before striking it downwards on you. It seemed impossible that such a voluminous abhorrent lumping creature could move with such deadly swiftness. You lunge to the side, barely escaping the sword-like talons. Shaking the floor as the claw crashed with an unstoppable force. Trapping its claws into the hardwood floor.

A thunderous boom from the pistol echoed through the room. Drowning every other sound for moments. Covering the entity in a large plume of smoke. You would not allow the creature to take advantage of the situation any longer. It’s supernatural strength and speed were no match for you. But your weaponry was unmatched.

And as the bullet tore a gaping hole through the rotten malformed flesh of its face. You discard the smoking pistol to the floor. Not giving the creature a moment to react. With great finesse, you surge forward, drawing your rapier. Striking across its unnatural arm holding the man. A searing purple mist erupts from the cut. Sizzling and burning, giving off a horrid stench. Before it disconnects from the body. Unnatural twitches shake and shudder the creature. It’s body writhing in agony. Stinking fluids gulp from the wounds onto the floor. As the man frees itself from its decapitated arm. You bring your rapier back to guard yourself and the helpless man behind you. Slowly stepping backward, as you asses the damage. The blubbering mess stumbled back and forth, careful not to get hit by its other arm. Still swinging around, its dark magic still bound to the heap of rotten flesh. Controlling its limbs in unnatural ways.

An uneasy feeling crept over you as you watch the skin grow and stretch. The dreadful sound of bones breaking and snapping intensifying it. All over its body, swollen masses of flesh began growing, stretching the skin. Horrifying gurgling noises become louder from the gaping hole of its once intact face.

“Get up!” You order to the man scrambling to his feet behind you, the horror painted on his face. Frozen to the spot. “Move!” Sheathing the blade, you turn to the man and dragging up him to his feet. Shielding him the best you can of what came next. Storming towards the door. Only a few meters away. You take the gamble and jump with the man in your arms. A gory explosion enveloped the room. The blast pushing you both the down into the hallway.

Gathering your breath. You raise yourself onto your feet. Dusting yourself down, as you slowly begin to regain your senses. Noticing the scenery behind you. Nothing but red smear painted these walls. Everything drenched in the horrible fluids of the accursed creature. The sight was one thing, but the smell was another. Nothing but death and decay.

On closer inspection, you counted yourself lucky, seeing the countless bone splinters burrowed into the walls. The more of the scenery you observe, the more questions arise. The extensive collection of books and parchments, shattered vials of herbal equipment.

A growled groan behind you draws your attention. Coming from the man lying on the floor. Facedown to the floor, groaning. Fortunately, still alive. A minor victory in your book.

You didn’t give the man a good look in the first place once you entered. But now with him seated against the wall. You can’t help but notice the young features. Under all the blood and bruises, you see a young, lively man. A kind face, “T-Thank you…” He stammers. “Stranger.” His voice was somber and rough. Doubled over in pain. Coughing heavily. Clutching his hands to his side.

“That’s not looking good.” Observing the crimson red-stained fabric between his hands. You’ve seen enough injuries by know to know that was a fatal one. Even without a proper look. That amount of blood loss was impossible to heal even by priests. The nearest would take at least half an hour to get there. Especially without your trusty steed.

“I’ll be fine.” He coughed out the words. Slowly rising to his feet. He couldn’t be much older than you. Mid-twenties possibly. Yet, he had a refreshing, optimistic atmosphere to him. Something strange. Handing your brim hat that lay beside him. Blown from the head by the blast.

“No, you’re not.” You snap angrily, taking the hat from him. Restoring it back on your head where it belonged. Straightening your coat and cape. Tightening the belts of equipment around your torso. “Priests are up far north. Without a proper steed, it will take you an hour to get there.”

“You’re quite young for a witch hunter.” He smiles thinly. Waiting for a reaction. But your mind is occupied elsewhere. Your face painted grim and dark with anger. Losing another lead wasn’t something to report back. The Order wouldn’t tolerate such results. Especially on your first mission alone.

“I’m Peter.” Extending his hand towards you.

“I need not know a dead man’s name.” Scoffing his enthusiasm away. “I require answers. Why did that monstrosity target you? Out of all the citizens in this town. You were the one. I can hardly believe that’s a coincidence.”

“It’s a long story. Allow me to-”

“I need answers, not bedtime stories.” You growl, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“Alright, then see for yourself.” Lifting the blood-drenched garments from the wound. You were surprised by the size of the cuts. But even more so by the fact that the three large gashes on his side had stopped bleeding. The tissue was torn open pretty badly. Normally, the blood would gush from these kinds of injuries. But not in this case. Your mind raced to conclusions. Magic.

“What… How is that possible?” Taking a step backward, your hand ready on the stock of your remaining pistol. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s difficult.” Turning his side towards you. “Look…” Your eyes widen in disbelief. In all the years of study. This was unheard of.

“What the…” Your hand reaches for your mouth, drowning any remaining cursing words that wanted to spill from your lips. The torn tissue was slow but gradually growing back. “Enough! What heresy is this!?” Reaching for your shackles on your belt. “Others have been on the pyre for less!.”

But instead of the expected fight, he puts both his arms forward. Lining up his wrists. Ready to be shackled up. A moment of hesitation stops you from continuing. An uneasy feeling washed over you as you see his smile stretching.

“Go for it.” He encourages you.

In a swift motion, you shackle both his wrists up. With the key put away safely, you turn your attention to the room. Motioning him to wait.

Sharpening your senses, focussing on the details. Perhaps you were able to find some clues about the origin of the monster. Its reason for being here. Instead of listening to a lengthy story from that unusual man. And of course, recover your flintlock pistol.

The thoughts of reporting back to the Order without results send a shiver down your spine. Determined to find something. Any lead. There must be a pattern somewhere. You gather some samples here and there. Make a note in your tome. Sketch a few drawings of leftovers from the monstrosity. And gather evidence.

The witchcraft that was at work here was another level. It was a shame the person that put this thing into the world made it disintegrate. Leaving less to investigate. After careful consideration, you accept the fact you can’t recover anything noteworthy. One positive observation, the dark magic seems to have evaporated with it. You mumble a quick prayer of cleansing.

But the sound of metallic crunching, twisting and snapping, disturbed your moment of prayer.

“By the Gods!” You watch in awe as the man had freed itself from your shackles. It’s metal rings torn apart, bent and broken. No sweat on his forehead to be sighted. You look on in fear as he breaks open the shackle on his wrist with little effort.

“We can help each other.” He says calmly while undoing the other. “But in order to, you have to understand I’m your only lead on your quarry.”

“As an ordained servant of our most holy lord, and templar knight of his sovereign temple. I certainly need no-…”

“I can walk away if you want.” He interrupts you, crossing his arms. A smile curving his lips. He knew exactly what his position was.

The daunting realization hits you that no matter the banter, you had nothing to show for. You may have saved his life, but that’s all.

“I saved your life.” Crossing your arms. “So, to settle that debt and convince me, you will share information about the-…”

Meanwhile, you hear a fleet of stamping boots run upwards. Facing the stairs, you spot the embroidered tunics and shields of the local guards. “Sir?” The guardsmen ask. “Are you alright? We heard-…”

“I’m fine.” You waved him away.

The soldiers lined up behind him all look at you, before noticing the gory scene. Revolting in horror. Some run down the stairs, hearing them spill their guts downstairs.

“Make the arrangements to burn down the house. I also require any information on the owner.”

“Aye, will do, Sir.” Bowing down to you. Huffing a few orders to his guardsmen before setting his eyes on the two of you. “And who’s this?” Pointing out the mysterious man standing opposite of you. “He didn’t accompany you when you entered.” His hands reaching for the pommel of his sword.

Peter gave the guard a kind smile. But he was having none of it. The grip tightening on his sword. The tension was noticeably rising. Outweighing your every option. Peter staring at you, awaiting your response.

“He’s with me.” You grumbled annoyingly. “We’re staying at the inn.” That was further from the truth but saved you hassle from any explanation. You nudge Peter to follow you, taking the first few steps down the stairs. But halt before the guard, turning in to face him up close.

“See to it that this place is torched before nightfall.”. You snarled to the guard’s face. Before moving on.

“But… Sir?” You hear the guardsmen trying to protest.

“That’s an order!” You growl and turn onto the street. Leather boots sinking deep into the muddy ground. The rancid smell of horse shit and nearby pigpen hang poignant around the area. Navigating down the narrow streets winding up towards the town square. Lined by timber walls and plastered houses, the faces withdraw hastily. Closing shutters and doors. And the few passers avert their gaze. Its lanes became eerily quiet for the time of day. Only the sounds of nature, chirping birds, and cackling chickens.

“That man was merely doing his job.” Peter stated while following close behind you.

“So do I.” You snap back. Sucking on your teeth as you fought to contain your anger. How you wish you could give him a reprimand.

“Are you always like this?” He asked, picking up with you. From the corner of your eye, you see his kind features waiting for a reaction. But by now, you knew when to speak. And when to keep things to yourself.

In the distance, you spot a building that resembles a tavern. A low stone wall surrounding it, stables to its side, and swaying sign at the porch. Its colors faded and worn, the letters spelling ‘The Grey Goblet’. The image below the Gothic letters depicting two spilling goblets. No peasants nor traders inhabited the outdoor tables. Only a faint light coming through the small fogged up windows showed signs of life.

With hesitation, you open the heavy oak door. The common room opening up to you was spacious. A cluster of tables strewn about with an occasional group of peasants and farmers sharing there drinks and stories. To the left, a long oak topped bar ran along the wall, an older man standing behind it. The men looked up from their hushed and subdued conversations, narrow-eyed studying the newcomers with suspicion. You return their stare with a cold and expressionless look around the room. Taking in each and every individual. They know what kind of person they were dealing with. And so they return to their subdued conversation. While keeping one eye on you.

The barkeep didn’t seem pleased with your arrival. His brow furrowed while he tapped two steins of beer. “I suppose you want a drink.” He groveled.

“Not the warmest welcome I’ve had.”

“Whatcha expectin’? Shaking his head. "Your kind bring nothing but misery with ya…” He said with annoyance in his voice. “Take what ya want and leave.” Eyeing the two of you with suspicion.

“Mind your tongue…"

"Well, need I remind ya’ of that family you lot send to the pyre four seasons ago. A whole bloody family. Ripped from our midst. Even the little girl…!” The man bursted out in anger. Clearly your kind have made their mark on the region.

“It’s the few for the many.” You turn your relentless gaze to the peasants listening in. Turning their heads to their respective table out of fear. "Heresy ran deep within this region…” Your eyes scan the crowd for any troublemakers. Making sure the fear set in. It occurred before, rebelling against the Order and their Templars. But they know by now, that such actions have dire consequences. “And yet it seems their roots haven’t been properly eradicated.” You turn to the man. “Have they…?” Its face turning pale.

“N-No… I mean Yes… I… Please… I-”

You let the words do the rest. “Now, I need your best room for the night. Serve us a good meal with your best wine, and ready a bath for this one here.” Jabbing a thumb over to Peter. “We’ll talk later.” You nudge to him, while you climb the stairs beside the bar. Intend on picking the room yourself.

“God has forsaken me…” The man muttered to himself. But loud enough for you to overhear. As he ordered the maiden to the kitchen.

“Your contribution to the Church and the Order is duly noted, my good man.” The words drip with sarcasm. “Serve my meal in my room. I do not want to be disturbed. And keep those blasphemous thoughts to yourself. Or I will see to it myself.”

As you inspect the rooms, door by door, you hear the commotion downstairs. Like in most places, you think to yourself. Peter’s voice sounded several times, followed by the rattle of coins. It takes a while before quiet and peace to return.

The room was adequately furnished. A dining table accompanied by a small seating area. The bedroom situated through a set of doors. And a large desk standing in front of the window. You relieve yourself of all equipment and brim hood. The holsters of your guns hanging on the backrest. You seat yourself down in the chair opposite the window. From your view, you could see the sunset. As the flames of the burning house reached high into the sky. You reach for a small prayer book on the inside of your coat. Beautifully lined and adorned with a gold symbol on the crest. You shut your eyes and intertwine your fingers. Resting them atop the booklet. Mumbling the words to yourself. A moment of prayer. A moment of cleansing. A moment of reflection. Asking your god to lead you. Lead you on the right path.

A knock on your door disturbs your prayer. The interruption putting in you in an even blacker mood. “Put in on the table, and leave me be.” You snarled at whoever stood at your door. The door creaks open, slow footsteps walk across the room before they halt. Your nose could tell who it was. That smell. “Peter…”

“You look troubled.” A bit of worry sounded to his words.

“I said we’ll talk later.” You look over your shoulder, seeing him stand in the doorway. “Take a bath, you reek of filth.” Pulling one gun out of the holster. You bring up one canister of bullets hanging from your belt, and the satchel with cleaning equipment. Maintaining your equipment is vital. They were your tools of the trade. A proper tool for protection. And order.

Cleaning the barrel. Weighing the gunpowder. Oiling the mechanism. Polishing the metal. It requires precision and care. And if you spend that time. Took that time. The tools will return that favor to you. All the while, Peter still stands there. Observing you.

“It’s a meal for two.” He says. From your chair, you notice the platter with what seems to be a whole goose or duck. “Will you wait for me?”

“Yes.” You say icy and cold. Pulling the other pistol from your holster. Preparing it for cleaning. “Be quick.”

For once, your nostrils were teased by the lovely odors of a roasted duck or goose. Herbs and spices richly strewn with. Whatever it was, it smelled delightful. This sure was a pleasant relief from all the horrid smells of the past few days. A bowl of cooked vegetables and potatoes to the side. Two cups of soup. A carafe of wine and two gray goblets. A lavish meal for these parts. You pour yourself a one, putting it to your lips. Letting your senses overflow by the rich pallet of flavors of the sunbathed grapes. Carrying you back to memories of a better time.

“Good wine?” Peter asks as he entered the room without noticing, ruining your moment of joy. “I thought I saw a smile there.” He chuckles softly. You open your eyes to a refreshed looking young gentlemen. Dressed in elegant red garments, embroidered with tints of gold.

“How are you feeling?” Taking a seat on the table, Peter sitting opposite you. On the stool beside you, hang your sheathed rapier. The black leather brim hood sat on the table, underneath it, a holster sticking out on your side. For those entering the room, barely to be seen. For you, at the ready in a flash.

“I’m doing good.” He smiled, doing a quick check on his injuries. “Thank you for the bath.”

"It’s the least I can do.” Pouring him his wine. “But why’d you pay the man?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because he must serve a knight of the temple at no cost. So says the law.”

“But I’m not one of yours.”

Unsettling enough, he had a point. You weren’t going to admit he was right. But this man had an answer to your every word. It didn’t feel like arguing, yet the experience of being spoken up against you was unnerving.

“We usually don’t get these kinds of… lavish meals.”

“I know why.” He snorted. Aware that you were struggling to regain your composure.“But I hope you enjoy it. I certainly do.” Giving you a smile. “You know… I still don’t know your name.” Taking a sip from his wine, leaning back into the chair. “If we’re going to work together, that might be useful.” He joked. You kept your gaze to your plate the whole time. Questions were burning in the back of your mind that required answering. And he was your only option.

“I’m (Y/N).” You look up, meeting his gaze. A look of kindness and grace met yours of irritation and disdain. Receiving a simple smile in return.

You don’t fancy these odds. Everything was depended on him. Even if he bluffed, even if he was lying. There was no other way. You sought to get an answer out of this man. One way or another. Not ruling out a confession of the sorts. If it wasn’t for those healing powers, then you would twist the rules to your liking. You weren’t going to end up empty-handed. Most certainly not.

“Well… nice to meet you (Y/N).” He smiled kindly, bringing you back from your scheming thoughts. “That house you ordered to burn down, could have been mine.”

“It wasn’t.” With the napkin, you wipe away the residue from your meal. Meeting his gaze again. “The lock was forced. That monster would have gone straight through the door. You were trying to sneak in. To what purpose might I ask?”

“Good eye.” He compliments you with a broad smile. Moving to the edge of his seat. “You know, I’m in the same boat as you are.”

“Just answer the question.” You snarl, gritting your teeth out of frustration. “You have a lot to answer for. And as long as you’re treading through these lands, you’re falling under my scrutiny and jurisdiction.”

“You’re angry with yourself, aren’t you?"

The blood started boiling deep inside you. This man was driving you insane. Jaw clenched tightly and nostrils flaring. You sat there letting him roll over you. Something was holding you back. In any situation, you would have scolded the man with every possible vocabulary in the book.

"I can see it in you. You got that fury in your eyes.” He continues. “You don’t want to admit it. But deep down, you know, I’m your only shot at success. Am I right?”

In what position did he think he was in to speak up to you in such a manner?

“You’re not the one in control. That’s it! That infuriates you. You’re powerless. Something you’ve never experienced until now.”

The words he spoke came closer to the truth you ever wanted to admit. Your hands shudder from rage. That hot burning anger seeking to harm. Insulting a servant of the Order like this. This was unheard of. Your hand clamps around the wine glass, shaking as you bring it to your lips. Gulping it all down.

“This is going to be fun. (Y/N).” He smiled happily, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he continues eating. A glint of excitement glared in his eyes as he glanced up at you. Steam was literally fuming from your ears.

You were beyond anger of these acquisitions. Yet something wholesome about him kept you from bursting out in rage. As you looked at him, there was something about him that you couldn’t get angry about. Soothing almost. Calming.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #peter parker tom holland #oneshot #judge jury and peter

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bookofjin · 4 years ago

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Annals of Zhengping 2 (452)

[The end of an era. From WS004]

[Zhengping 2, 6 February 452 – 24 February 453]

2nd Year, Spring, 1st Month, gengchen, New Moon [6 February], more than 5 000 families of the people who had come from the south in surrender planned rebellion at Zhongshan. The provincial army chastised and pacified them. The Inspector of Ji province, the King of Zhangye, Juqu Wannian had communicated and planned with surrendered people. He was bestowed death.

3rd [2nd ?] Month, jiayin [11 March?], the Emperor collapsed at the Yong'an Palace, at the time he was aged 45. Kept it secret and did not issue out mourning. The Palace Regular Attendant Zong Ai fabricated an order from the August Empress, and killed the King of Dongping, Han. He welcomed the King of Nan'an, Yu, to enter, and then installed him. A great amnesty, and changed the inaugural to Yongping [“Eternal Peace”]. Venerating the August Empress, Ms. Helian, as August Empress Dowager.

3rd Month, xinmao [17 April], the Sovereign was venerated with the posthumous title of Grand Martial [taiwu] August Emperor, and buried at Jinling in Yunzhong. His temple title was Generational Founder [shizu].

Summer, 6th Month [3 July – 31 July], Liu Yilong's general Tan Hezhi robbed Ji¤ province. Liang Tan and Lu Ansheng's armies were at Jingsuo. Pang Meng and Xue Andu robbed Hengnong.

Autumn, 7th Month [1 August – 30 August], the General who Conquers the South, the Duke of Anding, Han Yuanxing, chastised them. Hezhi withdrew, Liang An and Ansehng likewise fled.

8th Month [31 August – 29 September], the General of the Best of the Army, Feng Li, led 2 000 cavalry to follow the Dou Ford, cross south, and hurry to Hengnong.

9th Month [30 September – 28 October], the Minister of Works, the Duke of Gaoping, Er Wugan, stationed at Tong Pass. The General who Pacifies the South, the Duke of Changli, Yuan Liao, stationed in Henei.

Winter, 10th Month, bingwu, New Moon [29 October], Yu was murdered by Zong Ai. The Master of Writing Within the Hall, Zhangsun Kehou, and the Master of Writing Lu Li welcomed and installed the august grandson, this was Gaozong.

When the Emperor was born, he did not reach Empress Dowager Mi. When he became aware of it, his words then were sorrowful and sad. His grief moved nearby people. Taizong heard and sighed with admiration. Arriving at when Taizong was not at ease, he dressed without letting go of the belt.

He was by nature pure, frugal, frank and plain. For his clothes and carriages, drink and meals, he took and gave, and that was all. He was not fond of precious and gorgeous things, his food had no second flavour. The Brilliant Companions and Honoured Ladies [two concubine ranks] that he favoured had no combined hues in their clothes.

The crowd of subjects addressed the Emperor about further steepening the Imperial District's walls and moats, using the righteousness of following the Changes of Zhou to set up strategic passes, and also laying out Xiao He's argument for strength and magnificence. The Emperor said:

The ancients had a saying, that it lies in virtue, not in strategic passes. The Bent Beggar boiled earth to build walls, yet We wiped him out. What is there in walls? Now Under Heaven is not at peace, just now [we] require the people's strength, the affairs of ground work is not done by Us. The reply of Xiao He was not elegant speech.

He always considered wealth the foundation of army and state, and never made light of squandering. Arriving at rewarding and bestowing, everything was for the families of [those] who had died in the affair [or?] had deeds and achievements. Intimate relatives and loved favourites not once cut across to catch up with them.

When approaching the enemy, he was often in the same places as the soldiers and troops, among the arrows and stones. Those to the left and right died or were injured one after the other, yet the Emperor in spirit and appearance was like himself. Hence people thought to serve with their lives, towards where nothing was in front.

When he instructed generals to set out with a host, he gave guidance and granted rules and measures. None of those who followed the instructions did not subdue and win. Those disobeyed and disregarded for the most part very much were defeated and lost. He by nature also understood people, when promoting a soldier from among the squads,it was only for the length of his talents and achievements, he did not discus root and branch.

He was impartial and truly strict in passing judgements, and perceptive in his punishments and rewards. Those with merit were rewarded without rejecting thieves, those with crimes were punished without escape for the intimate. Even if he favoured and loved them, in the end he did not diminish the law. He often said:

You all who united Under Heaven with Us, how dare [you] make light of it.

For that reason, when the great subjects violated the law, none were let go and pardoned.

Especially when he at length listened to examinations [?], he in the time of the blink of an eye would send down people without setting aside their opposing secrets. As such when it resulted in execution and slaughter, he later often regretted it. After the Minister over the Masses, Cao Hao, had died, the Emperor went on a northern offensvie. At the time the Duke of Xuancheng, Li Xiaobo was gravely ill, those who transmitted it considered him to have had passed on [?]. The Emperor heard and grieved for him, he spoke to left and right, saying:

Li of Xuancheng can be regretted.

He again said:

We previously were remiss in speech. Minister over the Masses Cui can be regretted. Li of Xuancheng can be lamented.

His praise, censure, and proper tought was always of this kind.

#ws004

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yoongisbars · 5 years ago

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quest of omission | myg (2)

summary: The war between kingdoms was starting and being Freywind’s highest ranking Captain, you would always be there to defend your people from the treachery of Woodwind. There’s just one problem: their best killer, The Silence, and his insufferable ability to make your heart race with both loathing and yearning. And now, on the verge of death after an ambush gone wrong, you both have no choice but to keep each other alive.

pairing: myg x reader genre: enemies to lovers au | knight!yoongi au | future angst? fluff? | drabble series word count: 2.1k parts: 2/_ | 1 cw: prolly shitty yet cruel depictions of death and aggressive encounters(no smut tho chill) note: so we gonna get a bit more of The Silence in this one, but also some non bts chars bc of depth: my walnut brain needed it for its original purpose and im not changing it

A sharp burning pain crept up from within your lungs. The need to cough, gag and vomit was what brought you back. You spewed nothing but the murky water that was surrounding you. After gathering your senses, you try to stand up, trying to recollect how did you even get here, but the memory of the reservoir bursting quickly made its way to your mind. You were soaked head to toe, and covered in mud here and there, and surely you almost drowned, but whatever entity decided you were worthy of living certainly gave you a fighting chance. All in all, you were alive and in one piece. You couldn’t say the same for the few bodies you stumbled across as you wandered the forest. It was dark and endless, congested by spruce, willow, and sequoia trees. Roots curled the surface, accompanied by shallow waters and mud holes. You were thankful of the full moon illuminating the nearly impossible ground you walked. Whenever you came across a body, you prayed it wasn’t Taehyung, Mare, or anyone of closeness. But these were the consequences of battle. You found the bodies of Woodwind men, as well as your own. Looting what was necessary in order to make do. It was a crude sentiment, but they didn’t need whatever they carried anymore. They were long dead. You happened to find a decent knife, like your personal one, which you had managed to keep safely tucked against your thigh.

You wandered and wandered and wandered and all you ever came across was the occasional body or a small woodland animal of any sort. No matter which direction you headed, it always seemed like you were going deeper into the woods. You hoped to find a riverbank so that maybe you could try to find your way back to the ambush location and from there head back to Freywind, but not even that. Time passed but for you it stilled. All you could do was walk aimlessly around the woods in cold weather while soaking wet, trying to at least find shelter of any sort, until your eyes set on a pair of bodies you were all too familiar with… Your beloved underlings. They were at your side moments before the flooding, but now their bodies laid sprawled over roots and mud. From where you stood you could see Atlas’ open eyes, gaze facing nowhere but beyond… His mouth slightly agape, his lasts breaths must have been painful. Eyes that would look to you for guidance and a mouth that would cheer you on, are far gone from this plane of existence. You didn’t know if what was dripping down your face were tears, or remnants of the water you escaped, practically unscathed. Your steps were careful and slow as you got closer. Next to him, was Aeron… His ragged breathing barely a whisper, eyes shut, and face pained. You kneeled beside him, and his name was a whisper escaping your lips. “Aeron?” Your eyes couldn’t help but give him a once over, and it wasn’t until you were in such proximity that you noticed what had him in agony. He winced as he opened his eyes, slightly turning his head over to face you. All color was drained from him, his lips were already turning to an ungodly shade of blue that you had never imagined to be faced with. Even if you knew war eventually led to death, you didn’t imagine death ever touching them, or the gruesome way that it did. “Captain… You’re okay…” His voice cracked and faded, came and went. Whatever strength he still had; he was using it all to speak. “I’m so glad.” Tears started to stream from his eyes as he forced a gentle smile, and you couldn’t help but mimic him. You denied looking down once more, to what came out of his torso, but the source of his slow suffering was impossible to neglect. A large, sharp, twisted root was stained in scarlet as blood continued to pool beneath him.

“Aeron, I’m so sorry. Atlas…” His cold body laid across you, his hand tightly grasped by Aeron’s. It would have been a mercy had they died at once, but one had to suffer while the other was a corpse next to him.

“He passed not long ago. The water… It threw him against those rocks, and I got… stuck here.” Aeron struggled to speak, not raising his gaze from his comrade. “Still, he tried to crawl his way here. He died moments after reaching me.” Their bond was one of the purest, unmatched by any, until the end. “Captain, would you do me the favor of closing his eyes?” Your nod was small, but genuine. A trembling hand neared Atlas’ cold face, placing it over his lids. You let it rest there for a moment as you let out a tiny sob.

“Thank you, thank you…” The grip of Aeron’s hand on Atlas’ tightened. As if giving him a final goodbye.“Have you found any live ones?” You didn’t notice when Aeron was facing you again.

“No. Not yet.” You wiped away at the residue coming out of your nostrils. “Has anyone been nearby?” The young boy softly shook his head. His free hand slowly went to reach your face, thumb wiping away at the tears that were still streaming.

“Captain, it’s okay. These situations are inevitable in war, you taught us so.” You shook your head as you gently squeezed his hand. Not like this, never like this. “It has been my greatest honor to train under you and fight alongside you. I’m sure Atlas would say the same.” His words were slow and ragged, but genuine. In his eyes, embers were fading, but one spark remained.

“Take my necklace. Make sure when you get out of here and return home, please give it to Sian, give her my regards, tell her what I never could… Tell her I love her dearly...” Regret and numbness welled in his eyes, the pain of not returning to the love of his life was greater than that of being impaled. Your hands made their way towards his neck, slowly removing his necklace, avoiding him any more pain. You placed it around yours and safely tucked it under your mucky clothes.

“I will. I’ll let her know you thought of her until the end.” You went for his hand and gave him a squeeze of reassurance, not letting go.“Thank you.”

You stayed by Aeron’s side in silence, refusing to let go of his hand, focused on his ragged breathing and the cold night surrounding you. You couldn’t bare seeing him like this, but neither putting him out of his misery. Not like he wanted you to anyways, all he wanted was for you to be by his side until nature took its course, just like he was for Atlas. You felt the grip he had on your hand slowly loosen up, as his head slowly rolled to the side and against your shoulder until you heard it. It was faint, but you heard it. You would continue to hear it for the rest of your existence. The final sign of life escaped him when his breath did, and he was gone. It took time to get there, but he was gone in an instant.

Sobs escaped from your inner core. Your underlings were dead beside you, their bodies would not be put to rest in a proper burial where their loved ones can have their final goodbyes. They would be left in a forest in God knows where, together at the very least. Alone, but together.

With shivery legs, you got up and gently repositioned Atlas’ body in a more comfortable manner, placing both his hands over his chest. A grim expression grew on your face as, through tears, you tried removing Aeron’s body from the root. More sobs got stuck on your throat as more blood poured from his chest, no wonder his light armor couldn’t withstand such mighty root. Once his body mimicked Atlas’, you scouted the nearby area for flowers. Carefully plucking some delicate blue ones; you placed them in their hands. You sat in front of their bodies silently, accepting that they were gone, and you were alone. Alone, but together. It was a small comfort, they were only lifeless bodies with you, but at least they were with you, and you gave them both a small, decent send off to the beyond. Your goodbyes you kept to yourself. Your regrets as well.

As you mourned your losses, the sound of a snapping twig broke you away from your sorrows. Wiping your tears away with one arm and drawing your small blade with the other as you stood, you surveyed your surroundings with caution. Breathing was close to nonexistent as you tried to be as silent as you could, if only to listen more carefully. Wary footsteps got closer in sound, but you couldn’t see anything or anyone yet. Not until they peered themselves into view from behind some trees, less guarded than you were.

“You…” When your eyes deciphered who it was, the anger inside you soon started to boil again. It was his fault, it was his unit, it was he who led the ambush.

“You.” He slowly retired the blade he was ready to draw back to its sheath once he realized it was only you. Still wet, shivering, covered in mud, blood, and tears. His eyes travelled to the bodies behind you, peacefully laid out, and then travelled back to you. He had never seen someone that looked so distraught completely shift into rage and fury.

“Don’t look at them, lowlife scum.” Low, harsh tones met his ears. “It’s your fucking fault I lost them. I’m going to kill you.” The last sentence was drawn out so slowly, he was almost taken aback when you lunged for his throat with your blade, ready to return the scar he left you with and take his life while you were at it. But he was quicker. Before you could land a single hit, his hands clasped around your wrists with more force than necessary. In a second, he forced your body around, kicking you behind your knees. You dropped to the ground in pain.

“You really think I’ll quit?” Attempting, but failing, to stab him while throwing your arms back at him, he twisted your wrists above you until nearly snapping them, with an aching yelp, the blade fell out of your hands. He quickly let you go and pushed you forwards. You winced and seethed as you brought your semi injured wrists up to your chest. Using the lesser pained hand, your reached for the blade, but were quickly halted by the weight of his boot, causing another agonized bawl to escape your lips.

“I suggest not.” He lifted his foot off your hand and kicked away the knife beneath it. Wincing and scowling, you crawled your way to the sanctuary of your dead comrades. It wasn’t fair. You were supposed to get revenge, if not for yourself, for them. What kind of a sorry Captain were you? Couldn’t protect your unit from an ambush, couldn’t secure them from the currents, and couldn’t even avenge them at the very least by hurting the one man who caused all this. Instead, he stood above you and you were rendered to nothing in mere seconds. His bored gaze loomed over you like a curse, and you understood why they called him Silence. He drew out a long breath as he averted his gaze elsewhere, wiping mud off his brow. He was just as much of dirty mess as you were. Puddles sloshed as he marched away.

“I’m finding a way out. You’re more than welcome to come along, if you keep your hands and blades to yourself.” A barked laugh escaped your throat.

“Why would I search for a way out with the likes of you?” You were already on your feet, pain from your knees and wrists subsiding. His sudden turn caught you off guard, but you refused to show it.

“Then meet a fate no better than your companions’.” He jutted his chin over to where Aeron and Atlas’ bodies laid. The calm, cool tone for such a vile string of words made you uneasy. Being this near him, under the moonlight, without the rush of battle or alcohol in your veins, you were able to see him better. He was not that much taller than you, and yet? He always made you feel so small, so vulnerable and rendered you utterly and completely defenseless…

“I’d rather take my chances with the woodland night.” You took a few steps backwards and plopped down on the muddy ground.

His fingers brushed the muddy, brown locks out of his face. Shrugging, he went on his way. “Alright, alone then.”

***************

my makeshift taglist:

@loveyoongles

@stoeq

i had to repost sorry

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts x you

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zecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: Not Quite Santa

To: @agentshilonglang From: @erisofimladris

Soooo I couldn’t resist the Kurashiki angst and my first-ever Christmas story happened! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I loved writing it, and Merry Christmas!

AO3 link

For the first time since their parents died, Aoi Kurashiki didn’t know how to be Santa.

It had always been easy. Akane would write a letter to Santa, Aoi would swipe it from the mailbox, and there would be something on there that he could afford, even if it wasn’t what she necessarily wanted most - even with her huge imagination and love of the unreal, she also understood that they were poor.

And now they weren’t poor, or at least they wouldn’t be for long now that Akane knew how to get the money necessary to run that game again, which meant there was theoretically more of an opportunity for gifting. But Aoi couldn’t think of anything at all.

Whenever he tried to think of Christmas, all his mind returned to was the story Akane told him he’d say in the future, the one about the two Santas - the white-robed Santa killing the one in black, the black-robed Santa’s blood staining the coat a jolly red.

It gave a whole new meaning to the holiday, and after all, he was celebrating with a new Akane. In the last month, he’d barely recognized the Akane who he grew up with who believed in everything and everyone. Now, she only believed in a thin thread tying them to the future where every little thing they did for the next nine years could make her live or die. Everything from the setup of Building Q in Nevada to getting to Nevada to his acting skills and her hair bound in a pair of hair clips, not quite stars and not quite flowers, with little circles on the ends.

No matter how hard he wished for the old Akane back, for them to both live their lives without ever knowing something called a Nonary Game existed, Aoi didn’t believe in any kind of Santa. It was hard enough to believe that his sister stood in front of him alive (well, mostly) after what happened last month.

She hadn’t left a letter for Santa this year, and it wasn’t like what some of the other kids in school said when their little brothers and sisters figured out Santa wasn’t real. Aoi had no doubt that if not for what happened on the Gigantic last month, there would be a letter waiting for him, asking for a stuffed animal or a dollhouse or a pet.

The dollhouse wouldn’t have been a bad idea before the Gigantic, but now Akane was so attached to the doll Junpei gave her that she hardly let it out of her sight. Not to mention it was a creepy little thing that definitely didn’t belong in a cutesy dollhouse - just like all the babble about morphogenetic fields didn’t belong spewing out of the mouth of his little sister.

Pets were off the table as well, now that they’d need to move around. There was no good way to keep a pet if they might need to move to a different continent in the blink of an eye; they were technically still on the run from Hongou and his goons at Cradle Pharmaceuticals, and the last thing they needed was a snafu at customs or something else to part Akane from another thing she’d get attached to.

Without any further guidance, Aoi was lost. He didn’t know how to do Christmas without letters to Santa and presents under a tree.

And so, he didn’t get a tree. Akane never mentioned it, and neither of them pointed out the spot in the small apartment where they were staying that would be perfect for a well-decorated tree. He wasn’t sure he could even get her help in decorating, and they didn’t need a bare pine tree in the living room to remind them of yet another thing that had been ruined.

After a few days of hearing Christmas carols in the streets and garlands strung over shop windows, however, Aoi felt something missing. They had to do something for Christmas; they couldn’t let this be something else Hongou took away. Even without a tree, even without Santa, there had to be something he could do to commemorate the holiday.

He found himself in an American store one day after school, looking for something Christmas-y that wouldn’t bring up any old memories. A bit of an escape from all that had happened, something to lighten the mood of an apartment that felt more like a funeral home than an actual home some days.

In one of the aisles close to the end, he found something he’d seen, but never bought before - a gingerbread house kit with pre-cut pieces (no need to use the oven, the idea of which scared Akane for good reason), two gingerbread people and icing and candy to decorate. None of his friends ever had gingerbread houses before, and after their parents died and money was tight, it was hard enough to afford a small tree and Akane’s present without buying extras. Now, though, they didn’t have to worry about money. It would be no problem.

The kit sat unopened on their one and only table for a few days. Aoi wondered if Akane would even be interested until he found her sitting at the table on Christmas Eve, legs crossed, brow furrowed, trying to affix the roof to the walls with white frosting.

Aoi didn’t say a word. He just got a little closer, then closer still, until he could reach the walls. He gingerly put his hands on them, startling her into looking up and meeting his eyes. She lost her grip on the left roof tile, which fell in a sticky mess on the table.

“It’s okay,” Aoi said, picking it up and applying a new line of white frosting. “Here, you get this end, and I’ll get that end.” Prepared to hold both on his own, he was surprised when Akane leaned in, holding the slabs of gingerbread together.

They stayed in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes until more than the necessary time had passed and Aoi gingerly removed his hands. The roof stayed, and Akane’s hand pulled the rest of the kit closer in. She picked up one of the two gingerbread people and the white icing they’d used to make the roof stick together and drew some jagged lines (impressively straight, considering her dexterity still wasn’t what it had been before) on the head.

“Is that me?” Aoi asked.

“Yeah,” she said, the first sound he’d heard from her all day. That wasn’t like her, but after their fight the other day about forgetting and remembering and moving on, he’d almost forgotten the sound of her voice not angry.

“Want me to make you, or…?” His words trailed off as she put down the white icing and picked up the black, drawing a vague outline of pants on the cookie’s legs.

“You can start the sides,” she said, gesturing to the white icing and the assortment of colorful candies still on the tray.

Turning his attention away from the people, although he did notice Akane giving him a tank-top of sorts that he’d never wear, he looked down at the picture on the box. He noted the white windows drawn in and the small candy doorknob and the lane of candy running into the door. Without any further guidance, he tried to mimic the picture as best as he could, but the windows came out a little crooked and the door snapped just a tiny bit as he opened it, and he popped the snapped-off bit into his mouth before Akane could notice.

He tried to peek at Akane’s work along the way, but she hid the gingerbread people so well as she hunched over them that he simply worked on the rest of the house until it was time for him to put something together for dinner and try to get her to eat. He looked over at her a few times as he cooked, realizing that as she put the figures down and started to touch up his work on the house itself, the corners of her mouth twitched like she might smile.

Dinner was, as usual, a desolate affair; although there was finally enough food for both of them to eat, most of his time was spent trying to convince Akane to actually put food in her mouth. Whatever he ate didn’t taste good; he could barely even remember what they’d eaten as he did the dishes and Akane returned to her gingerbread project. She leaned over it so closely that he didn’t try to approach again, instead retreating to his room, frustrated.

Part of him wanted to run back in there and try to clarify what he’d meant in their argument the other day, that he knew she needed to remember and speak about every detail to stay alive, but he needed a life where the Nonary Game wasn’t the only thing in the world. The tension of it all ran hot under his skin, but he didn’t need her reminder that something was boiling inside her as well.

Aoi sighed. He was supposed to be the big brother, and he was the one who would have to do everything he could to help Akane. She was still a kid – hell, two months ago, she’d have still sent a letter to Santa even though she was almost a teenager. Now if only Santa would write to her instead, if only he could use that to explain…

Sliding into his chair, Aoi grabbed a piece of paper. Even if it didn’t help, it couldn’t hurt.

“Dear Akane,

I’m sorry,” he began, aware that he’d apologized to her so many times for things he hadn’t done over the last couple of weeks that it was starting to annoy her, “that you’ve had such a hard year. You are very good, no matter what anyone says.”

It felt so trite that he nearly tore the note in half, but it wasn’t like he could think of anything better.

“I didn’t receive a list from you this year, and the things you want cannot come true right now.” They would be real in Building Q in nine years, on the day that silly boy from her class who gave her the doll that got her killed in the first place would save her life. “It is beyond my magic to move the time closer.”

He sighed, pushing the paper away. It was almost too late to do anything at all, and it wasn’t a proper Santa’s letter without a gift. Exasperated, he got up and shuffled into the hallway and then to the living room, where he found the completed gingerbread house sat with the Akane and Aoi gingerbread figures standing outside by the door, with no sign of his sister.

Now that he had the chance to get a good look at the gingerbread Akane, he could see that she had drawn the outfit she described to him that she would wear in Building Q. It seemed overwhelming for her to get out all at once, but she did describe the purple dress with the black pattern (looking more like blobs of icing here, but still), the striped socks and brown boots, the stripes on the sleeves and there was even a little red and blue spot on the wrist that was probably supposed to be the watch (Aoi rubbed his wrist; he could still feel his sometimes). In her hair, there was a little pin that wasn’t quite a star or a flower.

A sudden pang of guilt swept over Aoi. He tried to get Akane to think about things other than what had happened, but he probably took it too far. She did need to get things out, after all, and he was supposed to be there to listen to her. He was supposed to be a lot of things, he thought angrily as he looked down at the cookie that could crumble as easily as his sister’s life.

Suddenly, an idea came into his head. A way to show Akane that he was listening to her, that he’d seen and understood that in nine years he was going to wear a silly-looking tank-top and black pants and she was going to wear the dress with a shirt under it for some reason even though she hated being too warm and couldn’t get cold nowadays, and the whole rest of the outfit that made no sense.

Aoi hurried out into the cold, hoping the nearest convenience store wasn’t closed. They were in this thing together, no matter what. And while there was no letter from Santa telling Aoi what Akane wanted, he knew exactly what she needed.

When he got back, present in tow, he rummaged through his papers until he found the note, then added a final line: “In the meantime, I hope this helps. - Santa” He set it under the gingerbread house, slipped the present through the hole in the door, and went to sleep.

Unlike in previous years, he wasn’t awakened at the crack of dawn by a squealing sister. The sun was in the sky already and he could smell the gingerbread house as he rolled out of bed. Belatedly, he realized there was no tradition for finding presents by the gingerbread house. Would she even know it was there?

He made his way into the kitchen, slippers sliding along the floor. There were no squeals of happiness, no clatter of excited footsteps. Akane sat at the table facing the gingerbread house, the little door open, her hand inside before she pulled his present out into the light.

In her hand lay a pair of hair clips, not quite stars and not quite flowers, with little circles on the ends.

She turned around, meeting Aoi’s eyes as he stood in the hallway. He was frozen silent, unsure of what to say. Had he done the right thing? The wrong thing? The kind of thing that would make her live in her own world again until he could pry her out?

A small smile spread across her face as she looked at the hair clips. “Merry Christmas, Santa,” she said, and for the first time in a month, she sounded like herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, finally stepping into the room, warmed by the thought that he might be able to pull off the good Santa from her story, after all.

#zero escape #9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors #agentshilonglang #erisofimladris #zecret santa 2019 #submission

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darkmindsotome · 5 years ago

Text

His Secret

MLQC Victor short for the festive period because it was in my head. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: A little dash of pumpkin spice to this one.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

His Secret

He had control over a lot of things. His life was a systematic methodical regime of everything neatly ordered and in moderation. His schedule was planned to the millisecond and he knew almost exactly what others were going to say or do around him based on his own actions. It was logical, it was familiar… it was boring.

That was where fate provided a small twist in his long life. A scatter-brained, slightly ditzy female that exceeded his expectations, although not always in the best fashion. Comments had been tossed around the rumour mill about the type of woman he would be interested in. Models, actresses, daughters of highly successful businessmen and politicians. They couldn’t be further from the truth. He found himself unable to look the other way when this one was involved. No matter the situation he observed them from a distance and stepped in only when he was asked too. The last part was harder than it seemed as the curiously fascinating female was stubborn enough to struggle for what felt like eternity without asking for assistance.

What started with curiosity had developed over time into genuine affection, although it appeared that everyone else around them had noticed this except for her. He felt irritation rise inside him knowing that she was oblivious to his feelings but he couldn’t hold it against her as he never spelt it out for her in a way she couldn’t possibly misinterpret. Still, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep a grip on something else he usually dealt with without issue.

He held a secret. It was not something he was proud of and he knew better than to openly display such a thing to the public as it would generate fear and panic. But this time of year was always the worst. When the moon was at its most powerful and the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Halloween was fast approaching and with it was the one night of the year he usually made every effort to spend alone and locked away from other people. That was his plan this year as well except…

“So, Anna said we should have a company party and invite some of the collaborators, partners and guests that have helped us so far. I could see her point it would help with future negotiations and networking if we could keep everyone on side and then Leo said…” She rambled on with an idiotically cheerful smile on her face. He had been lost in that smile until her lips uttered another man’s name and it felt like he had been plunged into ice water like a freshly cooked egg.

“Leo? You are still talking to him?” He kept his voice low and even willing it to sound calm even as he felt his blood boil.

“Of course I am. He’s a friend as I have already told you AND he is the head of the tv station. We work together on things. It only makes sense to maintain a business connect like that by inviting him to the party and talking to him.” She gave a little huff as she rattled off a naively simple point of view on the topic. He suppressed a sigh as he thought about how she wouldn’t really be her if she knew how dark the world could be. The childlike innocence of her was one of the qualities he found so endearing in her.

“What time and where?” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

“What?” Her expression mirrored the same shock that he felt without letting it show on his own face. It was his night alone. The one night he always kept free from social obligations and work so as to maintain his own life balance. He should be thinking about that right now but all his mind was filled with was the notion of her drinking wine surrounded by people and that Leo character moving in closer circles around her like a shark.

“This childish gathering of yours. I will need details so I can get Goldman to add it to the schedule and attend. Or is there some reason you don’t want me there?” The ball was in her court. If she said she didn’t want him there clearly and that she would choose someone else he would let her go.

“N-no. I just didn’t think you would want to attend a Halloween party. I thought you’d dub it as beneath you and totally stupid and say it was a waste of time and not come to it so I thought…” Her cheeks were flushed pink. Yet another expression she had in her arsenal that targeted him but was oblivious as to how to use it to her advantage.

“And there is your problem. Working without proper tools can only ever result in failure.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leant back in his chair behind his desk and looked at the small female fidgeting. Her innocence really brought out his desire to tease her at times.

“Hey! You know I could tell security to not let you in even if you did show up?” She gave a defiant if rather not completely well thought out rebuttal to his comment.

“And that would be a wise move to pull against your sole investor and financial support to your company because?”

“Well, I…” She stammered and avoided his gaze.

“As I said working without tools can only ever result in failure. So, time and place.”

And that was how he ended up silently cursing his own luck under his breath as he arrived at the hotel her company had selected for the night’s festivities. Everywhere he looked grown men and women were dressed up in costumes using the night as a kind of excuse to cut loose and drink far more than sensible. He could feel their heartbeats vibrating inside him even without touching any of them.

She was running around in a witch costume. The black dress clung to her body in all the right places giving her a more mature silhouette than he was used to seeing. He began to get annoyed. She looked impossibly cute, so cute he wished to remove her from all the people ogling her. She was also drinking much more than she knew she could.

he watched as she staggered a few times before she left the room. She was waving off the hands offering assistance as she ventured into gardens to get some fresh air and cool off. He downed his glass of brandy, almost slamming the empty tumbler on the bar counter and followed her.

“What do you think you are doing?” He called out harshly to her when he found her propped up against the trunk of a tree sitting on a bench.

“Victor?” Her voice was full of surprise as she looked up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes, Victor who else did you think it was? Or maybe you were hoping for one of those guys in there instead of me.” He motioned behind him back in the direction of the party. As if on cue a sudden burst of laughter rang out from the gathering filling the night air.

“No. I just didn’t think you’d follow me.” She sighed and allowed herself to sink further back against the tree. The small hat on her head that was attached to a band slipped a little more to the side of her head.

“Well someone is clearly incapable of hosting a small gathering without making a spectacle of themselves. Idiot.” He muttered that last part softer than the first before taking a seat next to her.

“Ugh…” As she groaned, he just knew it was because he had hit a nerve. She was so easy to read and predict.

“I don’t know why you do it. I can’t tell if you are seriously this naive or if you are just that dense.” His continued criticism of the night was certainly something he was thinking but even he knew he should be drawing the line somewhere. The trouble was with her he couldn’t hold back. No that wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t want to hold back. They were close in age sure but it was more than that. From the moment they met, she had spoken her mind and been frank with him. She was not another Yes man paying lip service to him in the hope of continued funding. He liked that. He loved that.

“Have we already hit the lecture portion of this evening I wasn’t aware it was that time already.”

“What?” He turned to look at her with unhidden wonder. He was used to seeing her stumbling about semi docile and in need of guidance. He was used to hearing small bursts of escaped thoughts during phone conversations but he had never really seen much of this side of her. Humans really were fascinating creatures.

“No. No, what? Listen, Victor, I’ve reached my limit on this. I’m completely capable of doing things without your personal brand of “assisting” which just involves insulting me constantly. I’m not a little girl I’m a grown woman.”

He hadn’t seen her this full of fight in a while. Her pulse was racing and it probably had something to do with the sudden realisation that she had just said what she had to him rather than the alcohol in her system. She looked like someone had tossed ice water on her. Her eyes wide with shocking clarity as she stared at him her hand clamped over her mouth. He would have laughed had this been any other time. But his mind was drifting in time with the beat of her heart.

“I’m going back inside. Be sure to make yourself presentable before returning also.” He went to stand up only to stop when he felt the weight of something on his jacket. Her small hand was gripping him as her face continued to flicker between confusion and anger.

“Wait.”

“Let go of me.” He moved his hand to hers and teased it from him. His fingers grazing over her wrist reminded him of how quickly her heart was pounding.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said what I did like that.” The fire she showed before seemed to be gone and she was back to being meek. It was a look that hurt him more tonight than at any other time. If she wanted to stand strong in business and continue her dream, she had to have fire.

“Why are you apologising?” He sighed and frowned as he looked at her bowing her head to him.

“What?” She looked up probably a little shocked that he wasn’t agreeing that she had been very rude to him. She still didn’t understand that things like this didn’t affect him.

“Why apologise for saying something that you have clearly been thinking about for a long time? It’s pointless. It wastes energy and time. Now let go before you make any more of a fool out of yourself.” He said his piece aware of how his mouth was watering. He had to get away.

“No. Not until you tell me why you are running away.” She stubbornly refused to let him go almost jumping in front of him to block his retreat.

“I am not running I am returning to the bar some of us are capable of enjoying a drink without it resulting in a public spectacle.”

“Well it looks like you are avoiding me and it hurts.” Her eyes looked glassy as if she was about to cry.

“What?” He stood there in stunned observation. She couldn’t possibly know the danger she was in. How when the scent of her shampoo in the air blended with her own sweet aroma had his restraint faltering. The faster her heart raced the sweeter it became and he was intoxicated. He knew it wouldn’t take much to break it. All she had to do was show him one little gap in her armour and let him in. “You…”

“It’s fine sorry you’re right I’ve had too much to drink I really don’t know what I’m saying just go back inside and have fun. It’s why you came here after all.” She sounded defeated and stepped aside. He was all too aware of the loss of warmth from her near him and found himself chasing it. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t here because of the drink or the amusement. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything that she loved to hear in those old movies she liked too much.

Instead what happened was a rather passionate sudden kiss. One hand wrapped around her hip as the other naturally found its home at the back of her head cradling it as he dragged her closer to him. She was wide-eyed in shock staring at him as he continued to deepen the kiss pushing his tongue past her lips and teeth to mingle with hers. swallowing her surprised noises along with her pleasurable moans. Her eyelids fluttered shut and his hand on her him snaked around to her back and sides enjoying that mature outline of her body he had seen on display earlier.

Her small hands came up to pat his chest and he released her allowing her to catch her breath. She was glowing in the moonlight. A totally new look present on her face that had his heart skipping as he realised it was a look of lust directed only at him. Her gasp of shock was what snapped him out of his fantasy.

He was suddenly aware of the ivory showing in his mouth. He knew they were there it was as he had feared. He spent so many years hiding his secret from the world only to have it fail him when faced with desire for another. He still had time. He could retreat and leave without saying a thing and if she asked or said anything he could say she was drunk or he was in costume or something. He could do that. But his body was not obeying him and instead remained still as she edged closure to him a single finger reaching out to his lips and touching a fang.

“It’s real…” She whispered her voice holding none of the fear he was expecting.

“Yes.” He looked at her the look in her eyes had changed and he felt his heart sink. There was no going back now it seemed. “I’m sorry I…”

“Does it hurt when they come out like that?” The childlike question caught him off guard. His words stolen from him and all he found he could do was shake his head in reply. “Good. I was worried you were in pain.”

“What?”

“For a moment there you looked like you were really hurting. But if you aren’t then it’s fine.” She smiled the same soft smile he fell for months ago and stayed by his side without fleeing.

“You know what I am. You know what I could do to you and still, you stay?”

“Yes. Because I also know that you won’t hurt me. Regardless of what you are Victor you have never once been cruel.” Her words were resplendent in their conviction as she looked up at him. There were no more secrets here. A weight he never really fully understood had been removed from his chest and he felt light enough to fly.

“You really are an idiot.” He chuckled as he drew her to him and kissed her again softer than before. “I’m not letting you go. Not now you know my secret.”

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