#it is. its worse. its quite frankly worse than canon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thegnomelord · 4 months ago

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Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land Ch: 1

CW: Canon typical violence, gore and violence, Canon alterations, GN reader for now, eventual Kim Dokja/reader/Yoo Joonghyuk, AO3

Summary: When you were a child, you learned two lessons. One of them, your parents had carved into your bones with tongues as sharp as swords: Some things will always be out of your control.

Perhaps this was why you had emersed yourself in fiction from a young age, because it allowed you to feel true freedom through the lives and struggles of the characters, to live out their happy endings even if your treacherous heart didn't allow one for yourself.

But those times were coming to an end.

Here you were, a foreigner in Seoul, one contract away from losing all you had worked to achieve. At times like this, you would wonder what the protagonists would do, what you would do in a lawless world like ORV, where the lessons you had learned would loose their meaning...

Could you reach your own happy ending? Or would you fail once again?

As they say; Be careful what you wish for.

It's funny how quickly life can fall to pieces.

Not even two weeks ago you had still been known as the choreographer and back up dancer of 'cODe X', a relatively underground kpop group quickly garnering mainstream popularity thanks in large part to your unique and 'chaotic' style of choreography meshing wonderfully with their abstract sense of music. And you were good at your job too; whether it was working from the shadows as their dance coach or on the main stage as a back up dancer, one thing was clear— you knew how to entertain.

Of course working for them hadn't been all sunshine and roses, as the many sleepless nights could attest. Frankly you had lost count how many times you had stayed late in the studio, chasing away fatigue with caffeine and prayers just so you could perfect a routine. Seeing as their boom in popularity and subsequent employment offer at a entertainment company had only happened a few months ago, the pay hadn't been the best either, but you didn't mind.

Hell, considering the bloodthirsty viper pit that was the Korean job market for foreigners, you were quite lucky to be working for them, and having to deal with their sleazy employer, than working one of the dirty, dangerous and demeaning jobs Korea would often offer to people like you...or worse: getting deported.

But your luck has run out.

Because some things will always be out of your control.

Now here you were; Sitting in a prestigious restaurant turned impromptu courtroom, where the judge was nowhere to be seen and the other costumers, like bought jurors, paid no attention to you or your plight. And why would they? Though you were the wronged party here, you sat at the table not as a victim deserving justice; But as the antagonist, as the villain.

Because the 'victim' had already won, and this farce was just for show.

...

Black beady eyes stared back at you through the glass as if it saw kinship between the two of you. But that was just your mind trying to console you; You knew that the only thought in the things' head was the instinctual drive to protect its unhatched young still stuck to its tail. It didn't even notice when one of it's kin was pulled out of the tank, leaving only two lobsters where once there had been three, just because someone had gotten hungry and decided they wanted grilled lobster tail.

You supposed you were no better than them, your life in the hands of someone else. Yet unlike the lobsters, who floated around the tank as they were still beneath the sea, you weren't ignorant to the powers that be...so why did that not make you feel any better?

A bottle of soju was placed on the table, tearing you away from your thoughts. You watched the waiter girl give a shallow bow and scamper off, turning your attention to the so called 'victim' of this mess.

Or you would have, if the damn copycat had actually showed up.

Instead of meeting the smug smirk of Juin, the bastard that had copied the choreography you had invented and performed step for step and then accused you of stealing his ideas, you were instead greeted by the best lawyer his daddy's money could afford; Although you hadn't paid enough attention to remember his name, the smile he had given you at the start of the negotiations would've made the devil proud.

You didn't have enough money to hire a snake like that, and going to court over this matter with your budget was out of the question. Hell, the only reason you had a competent lawyer of your own, instead of the one the entertainment company had tried to give you, was because he was a fan turned friend of yours.

"As I was saying," The lawyer cleared his throat. He was a short man and looked old enough to be mistaken for one of the Elders. "My client is happy to drop all charges provided your client issues a public apology and agrees not to sign any more choreography or dance specific contracts for the next four years." And just like the Elders, you couldn't underestimate him.

"Are you kidding me?" Choi Chin-Mae's bewildered voice pulled you out of your musings.

Chin-Mae was short even by Korean standards, and looked like a pipsqueak when next to you. His eternal baby face only complicated matters, with light brown hair and honey colored eyes he looked more like your little brother than a man one year away from being thirty and several years your senior. Because of his youthful appearance, people would underestimate him in the courtroom, and in doing so would unwittingly dig their own graves as Chin-Mae turned out to be a vicious lawyer when he could go before a judge.

"Non-competition agreements must be fair for the one sighing it, but what you are asking of my client is grossly abusive and would impair my client's livelihood and employment opportunities more than the common six month long NCA's." Chin-Mae argued. "And, I can't believe I have to say this, but you would know that such a contract is illegal and wouldn't be binding in any country, least of all ours."

Unfortunately, you couldn't go in front of a judge, even if the claims were baseless, the attorney and court fees would surely bankrupt you. It's the reason why you had agreed to try settling this outside of court.

The opposing lawyer smiled at Chin-Mae as if he was a child, "Mister Choi, my client isn't asking for them to sign an NCA."

You could see Chin-Mae narrow his eyebrows, his mouth opening to form a rebuttal, but no sound came out as the other lawyer held up his hand, taking a long sip of his soju. When he was done, he put the glass on the table, before speaking. "My client expects yours to do this on their own accord, without a signed NCA."

"That's preposterous," Chin-Mae scoffed, "No judge would allow that." He shot back, already beginning to form another reply when he was cut off again.

"Oh?" The lawyer asked, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lip. "Then would your client like to go to court over this matter as we had originally intended and see what the judge decides?"

Chin-Mae closed his mouth, his lips pressed into into a thin line. You could see the gears in his head turning, struggling to come up with a rebuttal.

You sighed internally. As sad as it sounded, you were used to this; This disappointment and failure and powerlessness.

Maybe that was why you felt so calm at the moment...either that or the stress over the past few weeks had made you numb as a rock. Either way, Juin was richer and more influential than you, and with his daddy's money, you were certain that the populace would see you as the selfish copycat and the truth would be buried six feet deep where it could rot alongside your reputation.

Was this how the author of TWSA felt when SSSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor came out and became wildly popular?

"Of course, my client isn't heartless." You found that hard to believe, but held your tongue. "He is willing to offer a...different method to resolve this problem."

You and Chin-Mae glanced at one another, your friend only shrugging his shoulders as the other lawyer rifled trough his suitcase.

"Here we are," The lawyer pulled out a thick stack of papers bound together at the corner. You had to assume it was a contract, though even in the entertainment industry you had never seen a contract that was as thick as a Bible.

He placed it on the table, sliding it towards you. You only managed to read the first few lines, most of it meaningless lawyer lingo, before Chin-Mae snatched it and began reading through it, softly mumbling some legal jargons under his breath that you had no hopes of understanding.

"What is Juin offering?" You asked, far too tired or numb to call the copycat with any respect (not that he deserved any).

The lawyer didn't even bat an eye at your disrespect. "In short, the employer of my client is offering for you to come work under my client." He explained, taking another long sip of his drink. "You are remarkably talented for someone so young," He offered, the compliment wounding your pride more than any insult from your parents ever could. "It would be a shame to see it wasted for such a stupid mistake like the one you had made."

You narrowed your eyes, but otherwise were able to hold your poker face. "And my obligations if I signed it?"

Judging by the fact that Chin-Mae had grown as silent as the grave while reading the aforementioned contract, whatever was in store for you wasn't good.

"My client still expects a public apology for the damage you had caused to his reputation." The lawyer gave you an innocent smile, "You will also be required to terminate your previous contract with your current employer, but that one is obvious." He then began listing off even more conditions, from low wages to obscenely long work hours and even more draconian requirements.

It was little better than the slave contracts the 'cODe X' members had signed.

Chin-Mae echoed your sentiment, nearly frothing at the mouth as he slapped the contract on the table. Still, he was able to hold himself back from starting off his sentence with an insult. "The contract says nothing about their visa, how can we be sure you shi—"

Quick as a flash you elbowed him in the ribs, punching a pained sound out of him and cutting him off before he could say something stupid in the heat of anger. He glanced at you, before nodding his head and clearing his throat. "...Will the company provide continued renewals of my clients' work permit provided they sign the contract?"

The lawyer watched this all go down with amusement, but luckily didn't comment on your minor display of violence. "That is correct." He nodded his head, turning to look at you. "The entertainment organization has already prepared all the necessary documents on their end, barring your employment contract, which we are discussing at this moment." He motioned to the stack of papers sitting on the table.

Your friend grew silent, watching the old lawyer take a sip of soju, before he asked. "Is there room to negotiate the details of this contract? Multiple aspects and stipulations of this contract leave a legal grey area and the employer's expectations for my client aren't any clearer."

Or, in other words; it was legal on paper, and only on paper.

"I'm afraid not," The lawyer have you a sympathetic smile, though you were sure it was about as real as Juin's nose if the tabloids about his plastic surgeries were to be believed. "This is the only contract my client is willing to offer you...no alterations allowed." The old man leaned into his chair as he finished off his soju, motioning to the papers in front of you. "You can sign it now or you can meet my client in court and let the judge decide the outcome. What do you say?"

Oh, you had a lot to say, most of it unfit even for a PG18 audience.

To think that this bastard had framed you as a plagiarist, dragged your name and reputation through the mud, and was now aiming to squeeze what joy and creativity you had left in your soul like it was a wet rag...and he hadn't even bothered to show up in person to do so.

A dark voice, locked away deep in the caverns of your heart, whispered a seductive thought in your ear: Drown the lawyer in the lobster tank!

But you shouldn't, couldn't, do that.

Chin-Mae sagged in his chair, looking at you with a worry in his eyes. "What...what should we do?"

You frowned, what else was there for you?

You pulled the contract in front of you, flipping over to the last page. You reached into your pocket, fingers ghosting over cold metal as they went past it and grasped the dojang you carried around. At this point, the instinct to carry it around was no difference than the ingrained need to have sharp steel hidden in your pocket or boot.

"What other choices do we have?" You asked, the question rhetorical in nature.

"None that would be in your best interest." The lawyer helpfully informed you, pushing forward a small contained of red dojang ink. You were only slightly surprised they weren't asking you to sign the devil's contract with your own blood, though the irony of red ink wasn't lost on you.

The dojang hovered over the signature mark, the nerves you had locked away so well until now making themselves known through a slight tremor in your hands which only got worse the longer you hesitated. Oh, how you wanted to take matters into your own hands, like the protagonists of ORV or some other manga. Those heroes who could to push through their problems or fool the gods themselves, forging their own path with nothing but the strength in their arms and their wits...But fiction wasn't reality, and some things would always be out of your control.

If only you could change your future.

The lights cut out, plunging you in darkness.

A shiver raced down your spine, followed closely by a cold sense of wrongness.

"What's happening?"

"Must be a power outage, nothing to worry about."

"Well they better fix it quick, I haven't finished eating."

You paid no attention to the voices of the other restaurant goers, something at the back of your mind urging you to check your phone. Your hand was already reaching for it long before your brain had fully processed the thought. The light burned your eyes, but even that failed to garner your attention as your eyes settled on what resided on your home-screen:

You have 5 new messages from: tls123

The lights came back on, but you didn't put your phone down, instead quickly opening the messages.

tls123: I am sorry. We failed.

tls123: In truth, I don't know how this happened, but you are here now.

tls123: Maybe you can succeed where we failed.

tls123: This should help.

tls123: [Attached 2 files titled 'Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.TXT', 'Omnipresent Reader's Viewpoint.TXT']

You stared at your phone, unease and confusion bubbling in the pits of your stomach. Thoughts rolled around your head like tumbleweeds, forming questions which demanded answers you didn't have; Was this a joke? Was someone pranking you? It wasn't like bored teenagers never texted weird shit to random numbers, but they were never so specific.

On instinct you pressed the download button, before trying to type back a message. Only you couldn't; any letter you pressed would lag for a good five seconds if it even registered at all. Despite your best efforts, all you had typed out was an incomprehensive mess of letters. It seemed like your phone was using everything it had just to download those two files.

With a strange sense of deja vu, you checked the time on your phone — 7:02 p.m.

You couldn't tell what you felt at that moment; Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Foolishness maybe?...This was real life, not fiction, what were you doing fooling yourself into thinking that it could be any different?

The call of your name from the lawyer had you switching off your phone and quickly putting it back in your pocket. "Yes, I'll sign it." You picked up the dojang, re-applying the ink. This time you only hesitated for a second before placing your seal on the dotted line, resigning yourself to your fate.

Then you heard a voice and you didn't even notice when you mouthed the words it said in sync with it:

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated]

[The main scenario has started]

You blinked rapidly before rubbing your eyes, wondering if you had finally lost what marbles you had left.

Then Chin-Mae muttered by your side, "Is that a...Dokkaebi?" Then a second later, under his breath. "I've got to cut back on that shit."

You whipped your head around quickly to look, forgetting to ask what that shit was as your ears began to ring, the dojang quietly slipping from your fingers at the sight you saw.

Floating in the center of the restaurant was a...a small furred creature, its off white fur contrasting with the tattered skirt/loincloth it had around its waist. Two budding horns sprouted from its head, like those of a little Billy goat.

"Wow, is this a new attraction?"

"It's kinda ugly looking."

The voices of others rang like church bells in your ears, yet they accomplished one significant thing — they proved that you hadn't gone insane just yet and that this thing was real.

As quick as you could you grabbed your phone, scrolling through your downloads until you found it: TWSA, all 3,149 chapters of it.

You scrolled through the chapters, only reading bits and pieces of it all as some part of you tried to prove to you that this was all just your imagination. You felt something at the back of your mind ding as you read through the chapters, lines you had seen in the ORV novel scattered among pages and pages of what had to be the original TWSA.

You looked up as the little creature tried to speak, but you already knew what would come out. Though it still surprised you how the language it spoke vaguely sounded like a bastardized version of your mother tongue.

['*#(w&$!*$!]

[#*@!%a!(*s(#!@#*&!]

"Hey, isn't that your language?" Chin-Mae asked, turning to look at you.

You shrugged one shoulder, no less confused than him. "If it is, that's the worst accent I've ever heard."

Then a few seconds later, you heard perfectly pronounced Korean leave the little creature's mouth. "I, I am really sorry everyone, the Korean patch wasn't...um working properly." It said, but something was strange;

Why did it look like that, you knew webtoon artists took some liberties but you were certain that the Dokkaebi from ORV was white with golden horns, not off-white with brown horns. And it certainly hadn't been as polite, and was this really how it sounded in real life?

The little creature cleared its throat. "Now...May I have everyone’s attention, I, I have big important news!” It tried to sound commanding by raising his voice, but either because of fear or stage-fright it failed to garner the attention it wanted.

"Do you think they sell plushies like that?"

"Do you really think the girls would like it?"

"Mommy I want one! I promise I'll take good care of it and feed it, and walk it, and pick up after it!"

You had no idea how that was possible, but parts of the Dokkaebi's fur turned pinkish red almost like it was flushed from embarrassment. "I, uh-I mean-mhh!" It flinched suddenly as if hit by some unseen force. It turned into itself slightly, a small galaxy appearing in its hands. "My...My apologies d-dear constellations! I-I, uh...I will begin right now!"

With that you saw its horns elongate, becoming almost as big as the rest of its body.

A shiver raced down your spine, blood roaring in your ears.

You knew what would happen.

"This is stupid." The lawyer muttered, standing and quickly grabbing the contract you had all but forgotten about. "I am afraid I am unable to stay to this childish theatric, until next time we meet."

Chin-Mae flinched, pushing his chair back as he began to stand up to stop the lawyer. "Now wait a minute we aren't fini-"

Quick as lighting you reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder before roughly pushing him back down, your fingers digging into his shoulder with a level of savagery and roughness he didn't think you possessed. Any protests he tried to make were silenced by your palm quickly being pressed over his mouth, not letting a single sound escape him. You pushed his head to look at you, your fingers digging into his cheek and jaw hard enough to leave bruises.

He grabbed your wrist, trying to pull your hand away, only to freeze in place when his eyes met yours.

You didn't think you wanted to know what he saw in them.

'Don't. Move' You mouthed to him, not even a whisper escaping your lips.

[I need you to listen to me!]

A shot rang through-

Then the screaming began.

Several more shots rang out-.

The screams stopped as multiple heavy objects hit the ground.

A leg landed on your table, spraying you with blood.

Your palm muffled what pathetic noises Chin-Mae made, his trembling hands gripping your sleeve in a bruising grip.

Though your iron-like grip on his mouth kept Chin-Mae looking at you, his pulse thump thump thumping like a war drum beneath your fingers, you couldn't stop yourself from looking.

It was like a car crash, you couldn't look away. Your eyes wandered around, unable to settle on one specific thing; From the sight of blood stained immaculate floor, to the multiple limbs scattered around the place like morbid decorations, to the bodies of those who had tried to run laying on the floor. They were surprisingly still alive, writing soundlessly as they tried to stop the bleeding. You glanced at where the lawyer had gone to, only to find him alive with a missing leg.

[I..Did I do good? Yes?]

Slowly, you let go of Chin-Mae's shoulder, motioning for him to stay quiet with your hand. You waited until he nodded, before pulling away your palm from his mouth, his hands still gripping your forearm.

His chest rose to hiccup and you were prepared to slam your hand back over his mouth...but he held it it, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. A stray tear slowly rolled down his cheek, his trembling hands bound to leave bruises on your arm.

[Then, I-]

The Dokkaebi coughed, its voice returning to normal. "I have to inform you that...that the free service of this planetary system has ended. As of right now you will have to pay for your lives." It looked up, as if listening to someone.

Evidently it wasn't something nice, as a moment later it visibly flinched into itself, almost hugging the galaxy to its chest. "Ri-right, we are already behind schedule!" It began fumbling with something in the galaxy you couldn't see, sweat condensing on its fur in visible drops.

You blinked, a small window emerging in front of your eyes.

[The main scenario has arrived!]

[Main Scenario #1 — Proof of Value]

Category: Main

Difficulty: F

Clear Conditions: Kill one or more living creatures

Time Limit: 30 minutes

Compensation: 300 coins

Failure: Death

You stared at the screen before raising your head enough so you could look around with just your eyes, your thoughts running a mile a minute. Not a single person dared to move a muscle, afraid that doing so would draw the furry fairy's wrath even when the game had already started. You knew you had to be careful too, you weren't the protagonist of TWSA or ORV, and without any powers the information you possessed would only take you so far.

Wait...attributes!

Quietly you whispered 'Attribute Window' under your breath, half expecting to be met with an error message.

Only you didn't receive anything at all.

What?

Turning on your phone once again you scrolled through TWSA, a shiver racing down your spine as you found yourself reading through nearly ten chapters in less than a minute. Then you quickly switched over to ORV, hoping to find something or for something to happen when you read it, though you were unsure how much this information would help you considering you weren't in a train car. But it had worked for Dokja, and you had read it as well...so why wasn't it working for you?

[The Dokkaebi smiled faintly as it became transparent and disappeared into the next space.]

You glanced up at the Dokkaebi. It was still floating in the air, watching the people in the restaurant as if they were the predator and it was the prey. Why? Surely it knew how much power it had over you? And why hadn't it disappeared after giving the announcement? Bihyung had done that in ORV...wait!

You nearly facepalmed, this wasn't Bihyung! It only took you a few seconds to scroll through ORV before you found the creature most resembling the one in front of you: Youngki, the low-level Dokkaebi who took over when Bihyung had been busy. When he had first appeared he didn't know how to show messages; it would make sense why you weren't getting any notifications, he probably didn't know how to turn them on.

But why wasn't Bihyung here? Wasn't he the one streaming in Seoul?

You would have to search for answers to those questions later, right now you had to survive.

You checked the clock, only a single minute had passed, yet you knew if you didn't do something you wouldn't have much time left. In ORV Youngki was a pushover, and now that you had TWSA, you had a better chance of making a deal with him like Dokja had made with Bihyung. And more importantly, you knew how this game worked.

You wouldn't survive playing by the house's rules.

You glanced at the lobster tank, the water had been dyed a scarlet red as the two lobster munched on some unfortunate person's arm.

Then you looked around at the people, every single one of them frozen stock still like statues. Without someone to spark the fear in their hearts to make them act, they would all die. You doubted there were any chuuni in the restaurant to incite the violence as there had been in the train...If you didn't act, you would be no better than them, but could you live with yourself after knowingly sentencing these people to death? How would that make you any better than the monsters or the constellations?

Chin-Mae's trembling pulled you out of your thoughts. Though his hands still clutched your arm like a lifeline and he stared off into space beyond you, the look in his eye told you that it wasn't fear that made his arms shake, but rage.

You made up your mind.

People would die regardless, but in this apocalypse only those willing to fight had a chance of survival.

"Chin-Mae, listen to me." You gently slapped his cheek, cursing to yourself when he continued to stare past you into oblivion, consumed by whatever war was happening in his head. "This is a bad situation, but if you want to see Junior again, you have to listen to me." You hissed, and that got his attention better than a kick in the balls could.

Was it manipulative to use her against Chin-Mae? Maybe, but what choice did you have?

"Really?" Chin-Mae asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed instead of answering and pointed to the lobster tank. "See that?"

He followed your finger with his eyes and nodded when he saw the unlucky crustaceans. You asked him to look at the scenario conditions again, and you could clearly see him reach the same conclusion you had; it never said the living thing had to be human.

You quickly told him your plan in hushed whispers, "Do you understand?" You asked as you pulled your other hand away from him, his fingers lingering on the fabric of your clothes before he let go.

"Ye-Yes." You nodded as he answered, before reaching down to your boot. You grasped the handle before quickly pulling out the knife hidden there, offering it to Chin-Mae.

"Huh?!" Chin-Mae sputtered as he looked at the blade, the metal glinting under the restaurant's lights. "Why-uh...why do you have this?"

You shrugged your shoulder; Now wasn't the time to delve into your skeleton stuffed closet just to answer that question. "I'll tell you later, now shh." You shushed him and urged him to concentrate on the plan, waiting for him to nod in confirmation before you stood up, one hand reaching into your pocket to feel the comforting cold steel of a second blade hidden there.

You felt something at the back your mind tingle, but it disappeared before you could figure out what it was.

Taking a final moment to prepare yourself mentally, you began walking towards the furry fairy. You passed the old lawyer on your way towards it, his silent begging for help with his eyes amusing some dark part of you. Any good person would have tried to help...But you had to concentrate on the living.

After all, you couldn't turn back time, you only had one shot at this.

"Hey, fluffy!" You called, garnering the attention of every pair of eyes in the room, coming to stand as close to the floating creature as you could while still keeping a safe distance.

"Huh, whah?!" It turned around so quick you were surprised it's neck didn't snap. "Are yo-ah- are you talking to me?"

Were there any other furry fairies around? You wondered to yourself, but you quickly realized you had said that out loud as dusty pink patches quickly spread all over his body. "Say," You quickly began, hoping a change of topic would cover up your verbal blunder. "You're new to this streamer business, no?"

Your words made the Dokkaebi jump so hard his horns nearly touched the ceiling. "Wha-how-why-how do you-" He sputtered as he flew down to be right in front of you, the galaxy clutched tightly to his chest like he was a child with a toy.

You couldn't hold back a snort at that thought, quickly waving off Youngki's confused questions. "Well for one, you haven't enabled notifications and messages." You informed him, "I'm certain the constellations would like for us to know what they have to say." You added, aiming to light a small fire under his ass.

The dusty pink patches on Youngki's fur became dark red as he fumbled around with the miniature galaxy in his hands, "I, I, I am so sorry- I" You could see several stars in the miniature galaxy blinking in sync, as if laughing at the pint sized pipsqueak as he stuttered out more apologies, flushing an even deeper shade of red as he realized he didn't know how to do it.

"The 'on' button should be somewhere around...there." You tried to help him, motioning with your hand vaguely to the center of the galaxy in his hand as you recalled reading something about it in TWSA.

After a few moments he seemed to have gotten it working, a low sound of accomplishment leaving him as messages began popping up.

A sharp pain bloomed behind your eyes. You groaned and clutched your head, willing your eyes to stay open as message after message appeared before you. The novels never mentioned anything about the messages making your head hurt...

[#Yo-7623 channel is open]

[The constellations have entered]

[Your reading speed has increased due to the effect of the exclusive attribute '?????']

[You can't activate the Attribute Window]

[Exclusive skill, 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been activated in the background]

[You are one step closer to the conditions to use the exclusive skill '????? Lv. ?']

[You are close to the conditions to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several Constellations laugh at the Dokkaebi 'Youngki']

[Several Constellations are curious about you]

You waved away the messages with an irritated sound leaving you, the pain behind your eyes disappearing as soon as you did so. You would have to look at those later.

Shaking your head to chase away the lingering pain you turned back to look at Youngki, who was now looking at you with apprehension. "Now then," You began, "Do you what's the fastest killer of infant streams like yours?"

Youngki shook his head like a little kid and floated just a bit closer to you, staring at you as if you had all the answers to the universe, the galaxy still held close to his chest.

"Boredom." You spoke innocently, "Now, I don't know about the constellations, but no sponsor of mine would ever wait half an hour for nothing interesting to happen." You explained, putting your other hand into your pocket, the very embodiment of nonchalance. "Matter of fact, they'd be gone after ten minutes and wouldn't waste their time with you ever again." Something dark inside you found it amusing how the Dokkaebi's face grew more and more horrified as you continued to speak.

[The constellation who likes to change gender nods at your words]

The message scared the little guy even more than your words had; you were certain he would've had a heart attack the moment the message had appeared if he could.

"Fortunately for you, I'm something of an entertainer myself." The devil himself would have been jealous of the charming smile you gave Youngki, "So, how would the mighty constellations like raise the stakes?"

You were playing a dangerous game; like Russian roulette, only the constellations didn't need a gun, bullets, or a kick in the ass from lady luck to cut your life short. You couldn't make any mistakes, after all, there was no way to rewind time.

[You are one step away from being able to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several constellations want you to elaborate]

"It's simple really," You shrugged. "A Constellation may choose to take off three minutes off the clock, in exchange for say...a 100 coins added to the overall reward." You explained, adding that the overall time left couldn't be less that 3 minutes, you were human after all.

[Several constellations look at one another]

"Or don't." You shrugged, pulling your hands out of your pockets, the hidden switch blade grasped tightly in your closed fist. "There's no shame in admitting you are afraid to lose your money~" You teased—

[The constellation who likes to change gender laughs at your boldness]

— It was the boldest, and dumbest, thing you could have ever done.

[A constellation has agreed to your terms]

Fortunately for you, fortune favored the bold.

[The time limit has been reduced: 27:24 → 24:24]

[The Compensation has been increased: 300 → 400 coins]

You smirked to yourself, but the smirk fell quickly when a different message popped up.

[The clear conditions have been changed: Kill TWO or more living creatures]

You cursed to yourself. You had known this might happen, yet you still hadn't expected it; a stray line in TWSA echoed in your mind as if to mock you: [The thrill seekers will always ask for more death]

That last message was like a fatal crack in the dam, and soon many more messages flooded your vision, pain blooming in your head as you watched the time rapidly decrease as the compensation increased and clear conditions changed. The other people watched you with growing worry and horror, yet even this wasn't enough to spark their survival instincts into action.

By the end of it, the compensation had risen to 900 coins, the time had decreased to just 9 minutes and 20 seconds, and the kill requirement had risen to 6 or more.

You hummed as you stared at the holographic screen deep in thought. You should temper your greed, yet as you looked up at the Dokkaebi, your eyes positively glinting, you knew you couldn't resist the tempting pull of fooling the 'Divine'.

"You know, if you wanted to make this even more interesting..." You paused, before shaking your head in an exaggerated motion. "No," You waved your hand dismissively, turning on your heel. "I don't think you could afford it."

You were only able to take a single step before the furry fairy had zoomed around to face you at the speed of light, stuttering out pleas to stop. A message from the, no doubt irritated, constellations popped up, only to be waved away without being read. "What?" You asked innocently, a new message appearing before your eyes.

[Some constellations are insulted, and wish to know your offer]

"Double the rewards and you can half the current time by half." You said, before quickly adding. "Without increasing the amount of creatures we have to kill, there are only so many people here." You waved your hand around in a vague gesture. "I swear to you, this will cause quite the commotion, and wouldn't that be entertaining?"

Right as you asked, a holographic video feed popped in the center of the restaurant, screams filling the silent restaurant, showing people killing each other all over the country.

[Die! Die!]

[No, please!]

[Don't hurt me!]

You could tell the specific moment when every single person figured out what you were doing. The collective fear in the restaurant so strong you could feel it on your tongue as you breathed. "So, what do you say?" You asked as if you didn't notice anything, looking up at the small Dokkeabi.

[Multiple constellations consider you a fool]

"Maybe I am," You admitted, "But fools make for great stories."

Your nonchalant answer seemed to shock the people into finding their own. Almost immediately after you had finished people began shouting:

"Don't listen to them!"

"Damn brat do you want us all killed!"

"Please spare me!"

"I don't want this!"

[The constellations accept your offer]

You didn't even wait for the next pop up windows to open, "Chin-Mae, now!" You ordered, your voice silencing all others. Something inside your skull shuddered, a thought that didn't belong to you whispering in your ears:

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has finished preparing, execute?]

Yes.

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been executed]

A shiver raced down your spine, you could feel it in your bones, like something in the bedrock of the world had snapped.

A second later something black flew towards you. You just barely managed to catch it, slamming it violently on to the table, black sludge exploding over your hand, clothes and the people seated there.

...

[You have achieved the ‘First Kill’ achievement!]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

...

Message upon message appeared before your eyes, you were quick to wave them all away before they made you head explode. You stepped back, the seated patrons staring at the crushed lobster eggs staining the tablecloth before looking up at you in bewilderment.

[Several constellations are displeased]

"Oh don't be like that," You rolled your eyes, holding up your hand, still stained black from lobster caviar. "The rules never stated that I had to kill humans, and lobster eggs are living creatures." You wiped off the black sludge staining your hand on the less noticeable portion of your clothes, knowing you would need to find a change of clothes after the scenario was over; blood and lobster sludge did not look good on you. "It isn't my fault you left the rules so vague."

[The constellation ‘Children of Mischief and Chaos’ are impressed by your scheme]

[The constellation who likes to change gender is impressed by your wit]

By mere chance you glanced to your side, only to see Chin-Mae standing in front of the lobster tank, the female lobster wriggling in his hold as it tried to protect the valuable eggs held under her tail. His other hand held the eggs, yet you could see it shaking, all of his attention concentrated on the videos of slaughter that were still playing above you.

"Chin-Mae, you moron, destroy tho!-"

You slapped your palm over your mouth as soon as your voice had registered in your brain, but it was in vain.

Every single person turned to Chin-Mae, ready to descend upon him like rabid dogs.

What have you done...

"Get him!"

[The constellations laugh at you]

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #reader #x reader #omniscient reader webtoon #orv webtoon #kim dokja x reader #kim dokja x yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja orv #yoo junghyuk #yoo jonghyuk x kim dokja #joo joonghyuk x reader #centerpieces of the hoard #reader insert #gender neutral reader #omniscient readers viewpoint #gonna rp the other chapters tomorrow

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doodgiee · 2 months ago

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Character lineup of prominant kids in a Riddle School project I've been working on for a long time.

Think I'm going to start calling it Riddle Transferred? Because they're all grown up, they've made the transfer

There's much more to come, but you're allowed this taster.

Canon:

Phil Eggtree: The Phil Eggtree we all know and love, however the guilt and stress of his dream murdering and double abduction have been haunting him.

Phred Whistler: His a little worn and worse for wear, but ever since seeing Phil save the world he's been inspired to live life to the fullest instead of just letting life take him wherever. He's far more motivated than his younger self

Smiley Sundae: With increased pressure with her studies, Smiley's trademark Smile has faded slightly over the years. Her underlying but constant struggle in academic fields has made her question her path for the future, but she'll still lighten up anyone's day with that heart of gold

Zack Kelvin: Despite still learning to deal with his peculiar temperature issues, especially with puberty taking a toll on it, He's definitely become more social after having the opportunity to express himself more without freezing to death. But still lacks crucial social cues. His friends are still helping him with that.

Richy Stud: This pushover has joined the main gang and have been a part of it for a while, serving as the social bridge between the core 4 and the B team of the Riddle Elementary kids he doesn't know them quite as well but still serves as a friendly face. And yes, he collects buttons

Chubb Munch: A gentle giant with a heart of gold. He'll always be a bigger guy comapred to most people, and frankly it never bothered him anyway. But since he vowed to work on his diet his life has never been better

5 08: A little arrogant, but with how charismatic he is it's hard to blame him. His shirt sales have been steady and it serves as more of a hobby than anything else. On good terms with Richy and Phil specifically. He considers Phil his best customer.

Greg Sleep: He's always been a bit distant from his friends, but in all fairness, he's asleep 90% of the time. He remains a bit of an enigma

Joe Kerosene: With his history with the Riddle gang being a rocky middle school life, Joe's not exactly friendly with many of the people he grew up with. He and Phil don't get along at all. Phil considers him an idiot and Joe considers him a snarky prick. He's found company with other people, but he may have bit off more than he can chew

OCs:

Null Rooster-Lea: One of Joe's new 'friends' he's distant, and never seen without a scowl on his face. He's cold, and its better not to cross him

Rodrigo Cwesschyn: Another one of Joe's new friends. He's the son of ex elementary principle Mr. Cwesschyn. Ever since his father has been imprisoned for injuring students, Rodrigo has had to become the man of the house for his mother and siblings. He blames the students that attended Riddle Elementary for his unsteady life.

Cassie Pants: Another part of Joe's group, she's bratty and enjoys messing with people she's directed towards, but she doesn't hold any ill will unlike her friends. She's just a pest, not evil.

Franky Pants: The older brother of Cassie, he isn't interested in the antics and rivalries her little sister gets up to, that's her life to lead. He's pretty friendly, but remains neutral to our protagonists. He just wished his sister made some nicer friends

Kath Penilian : A university student, far removed from the happenings at Riddle High, She's good friends with Richy, meeting over the niche hobby of button collecting. She serves as a friendly, older friend of the Riddle gang, being able to offer an ear to listen and a bit of wisdom.

#riddle school #riddle transfer #phil eggtree #phred whistler #smiley sundae #zack kelvin #rs richy #chubb munch #rs 5 #greg sleep #rs joe #oc

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tangledinink · 2 years ago

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gasp!!! TWO chapters of teenage mutant what now? in one week!?!? .... NO :D thats not what this is! This is, however, a little side-fic/drabble I wrote at work yesterday on a whim. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!!!

This takes place a few months before the start of the main fic and is 'canon,' but is just a little character/relationship exploration thing? Donnie-centric / Brains-n-Brawn-centric. This is a little bit heavier than the main fic so pleaseee be mindful of the tags below!

Hunger has claws.

It will struggle a bit before it settles. Sometimes, after being idle for a while, it’ll suddenly start to fight again. It’ll rear up through your stomach and up into your chest, banging its head against your sternum and raking its nails down the inside of you, and it makes your face go hot and your vision swim and your mouth tastes like blood for just a minute as it screams and begs you.

But if you grit your teeth and bear it, it’ll settle down again after a minute or so and back off. And the comfortable sensation of ‘empty’ will come back to you. And except for in those rare, brief moments, hunger is relatively calm. It feels safe sometimes.

There is nothing inside me that will hurt me. There is nothing inside me that will hurt me. I have not put anything inside, so I know for a fact-- there is nothing inside me that will hurt me.

---

Donnie had been awake since four in the morning, much to his annoyance, but he had yet to do anything beyond stare at the wall since he realized he’d be unable to get back to sleep. He hadn’t even crawled out from under the covers, stayed bundled up beneath the soothing pressure of his weighted blanket, his face buried against the fabric and breathing in the scent of it. He could see his alarm clock from here, and knew that it would go off soon. He could see the beginnings of the sunrise beginning to color the glass pane of his window. He could hear the city outside slowly waking up.

He would really prefer it if it didn’t.

Anxiety prickled at his limbs, gnawing at his skin and keeping him awake, chewing on every corner of him, and he resisted a whine, bundling himself up even tighter and squeezing his eyes shut as if that might help.

Today felt wrong. He had hoped that a good night’s rest would reset things. You know. The good old ‘turn it off and turn it back on again.’ Yesterday had sucked, and he had really been banking on his ability to simply sleep this off because he, quite frankly, didn’t have any other ideas.

But now today felt even worse.

His alarm clock mocked him as another minute visibly ticked by, dragging him closer and closer to the inevitable. He was already dreading the prospect, waiting miserably for the device to begin chirping at him, demanding he start the day. The very thought made his stomach flip-flop with unwelcome nausea. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He didn’t want to leave his room. He didn’t want to do anything. And the worst part was that he knew he didn’t actually have to.

If he really wanted to, he could just turn the alarms off and stay in bed. He already knew exactly what would happen.

Eventually, when he didn’t come down from his room for breakfast, as per routine, his dad would come up to check on him, knocking softly on the door and poking his head in. And he’d ask, are you awake, Purple? And Donnie would grumble and nod from the covers. And then he would come in and close the door behind him and come over to his bed and ask, are you okay? What’s wrong? And Donnie knew that if he responded that it was a ‘bad day,’ said that he didn’t want to get out of bed, told him he was staying home today… Dad would let him.

He knew that their dad would sit with him for a while, and that he wouldn’t bring any expectations to the preceding conversation, but that he would stay and talk about it with them for a bit to see if that helped-- to see if discussing the problem was enough to resolve things and coax Donnie out of bed. And admittedly, sometimes it did. Sometimes just explaining why he was anxious or being reassured that he could call their dad to come pick them up at any point during the day was enough for him to settle and organize his thoughts enough that he’d decide to get up after all. And sometimes, it didn’t. And that was fine, too. Even now, he knew that if he asked for it, his father would absolutely allow him the day off and stay home with him.

But he also knew that if he asked for this, it would set off the warning bells.

He knew that his dad would ask him about what was wrong and why he was having a ‘bad day,’ and because Donnie couldn’t lie for the life of him, would eventually uncover that he had skipped two out of three meals the day prior, and then he would make him eat. Not right away, but at some point, he’d gently insist that Donnie consume at least something small to start, at least one of his protein shakes or some saltine crackers, something he knew Donnie liked and was ‘safe.’ They knew he’d call Mossy, and then she’d be trying to get them to do the same thing, too. And then Dad would be watching him, and making sure he was eating, and paying attention to ensure it, and Donnie wouldn’t be able to covertly skip any meals and sneak away, because he was allowed to have a bad day and stay in bed sometimes, but he wasn’t allowed to stop eating--

He couldn’t have both. He could either get out of bed…

Or he could eat.

Cornering his resolve, Donnie bit the insides of his cheeks and kicked off the covers.

---

The journey to school was basically hell.

Usually, he didn’t mind the subway. His siblings were very good about providing him with a ‘shield’ when it was overly crowded and making sure not too many people touched him or shoved up against him, his headphones kept all the noise and chatter at bay, and the rhythmic, back-and-forth sway of the train moving along the tracks was usually comforting to him, in an odd sort of way.

Today, it just made him want to throw up. And he had already wanted to throw up when he got on the subway.

The entire commute he had to focus all of his energy simply on not just straight up vomiting, fighting the urge to anxiously flick his wrists or bounce his leg, trying to keep his body settled and calm and not-visibly-distressed because usually he was okay with his family helping him, but not right now, because if they caught on that he was this anxious, they were going to pay more attention, and then they might catch on that he had faked out breakfast this morning (thank god for the absolute chaos of the Hamato’s first meal of the day, which made for excellent cover,) or seek him out and watch him during lunch, and then they would make him eat, and he didn’t want to eat. He couldn’t make himself engage in conversation, couldn’t manage to keep up with the chatter and back-and-forth with his family, so he instead summoned the very last of his social energy to invite Leo to listen to this new album that he thought he’d really like with him. And when Leo excitedly agreed, he synced their bluetooths, queued up a band he knew Leo had never listened to before on Spotify, and then focused on reciting digits of Pi silently in his head for the rest of the trip, trying desperately to keep the anxiety and nausea in check.

He had never been so relieved in his life as he was when they finally got to their stop, the robotic announcer cheerfully declaring that doors would be opening on the left. He felt his head swim just the tiniest bit when he rose up to his feet, but it backed off quick enough, and the absolute minute they were back above ground, breathing in the fresh breeze instead of hot, disgusting, horrendous subway air, worming into his lungs and sweating inside him, he practically cried with relief. He sucked in several long, deep breaths as they walked, and slowly let it out, biting the insides of his cheeks and grinding his teeth quietly inside his head.

It was fine. It was over. He made it through it, and it was over, and he was okay, see? And there was nothing inside him. Nothing inside him that would hurt him. Relax. You’re okay. There’s still nothing bad inside you.

A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this wasn’t rational. That he was being pretty fucking stupid right now. That he should really take out his phone, like, right now and text Mossy and tell her what was going on and figure it out and deal with it instead of playing these stupid mind games with himself.

But Mossy would make him eat. And he didn’t want to eat.

“Dude--”

He nearly toppled over when an arm shot out in front of him, smacking against his chest and stopping him dead in his tracks. He blinked in surprise, stumbling the tiniest bit to find his balance again.

Leo retracted his arm after a moment, giving the other a pointed look, one brow raised as the rest of the group paused to glance back at the two. “Uh. Earth to Donnie. Are you, like, good?” Leo questioned, frowning at him. “You literally just almost walked into a lamp post.”

Ah. So he had.

“... Hm. Well. That is… less than ideal,” he muttered, half-to-himself, a bit dazed for a moment, before he shook it off and re-centered his focus, clearing his throat slightly and giving a flourishing wave of his hand. “Right. Apologizes, dear brother. I’m afraid I didn’t get the most sleep last night,” not a lie. “I’m working on a new project,” also not a lie, “with that AI system I pioneered. Remember how I explained that to you? My intention is to develop an improved API to match the modifications I’ve made in the programming, considering that the framework itself has been altered slightly… I’m still working on updating some of the conditionals as well. It’s all mostly backend information, so I wasn’t sure it would really be necessary at first, but given the OS--”

“Okay! Okay, okay! This was not a request to explain your nerd coding stuff!” Leo interrupted with a groan, rolling his eyes, and Donnie sighed internally with relief. He knew that would work. For once he was glad that his twin was typically unwilling to listen to him spout off about his work.

He huffed and made some generic intelligence-based insult in Leo’s general direction in response as he brushed past him, sealing the legitimacy of his performance, and made a mental note to pay more attention to where he was walking for the rest of the day.

---

He was hungry, but it wasn’t so bad now. It was just a physical sensation that he was dimly aware of in the back of his mind and capable of tuning out. Because sure, his body might be hungry. But he sure wasn’t. He had absolutely zero desire to consume anything. The thought of eating was, quite frankly, wholly unappealing and he couldn’t imagine a single thing in the world right now that he would want to eat. Not even any of his favorites. Not even any of his safe foods.

If you ignore hunger long enough, you kind of don’t notice it so much anymore. You can get used to it. You can go a few days, even, before it becomes beastly enough to truly demand to be heard.

… Usually, he didn’t do this. Not anymore, anyway.

Usually, he was fine. Well. Maybe not always fine, per se, but usually all of this was manageable. It… had been a problem, once upon a time. I mean, it had always been a problem, but then it had become a real problem, and it had been unmanageable, and things had been a little rough for a second there (story of his fucking life,) but then he had gotten out from under it because he and Mossy talked about it a lot, and he and his Dad talked about it a lot, and he talked to his siblings some, too, and it got better and then eventually it got easier. He remembered, back then, when it was still unmanageable, way back in middle school, he used to have a chart. Because Mossy, the evil genius, had decided to prey up both his competitive nature and his love for filling out charts and graphs. And the rule had originally been at least two meals a day at least three days a week. That was the starting point. It was okay if the meal was a protein shake. It was okay if every meal was a protein shake. He just had to hit that goal.

And it was hard. Eating had always been hard, because there were so many foods that he just hated and so many foods that he didn’t know and sometimes it just felt bad. Sometimes, just the mere act alone of putting something in his mouth, chewing it, and then swallowing it was, in and of itself, simply revolting. But he could, at least, kind of handle it a bit better when he had a goal like that. And when he got to record the data on a graph once he had done it.

They had eventually upped that goal, and then upped it again, and again, until Donnie was able to hit it consistently enough for long enough that he had graduated from the chart altogether.

And it was hard sometimes, still. It had always been hard. But usually, it was hard in a way that he could navigate.

He wouldn’t be able to meet that first ‘starting point’ goal right now if he tried, he didn’t think.

He knew that he was supposed to eat. He knew that, biologically, it was an objective fact that he needed food to survive. And that fasting for long periods of time was unhealthy, and that he was damaging himself-- etc etc etc. Yeah, whatever.

He knew lots of stuff. That didn’t change things.

It was just as helpful as knowing that a hug was intended as pleasant and supportive when he was experiencing sensory overload. Or knowing there were no insects or hidden cameras in his room when he was in the middle of a full on fucking breakdown. Or knowing that he had already triple-checked that he shut down his soldering gun properly when it was the middle of the night and he couldn’t sleep and his brain was crawling with what-ifs?

That is to say, completely and utterly useless.

The nausea had persisted through the day, much to his chagrin, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t block out and ignore. Schoolwork made for a good distraction, and skipping lunch was as simple as tossing out what he had been packed for the day (sorry, Mikey,) and finding some corner of the library to hide in. He didn’t typically eat lunch with any of his siblings, given the size of their school and how poorly their schedules aligned for such purposes, and they all had their own friends to eat with, anyway. Maybe some of his friends would text him regarding his absence, but he wasn’t really worried about it. It wasn’t unusual for him not to come to lunch, given the nature of his hybrid-schooling model, and lying was a lot easier through text.

He liked the library. It was quiet here. And he really did have stuff to work on. He always did. The way his hands trembled was annoying, but did not deter him.

---

He felt Leo’s fingers tap against his ankle.

He had, admittedly, not exactly been focusing up until a second ago. Really, he hadn’t been focusing much for a while now. Their coach had told them to do ten sets of two-hundred’s, which was easy enough, but also meant a lot of back and forth. Donnie didn’t mind lots of back and forth. If anything, he enjoyed it. He liked swimming, and he did some of his best thinking in the water. How many incredible software programs and inventions and designs had been birthed here, after all?

But usually, he was capable of thinking and swimming in a straight line at the same time.

He was having a bit more trouble today than he’d like to admit.

He was beginning to get sore from how many times he had scraped himself up against the lane-line after losing focus and heading ever-so-slightly off track. And though he had kept his lead thus far, heading the charge as per usual, the repeated crashes had slowed him down. His lead was not quite as dominant as it normally was.

And Leo was trying to pass him.

Fuck.

Donnie bristled, immediately bringing his focus back into the world around him, throwing whatever dredges of energy he still had left into his front stroke and pulling back out ahead-- leaving Leo behind. It wasn’t terribly hard. He was easily the strongest swimmer on the team on a good day, and even on a bad day, he could edge out the rest of the pack.

It was just. Jesus, it was exhausting.

This wasn’t even a particularly demanding set. He was just fucking tired. And keeping his lead, though do-able, required everything he had left to give.

(Which was quite annoying, because he had been right in the middle of mentally unraveling a really complicated mathematics equation that he needed for a robotics project.)

One-by-one, all right after another, the group eventually finished their laps, ending up bunched up at the end of the lane, clinging to the side of the pool so everyone could catch their breath and guzzle down water. And at the beginning of the day, Donnie had been fine with water. He had been drinking water, earlier, at least. But somewhere along the line it had become bad no unclean bad harmful no no no absolutely do not no as well, and so he had stopped. Given the fact that everyone was already soaking wet and quite literally surrounded by water to begin with, however, it was quite easy to fake it.

And he had been hoping that the fact that Leo hadn’t managed to pass him would be enough to make him sulk and not be willing to bring it up. And, if not, he was expecting Leo to crow and tease him about his near-accomplishment, and then the two of them could fight with each other over it, and Donnie could be all annoyed and roll his eyes and make snarky quips, and that would be so much easier to manage.

But instead Leo gave him this concerned, sidelong sort of look and raised a brow and said, for the second time that day,

“Dude. You good?”

Donnie had kind of stared at him for a second, blinking slowly, processing, before he finally responded.

“Why?”

“You’re way slower than usual. And you kept hitting the lane-lines,” Leo observed, and dammit, Donnie didn’t know why he was even surprised that Leo noticed that-- of course he would.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re not getting sick or somethin’, are ya?” Raph questioned, looking Donnie up and down, his brows pinching with worry. Donnie frowned, hesitated, and then shrugged.

“I dunno. Maybe,” they muttered, and technically, that wasn’t a lie, either.

---

Though they had eventually backed off enough for them to get through the rest of swim practice, despite Raph’s repeated suggestions that they skip out early and head home if Donnie wasn’t feeling good, he could feel both of his brothers looking at him for the rest of the evening. It was starting to make his nerves bunch up and his vision kind of cave in in a way that he didn’t like. It was starting to make his head feel kind of hot and fuzzy in a way he didn’t care for. The fact that they were at swim, specifically, and not gymnastics or dance or literally anywhere else was really the only thing holding him together. He suspected he would have had a panic attack and vomited at least once by now otherwise.

But they were in the water.

He liked being in the water.

It was… comforting, he supposed. He had always really enjoyed the sensory experience of it. Of swimming, sure, but also just being in the water. He loved how sound became just a little bit blurred and far off when he ducked his head under, and would often tip his head back in between laps just so that his ears would get covered up and filled in and things would go a bit quiet and mumbly. He liked how softly the water touched him and how it held him up-- the weightlessness of it. He even liked the smell of chlorine, strangely enough. It felt nostalgic somehow.

At least once every single time he got in the pool, no matter what the reason or where they were, he always would dive all the way down to the bottom at least once. He liked being down below it all-- to curl up small on the pool floor and settle down and just… be there for a while.

It was so peaceful down there.

He swore he could stay down there forever. He would live at the bottom of the pool if he could get away with it. But eventually Raph would always peer down at him with this kind of worried look, like, are you good, or did you drown and I’ve gotta come get your corpse? And he’d remember that he wouldn’t be able to operate a welding torch or set up a PC down here and he’d come back up to the surface.

He did it five times today.

He liked being in the water.

The problem truly came when he had to get out of the water. Because once it was no longer physically holding him up, he already knew that there was a very real chance he was going to fall apart. And, even worse--

Getting out of the water meant swim practice was over. Which meant that they were that much closer to going home. Which meant that they were that much closer to dinner.

This was, by far, the most difficult meal to worm his way out of, especially considering he had just done it yesterday. And his brothers were already looking at him.

Typically, on Thursdays, Leo and Raph would go down the hall from the pool to the basketball court after swim practice was over for an hour or two before they headed back to the apartment for the evening. Sometimes Donnie would come, usually to sit and watch, rarely to participate, and sometimes he would head off without them and spend the time in his lab before everyone got home and they gathered for dinner. But Leo and Raph clearly had no intention of leaving him by himself right now, wordlessly agreeing to abandon any other previous plans for the evening and head straight home instead. And it was… nice. Donnie could certainly acknowledge that. It was, like, sweet, or whatever, that they were worried about him.

But it was so, so not what he wanted right now.

His body was absolutely weighed down with dread, so very much so that when he tried to follow his brothers and get out of the water at the end of practice, it didn’t quite work. He tried twice more, attempting to lift himself up on his shaking arms far enough to get his knee up onto the ledge, something that was usually easy for him, something he could usually accomplish without a second thought and even a bit of effort… but each time he just couldn’t quite get high enough and he fell back down.

“Donnie,” Raph said, slowly, carefully, his voice measured and gentle, after the third failure. “Can I touch you?”

Donnie grit his teeth in frustration, giving a short shake of his head no.

He could tell that Raph was frustrated, too, though he didn’t say it. “Okay,” he said. “Do you think you can make it to the ladder over there?” He asked instead, gesturing to the far side of the pool. The rest of the team chattered around them as they filed their way towards the locker rooms, talking with each other or discussing things with coaches, and Donnie wished so, so very desperately that they would all shut up. He tipped his head back to cover his ears, just for a second, just for a break, and Raph and Leo waited in silence until he finally righted himself again and nodded.

“Alright. Don’t swim though. Wall-walk over,” Raph instructed, with the kind of voice that said do not fucking argue with me, and usually Donnie would roll his eyes and scoff and be annoyed with the mere concept of Raph trying to tell him what to do like that, let alone implying that he couldn’t handle swimming across four lanes to get to the side of the pool… But he didn’t really have the energy for that right now.

(And also, maybe a tiny part of him wasn’t sure he could swim across four lanes right now. I mean. He was pretty sure he could. He had just swam, like, literally several miles. Surely he could still do this, right? But jesus christ, what if he couldn’t? What if what if what if?)

“Leo, go grab Donnie’s towel and the rest of his stuff from the locker room, alright?” Raph said. Leo visibly hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave his twin, not wanting to leave either of them and be somewhere else-- but he nodded anyway, and headed off at a brisk pace on his retrieval mission. Once he had headed off, Raph wasted no time in returning back to the water, entering via the lane next over to avoid jostling or splashing Donnie and then quickly diving down and under so he could rejoin his younger brother’s side.

He reminded him of a seal, Donnie thought distantly to himself. Not because he wasn’t graceful on land. He was. For someone as big and bulky as him, he could be shockingly nimble when he wanted to be, and he honestly didn’t give himself enough credit for it. It was more because of just how much more graceful he was in the water. The way he moved. Just like a seal-- gliding along effortlessly, almost elegantly with how poised and controlled his movements were, despite his size. Strength and power and finesse and precision all at once. Sometimes Donnie was jealous.

The journey over to the ladder wasn’t a difficult one. He probably could have swam. He was tired, and he was trembling, but not so bad that he couldn’t swim across a mere four lanes. But he wall-walked anyway and Raph lingered nearby, taking care not to crowd him but sticking close regardless, just in case, until they made it to the side of the pool. And Donnie climbed out, and then so did Raph, and Donnie managed to last about thirty seconds of being outside of the water before he, just as predicted, started to break apart.

He didn’t want to be touched right now, and gravity had its hands wrapped firm around each of his limbs and was pulling him, and it was horrendous. He just managed to get himself to the nearby bleachers, luckily not more than a few feet away, shaking like a leaf as he clawed his swim cap and goggles off of himself, tossing them aside, not caring where they ended up, just suddenly wanting them off. He hated how the air felt on his wet skin. He hated the weight to each of his limbs. He hated everything, he hated existing, and everything was toppling down around him and threatening to drown him now that he was on dry land. He curled himself up into a little ball, ducking his head down between his knees, and he wasn’t crying, exactly, and he wasn’t totally panicking either, but he was real close to both of them and a short, high-pitched whine escaped from him without his consent.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

He felt awful.

The hunger was clawing again.

There is nothing inside me that will hurt me, he reminded himself desperately. There is nothing inside me that will hurt me. I have not put anything inside, so I know for a fact-- there is nothing inside me that will hurt me.

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna go home as soon as Leo gets back,” Raph soothed, crouching down next to him. “You’re doing good. Just deep breaths. Let me go grab your water bottle for you real fast so you can drink somethin’, alright? That’ll help--”

His heart jumped through his chest and his throat threatened to close up for a moment, the wobbly very-beginnings of a sob catching against his teeth. He shook his head sharply, every muscle in his body tensing as his breath escalated in its already rapid pace. No. No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want his water bottle, and he didn’t want Raph to walk away from him, and he did not want to drink. It wouldn’t help. No. His throat was all dry and sticking together and his head was spinning and sore and pounding but he did not want that.

“Okay! Okay, alright, I don’t have to. I can stay,” Raph assured quickly, floundering just the tiniest bit, holding his hands up in surrender. Donnie grit his teeth, hissing out some noise that even he didn’t know the meaning of in response, drawing himself in tighter. And for a little bit, they were both just quiet, with Raph sitting there with him, waiting, watching, purposefully and audibly breathing slow and deep, and Donnie struggling to try to match him with his own ragged pants-- teetering on the very edges of a full panic attack and windmilling his arms wildly to avoid toppling over.

“Hey, Don?” Raph finally spoke again. “Can you lookit me for a sec?”

Donnie bristled, immediately shaking his head.

“I’m not askin’ for eye contact or anythin’, Donnie, I just wanna see your face real quick. You can keep your eyes shut, but can you just pick up your head a little? Please?”

Donnie whined, not really wanting to do that, either, but he did it anyway, just barely lifting his head. He couldn’t make himself meet his brother’s eyes, staring firmly down at the ground instead, and he felt like a fucking dog that get caught digging up the garden or something. And that alone was almost enough to make him tear up. He waited for whatever would come next with this lump in his throat, anxious anticipation biting at his spine.

“When’d you last eat?”

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. He knew he would figure it out, but the confirmation was somehow devastating anyway. He knew he would. He wasn’t stupid. Of course he would catch him, of course he would--

‘Nauseous,’ he signed in a weak defense, but Raph didn’t budge and Donnie wasn’t the least bit surprised. He couldn’t even blame him.

“Donnie.”

He considered lying for a moment, but then thought better of it. It wouldn’t work anyway.

‘Breakfast,’ he signed, sniffling weakly.

“Okay, but when?”

He hated how smart his brother was, and how well he knew him.

‘Yesterday.’ He had a protein shake for breakfast yesterday.

Raph buried his face in his hands, a frustrated sigh escaping him, and Donnie immediately retreated back beneath the cover of his own folded arms, a choked little hiccup escaping him.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s not you. I’m not mad at you. Sorry,” Raph corrected right away, wincing slightly. “I’m not… mad. It’s alright. But-- Donnie. You have to eat. I know you know that!”

Donnie frowned, hunching his shoulders slightly, his face all shoved up against his knees.

‘I know.’

“Then why aren’t you? Did something happen?”

He stiffened a little, shaking his head.

‘I just don’t want to.’

“Donnie.”

‘It’s easier.’

“Don.”

‘It’s so much easier to just not--’

“Donnie,” Raph pressed. “I know. Okay? I know. But usually, you do it anyway! Usually you don’t do this! What happened?”

‘It’s stupid.’

“Okay. Look. I dunno if you know this or not, Don, but you’re pretty damn smart. So your definition of stupid is usually pretty skewed,” Raph scoffed softly. “So can you please just… tell Raph anyway?”

Donnie frowned, keeping quiet for a second, his nose scrunched up and his lips curled. And it took him a second before he finally signed a response.

‘Did you know Sierra is a vegan?’

Raph blinked slowly, seeming a tiny bit taken aback, just for a moment, before tilting his head to the side. “Sierra from your robotics team?”

Donnie nodded.

“Uh… No?”

‘I didn’t either!’ Donnie signed, this tiny, humorless, pained little laugh escaping from him. ‘But I do now! And all the reasons why she is, and about how she won’t eat anything with GMO’s or preservatives or artificial anything and a million other different things, and why, all in excruciating detail. We discussed it yesterday during lunch. And I learned so much shit that I didn’t want to know! And god, half of it is probably conspiracy theory bullshit that’s not even real, half of it sounds totally ridiculous and completely implausible by all rational, scientific standards, but I-- I don’t want to look it up! What if it is? And even if it’s not real, it doesn’t even matter! It’s not gonna help! And that’s the worst part!!! So what’s the point!?’

Raph sighed a bit. “Donnie…”

‘And it’s-- it’s so dumb! Because I don’t even believe in any of that stuff! I don’t agree with half of the stuff she said! It’s all stupid bullshit that probably isn’t real and not based on any sort of evidence, so I don’t know why I care, because I certainly don’t want to! I have no idea why this is bothering me so bad because it’s random and dumb and it shouldn’t! But I do care now, apparently, and everything feels gross and bad and wrong and I don’t-- I don’t want to. I can’t. It just. It feels so bad all of a sudden. I cannot fucking do it. I threw up, like, four times yesterday, Raph.’

Raphael visibly winced. And Donnie winced, too, and frowned, curling and uncurling his toes, rocking back and forth just the tiniest bit as he yanked at his own twists, rolling them between his fingers.

Raph kept quiet for a minute, and then he breathed deep out through his nose, and inhaled sharply.

“Okay. First of all. That ain’t stupid,” he said, and then hesitated a second. “Well. I mean. It’s a little stupid. I mean. The shit that Sierra said is probably mostly stupid. And your brain latchin’ on and bein’ anxious about it and givin’ you a hard time is kind of stupid, too,” he admitted. “... But that doesn’t make you stupid! I mean. It’s not like that’s your fault! You’re just… stuck dealin’ with other people’s stupid! And that’s dumb and it sucks, but it ain’t your fault!”

Donnie frowned, huffing very softly.

‘I should be able to figure it out,’ they argued, though half-heartedly. ‘I should be able to deal with this by now.’

“Okay, that’s stupid,” Raph said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just because you do somethin’ really hard for a long time doesn’t mean it’s never gonna be hard ever again! You just get good at handlin’ it. But it’s still hard! Shit’s still gonna be hard sometimes! And, like, yeah, this is hard for you. But different things are hard for different people! And I know that sounds corny or whatever, but listen,” he fixed Donnie with a hard look. “Raph thinks math is hard. Like. I think that algebra is crazy hard! But you don’t! So does that make me stupid? Or mean that I shouldn’t need your help with that stuff anymore? ‘Cause I should just figure it out?”

Donnie sighed softly, rolling his eyes. Curse him and his ‘turn it around on him’ type logic. He pursed his lips into a pout, very reluctantly signing ‘no’ in reply.

“Then shut up. It’s fine if this is a hard thing! And it’s fine if you need help! Especially ‘cause you do deal with it, like, literally every day! And you usually do a good damn job!” Raph argued. “But no one expects you to be perfect at it all the time, Don! Second of all--”

Raph relaxed his posture again slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“This sucks. And it’s hard and shit. But it’ll be okay. Leo’s gonna be back any minute now with your stuff, and we’ll call a cab and get you back home. And we’ll talk to Dad. And we can call Mossy. And we’ll figure it out. Alright? And look,”

Raph sighed deeply, frowning a tiny bit, his brows twitching down just the tiniest bit, creasing in the middle.

“Raph’s not gonna let anything hurt you, okay? Not even stupid preservatives or GMO’s or whatever the hell else Sierra said. I promise.”

Donnie stared at him for a second, slowly processing what he just did.

I’m sorry. Did his big brother actually just… swear to defend him from… GMO’s?

That was so fucking stupid.

He laughed for real this time, starting as a weak, watery little giggle and then quickly evolved into full-blown cackles. It kind of hurt his stomach, honestly, but he didn’t even care right now.

Oh my god. This was so fucking stupid.

Why did that actually make him feel so much better?

‘Okay,’ he signed, chuckling weakly and scrubbing at his face a few times. ‘Okay.’

Raph smiled, giving a firm nod in response.

“Okay,” he echoed.

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solitaire-addict · 1 year ago

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A deep dive into Solitaire, its Characters and Relationships

Solitaire is a deep, complex and entertaining book. Once opened, it becomes very hard to put down and it is the type of book you would read multiple times, listen to the audiobook version, and create a blog fully dedicated to. Solitaire has that kind of seasonal feel like when it snows for the first time and your feet are cold no matter how many blankets you put on or you’re nose keeps running because you’re outside waiting for someone to come pick you up and you’re putting your hands in fists because they might just freeze off. Solitaire isn't romanticized winter, it's the gross parts that make people hate the cold seasons but you still like them because it still has a nice feeling to it, even though it may be the end of you. Personally I have read solitaire in every season but Solitaire can't be beat in January, when everyone is stupid depressed and there isn't a point to living anymore.

Victoria (Tori) Spring portrays this deep depression and bitter feeling that everyone feels at some point and she is the embodiment of the term “pessimistic complex”. While being a relatable character to everyone, I've found that she really strikes a chord with the Asexual/Aromantic community. In recent events, it has become canon that she is Asexual and most suspect she is on the Aromantic spectrum which seems reasonable due to her behavior around one Micheal Holden. Micheal Holden, who is Tori’s friend and co-investigator in the Solitaire mystery, is (at first glance) an upbeat and strange character. Micheal holds the role of curious, and a bit mysterious and his and Tori’s friendship forms from the fact that they both got curious and did the exact same thing. In many ways, these two are very similar and when thrown together by some force, Tori ignores this and uses some freakish defense mechanism that (to anyone else) would drive away the opposing force, however, Micheal is not an opposing force, or any kind of force for that matter. He’s just a guy who happens to be a little strange and who ice skates and is secretly mad all the time. When Tori and Micheal first interact, Tori does not in any way want to talk to this guy, in fact i bet she would rather have thrown herself out the nearest window than exchange more than two sentences at once. Michel wants to be friends with Tori, so much so that he will not stop showing up out of nowhere even if he doesn't mean to. Keep in mind that Micheal has no friends and Tori has one friend and that isn't even going well.

Becky (who has been Tori’s best and only friend for quite a while) is popular. Not in the sense that everyone knows her, more so that everyone knows of her and a couple extending details, this leaves her feeling alone in the world and her only support is Tori, who frankly, is not doing well in the slightest. And of course they’re drifting, not quickly but over time, like a call that gets worse in audio quality over time. When Becky seeks support from Tori and wants to share things with her, Tori is disengaged, I'm sure she doesn't mean it but that still sucks when you’re the one who needs to talk. There are many versions of the book and in the first one when Becky tells Tori that she just had sex with her almost boyfriend. Tori is disappointed, she even goes on to say that it made her respect Becky more for being a virgin up until now. Now remember that the first addition of this book was released in the early 2010’s so it's a bit desensitized and there are probably better words to put it other than not respecting her as much anymore but it's still a good example of Tori’s distance and self isolation from the rest of her public life, which brings us back to her relatable self destructive tendencies.

When with Micheal, Tori continuously keeps him locked out of her life. When Micheal tells her that he wants to be friends, Tori goes on a tangent about how she doesnt know why he wants to be friends and says “i'm not some manically depressed psychopath” and they get into a fight that ends with michael saying “well maybe you are a manically depressed psychopath” and everyone ever is disappointed because Tori cant let people care about her. There's a point where Tori and Micheal finally accept each other as people and decide not to question one another, they both care and they both are okay with that, Micheal is there when Tori needs him and Tori is there when Micheal needs her, it's one of the most beautiful things and their friendship and care for eachother is deep and true and it's my favorite thing in the universe. When Tori is about to get killed by a firework, when she's literally standing on the edge of death, when she's sat at home after Charlie's relapse Micheal Holden is there. Micheals constant anger has noticeably taken a toll on him and he has said “i'm always angry, other emotions just overrule it” he means that Tori’s presence is the emotion that overrules, not in a cheesy love story way but in the way that when you’re having a bad day and then you go home to your bed and take an advil and drink some water, it makes you feel better. Tori is Micheals bed, Advil and water, no matter how cold the bed is, or how gross the Advil is or how unfiltered the water is. She’s still there, overriding the constantly lingering aggravation with himself. When Tori’s about to kill herself, Michael is there to save her, pull her back into reality and even though Tori isn't okay in the slightest afterwards, Micheal is still there, and they still care, even if the water is muddy.

In between the 4 month gap between Solitaire and Heartstopper, nothing is technically canon on what happens between them but 4 months later Micheal has proposed the idea that they confirm their relationship status as girlfriend and boyfriend and this scared Tori. Not because she doesn't like him in that way, but because she doesn't want him to get bored of her. Along with Tori’s asexuality being confirmed, it's also confirmed that Tori and Micheal had sex and Tori was sent a confirmation email for her ticket for the asexual train. Charlie and Tori’s conversation about this is very touching, Charlie brings up that he once said that if Nick never wanted to have sex with him, he wouldn't want to either and it wouldn't change how he felt about Nick in any way. This is an example of why Asexuals FLOCK to Alice Osemans writing, it focuses on the emotional connection between characters, not the sex and tension between them. Charlie reassures Tori that Micheal will understand and he most definitely will not get bored of her (considering that they canonically stay together for at least like 10 more years) Tori’s fear of a labeled relationship is an important factor within the idea that Tori is on the Aromantic spectrum, as an aromantic person, when a relationship that I’m in is labeled, it stresses me out. It creates this internal fear of commitment and that might be what Tori is experiencing. At the end of the page, Tori and Micheal are shown talking probably about her being asexual. My hopes are that Tori and Michaels relationship remains unlabeled because it's very important that different types of queer relationships are shown in mainstream media, especially ones that aren't labeled or inside queer norms. There's nothing like queer erasure from other queer people.

#solitaire #alice oseman #tori spring #micheal holden #sprolden #heartstopper #charlie spring #nick and charlie #nick nelson #solitaire by alice oseman

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gayhoediaz · 8 months ago

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It’s so true though people need to stop putting their fanfic expectations on the show and its storylines. I honestly think that the people who get so upset about their speculation not actually happening are the ones who solely watch the show through a “shipping lens” and then fail to realize that while it can be campy and dramatic it’s still not a 95K Ao3 fic focused on Buddie getting together.

yeah, i mean i'm 100% certain we are getting canon buddie, and i have been for years, please don't get me wrong. but i absolutely do feel as if there is a group of people (there always has been, but it's gotten worse in the past year imo) who don't even... like the show? i am being so so serious when i say that i think canon is better than any fanfiction i have ever read or written and i think that's why i'm so quick to be annoyed by people putting the writing down? again, don't get me wrong - you wanna talk about the copaganda, or the excessive screentime given to taykay (outside of her storyline with buck) i'm here for that (well. maybe not right now - but in theory, you know? no writer is faultless) but i have 100% faith in the writers overall and i know that they have been, and are going to continue to give buck and eddie the time they need.

i also think that binging and having entire seasons dumped into your lap all at once has fried peoples brains quite frankly.

#nie answers 💕

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yourgirlniki · 10 months ago

Text

Jackie and Wilson

"For whatever poor soul is coming next"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

3k words

Tags!: No use of y/n, fluff, down bad Johnny MacTavish, not completely canon accurate Soap, first fic! 😎👍

A/N: This is based on Hozier's song Jackie and Wilson - I'm thinking I want this to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots based on his songs, depending on my free time! But again, first fic so please any comments would be greatly appreciated! Was nervous to post but ya only live once Hope you enjoy!

The cushion on the back of the booth wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever. The deep red bump didn’t do much to help an aching back, more of a thing that somewhat fixed the posture of those who sat at it. But who goes to a bar for comfort anyway? Dingy bars aren’t the first place most people would think to go back to after nearly dying halfway across the world.

The sticky floors, the mesh of posters and old mementos hanging on the brick walls. The neon lights, the potent smell- its headache inducing and you don't even have a hangover yet. And there are too many people in here, crowding pool tables and the small dance floor, (if you can even call it that), to be called someplace one would go to calm down and relax.

This is a fact that is true for most people.

But most people aren’t military. Even fewer are SAS.

And absolutely none are John MacTavish.

The man who idolizes the chaotic ways of the world above all else. That’s what has him still in the job quite frankly. The chaos, the ability to live and thrive in an insane environment. For someone like him, these things never truly bothered him. In an odd sense, the smell of alcohol, sweat and far too many bad ideas feel closer to home than he’s been in a few months. A comfort that most don't understand. But he does.

So even as exhaustion tries to take hold, the scott wears a signature giddy smile, adds a seemingly impossible pep to his step, and he drags the 141 into a back table, somehow always energetic. Even after practically wasting away in a desert for the past 3 months, he has energy. It’s honestly absurd.

Even worse is that he always finds a way for that energy to become contagious. As much as his teammates joke and grumble about it, Johnny was their way of restoration, to push forward. He would choose a shitty bar, and even shittier alcohol over a quiet apartment or the pile of paperwork that had to get done at some point. And so, the boys would too. Even if they hid it behind the facade of “babysitting” the grown man.

So now, here they sat, against the trashy cushions, with crappy music, in the dimly lit bar, with smiles and a sense of belonging. They call it a “celebration” of a mission well done, a nod to their success. Definitely not an excuse to just drink the night away, to get the mission out of their heads for a bit. To laugh with comrades and just be… domestic? Is that right? Close enough.. Yeah? Finding their small slot back into normal society.

Don’t get him wrong, Johnny loves his job. Loves what he does, but who doesn’t want to just have a drink at a bar with his mates every once and a while? And that's why he has his third beer in his hand and is snorting and a story Gaz is telling about one of his most recent hookups. A lady who was.. “Bloody crazy! I mean it. Seemed nice at first but don't be fooled, she was insane!”

Yeah, this is home. It’s where he belongs, where he wants to belong, he thinks. With his men, in the middle of nowhere chatting about anything and everything. Confiding in and teasing each other. He trusts them with his life, he can trust them to listen when need be. And yet… there is always that ache. The strange pull in moments like these like something is still missing. It’s been happening more often lately. And it's like an itch Johnny can't scratch. A puzzle piece he can't find but is still absent mindedly searching for. The only issue is he doesn't know what it is, that it just- isn't.

The chatter fades to a muffled sound in the scotts ears for a moment as he lets out a small, genuine smile looking at his group, sipping at the drink in his hand as his forearms lay themselves on the table, hands clasping. Taking a moment to truly thank whatever may be pulling the strings. Bringing him and his boys to safety. And maybe even a small prayer to tell him what the odd nagging in his brain is about. He takes a breath and relaxes, just for a moment. Looking around the bar, truly just admiring the world around him, the bustle of it all, the people with their own lives and ambitions.

How was he supposed to know that was a fatal mistake on his part?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

He found out a second to late, registered it after he knew he was done for. It was one moment, a mistake, a pause, that would stick with him for as long as it dared. It was a magnet, an invisible force that pulled his very being toward it. The moment he nearly drooled his drink out from his now slack jaw.

Because when his eyes connect with the woman walking through the door, he swears time stopped.

Suddenly, the crappy bar didn’t smell as bad, the music wasn’t too loud, the cushion no longer made his back ache, the room got brighter just from her smile. The very ground shifted, and not in the drunken haze way. He warmed up, eyes wide. A thought process that if he opened them more he would see more. God, it felt like getting a cavity by now, she felt too sweet to even look at.

In a single moment the world shattered around him, everything he knew was thrown out a window, as his mind was occupied by one thought only.

It was only a moment… but by then he knew he was fucked, utterly and completely.

Fate or destiny, call it what you may. An answered prayer, an utter coincidence. It didn’t matter. The bar turned into a museum, a place to observe and admire as his eyes widened impossibly more as his head tilted watching her move. A giggle slipped under his breath as he thought he could be mistaken for Ghost at this point, with his starring.

But your pull, it was undeniable. Even the thought of looking away would cause you to vanish in a blink, never for Johnny to see again. And he couldn’t have that. Not when it was astonishing in the way you simply were.

It only got worse as your group got closer to theirs. A mere table away. When you first walked in it was a trap, a line that was cast into his pond and he was falling for the bait. Confidence is something he is used to in his line of work, but it was usually the cocky kind. The kind that made him want to kick a recruits teeth in for. But you were something different entirely. You demand attention, even if you didn't know it. A high held head, a testament to the world that you were there, and you were aware of it. Thank god it was his attention it demanded, because it was nothing short of a miracle.

The air you lived in became breathable, spreading to his little corner of the bar as he had to remind himself to actually inhale and exhale as he took in the sight over and over again. Committing it to memory. The world became a movie, a fictional place where he wasn’t. One he could only watch and revel in. It was the type that you knew was going to be good before it even began. The one you had been anticipating for and knew wouldn’t disappoint. His heart rate picked up, the same way it would in the field, but in a much less stressful manner now. Jesus, what was happening to him? You must have cursed him. That’s it. The only explanation. Bewitched by not only the view, but the melody of your laugh flooding his ears now at the closer proximity. Leaning against a standing table with a glass in hand, head slightly tilted enough that a stray hair fell to cover your face.

It was comical the way his heart sped up, watching as you chatted with your own group. Something so normal, something you see every single day, was making the big strong man’s hard race like it life or death. And he knew life or death.

Romeo had nothing on him.

Absolutely nothing in the way his brain knew he was to be yours. It had to be, he had to be. It’s how the story will be written, and he will play his role. Stealing your hear that way you have entranced his own. He wouldn’t be able to tell you when he got up. He can’t tell you how his body moved on its own, knowing what needed to be done but not conscious enough to alert his brain.

What he can tell about how perfect it felt to so much as stand there by you. Soaking in your presence was one thing, standing in it next to you was another entirely.

And that's how he found himself face to face with you, who turned to him with a puzzled look, but a kind smile.

He was a goner.

“Oh… umm- Hello, can I help you?” Is all you had to say to him to confirm his every thought. This woman could heal every wound with her voice alone. And her eyes so much as finally looking back at him felt like he was seen for the first time in his life.

“Uhh.. sir? Are you alright?” Your voice rang out again, pulling him back to reality as you hand waved in front of his face slightly. A flattering smile on our lips and your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost concerned. What came over John MacTavish in that moment is unexplainable.

“I seem to have lost my number—can I have yours?”

Her eyebrows raised. She blinks. Then tilting her head slightly.

He could die right then and there.

Leaning against the table next to her with a stupid, crooked smile and a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't just embarrassed the hell out of himself. A pick up line? That's the best you could do, John? Really? Welp, there goes every chance you had, cut your losses and- Laughter chimed in his ears like wedding bells. And that’s when he froze, every negative thought draining him as he became light. You laugh was intoxicating more than any drink or drug. The kind that was unapologetic and genuine. The kind that has the back of your palm finding your lips as you cover your giggles, nose scrunching and eyes squinting due to the smile. One that made both of you have pink cheeks for different reasons. A joke that probably shouldn't have been laughed at, but coming from the man before you, it eased the tension in the air.

It must have been the prettiest sight Johnny had ever seen.

He doesn’t know how he did it, probably because it wasn’t him at all. Must have been pure luck that after that horrible entrance she seemed kind enough to humor him that night. He bought you a drink and hung on every word you so much as muttered in his direction. You laughed at every joke, good or bad. He made it his mission to make sure he always heard that laugh from then on. To produce it from you.

Oddly enough, it turns out you were one of few words when it came to the actual conversation. And yet it was never rude, ore quiter nature. But more like you were always listening. Every word John rambled on about you picked up, asking questions or simply nodding, expressing your thoughts in your facal expression. Because of this, it seemed like he never looked away from you either, not that it was a bother, it was strangely alright. It wasn’t judgemental, only observant.

He thought he might go buy a ticket for the lottery after you agreed to give him your number by the end of the night. He was more smitten than he’s ever been, and on the dates to follow the swooning only got worse.

Every moment with you felt exhilarating, like he found that missing piece finally after a long search. And that piece loved him back He was insufferable, always gushing about the woman he has the opportunity to take out on a date. And the dates where nothing less of spectacular. The pair was stupid like teenagers in love, but more sentimental, understanding the weight of things better. Arguments never lasted long and if they did they were cleared up before any damage was done. She understood what his job ment to him, and told him she would never make him change that about himself. It was his passion, she can share.

“Just so long as you promise to come back to me.”

And from that day forth he would make a pinky promise every time he left. He was to come home. Time passed quickly, in flashes. It felt like his life went from downtime in between missions, to missions in between downtime. His heart ached for you in the days he was gone, but he always knew he would be home. He would see you again. He found a want to live, even more now that he found his world.

And as time passed them by, he found out she was perfect in the all the ways he could dream of. Especially in the impossible task of calming him down as well. Rough mission? She already had his favorite meal ready and was soothing him over. Nightmares? She was there either on the phone or more recently next to him to hold him and run her fingers through his hair. To much energy? To rowdy? You always found a way to settle him down. His anchor. And he would do the same for her if the day presented itself.

Another plus that made it all that much more, everyone liked you.It wasn’t hard too of course, but it proved even moreso how lucky he got. His family adored you, his sisters taking you in as part of the family already, much quicker than any of his other past relationships. It made him well up with pride.

Even when he officially introduced you to the 141, it was with open arms as well. If he wasnt a unit before, he absolutely was one now. Maybe just a tad bit more annoying with his bragging but of course he brags. Those boys knew how much you were doing for him, and you knew they were keeping him safe. It was a harmony that both sides respected.

A part of him knew that even if all of those people didn’t like her, (an impossible feat if he does say so himself), nothing would change for him. You were his, he was yours. Irrevocably and absolutely. If the world didn’t want them, the world wasn’t for them. Simple as that. Life became sweeter, dreamlike as he fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was almost unbelievable, no, it was unbelievable.

One day, as he was laying on the couch, laying gently on you, nearly dozing off. Then he felt your hand on his shoulder, a soft pat that made him stir but not move as he hummed in response. “Johnny?” You said, soft enough that he had to stir slightly closer to your voice. But he didn’t look up, kept his heavy eyes shut as he mumbles a small “what?”

“Earth to Johnny..” Hmm, that's odd. It mde him sit up the slightest bit more. Must have been laying on his ear wrong, your voice sounded weird. And another pat on his shoulder, a bit harder this time.

“MacTavish!”

And then he blinked. He was sitting up straight, eyes wide as he made eye contact with his Captain across from him, in the same place he left him at the bar. The bar? His cheek stung from the movement of no longer resting on… his palm? His? No that’s not right. His head hurt slightly as the smell of bar flooded his nose. What was he doing in a-

“Soap, you alright? You were out for a bit. Staren’ at nothing.” Gaz said with a smile, slightly concerned.

He looked around, baffled as he took in the same dingy bar he had met you in. In fact in the same spot exactly, same clothes, same drink. Hold on, that can't be right. His head swung back around as he took in the table next to them was, empty. Bottles and cups discarded to the side, napkins crumpled. He heard the bar door shut as his eyes flicked over and spotted the same woman walk away outside, smiling the same as she was before. Only then did it make sense.

His mind filled in the blanks for him as he rubbed his face with a groan. When something is too good to be true, it's probably because it is. Gaz was patting his back as Ghost and Price shared a look that had Price hiding a smirk. But it didn’t matter to Johnny.

What mattered was she’d already left.

The boys decided that's where the night should end, Johnny's head almost embarrassingly hung low as they paid their bill and called a car to take them back to base. This is the first time Scott has sulked in a while, running his hands through his mohawk as he kicked himself for being so stupid. Caught up in a daydream of a random woman at the bar, what a stupid fantasy to get caught in. he was practically mourning something he doesn't even have, never did have. And now something he wouldn’t have either.

The moment changed his life for sure, a memory of fake memories that will haunt his little brain every once in a while when he's bored and remembers this night.

#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod #cod x reader #new fic #first fic #cod mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader

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orionsangel86 · 2 years ago

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Thinking about Sandman ships this morning and wondering why we are all ignoring Johanna Constantine.

She's a messy disaster bisexual who had oodles of sexual chemistry with Dream and could totally canonically know Hob Gadling.

I know the Dream/Hob/Calliope throuple is popular and I do get it if you are a fan of the show only, but I find it impossible to ship Dream/Calliope after knowing the comic story. Its just too sad and honestly, our girl can do better.

I like that they ramped up the romance there and the "i would kill for you" attitude from Morpheus in episode 11 so yeah totally get why we are swooning over that, but I think there are other less painful ships to explore.

Johanna Constantine is an amazing character and this fandom is sadly sleeping on her.

She should totally get to have a very messy disastrous affair with Morpheus and then break his heart worse than Thessaly ever could. She should then move on and date Death just to twist the knife. THAT would be an awesome ship.

Put her in a throuple with Dream and Hob instead. She'd be walking all over both of them and having the time of her life doing so.

Actually we should also be shipping her with Lucifer. Classic enemies to lovers right there given the job profession and quite frankly I'd love to see Gwendoline Christie step on that feisty little bisexual disaster. Possibly the only time I dont view Johanna as a total dom.

Dream may be the fandom bicycle, but Johanna Constantine should be the fandom bus. Making her way through every character sometimes at the same time.

Just a thought.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #johanna constantine #dreamling #dream x johanna #lucifer morningstar #death of the endless #fandom shipping

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pedge-page · 1 year ago

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Feelin a little ⚡️sadistic⚡️today and decided to write an alternate future ending for the Cravings series. This is not part of their canon story, but this one would hypothetically take place after Insatiable as a more realistic turnout. This isn’t a continuation because frankly I don’t have a satisfying, or even full ending to this. Its just a thought.

If you liked the ending of Insatiable and want to remain happy with it, DO NOT READ THIS. This is for masochistic peeps who want some heartbreak.

Warnings: only brief mentions of smut but otherwise, this just a downward spiral of worse case scenarios. Some warnings are spoilers so the only one I’m going to list here is drug use and toxic behavior.— I also did very little research here on actual repercussions of drug charges, rehab, or anything really, so please take all of it with less than a grain of salt and focus on the feels

Again DONT READ IF YOU LOVED THE ENDING TO INSATIABLE. this will ruin everything :)

- - - -

You stare at the empty apartment that had become your home for the last two years. That had been filled with so much love, so much laughter and joy. So much insatiable sex and warmth. It’s incredible how much more spacious the floor really is when all the furniture had been removed, how bright the walls really are without any hanging and photos. Despite its small size, it worked just perfectly for you and the man you love. Two years. Memories you could never swipe away despite the cold vacancy of the apartment now, even with the promise of a boundless and full future ahead.

Your hand gently caresses over the hefty bump that has made its own home in you for some months. You sooth your baby’s little kicks, smiling, a tear welling in your eye but you dare not shed it.

You were ready to start the next phase of your life. The one with a home to call your own, a front porch to rock your baby on, a full kitchen to make a true Thanksgiving feast, a bedroom suite, and then extra rooms for a growing family.

You were ready to start your life.

A life without Frankie Morales.

You should have known then. With the signs so blatantly evident, like quick temper, aggressive nature in his love making, obsessiveness over you, the jealousy. The way he took too much pride in constantly leaving marks on you. Subtle threats to other men who misinterpreted your kind smile and words as an invite. Forcing you to stay in bed, to take his cock deep into your battered cunt even when you were exhausted. You both thought your orgasms was your way of wanting more, even if the rest of your body protested. but he filled your ears with such sweet praise, touched you with a fervent love that made your heart flutter, adored you like no one else.

From the day you told him you loved him, you should have stopped then, seeing how far he had gone just without you. It wasn’t healthy to rely on someone like that. To say sober. Frankie’s dependence on you was…corrupt. It had been from the beginning.

You ignored it.

Then Frankie and the boys, including Tom which you were surprised by, were called down for a less than legit mission. Tom didn’t come home, and Frankie, the one you knew, didn’t quite come home the same. He didn’t talk to you about it, ever. None of the guys did. You just held him for hours the night he got back, his hair whiter, eyes more sunken in than ever. After some time, things went back to normal. Until you realized, they were never normal to begin with.

The first evident sign that life wasn’t a hallmark movie anymore was when you had been stuck in traffic during a storm, and then had to pull off for hours until it passed; you couldn’t get a signal out to your boyfriend that you were safe, but going to be home late.

3 hours passed by the time you walked into the apartment. Warm Frankie, gentle Frankie, happy Frankie… wasn’t home.

Instead it was feral Frankie, desperate Frankie, curled in a corner, pale and shaking Frankie who only cracked a timid smile when you had walked in, drenched in rain, but alive and concerned for him. He immediately bear hugged you tight, the jitters passing as he inhaled your wet scent. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I promise. I’m so sorry I’m so late,” you soothed.

He didn’t let you leave his sight the entire night. And even into the morning, when you had to get up for work again, he held you against his body in bed, refusing to let you part, distracting you with sex over and over again until half the day had passed. He texted your boss saying you were out sick from the rain last night. No biggie.

He was only calm when you were around. Only satisfied when you were with him.

The guys never told you, but he was irritable when it was just him with them. He didn’t like talking as much. Didn’t laugh the way he used to. It’s like the real Frankie only came out when you were there.

And when you had to take a week for a work trip, he begged you to cancel it. Clawed at his own skin as the day of your flight crept up. Visibly anxious enough that you weren’t sure he’d be okay. “Just stay home, Querida. Please.”

But he’s a grown man. It’s just a little trip, and he’s one phone call away.

So when the week went by, and he missed a few of your calls towards the end, you came home, worried about what you might find. But you were delighted to see Frankie was, in fact, in high spirits, healthy, and seemingly unaffected by your absence. “Mi Hermosa,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you in his embrace and rocking you gently. You made love sweetly that night, and you started to wonder what it is you were so afraid of.

It took you a few weeks before you noticed the slight powdery trail of cocaine on the handle of his gun safe. And guessing the combination as your birthday, discovering bags full of the stuff, some stored and some half opened, and re-opened, half depleted.

You couldn’t even call Frankie, who was away—you didn’t really know where. He would just up and leave sometimes now. Your heart dropped at the idea of exactly where he’s been bouncing off to. You realized he was more static for your the frequent trips you were taking due to your career taking off. that the two of you were spending less time together, but you weren’t really aware of exactly what he was doing during that time. He clearly was never high when he was around you, and was adept at hiding his problem when you were home.

You called the boys. Santi came running over, swearing repeatedly in Spanish at the sight of the stash. Benny and Will came over too, clearing it all out while you sobbed into Pope’s arms. How could you be so stupid to think it was all going so well?

It then all happened so fast: you weren’t even there when they confronted Frankie, didn’t know it went over badly, that he wasn’t gentle at all, still blown high as fuck, and fists went flying, bloody knuckles and broken noses later. Then getting an immediate court date, not able to come up to see you for a second. You were there in the room, only seeing the wrecked look all over his body, the way he couldn’t even bring his eyes to you.

He plead guilty to his drug charges, lost his license indefinitely, and was only spared from a prison sentence with the promise of extensive treatment at a rehab center for at least a year, and a large bond, that you and the guys poured a shit ton of your life savings in to. Then Frankie was being husked away to his hospital-like prison, with no visitations until the first year of intense treatment passed.

It was all coming at such a bad time too, having just thrown out the 3 positive pregnancy tests in the dumpster behind the apartment building just this morning.

None of you told Frankie about the baby before he left. You asked them not to. As far as today went, including Frankie in your life, in your baby’s life, wasn’t an option at the moment. You would deal with that when he was out, when he was Frankie again.

Now a few months since the incident, 7 months pregnant, you packed the apartment quietly minus your little sniffles. Pictures of the of you at the fair, in a museum, on vacation in Miami, were packed in a cardboard box and sealed away until you could find your home again. His furniture and belongings went into storage for the time being while your parents found a little house that could accommodate you and baby Morales. With one last look, you close the apartment door, breathing heavily. You hope to see Frankie again the moment he was allowed visitors. To see him smile again just for you. To come to a new home and see his baby boy growing, and filling the time he missed with an infinity of love, devotion, and health.

So when you gave birth all by yourself, and fended two jobs while nurturing your baby all by yourself, and strapped the infant in the car as you drove 4 hours to the rehab center to see your boyfriend all by yourself, it didn’t feel—good, to be told Frankie specifically requested not to have any visitors today. And even when you tried to argue with the receptionist about the situation, to give him your name specifically, she came back with the same answer, and said the patient has a right to refuse visitation, even after it is permitted.

Santi stays with you for a few days after, given what an absolute exhausted wreck you had become after braving the whole year and only running on sheer hope this whole time. The guys rotated shifts, fed you and the baby, cleaned, let you sleep your depression away until you were ready to move on.

Frankie denied their visitation too.

Another year goes by, and still no Frankie. He had gone completely off the grid for everyone. All the doctors reported was that he was responding well, fully taking charge and utilizing the time that he needed to get clean. You learned that he had found a place to live in the area and regularly returned for treatment. But he never once contacted any of you to where he lived.

Good. You were doing much better too.

And when the third year goes by, celebrating your son’s second birthday, you don’t feel such guilt when you stumble upon a new man and invite him in to your life. And how much he takes to loving a son who isn’t his own. And when you feel a sense of excitement after a long time without it, when the new love of your life gets on his knees to propose, asking you to continue to fill his life with a home to share. And when you’re pregnant with another baby, your little Francisco being so excited to be a big brother, in the new house that had never breathed the same air as the man who left you behind all that time ago.

It does become a problem when you answer the knocks on your front door, swinging it open to a very frail, very thin, and very remorseful looking Francisco Morales standing there, looking at the swell in your stomach, wedding ring on your finger, and carbon copy of himself as a child standing at your hip.

- - - -

sorryyyyy

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dustrose · 6 months ago

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In Regards to the Final Bracket

Hey, all.

I'm what many would describe as a "lurker." I'm quite shy when it comes to things like this, that is, posting my opinion on the internet. It's not something I ever planned to do, nor something I'm confident in, but it is something I've been meaning to do for a few days now.

So why am I writing this? It's simple, really, I voted for SuleMio in the poll.

First of all, I want to get some disclaimers and the like out of the way, along with a TL:DR.

Destiel is absolutely sacred history, and it always will be. I do not mean to downplay its significance. It is important to not only lgbtq+ but also fandoms as a whole. Without Destiel, I doubt the internet would have developed in the same way, for better or worse. (I mean, we wouldn't have Tumblr, would we?)

With that being said, it is also important to mention that Destiel isn't the only history. History is ever-changing, there's always more being added, and in this case, that is SuleMio. While Destiel changed the course of the internet when it was popular, SuleMio is changing it now.

Okay, now for a quick TL:DR

Destiel is important for history, but SuleMio is important for the future. Neither is better than the other; they're amazing in their own ways. We really shouldn't be fighting over something we can easily agree on. They are both ships that revolutionized in their times, and they are both ships that deserve to be respected, as do the people supporting them.

-----

Now to start the rambling!

So, I created a Tumblr to vote in this bracket. When I first stumbled upon it and voted, I actually had no idea what Destiel was (later looked it up, and I've seen Supernatural, so y'know, "oh, neat.") More than that, I was only introduced to Gundam as a franchise in late March, being through a friend who recommended G_Witch to me (which I am ever-grateful for).

In a way, I'm absolutely an outsider. I haven't been with either ship for very long and haven't experienced the same things others have experienced. I haven't even finished Supernatural, nor was I there when Bandai said SuleMio was "up for interpretation."

And yet, I'm here, putting my thoughts on paper because I think this is important.

That is, respecting what came before and respecting what will come after.

Destiel and SuleMio are two sides of the same coin. We can sit here and whine about the little things...

But Destiel isn't canon!

But Sulemio didn't kiss!

Don't care, that's not the point here. The point is that both of these ships, these relationships, have affected many communities and have touched many hearts. There's no right or wrong, no "mine's better" or "yours is stupid," they're just ships, but more than that, they are history.

Let's start with one of the biggest things. Destiel is Tumblr, isn't it? I was too young when all of that happened to be on Tumblr, so frankly, I didn't know until recently that it was history, but even so, I can appreciate it. I never went on Tumblr, but I did like a lot of stuff on it (you guys are really funny.) What I mean is, I have no history with Tumblr, yet I can still appreciate what has happened.

Not to say that you have to, of course. I get being tired of Destiel, feeling like its beating a dead horse. But let's stop and imagine for a moment, heck, maybe even two moments, that in twenty years when SuleMio is old news, and there's a new, big queer ship on the table, there will be some people clinging onto what came before. In this case, I'm certain I'll still have a soft spot for SuleMio; I'll probably hang onto it until I die (24 fanfictions on AO3 doesn't go away that easily, y'know), but I'm also certain that the new ship would probably win.

It's as I mentioned earlier. History is ever-changing, ever being built upon. There's always something new, something someone begins with, and there's also something old and something someone has always been with, if that makes any sense?

Destiel is that something old; it's what came before, but just because it's not the present anymore doesn't mean its accomplishments should be overlooked. Furthermore, SuleMio isn't even a year old yet. It's fresh off the press, fresh in our minds, and it's definitely one of the most important pieces of media to be released in the 2020s. It's new, but like Destiel, its accomplishments shouldn't be overlooked because of how old it is.

In the end, this poll was just something silly to get our little gremlin minds going. I mean, we all knew it would end like this, didn't we? In discourse--when it comes to ships, it's always discourse.

Y'know, I was there for bmblb vs blacksun, and yikes.

Anyway, as I was saying, this isn't something we should be fighting about. Especially not calling people names, as I've seen a few people do. No matter what the case, insulting others for disagreeing with you will never do anything but make you look immature.

Ah, side tangent, my bad.

This is getting long, oopsies, but I thought it was important to get some of this on paper... er, computer? Because I hate to see a community in disarray when we should be celebrating both of these ships for what they've done and what they could do.

I think that's everything, yeah. Stay safe, drink water, consume lots of queer media, and have some fun. :3

-Rose

#g witch #destiel #sulemio #rant post #new poster #guys c'mon they're all queer let's stop fighting #mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #suletta x miorine #suletta mercury #gundam #miorine rembran #supernatural #tumblr polls #mobile suit gundam #ao3topshipsbracket

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hellslayersomething · 6 months ago

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thoughts on all the DA4 news this past week, from a tired old veteran who's been wandering the bloodied plains of the DA fandom since Origins' release:

I still don't believe that this game actually exists and won't until it's in my hand, in my PS5, I've clocked 50 hours, and I hit credits.

After the news came out that there were 7 companions, I told a friend I would need a solid 4/7 of them to be pre-existing characters in the canon. Harding, Neve, Lucanis, and Emmerich put it at exactly that number, so good show there.

The "Hero Shooter" character reveal trailer was a massive mistake. BioWare and the influencers they're paying had to spend the past two days doing frantic PR to convince people that the game doesn't actually look like that, it's not indicative of the game's tone, it definitely feels like Tevinter Nights and not Fortnite, and it's not a fee-to-pay live service game. They should have led with the gameplay video.

All of the people freaking out about Lucanis being labelled a "Mage Killer" just goes to show that DA discourse truly is a circle. (Also, read "The Wigmaker Job", it's so good.)

The dialogue suuuuucks. Wow, it's been a while since I've encountered a game that respects its audience's intelligence this little. [Earthquake] Harding: "The tremors are getting worse!" [demons show up] Neve: "And we've got demons!" Is BioWare expecting the core player base to consist of people who have never encountered media before? The extent to which the game over-exposits is quite actually mind boggling. I'm genuinely curious if there's anyone who watched this video who didn't come out of it feeling insulted by the game's lack of trust that you have basic cause-and-effect recognition skills. I know people like to bandy about "media literacy is dead", but surely it hasn't gotten so bad that players need to be told out loud "Watch out for lightning" when a boss shoots lightning at them. I'm hoping this was just included for the sake of the gameplay video, but several of these very bad lines seem pretty integral to what's happening on screen, so I guess we'll see.

The dialogue and voicing for the trash mobs is especially bad. I hate to say the word, but I truly think "cringe" is applicable here.

Nice FFXIV reference. (Listen, if this game is going to play follow-the-leader with any one other game, since apparently DA can't get away from that habit, FFXIV is the one I'd want them to chase. Certainly a better fit than Overwatch.)

The battle system seems fine. Reminds me of DA2's, which was perfectly cromulent. Sincerely, I don't expect deeply satisfying gameplay from DA, they've never delivered it before, no need to start now. Passable is fine.

Happy to see the DA2 dialogue wheel return too. Hope that means the invisible personality system comes along with it.

No rivalry system :( Again :(((((

Seriously though, the marketing for this game is a massive mess and their marketing lead should probably be out of the job. All of the news from this week has led to increased confusion about what the game is, what it's called, whether it is DA4 or not, whether it's a single player RPG or not, whether it's an effective franchise reboot or not--and they're all but shadow-dropping it (theoretically) after 10 full years of releasing no other Dragon Age games. This franchise has close to no momentum (many people considered it outright dead until this week), and now that they're ready to start actually talking about DA4, they've completely stumbled out of the gate and given themselves only 3-6 months to come up with a PR plan to correct for that. Embarrassing, frankly.

I guess that's it. The new gameplay video has returned my mood on DA4 from "absolutely the fuck not" after the character reveal video back to a resounding "I nothing this game", which is...actually maybe a worse place for me to be. The last time I went into game feeling a hollow nothing from the promotional materials, it was FFXVI, and we all know how that turned out for me. Anyway, in conclusion:

#dragon age 4 #not being a hater this is just how dragon fans talk about dragon age #but also i am being hater #as far as i'm concerned bg3 is da4

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gale-gentlepenguin · 1 year ago

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Which canon ship would you say has the least amount of chemistry (and not just from Miraculous, from any show you've watched) ?

Oh this, This is a good question. It fortunate you said show and not movie, because I would have set this place on fire.

Do you want to know the ship with the least amount of chemistry? I will do multiple categories for the sake of pissing off as many people as possible. And to make it harder on myself, they have to be together and not broken up in their most recent season/canon.

In Live Action. Lets go with Ted and Robin from 'how I met your mother?'

The finale annoyed me and Robin and Barney had Infinitely more chemistry than Ted and Robin yet the show ends with Ted simping over Robin, its dumb bulls***. Plus all their stuff feels so forced.

In Western animations (cartoons): Kuzco and Malina (From Emperor's new school

For those of you who dont remember, this was an actual show that aired. It made almost no sense and quite frankly it was a dumb show and Malina and Kuzco really didnt have any real chemistry. I wouldnt call it toxic, it was just the writing was so forced because the show was such a cash grab. Why would the emperor need to go to school? He would have royal tutors. Also Malina was often just there to tell kuzco what the right thing to do was. It was dull.

As for Anime: Light and Misa from deathnote

Now the beauty of anime there are a TON of f***ed up canon relationships. but the question of LEAST chemistry. And that basically has to go to the Anime equivalent of a Joker and Harley pairing. Light doesnt give a f*** about Misa, but Misa is madly in love with him because he killed the killer of her parents by coincidence. The interactions between them regardless of dub is always stilted and they were canon till the end so it counts. Now are there probably worse anime couples, yes. But none that i have seen that are so... eh.

_____________________________________________________________

#WORST CHEMISTRY SHIPS #death note #how i met your mother #emperor's new school

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britcision · 1 year ago

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Another ficlet for our Four Heralds AU! This one is mostly about our dear wet cat of a Lavellan, Lluciano. It’s pretty early on while everyone’s getting to know each other in the Hinterlands.

Just some first little hints at our collection of backstories

Also, cooking head canons for the early companions 👀

—————

Foraging

Things were… well, settling felt optimistic with the Breach still in the sky like a jagged green scar, but at least it had stopped growing.

The Andrastians’ Chantry was trying to kick up trouble in Val Royeaux, and as much as Cadash would have enjoyed pretending they didn’t see why it mattered… yeah, a lot of people followed the Chantry like they had their heads in a bag.

Blatantly refused to accept that not everyone else did, which was great when you had three “heralds of Andraste”, none of whom believed in the prophet, but hey.

When someone asks if you’ve been touched by their god, you say yes.

Not that they, Lavellan, or Adaar ever agreed to it. But they could see the wisdom in Leliana’s gentle confirmations, and it made their own denials seem more like humility than “why the fuck is everything about your god”, so that was a win.

For now, even as much as Josephine fretted, the budding Inquisition had bigger problems than the Chantry coming up with a united stance. They had mouths to feed, too few horses, and roads completely swamped between rogue templars, flighty mages, and just regular bandits out to make everyones’ lives worse.

Frankly, if they left for Val Royeaux now, the Inquisition’s forces just might melt away behind them. Pure coincidence that this meant flipping off the Lord Chancellor’s self importance every day they rode out to take care of the people, not a bunch of overinflated egos.

The one thing they were probably never going to have to worry about though? Supplies, especially things like elfroot.

You couldn’t put Lluciano Lavellan into the woods and expect him not to disappear off every thirty seconds apparently, chasing down a familiar looking leaf or bush.

And to be fair, Cadash had been a broke ass blacksmith too long to let an accessible ore deposit pass them by, even if it wasn’t enough to make a nail on its own.

Shit added up, and they’d smelted their own bar stock enough to know what iron could be used. No matter how much Varric or the others bitched, free beat trying to ship through bandit hell.

They were on their way to scout locations for watch towers, one of their first missions out from Haven when it first came up.

Corin had asked Lavellan to do his thing, forage around and rustle up something they could turn into a meal. Kid did damn well too, coming back with wild carrots, onions, and even some potatoes.

Probably half a dozen new strands of elfroot too, but who was counting.

Cadash had enlisted Varric and Cassandra in to help wash and peel, and been about to start themself when they saw Lluciano just. Bite the fucking potato. Raw.

They damn near knocked it out of his hand.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” They snapped, and Lavellan pouted back, clutching his raw. Fucking. Potato. To his chest.

“It’s not green, it’s fine!” He snapped back, like that made a lick of sense. Corin stared at him for a long moment.

“You know not poisoning you isn’t a sterling recommendation, right?” They asked dryly. Lluciano rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but what else am I gonna do? Boil it?” He asked with a huff.

Corin stared at him a while longer.

“Yes? Maybe? To make it fucking taste good? Or you could bake it in the fire, cut it up and fry it, literally anything except eating a fucking raw potato?” They demanded.

Varric scooted away, quietly taking over the stew pot to add his potatoes and water. Cassandra was staring at both of them like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Varric also stole the potato she’d been peeling, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Equally unaware of their audience, Lluciano rolled his eyes again and went to take a bite from his potato.

“Yeah, right, and maybe I’ll rub leaves on it.”

This time Corin did knock the potato out of his hand, just as Cassandra finally broke and asked,

“Have you never had cooked food?”

All three were now trying to remember if they’d seen Lavellan eat over the week and a half they’d known him. There must have been something.

Nothing came to mind.

The elf huffed, glaring at Cadash but not daft enough to try and arm wrestle a warrior.

“Of course, that’s how I know it’s gross!”

“You just bit a raw fucking potato!” Cadash threw both hands into the air.

Varric quietly relieved them of the bitten potato. It joined its brethren in the pot.

“I’d rather bite it raw than as a pile of dissolving mush!” Lavellan shouted back, reaching mutinously for a raw onion.

Cassandra hurried to grab them and pull them away from him. At least it got her back into helping Varric, peeling off the skins and cutting them.

He gave her a companionable nod, most of his attention still on the show the two heralds were putting on.

“It isn’t mush if you cook it right!”

“How else are you supposed to cook it!”

“Bread.”

Varric and Cassandra turned sharply, the word their first indication that Solas had returned from his wandering. He set down an armful of wood for the fire and gave them both an inscrutable smile.

“I have seen Lavellan eating bread.”

“Absolutely zero chance this is a weird Dalish thing then?” Varric asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

Solas shrugged, taking a seat and looking over their preparations so far. He pulled a handful of herbs from a pouch, pulled out a frying pan, and tossed the herbs and some oil in before placing it over the fire.

“Nothing is zero chance. Onions, please.”

Cassandra carefully scraped the cut onions into his pan and he nodded his appreciation.

“I’m gonna hope anyway,” Varric muttered, turning his attention to some of the dried meats they carried… and looking thoughtfully at Bianca, “I know some great Dalish cooks. It’d be a tragedy to think a whole clan missed out.”

It wasn’t like they hadn’t already seen wild goats.

Solas made a noncommittal noise, stirring carefully at his aromatics with a wooden spoon.

Cadash and Lavellan were still yelling at each other, and a few minutes later the dwarf stomped over and scowled into the fire.

“We’re teaching the little fucker what actual food tastes like,” they declared bluntly, casting a decisive eye over the food preparations thus far.

Apparently everything met with approval, since they turned and just glared back at Lluciano.

“Empty your pack. All your edible herbs and shit. I cannot fucking believe you grab all of them and never tried them.” They ordered flatly.

“I have tried them, I chew mint all the time. Most of them are gross though,” Lluciano grumbled, but didn’t hesitate to tip out his pack, “I just grab them for other people.”

“I wish I were surprised you’d just shoved them in your mouth,” Cassandra said with a sigh, fighting a smile.

Varric shot Solas a quick look, nodding to the potatoes still boiling away.

“You good to keep an eye on those?” He asked, hand sliding towards his crossbow. Solas glanced over, noted the gesture, and nodded.

“Certainly, if it means we’ll get something fresh,” he agreed, glancing from Varric to Corin. “Did you have something specific in mind, Cadash?”

The other dwarf glanced over at Varric too and nodded.

“Whatever you can find. I’m not thinking too fancy, whatever you guys were doing’ll work, I just want to make a point.” They shot another glare over their shoulder at Luci. He stuck his tongue out at them.

Solas nodded, pointing his wooden spoon at Cassandra as Varric headed into the woods.

“Seeker, I’m sure an educated woman such as yourself knows thyme and yarrow?” He asked.

Cassandra gave him an odd look for a moment, trying to find some kind of insult, but she was never quite sure with Solas. She was just so used to looking for them.

“Yes; of course.” She nodded, about to rise and join Lavellan, who had obediently dumped out his pack and begun sorting plants.

The elf interrupted her with a raised hand, thrusting the requested herbs her way. He did not look impressed.

“They’re both gross,” he told them bluntly, eyes narrowing when they landed on Solas, “and yarrow is a medicine. It’s not for food.”

“You think raw potatoes are food,” Corin reminded him, and he huffed but gave Cassandra the requested herbs.

She gave him back all but a single leaf of the yarrow, glancing at Solas for approval as she returned with her bounty. She got it too, a slight flush rising in the firelight as he smiled broadly.

“Perfect, Seeker. I admit, I’m increasingly curious to see your own cooking,” he said innocently, sprinkling thyme into the aromatics and not looking at her.

Cassandra immediately backed up a full three feet, arms wrapping around her knees.

“Yes. Well. Perhaps you will.” She said awkwardly, glaring into the fire. Solas’ smile took on a smug little edge, and Corin very nearly joined him.

If ever you wanted Cassandra to back off, a single compliment was usually all it took.

“We’re all gonna taste each other’s cooking at some point,” Cadash said instead, settling by the fire and taking the attention back off their dear shy warrior woman. “Except Lavellan’s.”

“Cooking sucks,” Lluciano huffed, sitting as well and folding his arms, pretending he wasn’t sneaking peeks at Solas’ pan.

It was starting to smell really good.

“Cooking sucks unless it’s done well,” the elven mage offered as a compromise, pulling out a thin metal fork and stabbing it delicately into a potato. He then transferred it to his hot pan.

Cadash and Cassandra watched with interest as he carefully moved each cut potato, the oil in the pan hissing and spitting but apparently never touching him.

“Doing a hash?” Cadash guessed, and got their own little approving smile.

“Something similar. After all, we don’t want dissolving mush, do we?” He asked innocently, his eyes shifting for a moment to Lluciano.

Who scowled into the fire, pretending he hadn’t been looking. Sniffing.

Solas was just about done by the time Varric returned, carrying a nug by its feet. He was grinning too, holding up his prize to show them.

“Should be plenty for all of us, and some left for tomorrow too. That smells fantastic, by the way. I almost stepped on the damn thing sneaking closer for a sniff,” he added with a nod to Solas, sitting and pulling out a skinning knife.

Lavellan was watching with more interest than sullenness by now, the smells from the pan at least peaking his curiosity. Varric’s return didn’t do much to distract him.

Solas gave the dwarf a companionable nod, stirring his pan and expertly flipping it.

“If you can do a quick filet, I’ll keep the pan hot and do them in the last of the oil and we can add them to the hash. Cadash, plates?”

The other dwarf scooted theirs and Luci’s over, nodding to Varric as well.

“Thin strips’ll cook faster. If you wanna take the legs off I can break two down to go in?” They offered.

Cassandra rose for a moment, going into the packs to retrieve her, Solas, and Varric’s plates as well, bringing them back to the fire.

“I can do the other two, and we could roast the body instead while we eat?”

It was a very domestic scene, in stark contrast to the day’s travel and multiple fights. Even Lavellan’s sulking didn’t quite break the mood, although he still looked sceptical when Solas handed him a full plate of fried potatoes, onions, and carrot, seasoned with a tiny sprig of fennel.

Cadash glared at him until he grabbed his fork and took a reluctant bite. And waved their own fork menacingly as he swallowed it straight.

“Chew it, you animal.”

Shooting them a token glare, he took another forkful and chewed as over dramatically as possible.

His eyes widened.

Solas, now frying the nug strips Cassandra and Corin had prepared, looked unbelievably smug. He dropped a finished strip onto Lluciano’s plate as the elf took another hesitant bite.

“Try with the nug,” he prompted gently, the soft side that usually only came when talking about his travels in the Fade briefly visible.

It startled Varric and Cassandra, who hadn’t really bothered talking to him about magic much.

Lavellan obediently stuffed the whole strip into his mouth along with the veg, now chewing harder because his mouth was overfull, not to be a little shit.

By the time he finally swallowed his expression was open awe, staring at his companions in real, genuine disbelief. If any of them thought he’d been lying about not eating cooked food before…

“But… but how did you do that?” He asked, staring from Solas to his plate. “Those were just the potatoes I brought you, and you made them all…” words failed him and he gestured vaguely with his fork.

Cadash’s worry-disguised-as-irritation melted away into still worried amusement.

“Delicious, thanks Solas. Seriously though Luci, you’ve never seen cooking before?” It was a little hard to imagine, but easier than any other possible explanations.

Lluciano shrugged, shovelling in another big bite of hash. He seemed more sheepish than upset now, and more than happy to eat. Which made it all more genuine.

“Well I saw my parents boil everything, and I knew other people in the clan cooked but I thought they must be getting different food,” he explained quietly.

That answered a few questions, really. Varric grimaced in sympathy, reaching around to pat Lavellan on the shoulder.

“Sorry to be the ones to break it to you, kid… boiling just doesn’t get the same depth of flavour,” he offered, and Lluciano frowned at him in confusion.

“You boiled the potatoes,” he pointed out. Varric glanced over to Solas.

“It’s a good way to get them started cooking, so the middle is ready before the frying burns the outside,” the older elf explained magnanimously, dishing out more slices of nug.

Lluciano nodded slowly, taking careful spoonfuls at a slightly less breakneck pace now that people expected him to talk too.

“So… could you show me? This is a lot better than raw,” he asked hesitantly, just the most adorable puppy hope in his eyes.

“Which is why we’re making sure you don’t just raw dog your dinner again while you’re with us,” Cadash grumbled, pointing at him with their spoon. “I can show you a few things.”

“I believe we all could,” Solas agreed genially, nodding to the group as a whole. “Perhaps you’ll be ready to make us dinner in turn by the time we return to Haven.”

That definitely brightened Lluciano up and he nodded earnestly, digging back into his food with vigour.

The others followed suit, possibly thinking about what they’d like to try and teach an elf whose previous options had been “boiled” or “raw”.

At least it’d give them something else to do while they got those watchtowers set up.

—————

And a link back to the master post for organisational purposes

#dai #dragon age inquisition #the four heralds au #four heralds au #dai fanfic: foraging #dragon age inquisition fanfic #herald cadash #herald lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #herald adaar #lavellan’s parents specifically can’t cook #and had Opinions about him getting food from anyone else #clan lavellan out here being slandered by their poor wet cat

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merryfortune · 9 months ago

Text

heaven sent saviour

Written for Femslash February 2024 and the Sweetheart Bingo from @sweetspicybingo

Day 11. Sky | Fuck Me

Title: heaven sent saviour

Ship: not applicable | Aoi/Kyoko

Word Count: 2,345

Universe: Vrains - Canon Compliant

Rating: T

Tags: Post-Canon, Age Difference, Inappropriate Crushes, Unrequited Attraction

The last thing she saw was a beautiful sky.

Bright, endless, and blue. Baira was happy to have been blessed that the last thing she ever saw - and would ever see - was the azure sky which was ever so free. Streaked with white clouds and swirling Data Storms, cut up by a silver outline of the city skyline: the Link VRAINS was beautiful when it was enjoyed in its truest form.

As a digital video game.

One that she was not ever meant to log out of but she did.

Baira became Doctor Kyoko Taki once more and she was arrested. Her location had been tipped off in advance. By Playmaker and his faction, of course. Less pity given to her - an adult, a torturer, a terrorist - than to her leader.

The skies in the real world paled in comparison to what the Link VRAINS could conjure. Kyoko decided that quite quickly when she became discontent with the fact that she was still alive and ergo, so was their mission. The sky burned in ugly oranges that evening of the arrest and looked even worse through the slats of grey prison bars.

Though she was thrust back into freedom soon enough. It was forcibly pried open by her cohort. The upper echelon was all that remained and quite frankly, all that needed to remain.

So, she put herself back to work again. A lieutenant, a hacker, anything to support the inglorious ambitions of the Kogami patrilineal line. Though this time, she wasn’t on the frontline anymore.

A shame.

She had enjoyed her duel against Blue Angel tremendously but as far as first and only hurrahs went, that was a damn good one.

Kyoko wanted to be caught. Deep down, she didn’t want to struggle with the burden that she had created for herself by going deeper and deeper into the descent of depravity that Dr. Kogami had called the marching forward of progress. She wasn’t even sure if she had even wanted to be freed from prison but until the time her crime had been dealt with internally, she didn’t want to see the sky from behind prison bars. She had wanted the impending doom of the Hanoi Tower to purify her and her sins in the wake of its detonation but that bomb never went off rendering their efforts fruitless.

But that duel had been a good one from a standpoint of skill and technicality.

To have a celebrity Duelist like Blue Angel on the ropes was a good feeling. To feel her struggling in her snare and then fighting back to win, to see her produce results from a miracle, Kyoko relished the reviewing of her own duel. She wanted to get better, too, you know but she was perfectly content with being Blue Angel’s stepping stone.

Though too bad she had to crash into a certain tree right after.. But she learned from that, too, Spectre was just a crueller teacher than her. No need to wonder where he had learned that, though, truly a case of the student becoming the master in that regard.

Blue Angel- no, Blue Maiden’s struggle against the insurmountable odds of the have’s and have not’s was also quite admirable, Kyoko found from afar as she monitored the duels from the safety net of the Hanoi’s yacht. Whilst the Leader and Second-in-Command fought, a duality of fate was yielded and Zaizen Aoi was not among the chosen. The victors.

But she tried.

She chased after identity, after mentors, after the truth. The little girl who was a girl no more. She would become an adult woman one day. She was going to be strong one day but that day was not today.

Against Bohman, Blue Maiden had tried so hard from what Kyoko observed. She truly was just like the Water Ignis’ Origin in that regard. It was just a shame that Sugisaki Miyu had succeeded - she won her bread crusts in a duel more often than not - and Blue Maiden was felled by the Light Ignis’ creation.

But her quiet, blue-coloured strength, Kyoko would do well to commend Aoi for her effort.

Though these were opinions Kyoko thought she would never get to air. That she thought Blue Maiden was an admirable compatriot in her cause: her allyship to the Ignis and Playmaker’s faction but one whose ideals were in vain. The Ignis were vanquished in the end.

Even if their creators never turned out to be their destructors like they lusted for.

It was a shame their end was not really their end. Even when it seemed to be but the Ignis-Origin bond was a peculiar thing. A sixth sense as it were, Spectre could provide evidence of that. Just as he had sensed the Ignis’ death, his inevitable resurrection was also something he twigged upon. It was as though he could smell Earth like a bloodhound, even through the veil of death.

Revolver had a sixth sense, also, for Playmaker’s movements as his were driven by a single-minded obsession for resurrecting his Ignis.

“What now?” Kyoko asked. “What of our penance?”

The answer was obvious.

If the Ignis could not be killed, then they would be allowed to live. Perhaps this time, if they tried more softly and out of love rather than violence, peace could be established.

They were no longer in that man’s shadow. They would have to deal with his legacy. Archive it, curate it, but they did not necessarily have to kill it. Not when it was apparent their foe would stop at nothing to prevent them from laying a hand on their targets.

(To say nothing of the budding sympathies on their own side from a certain previous subject of their experiment…)

So, they could instead, protect it. Them . This Ignis.

Though that would require some truces and peace treaties.

Thus bringing Baira in front of someone she thought she would never see again: Blue Maiden.

They had met briefly again, with Aoi inhabiting her Blue Maiden persona, prior to them being soundly thrashed by Ai but they had barely had the chance to say hello. Let alone a chat. But their light and idle conversation, waiting for some sign of the Water Ignis’ return, brought them closer.

Too close, actually.

For Baira anyway.

Blue Maiden had her at an arm’s length. Why waste time resting on one’s laurels in victory, as close as it had been, when she could agonise and dissect where she had gone wrong in a humiliating defeat? Baira had been just that. A stepping stone. But Blue Angel had been much more to Baira than that.

She had been an angel, after all. Absolving her of her sins. Even for a little while. A fitting defeat for someone who would slowly kill by placing her victims in a deepest sleep with a virus. One she had even been infected with herself so she knew the horror well.

Yet there were no hard feelings it seemed as Blue Maiden was from what Baira could surmise, her usual self.

They were waiting for word from on high. Baira, orders from her Leader and fellow Lieutenants and Blue Maiden from Playmaker and his eye in the sky. The silence was comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

“In hindsight,” Blue Maiden announced out of nowhere as she scanned their surroundings, pretending to look for something she hadn’t already noticed, “I enjoyed our duel.”

“Me too.” Baira chuckled.

“It was good for me, I think.” Blue Maiden said. “Helped me grow as a Duellist.”

“I’m glad.” Baira said.

The observation was not new to her but she let Blue Maiden enjoy the feeling of thinking it was.

“I got catharsis. Defeating the person who put all those people in that coma. The one that I had been a guinea pig for.” Blue Maiden said. “I got to prove to my brother that I’m not some little girl anymore.”

Baira’s lips quirked with amusement. That caused her to reinforce her guard. She had no idea. No idea at all.

“It wasn’t enough though. I was still young and dumb and arrogant but I got better. Even if it was for only a minute. I still got to play the hero and save so many lives. I helped. I… I don’t think I helped enough and I still don’t. Maybe I’ll always be insatiable that way but I’m sick of being powerless.” Blue Maiden continued.

“Understandable.” Baira murmured.

“One day, I want to duel again and I’m going to win in a landslide.” Blue Maiden said and she glanced at Baira.

Their eyes met and Baira was overwhelmed by the way Blue Maiden radiated her seriousness. The blue of her eyes was fierce. Competitive. She folded her arms.

“You better be ready for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re on the same side now. Despite everything, or maybe in spite of everything but I want to do it. I want to end the suffering of my friend and you are the most potent symbol of it.” Blue Maiden said, her tone of voice turned ice cold.

Yet it got Baira so hot underneath her collar.

It was uncomfortable and yet exhilarating.

Baira’s stomach knotted. It was all so… romantic. The skylines, her tone of voice, her feelings. Completely and one-sidedly romantic as Blue Maiden spoke lightly, off her sleeve, all her words and revelations coming from mere seconds ago but Baira had already done the detailed autopsy months ago.

She knew she had a crush on the… younger woman. If she could dare call an underaged girl a ‘woman’ at all.

Call it another ethics violation, call it what you will, Baira was well aware of her feelings. Maybe if she was lucky she could call it a fleeting fancy, she hadn’t thought about it months since the duel but the way her heart pounded, she knew it was something a little bit more permanent than a whim.

Maybe it was an extent of her circumstances. Some, such as the media or the law, would call it a cult. She would call it a family. For years now, Kyoko was hierarchically submissive to two teenagers after all. Misguided neurons firing on what was and was not normal. That was just the topsy-turvy world that Kyoko belonged to.

But the way she had enjoyed their duel, what she felt about it and what she had gained from it, it was utterly cathartic for Baira. How was she not meant to fall in love with the heaven sent saviour?

Zaizen Aoi was entirely oblivious and Baira hoped to keep it that way. So she resolved to keep quiet and stony faced. She wouldn’t give a reaction but the way Blue Maiden looked at her, she wanted something.

Anything.

She started to stall for words and gestures when Baira didn’t give her that satisfaction. Not knowing that it was for her own good that she didn’t get that bone.

So she waited.

And she waited.

The only reply either of them got, actually, was to cease the search for today. It was apparent by now that it had been a false reading.

But even after that. Blue Maiden was hopeful but that hope never paid off as Baira chewed her bottom lip in defiance and so, Blue Maiden never got the satisfaction of the beat, of Baira accepting her writ of challenge.

That silence from before began to creep into the corners of the internal monologues of the other. Not even it privy to what either one of them was thinking. Though the assumption of guilt did fester, but that was Baira’s assumption, after all. Thus silence, in contrast to the vastness around them, enclosed in them. A silence that wasn’t comfortable nor was it palpable yet Blue Maiden returned to something closer to her bubbly Blue Angel persona once more.

“So yeah, that’s my spiel.” Blue Maiden said. She kind of danced on the spot, it was hard for Baira to describe as she only watched from the corner of her eye, how Blue Maiden shifted her weight and stretched. It was rhythmic and purposeful if a little awkward, trying to wordlessly clear to the air after her vent. At the end of it, Blue Maiden flashed her a smile and added, “Thank you for listening.”

“You're welcome.” Baira replied as emotionlessly as she could.

She felt the same way.

But she could never let Blue Maiden know.

That would cause an issue. Though, the way her heart seized with yearning that felt like thorns in flesh, it was already an issue.

“That’s my shift done, I look forward to the continued support from the Hanoi now that we are no longer enemies.” Blue Maiden teased.

“As do I.” Baira said. “Perhaps the initial intention of the Ignis can be salvaged after all.”

“Perhaps.” Blue Maiden said.

She didn’t say anything more. Clever girl. She truly had learned some humility and wisdom through her losses. Baira felt a waft of being impressed.

“See you later, I’m logging out now.” Blue Maiden said.

“Tata, sweetheart.” Baira couldn’t help herself but the pet name felt bittersweet in her mouth ever so inappropriate.

Blue Maiden nodded and stepped forward. Her body hit the sunlight perfectly, sunlight bent around her and darkened her silhouette whilst blinding Baira to the actuality of her form. She became haloed, in a way, and part of the ever expanding landscape of the Link VRAINS’ azure and taro-coloured hinterlands.

There was a flash of data - silver and blue - and she was gone, leaving Baira all alone with the sight of the beautiful, blue sky expanding out in front of her, all Baira could say to herself was…

"Fuck me." Her voice was breathless as she contended with the turmoil.

She was so screwed. Fuck her life, honestly, she deserved it. Another victim to destiny who doled out the have’s and have-not’s but she couldn’t not call it penance when her feelings were for an angel and one interested in avenging at that.

#femslash #femslash february #sweet and spicy bingo #yugioh #vrains #aoi x kyoko #kyoko x aoi #writing tag #clover and violets #clover and violets 2024 #heaven sent saviour #age gap cw #age difference cw #i promise this is the last of the age gap yuri #or at least i hope

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