#may love be your keeper ;; visage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mielmoto · 6 months ago

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It's as much of a non-answer as she was expecting: the playful way his words dance around, neither fully in denial or acceptance, with a dash of 'sweet nothing(s)' sprinkled in—a masterful attempt to placate harried nerves, and were she not so determined to fuss over him, the compliment may have stirred the easily-flattered fairy to giggle and flush. Alas: in the moment it only sees the corners of candy pink lips curl slightly, juxtaposed against the resigned shake of her head. ❝ Well, something is better than nothing, I guess; so I'll just have to hope the cover finds you. ❞

Perhaps in the form of something with a bit more agency than an oak; he had friends, after all, didn't he? One of a cast of seven, if the name had any merit; Surely she wasn't the only one worried over his safety—and hopefully that meant scrapes like this really were the exception, rather than the rule. Speculation on her part, as it would remain; because plead as Honey might, she was in no mood to pry into his particulars beyond what he was already willing to share. Tongue-in-cheek dismissal and omission of the truth did not offend her: she was not his keeper, and they were only just beyond the cusp of what one might consider a 'friendship,' rather than passing acquaintance.

That she can tell—from the read of his heart and adept manipulation of sincerity and obscurity in each plucky response—Meliodas isn't being completely transparent with her, then, is not a bother; she, too, has a guise to wear and secrets carried close to her heart, maintained not out of malice but preservation... and yet, that mutual withholding does color his later question a curious hue: ❝ You do trust me, right ? ❞ She takes a beat, then, to look at him: to really look. She believes him when he says he's not intentionally running headlong into the waiting arms of the afterlife, ( at the very least not consciously ), but trust? ...as a promise is to him, such is that to her. A lovely thing, if you could get it and give it freely; but time had already taught the little fae an unforgettable lesson on the trustworthiness of others.

❝ ...About as far as I could throw you, at least. ❞ Honey mirrors a smile ( and lack of conclusion ) not unlike his own, hemmed by her jest; stepping back to give him better space in which to stand. Mother-henning complete, her work all done. ❝ Which, not for nothing, is probably at least a little more than you'd guess. And I'll double that distance if the next time you come to visit me is just because you're in the mood for a tasty treat; or, like, because you just have to see my radiant and adorable visage to renew your will to carry on. Mmkay? ❞

Ah, there it was. The exasperation contorting soft features into the picture of annoyance he’d been poking and prodding for. It's not been so long since he's first walked into her store and made himself known, but it's rather easy to assume a casual air. Legs swung back and forth on his perch, soles of stained boots grazing the ground. Lackadaisical attitude belied eyes sharp in their curiosity as they regard her. Honest expressions held such… captivating nuances. Colourful pages etched with a unique brand of subtle ink, revealing flourishing glimpses of a person through myriad blots of emotions scattered across an open canvas and hers did not disappoint. Amazing how much air Honey could pack into that pout. She looked more diminutive woodland squirrel than fae.

Another wonderance stirred, mulling over what musings about him were churning behind cross expression. Maybe she thought him a strange individual, perhaps a fool. But how much worse could he be portrayed than the image of a convicted criminal already woven for himself ?

( the answer is far far lower — to the depths of hell )

Smirk stubbornly fastened in place, even when the punishment for carelessness arrived. Her next intention’s clear, easy to see coming. But rather than leaning back out of range, a languid motion shifted weight as to not completely topple over amid the precarious balancing act. ❝ Ouch. ❞ Her flick eked out a low grunt but Meliodas refrained from passing a hand over the sore sensation to the nerves. It was a little deserved. Sharp sting swiftly dulled and receded under the healing waves recovering constitution, not even allowing a red spot to set in.

Her request evoked a change in his own visage. It slid back to a neutral state, ambiguity thinning lips. A hum tickled the base of his throat, posture straightened as he rolled around the notion in his hand like one would a few smooth stones. ❝ Oho ? I don’t know about carting around a parasol all the time. I'll be alright without it. But.. I guess I can make an effort to remember to stand under the tree instead of running out under the rain. ❞ Eventually he settled on something plausible, not quite definite, gently skirting around the wording. Falsehoods and truth seamlessly blended into one, the line between furiously blurred as he tread it with expertise. Brow raised, a finger pressed against a rapidly fading bruise on his cheek. ❝ It’d be better I loan you any umbrellas I come across, in any case. I think you’d need them more I would. My face is more suited to taking a few injuries than yours. ❞

A promise… It’s simple enough, deceptively so, yet far too much to ask. Disregarding the fact demons rarely outright promised anything for a variety of reasons, recklessness had always been a part of him. An aspect ( the leap before you look mindset many had tried and failed to completely stamp out ) that funnily enough refused to die and led him into troublesome and dangerous scenarios from a young age. Self preservation ? Ha ! The concept lost it’s gleam a long time ago, and meaning rendered null altogether later on. Her concern would be more worthwhile spent on herself instead of inevitably wasted on him. Still: ❝ …I’m not in a rush to die. I know I’m not exactly the image of confidence right now but you can trust me to keep myself alive to avoid that much. ❞ He’s quite familiar with it, already fallen into that sinister light, seen who was waiting for his slip ups without fail. That alone offered sufficient motivation to stay attempts from flinging himself headlong into the unforgiving jowls of purgatory. Jaw forcefully unclenched, encroaching unpleasant line of thinking abruptly banished before he affixed a more easygoing smile to his bloodied face, ❝ You do trust me, right ? ❞

#ragesin.#nnt.#♥ 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 (ic)#( yippee! mixed feelings to go around! )#( one does not escape a chaotic cycle quite like his. she'll probably accept that in time. but still tut at him anyways. )

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highdramas · 4 years ago

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your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #your song #my writing #not me posting this at 11pm sorry yall

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charlettebffxiv · 3 years ago

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Prompt #1: Foster

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Maxim was not very good at looking fierce, or strict, or any kind of intimidating. Elezen or not, he couldn’t cut a visage worth a shiver if he’d been draped in Wood Wailer’s armour. “I’m not! You are just making no sense, at all. In fact, I think you might even be lying.” Charlette was terrible at lying. Especially when the ‘right’ answer was practically hammering it’s very-correct fists against the back of her teeth, stuck in a fake smile as they were. “You don’t have lashes long enough to flutter, so stop trying.” Oh, that cut a little. Not that Charlette was too concerned with the quality of her lashes. But she was, a little bit, after he said that. “I still don’t know what you mean. What even is that? It looks like a linkpearl, but it’s a funny colour isn’t it?” Maxim held one of the devices in the flat of his palm, he’d fished it out of a pocket moments before confronting Charlette. The dark-purple linkpearls used by Cult that her order… former order, had long since defeated. Allegedly. She knew all this, which is why she was attempting to lie to her friend.

“C’mon Charlette! I found it in your pack, you know what it is. I’m not stupid, and you aren’t convincing. Don’t give me that Archives run-around, I’m from Willow’s Heart, just like you. I know what’s under the library, just because I was never allowed inside doesn’t mean I just forget that you were!” Maxim’s attempts at intimidation had melted, he was verbally pouting now. By the twitch of his rather delicate lips, he may just do so soon. Since he’d dropped the act, so would Charlette. “And if you know all these things, smart Master Botanist Maxim, then you also know the reason you don’t know is you aren’t allowed, to know.” awkward retorts aside, she was being truthful. “Yes, but you are!” and then came that pout. It was not going to work. “I am. Or was. Might be again, depending. But so what?” Charlette turned away, they still had work to do before this sun was done, and Maxim’s curiosity was not going to distract her away from it. These worms weren’t going to jar themselves, and neither was the soil they’d be living in. Grabbing a handful of the dark, moist dirt she lets it crumble between her fingers, falling loosely into the glass container. All to the backdrop of Maxim’s long, whinging “Pleeeeeaaaasee!” The man was remarkably persistent. “I missed out on my chance to look inside the very special hidey-hole, being second born and all, but you’re technically in a grey area, right? They’re still, uh, y’know. Looking into it?” now he’s suddenly going to take care with his words? “Nice save. Yes, technically I am in a grey area where it’s all concerned. But not when it comes to keeping the archives secrets. Especially this one!” a soiled finger points to the linkpearl, still clutched tight in Maxim’s fingers. “Aha! So you do know what it’s all about?” his triumphant tone is both obnoxious and endearing. “Someone’s proud of themself. Yes, I know. Still not going to tell you.” and he deflates, now Charlette’s the one wearing an obnoxious, hopefully endearing smirk. “Aww. You just like holding all the cards!” “I do. Very much. You’ve spent Moons telling me what to do, and pointing out my mistakes, and making sure I don’t-” Maxim cuts in, quick as can be. “Making sure you don’t blow-up us up with fertilizer or poison our grub stocks? That you don’t choke the tadpoles in the pond by clogging up the fountains? You’re welcome by the way. You can show your gratitude by telling me-” “No, damnit!” The cutter was cut, Maxim snapping his mouth closed so quickly his teeth clacked together like iron sheers. “Sorry, it’s just. I can’t, Maxim. None of us can. Current Order members, retired, instructors, keepers, the librarian or even me. Miss grey-area, waiting to see if I’m being kicked-out, put back to work, or looking at a life trapped in Willow’s Heart for ‘my own safety’. Bah.” The jar she’d been stuffing was packed far too tight. She knew because Maxim had grabbed it, and her hand, to bring a stop to her jamming soil into it. It was heavy, like a brick, and any more pressure from her she’d be turning it into clay. “It’s going to be fine, you know that. Right?” soft, reassuring. Or at least that’s what he was trying to do. But, it was not. “You have no idea how it all works Maxim. And, if I were you, knowing what I know? I’d be grateful for that fact.” cold, glass-like smoothness touches the inside of Charlette’s palm. She looks down, the darkened linkpearl. Placed there by Maxim. “I don’t, but I’ve had a long, lovely time with you because of their orders. So I know you. And I don’t see any reason for them not to be desperate to have you back out there, keeping us all safe from weird things, and weird people, and weird-weirdness that can’t be explained.'' Well, even Charlette had to admit, that was reassuring. Or, maybe just charming. Doesn’t matter. “Thanks, flattery does always make me feel much better. Probably because I-” “Deserve it?” “Let me finish my sentences!” “Tell me about the linkpearl! Please! I’ll do half your jars for you?” “No! And I’m already half done. If I don’t help you, you’ll never be finished before sundown.” “True! Tell me about it while we finish up? I’ll buy you a lemon tartlet from the bakery tomorrow?” “No. But I’ll take the tartlet.” “You’ll have to stop fostering that air of mystery, just a little bit, to earn it!” Charlette heaved out a heavy sigh. This was never going to end. “Do you know what an aether replication device is?” Maxim’s eyes went wide, he moved in close enough to bump shoulders with her, dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No! What’s that?” and she had him. For now, at least. The linkpearl slipped into a pocket, out of sight, and hopefully out of his mind.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv writing

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twh-news · 3 years ago

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[Spoilers ahead, whole article below cut]

One of the many delights of the God of Mischief having his own standalone series is that we not only get to admire Tom Hiddleston’s acting chops, but also get to see him dance gleefully and maniacally right before the entire ancient city of Pompeii is washed away by lava. In Episode 1 of Disney Plus and Marvel Studios’ “Loki,” viewers got to familiarize themselves with The Time Variance Authority (TVA) and its futuristic office hub, and see this new Marvel Cinematic Universe territory through Loki’s eyes.

During Episode 2, much of that worldbuilding was put on hold for tense time travel adventures while wielding Loki’s “Mindhunter” abilities to catch a more evil version of himself. The episode also focused on the blossoming bromance between Mobius M. Mobius (Owen Wilson) and the trickster the agent is sure he can sort-of reform. It dove deep into Nexus Events (emphasizing the importance of knowing these terms as Marvel fans, given that the concept is referenced both in “Loki” and in “WandaVision”) and showed off more of what the TVA actually does to protect the Sacred Timeline from “chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Additionally, why Mobius loves jet skis so much was revealed (a wholesome moment).

There was a lot learned in this episode, but so many more questions “branched” out of Episode 2. Here are the biggest ones:

How did the TVA agents not figure out Loki’s “apocalypse time branch” theory beforehand?

I’m calling Marvel’s own bluff: The TVA agents absolutely did know about Loki’s loophole since they know everything and anything about the Sacred Timeline and its deviations. Thus, they should also have had at least an inkling of what trouble they could (potentially) get away with without screwing up the order of things — like taunting villagers mere seconds before the tragic volcanic obliteration of Pompeii.

Loki explained this “new theory” in the second episode as: “So, let’s just say your salad is Asgard. … I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction, and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let’s say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge. There he goes! And I could also set fire to the palace. I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn’t go against the dictates of the timeline. … It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave, it could be a meteor, or it could be a volcano or a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction than nothing that I say or do will matter because the timeline is not going to branch because it gets destroyed.”

How Mobius and co. didn’t catch onto this beats me. Are they so obsessed with being bureaucratic do-gooders that they’ve created their own blind spots? It may be why Loki is so valuable in spite of the risks he poses to the TVA — he’s able to figure out that The Variant is hiding in apocalypses, carrying out malice undetected.

What is the significance of Roxxcart?

It appears extremely likely that the creepy, flickery-lit supermarket wherein Loki got in a — to put it bluntly — dick-measuring contest with Loki 2.0 and the visages of possessed victims, is owned by Roxxon Energy Corporation. (Get it? Roxxcart, Roxxon.) The massive fictional gas conglomerate has regularly made appearances, by name or in-scene, both in Marvel Comics and in Marvel series and films, including ABC’s “Agent Carter” and “Agents of SHIELD,” the “Iron Man” trilogy, Freeform’s “Cloak & Dagger,” Netflix’s “Daredevil” and Hulu’s “The Runaways.” Every time the petroleum industrial giant has made its way, on-screen or on-page, Roxxon has consistently been nefarious and at odds with superheroes. If The Variant is giving away candy (Kablooie chewing gum) during nexus events that are sold at Roxxcart between 2047 and 2051, then the incorporation of Roxxon’s evil ties was a conscientious one — and one that should have some greater significance in the series.

“It’s real”— what’s real?!

While Loki was sizing up his time-traveling, shape-shifting opponent somewhere between the pet supplies aisle and hurricane-discounted azaleas, TVA agent Hunter C-20 (Sasha Lane), was found by Mobius and co. She didn’t seem to be injured physically, but mentally, she was shaken up, constantly repeating, “It’s real, it’s real” while rocking back and forth. What caused this agent to spiral? And is the “it” she was referring to a person, a place or a thing? Episode 2 didn’t provide us with much clarity, but there may be more ominous forces afoot than “The Variant.”

Why is Lady Loki hellbent on destroying the Sacred Timeline?

“Loki, I am your… lady?” In a juicy reveal that echoed Darth Vader’s reveal in “Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back,” The Variant’s shroud was removed and we got our first glimpse at Lady Loki (Sophia Di Martino), the Mistress of Mischief with golden horns and all. What’s her beef with the Time-Keepers or the TVA? Other than the fact that she’s on the run from the omnipotent organization, L.L.’s motives have yet to be unveiled. She wordlessly hopped through a time portal with Loki following before the nitty-gritty of her tricky time-manipulating scheme could be revealed. What we do know is that, in the comics, Lady Loki is just the female version of Loki (and she’s also canonically gender fluid and pansexual). During her appearance in Marvel’s “Dark Reign” comics from 2008 to 2009, L.L. is in cahoots with the villainous likes of Norman Osborn (aka The Green Goblin), Emma Frost, Namor and Doctor Doom. Holding out hope that any of these high-profile baddies will make their way onto “Loki” might be futile, but Lady Loki’s official introduction into the televised Marvelverse may carve a path for “X-Men” and “Fantastic Four” characters to pop up in the future.

Did Loki really betray Mobius to go off and commit time shenanigans with Lady Loki, or is this all a ruse? What is his game plan?

*Extreme Owen Wilson voice* Wooow, what a cliffhanger! After trying to bond with Mobius throughout most of the episode, Loki pulled a Loki and trailed off with his new friend/foe, effectively betraying Mobius and the rest of the TVA agents that put their faith in him. But then again, what were they expecting with the Prince of Lies? It appeared that (at least for now) there was a rift in that budding partnership. It should be noted, however, that Loki dropped a massive hint toward the beginning of the episode that there’s way more than meets the eye — he’s been “10 steps ahead” of the TVA, and he’s been playing a game of his own, all along.

Crossing our fingers that it ends up with Loki riding off into the sunset with Mobius on a jet ski.

#loki #loki series #loki spoilers #spoilers #loki series spoilers #tom hiddleston #variety #recap #S01 #E02

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wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

Text

Kid

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Warnings: None, swearing

Summary: Being the kid of Puddlemore United means that all the team mates see you as one, and in Oliver's case that means the girl he fell in love with does too

A/n: Ok in love this idea, but I'm pretty sure I butchered it. Any way reader is like 22, Oliver is 19 and reader moved from America to play for Puddlemore.

Oliver could feel his heart racing far too fast for comfort. His face was flushed with excitement and nerves. He could see his breath in the air and feel the chilled wind fill his lungs as he puffed in and out.

And then he could see her. The quaffle was stuck under her arm as she ducked around a streak of blue. She was going to make it to him.

His senses heightened a stern look of concentration finding a home on his features. She was close now. But he knew what was going to happen. She had done it twice already. She was much better at shooting right than left. She would make to shoot left, lastsecond changing her course.

So he did the same, jerking left before racing towards the other hoop. He could see you out of the corner of his eye awaiting for his pass.

She did just as predicted. Oliver moved left before speeding to the right hoop hitting the quaffle with his broom towards you. You caught it easily sending him a grateful smile before darting the other way.

Oliver watched you go in amazement, a small smile finding his lips as he watched you dodge the other team with ease. A slight sigh escaped his lips the world around you falling away.

"Wood!" Willams shouted bringing the boys attention back. "Keep your head in the game! We can't afford to lose."

You didn't.

Puddlemore United was now in the Britsh and Irish league finals. Oliver had reached the ground before you and you had flown straight into him tackling him to the ground with a hug.

"Yes Oli!" You shouted as the crowd around you cheered, "You're amazing!"

Oliver's face was set aflame by your touch, his heart beating so quickly he though it might fall from his chest.

"Amazing Kid!" You laughed before standing to go congratulate the others.

The nickname you used stabbed through him like a shard of glass and he felt his heart sink in attempts to avoid it.

He stood up brushing off his uniform and grabbing his broom as he watched you jump on to the back of Benjy with a sharp pain of envy.

"At least their the same age." He mumbled to himself their win suddenly meaning nothing as the overwhelming reality of his desperate love life became obvious.

"You know your only three years apart."

Oliver jumped turning beside him to see Jocelid Wadcock, their seeker, beside him.

The boy scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably attempting to avoid her persistent eye contact, "I'm sorry who are you talking about?"

Jocelid rolled her eyes smiling, "We all know you have a thing for y/l/n."

Oliver felt his face heat up again, "W-what?" He swallowed harshly.

"Please Wood, it's so obvious that the fans even picked up on it, and their denser than bricks."

Oliver dropped his act in sudden fear "Does she know?!" Panic edged from his voice in an uncomfortable wave as the pair slowly made their way back to the changing room.

"No, no, of course not." Jocelid laughed, "Y/n may be one of the smartest girls I've ever known, but she's even more dense than the fans, especially with feelings."

"Thank Merlin." The Keeper breathed out in relief.

"Just tell her soon, she wouldn't believe any of us."

"Ok- wait. What?!"

Jocelid laughed before speeding up and leaving Oliver behind.

"I'm telling you this is a great idea." You huffed, "it's been so long since we've had a break."

"Y/n you know if you go anywhere there are going to be fanboys following you around like lost puppies." Your manager Deverill explained.

"What if we go to a muggle bar?" You questioned hopefully.

The manager sighed. You had been pestering him about a celebration since before you had even won, and you were very prisitant.

"Please?" You widen your eyes, pouting your lips and raising your eyebrows.

Oliver who had been behind Deverill choked on his water at the adorable pout that had taken you visage.

Deverill sighed, "Fine."

You squealed loudly leaping into a hug.

"But."

Your excitement stopped just as quickly as it started.

"Oliver can't drink."

"What?! We could just pretend he's 21, a simple flick of the wand an-"

"Uh-uh." Deverill shook his head, "I can not have the golden boy of our team getting caught drinking under age."

"But-"

"Its okay y/n." Oliver cut in, "I don't need to drink anyway, I've got you to entertain me."

"You sure Oli?" You asked.

"I'm sure." He grinned back encouragingly.

"You're the best Kid." You smiled standing on your toes and ruffling his hair.

Oliver felt his heart clench at the everlasting nickname, casting his eyes downward to avoid your gaze.

You didn't seem to notice, bouncing away to spread the good news.

Oliver was the third to arrive. He didn't know why, but an overwhelming sense of nerves flowed through him like a river through its bed.

The truth was you had never really hung out outside of quidditch related events. No one on the team had. So the idea of just going to a bar with you seemed nerve wracking.

He sat down at a booth already occupied by Willams and Jocelid. He made small talk mostly talking about past matches or upcoming ones. Soon others arrived and Oliver occupied himself by glancing nervously at the door.

Jocelid who was seated beside him glanced at his bouncing leg and bit back a smirk. "You okay Wood?"

"Um what? Oh yeah I'm fine." He lied eyes turning quickly towards the doors as he heard them open.

"Ahhh." Jocelid sighed, "I understand now. Your nervous to see y/n."

"What- I'm- No-" He tried to formulate a sentence, but the words wouldn't fall into place as they normally would. He bit his tongue angrily, pausing before taking a breath and attempting to cool his cheeks which seemed to have been light aflame. "Why does she call me Kid?" He finally managed.

Just then the door swung open and your giggle graced his ears.

Jocelid smiled, "Because you let her." And with that she stood to greet you.

Oliver huffed turning to face you. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes locked with your deep y/e/c eyes.

You were adorned in a simple peach dress who's loose skirt fell just above your knees, a denim jacket on your shoulders as you stood an extra 3 inches off the ground because of your matching wedges.

"Hey Kid!" You yelled across the small room bouncing just as easily over to him in your heeled shoes as you would in sneakers.

Jocelid glanced at him silently begging him to say something.

"H-hey." He stumbled lightly over his words, blushing as you ruffled his hair.

"Look!" You exclaimed, "I don't have to stand on my toes to do this anymore, I should wear these all the time."

Oliver was sure, if you touched his cheeks you would have burnt your finger. His heart was erratic and he couldn't breathe properly. It was like your intoxicating scent had caused him an allergic response.

"Wow Oli, your hair is so soft." You mumbled quietly, completely intrigued by the smooth texture of his brown locks.

Oliver almost fainted, he attempted to open his mouth to thank you but found his lips had been glued shut by some unknown force.

Your eyes dropped from his head to his to his soft brown eyes. Your piercing gaze froze the poor boy and he gasped quietly as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Y/e/c started into brown for just a moment too long and Oliver fought the incredible urge to glance down at your lips. He lost. His eyes flicked downwards, a peach lipstick stained your lips, which bore a small smile, they looked so smooth, so soft, so kissable. His mind clouded with thoughts of how they would feel, on his own, how they would feel grazing his skin.

He tore his eyes back upward to meet your own, which seemed to hold a new emotion he was much less accustomed to. He flushed brightly still unable to tear his gaze from yours.

"Partner up people they've got a pool table!" Benjy bellowed from the other room and you both suddenly realized you weren't alone in the world.

You squealed one excitement, suddenly back to your usual hyperactive self. "Awesome! Oli, you can be my partner."

"What the hell is a pool doing in a bar?" He asked, attempting to move on from the moment you had shared as easily as you had seemed to.

"No silly, a pool table." You giggled snatching Oliver's hand and dragging towards a second warmly lit room. "Its a game, you'll like it."

"Oh." He mumbled feeling quite stupid.

Oliver was unsurprisingly amazing at pool. He had never even touch a pool cue before yet once you showed him how to do it. He was unstoppable.

"What the hell Oliver." Adams huffed half impressed half aggravated as the keeper sunk his fourth ball in a row.

You on the other hand, who had worked through three martinez and was working on a fourth, screeched with joy. Jumping from the table you were seated on stumbling.

Oliver cursed dropping his cue and rushing towards you catching you before you hit the ground.

You were unfazed by the close call and instead wrapped your arms around his neck snuggling in as close to him as possible. "Your amazing Kid!" You yelled into his chest.

"This tournament is a bust" Adam's complained, "Wood and America are unstoppable, even when one of them is piss drunk."

"I am not piss drunk!" You exclaimed pushing Oliver away from you as if to prove it. Unfortunately you tripped again swearing, "I'll just take off my shoes." You slurred bending down to do so.

A series of whistles and calls came from the bar as you did so. Oliver gave the men who sat there a confused glance before tracing their eyes which now lay on your half exposed ass.

"Fuck y/n!" He cursed scrambling over to you and turning you around, "How about you sit down on the booth and I'll take off your shoes?" He offered turning his head to glare at the men sitting at the bar.

Some just rolled their eyes, one flipped him off. Oliver's anger strengthened, he lead you over to the booth.

"I can do it Kid." You mumbled.

Oliver felt his hair stand on end as you let the nickname he hated so much slip past your lips. Jocelids words echoed in his head. Because you let her. It's not like he handed youhis nickname along with his heart, they just seemed to go hand and hand, "Its fine it's faster if I do it." He sighed as he slipped off your wedges.

"That's what she said." You giggled.

Oliver smiled softly helping you back to your feet. "You good?" He asked.

"Great." You laughed, bouncing away from him.

"Hey!" Willams yelled excitedly, "What if we had America and Kid play each other?"

There was a chorus of agreements throughout the small room.

"Don't call me that" Oliver huffed.

"Why not U.S over their gets to?" He smirked.

"You see he's not in love with you though." Adams cut in.

"I am not-" he sighed deeply, "Whatever, it's not very fair, y/n's smashed."

"So she's kicking our asses." Jocelid chimed.

"Yeah your not scared of me are you Oli?" You questioned suddenly appearing beside him.

"Alright fine, just don't get mad when it's a short game." He shrugged. Grabbing his cue from the ground and heading to the table.

"I do intend it to be short." You smirked.

"Alright love birds let's stop with the pathetic attempt of trash talk and get to the game." Benjy cut in handing you your cue as Oliver reset the table.

Behind you you could hear arrangement of bets being made, "I need a coffee." You murmured.

"On it." Jocelid spoke, "I've got 20 gallons on you y/n/n I don't intend to lose."

"Twenty!" Oliver shouted from across the table.

"Oh yeah Kid. You haven't seen this girl play yet, she's gonna wipe the floor with you."

"Don't call me-"

"Yeah, yeah I know." She scoffed before darting out the door.

"You wanna break?" You offered attempting to clear your head.

"Sure." Oliver shrugged again. He bent over the table and you almost choked as a strange realization hit you. Oliver was hot. You had always known he was cute, but now as his blue button up shirt stretched over his muscular shoulders you began to take in the reality of his physical form.

Of course being pretty drunk you didn't keep this to yourself, "Damn Kid when'd you get hot?"

Your words processed through Oliver's brain just as he shot and he was in such shook his grip slipped and the break couldn't even qualify as such.

Oliver couldn't have cared less about the game anymore, "W-what did you just say?"

"Nothin' your just hot."

Flames erupted onto the boys cheeks as you shrugged.

"My turn!" You gasped excitedly moving on completely from your conversation.

Oliver stayed where he stood staring at the spot which you had occupied moments before, trying to calm his heart which was racing uncontrollably.

"Don't let the girl get in your head!" Willams shouted from the booth.

Oliver snapped back to reality shaking his head lightly and switching his gaze back to you.

You bent over the table carefully closing one eye and setting up your shot. Oliver tried not to be distracted by the way the tip of your tongue poked from between your lips, or the way the short dress you were wearing revealed your upper thighs as you bent to align your shot.

The clink of the cue hitting the other balls brought him back and he watched as two stripes fell onto their place.

You sat back up smirking. "That's how it's done."

Oliver smiled looking down, "It's your shot again." He chuckled.

"Oh right!" You exclaimed before walking back around the table.

It went back and forth for a while, you still ahead two balls, Oliver caught up quick but once you go some coffee in you you managed to keep a lead.

You still weren't yourself though. You found yourself watching Oliver with a close interest. You found yourself wondering what he looks like without that button up on. It didn't help when you passed closely by him and you suddenly caught a whiff of his cologne. Alcohol was nothing next to the intoxicating scent he emitted. You suddenly found yourself edging towards him. You shook your head as another crude thoughts filled your brain.

"I have got to stop drinking." You mumbled.

The game ended as intense as pool gets. Both of you were down to nothing but the eight ball. You had lost your lead when Oliver had "fallen" (pushed by Willams) onto you right before the shot. You were given another one but you couldn't seem to focus.

You swore watching where the cue landed, it was a ridiculous shot and you growled in frustration. You contemplated your best move before sighing and muttering a defeated, "Fuck it." Under your breath.

You lined up your shot, biting your lip and shooting. The 8 bounced off of the felt across from it and thunked lightly into the bottom right corner.

You cheered Jocelid laughed running and hugging you as Willams cursed. You pulled from your hug and turned towards Oliver.

He suddenly looked so different, not like a kid, but a man. He was smiling slightly. "Good game y/n." He spoke sticking out his hand.

"Good game Kid." You responded, taking his hand in yours.

You almost jumped at the electricity that seemed to transfer from the touch. Oliver looked unfazed.

You expected the strange feeling to wear off, they would be gone and a hangover would replace them, but that wasn't the case. You had gone to practice that day with a headache and a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Practice helped clear your mind as you focused on nothing but the quaffle.

After practice was a different story. You landed easily on the ground, a breath of air releasing you as your feet came in contact with the ground. You had decided to take an extra hour to work on maneuvers, considering your last game you had had some pretty close calls with bludgers.

You walked into the locker rooms expecting it to be empty, but your eyes went wide when you say it wasn't.

Your broom clattered to the floor, a hot rush climbing to your cheeks. Your heart thumped loudly rattling your ribcage as wings took flight in your stomach, making you want to vomit.

Oliver stood in front of you bright red, his hair dripping as a white towel was wrapped around his waist. You traced his chest, slamming your eyes shut once you realised what you were doing.

"Oh Merlin, I-Im so sorry, I was just, and I thought it was empty, so sorry again Kid." The nickname left your lips feeling funny, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

Oliver's expression of embarrassment seemed to be captured lightly by frustration.

"Why do you call me that?" He asked.

You tilted your head in confusion attempting to keep your eyes at his own.

"Kid. Why do you call me Kid?" He repeated.

"Umm I," you paused unsure of your answer, "You're younger than me, it's just a nickname."

"I'm only three years younger than you." He had taken a step towards you and now it was becoming far more difficult to keep your eyes above his neck. "I'm not just some kid."

"I know Oli," You blushed eyes flicking down then up quickly.

Oliver groaned through his teeth, "I don't think that you have ever called me by name either." Frustration had oberwhenemed his embarrassment and it was as if he had forgotten the emotion entirely. How come you couldn't just see him as a person? Why were you so insistent that he was a kid? Was he truly that juvenile?

You weren't sure what to say, Oliver had now come closer to you and you quickly realized that his infatuaing scent was not cologne but his shampoo. And now his hair damp freshly washed, he smelled of it so strongly your head spun. You stumbled for a sentence, but you seemed to choke miserably on your own hot embarrassment. Finally you scenes, "I didn't m-mean to make you seem weak or childish in front of the team, it was just a nickname."

Oliver chuckled biting his lower lip, "I don't care what they think." He explained

"Then?-"

"Because I care what you think." He whispered.

You resisted the urge to shudder, your stomach was doing flips and you weren't sure if you wanted to run straight at the keeper or far away from him.

"What is it going to take to change the way you think of me? He asked, his voice was deep and husky. He was now so close you could have reached out and touched him. Your heart was either beating so fast, its beats were inaudible or had stopped completely.

"What's it going to take?"

Apparently that was all it took. You couldn't handle it anymore, whether he meant to or not he was driving you completely insane. You were sure your mind would have melted if you had been held under that tension for even a moment longer. You took as step forward grabbing the nape of his neck and slamming his lips onto yours.

Fireworks didn't explode, fire didn't rage, sparks didn't fly. Quite the opposite happened. All of that tension and frustration was suddenly released and the world went still.

Nothing existed but you and him, your hands tracing down his bare chest as you bit lightly on his lip. He moaned and you took it as an opportunity to slide your tongue between his lips. His taste was overwhelming, mint and sweat mixed making you crave more. His hands closed around your waist tightly, his heart finally beating at a normal speed as you stood in his arms.

You pulled apart gasping for air, your lips swollen. A light blush took your features and Oliver couldn't help but feel his heart soar at the sight.

Now as frustration drained from his body as blood would from a wound, embarrassment found its place. He suddenly became very aware of his lack of clothing, and you hand which still rested lightly on his chest felt white hot.

His own cheeks flushed brightly taking a step back and scratching the back of his neck, "I ummm, uhh, I'm sorry, I didn't-" His search for a sentence was cut short as you lightly placed your hand on his arm.

"You know your kinda stupid right?" You giggled.

Oliver felt a fresh wave of red coat his cheek in a wave of heat.

"I kissed you dumbass, what do you have to apologize for?"

"Umm, I just-" Oliver suddenly felt trapped, you had kissed him? Why couldn't he seem to process that?

"Well are you gonna kiss me this time or do I have to do it again?" You smirked.

Oliver couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face as he leaned forward and reconnected your lips.

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captainkurosolaire · 4 years ago

Text

Destined ‘X’ Forever

“Ye wouldn’t b’ doin’ anything that’d take a special kind ov’ stupid now would ya’ ma’ Lord?” A cheeky rattle hit in a echo of the barren Ruins. For all intended reasoning's this wasn’t a planned encounter. Last he saw his Noble other halve was after attempting to salve some helpful advice to put him in a discovery. Though what the amber optic witnessed was anything but the type of discovery he meant. The pirate meant from the self. This was someone who couldn’t move on. Didn’t know how. This is hurt. He had been there, embraced it, and the result damaged him past the point of repair a self-searing that he still hadn’t entirely resolved. And forever because he couldn’t contain or control his heartbreak he discredited and discarded it. Letting it coal until he lost himself and a savage feasted on his homed temple. A severance between souls. A path to nefarious and damaging for anything that crossed was a clear future for Elune. If he paid the price and fed that side of demonizing that festered in all thing’s in varied degrees of morality. He would become consumed with dangerous and devastating levels that may scar him in irrecoverably.

“I..hate..you.” Muttered off breath before turning to face and direct to ensure this was more personal his regality was cracking he was so shortly an ilm away from being granted his wishful desire by utilizing a forbidden relic that protruded a hint of Mhachi. However, by activating this, It’d cost his last remaining dignity, his humanity he akin to most chose to run from it thinking and disassociating it as ‘weakness’ for the appearance and value it often represented no-good. He was possessed and consumed with the empty. That hollow part of losing a piece that stabled and made you feel wholly, he had forgotten what living was like without it after a sip. Without something to protect to be any meaning, he found himself misplaced. Knights didn’t exist without their duties or their morals to wage crusades in belief or service; they were dull like any Samurai in the obligated swords sworn after they slew their intended advisory it was weightless and immeasurable. None of that crossed his mind that once was recognized and pristine for being intelligent, all other forms living or to be sacrificed were insignificant, they could all be shriveled and pay the price even if it brought utter devastation and internal turmoil to that which he so starved to have returned to him. This resentment stood beyond even their current vessel’s their souls were entwined to contest. Negatives and positives. “I hate you. I hate everything about you, your stupid hat, your trashy ingrate demeanor. All of it! Hate is my sum for you.. You--- you’re, why I am here in this position. You cost me, my world! If you weren’t such an irritating blight, I would’ve never lost control… I’d still have them!” Flailing his arms out in the arm like a tampered child throwing his blame. The crystallized air around him howled in chimed ice sang like a banshee as his instability continued. Captain swallowed soft listening before presenting a stepped chortle and follow, “You need a tissue? Or a tampon for yer leakage?” The Seeker fired back as during that entire rant he just nodded his head. “Mate, I’ll b’ straight blunt yer being a bitch. O’ boohoo, ye lost something in your sheltered life, you in your fancy Ishgardian Walls always catered and given and throwing a hissy fit when ye didn’t get something fer Starlight. Your rant is the same shite I’d get from a dozen of stuttering cucks at the Quicksands for me so effortlessly tossing their lass over my shoulder and tending to them from their plagued bore. -Ye hate me? What a crock… Matey you don’t hate me, you just hate yourself. You got caught, ye won a battle but I got in your most prized place -- your head. Fail to understand your performance in our last skirmish saw you ACTING more like a pirate than a noble. Ye can’t get those thoughts ov’ me outta your mind… How naughty.” Tsking with a finger waggle further adding antagonizing fuel with even more expression by holding his chest to shield his exposure in that unnerving smug. “Standing over there and wanting t’ talk about hatred and losses. Ye murdered my near entire crew, ye tried dismantling another. Ye kidnapped my Star Healer and stole her away to fuck who knows where and then n’ your whole, ‘I gotta be th’ Elite White Shining Knight’, ye let her suffer alone and vanish to silence! Ye point and like t’ remind others of their failures, their faults, but conjure a solid mirror with that fancy-dancy magick. Leviathan… I gave ye an ale and I didn’t even charge ye on your last visit t’ my Cabin. I told you…! I warned you…! I did more than enough in my part, so-wait, is this what I’m missing out on sticking around for parenthood? Just sheer disappointment? This was supposed t’ be your discovery, but let me guess, the only thing you figured out in this entire time is that, ‘O I’ve got a dick, so well, I must be one and I’ll damn the rest in my way even the ones I love? Not even factoring their own thoughts? YOU aren’t wanted back. There’s isn’t any riveting other reasoning why they discarded themselves from you.” He unleashed every form of his smash-mouth and laid out the crass even if overkill. Thick skulls often were swelled in ego and ego was born often of entitled never spoken against, here enters the brazen. All the while Shiro’s fist rattled and quenched his inner demonic price for all his sin’s and wrongs began transforming and corrupting his veins, his roots that stemmed inside became a grotesque green. “Enough! What does the pirate know of actual loss and pain? You are thieves, takers, you’re scum. Compassion and your kind don’t mix, nor does it exist. Use everything and leave, you can’t even remain devoted to a single solitary thing. Always roaming without purpose to the next big thing for your greed. Making every little detail’s about yourself. Do not forget, I met your crew… None of them are innocent. It didn’t matter which you led. They were all heathens. Neither of them could listen to their betters. They didn’t respect anyone outside you, and when you were missing and disappeared on your so-called ‘shipwreck’ those who salvaged and carried your flag paid your price. You brought them into a War against a literal Sea Empire. None of them were equipped or readied. And without me, they would’ve all been slaughtered maggots. They even wanted to kill each other and decapitate the latter to get some heroic favors or get into the panties of your ‘woman’ you led only a cult of unwashed stains. Threatening like the barbarians you raised to even lash out at my sister because her own heart was on the opposing side. Who even was brainwashed and used as another pawn on the board though despite that fact their inbreed tribal and unorthodox wild crew of yours was but the essence of chaos. You mere peasants outside the Pillars and the arrogance you bestow, are far grander than anything we harbor.” Now it was the Keeper’s turn to verbally unleash a hailstorm. They bickered like an old couple cover many generations of grudges. Building their resentments and hatred until… that moment where there wasn’t going any back and one swung. The words actually began rattling against the Captain’s inner instincts and primal urges. For his own bonded knot was mentioned and brought up. The tone of Shiro’s higher ‘superiority’ shout echoed against the blank and outdoor ruins in a condense clap. Was steering and disturbing a slumber that snarled, his complexion became more heated. Irregular and unnatural... The scoundrel’s blood began surging. Weapons in War only ever are mentioned what was used to quell or the materialistic solution. Never in mentioning how any War or Battle began. Often originated from disputes. The contesting of disagreement is what drew first-blood before any sharp dared part flesh from. “What th’ seventh hell did ye say?” The ruffian stepped in closer even against biting and foreboding chills. A vein vessel popping out of his forehead. Shiro’s visage turned to a dastardly and deviled one impractical aetherial horn’s started to lowly form on his temple. “Many things and all I assure you, I mean them all. Your crew was worthless they lapped up and swam under your dirty seawater. You a Captain? A joke, your, -kind- don’t have admirable emotions or hearts, you are written as heartless and crude as you’ll always be known utter tasteless, savaged buffoons. THAT is your booked cover and shall always be to me and anyone else with somewhat wit.” The Seeker’s steps continuing forward his framework began bulking up hit by a nerve earlier. Every part of Shiro’s weighted words came from a merciless and mean intent. Making every remark sound as categorized and labeled as possible. The first step of all Jailers and those that hide behind anything against the grain or that make them feel even the slightest uncomfortable about the insecurities often came from classification putting a firm distinction between someone else innocently in the cross-hairs to try so desperately to distance themselves and stay on their elevated ladders, artificial thrones above someone. Despite that answer wasn’t what left a sour look on the mug of the rugged slicker those didn’t seem to be what triggered him. “No, the other.” He corrected calmly his stance seemed like a preparing lunge.

Shiro knew all too well what he said and brought a gleeful sinister grin to further elaborate the struck cord. “Ah right, the pathetic and high-excuse of a complex woma--” Right before he could finish that deplorable remark. The Blackguard used a rash Ghost Step (Shukuchi) to close in and lob for a full-force spinning roundhouse. (Previous) — /References/ — ♫ ‘Invincible ♫ — (Next Page)

#Part 1 of 6 #Expect em daily #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Lord Shiro Elune #Seeker of the Sun #Enough spat to melt an iceberg #Keeper of the Moon #Miqo'te #Noble vs Pirate #Rivalry #reader discretion advised #Battle from 0-3 #Time to warm out of this rust #creative writing

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yinses · 5 years ago

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Hi there could I get some fluffy relationship headcanons for gyomei please!☺️(btw I just discovered ur blog and ugh I’m in love😫💞)

taking a scheduled break from the sin to bring you the closest thing to to what i imagine sleeping on a cloud should be. i got two of the same so acknowledging both so no one feels like they got left out.

— i imagine gyomei as a soft boulder- hear me out. he’s resilient and protective when it comes to your well being. if there is even the slightest hint of trouble, you’re overruled on every account. he’s stronger than you in every means and will physically restrict you if it came down to you remaining alive at the end of the day. which can be a bit tough if you’re a slayer because hello- danger at every corner and given opportunity. so adjustments and compromises are made. he understands that you’re independent and wont intervene on your personal missions if he can help it. but he always has a pair of eyes on you in place of his own. whether it be other slayers just occasionally cross paths with you or crows in the shadows, you can bet that gyomei will be aware of any reckless deed. can it become borderline obsessive? perhaps. which is why trust is important. just don’t lie to my beefy giant. he doesn’t like to consider his sight as a disadvantage but when it comes to you, thats one last card in his deck.

—now for the soft part! just your average day? this man is as pliable as a marshmallow. you’re so spoiled that it literally makes sanemi sick. gyomei doesn’t cherish material items but that doesn’t mean you lack for want. giving is one of his love languages just because he loves to hear your reactions. he’s attune to the sound of your heart swelling with joy. the twinkle of excitement in your eyes as you giggle with glee. gyomei makes it his secondary mission to always bring home something for you. often describing your likes to shop keepers with faith that they wont take advantage of a blind man. “something warm, like home.” “a piece to make her heart sing.” “a remembrance of my love.” some merchants don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about but he made one old lady swoon so he’s doing something right.

— is actually surprisingly a little reserved about pda. not so much out of concern for what others think of it, but more so because its a distraction for him. he prefers to be acutely aware of his surroundings when he’s in the open, and he finds himself getting to easily wrapped around you when you draw him closer for affections. its not completely unwarranted though. gyomei is rather found of simple pecks against his lips or cheek. and always has a hand ready to accept yours or pliant when you cling to his arm. don’t get him wrong, he wants others to know about your relationship, just not at the cost of vulnerability. your safety will forever come first.

— loves, loves- please for the love of god read to the man. when the day finally comes to a close and dinner as settled, he’ll draw you close to his chest after you pick up the latest edition to your newest favorite series. doesn’t matter the genre, format or length. he’s just there to enjoy how you share the story with him. its probably his favorite way to drift off. hand at the small of your back, stroking at a languid rhythm as you flip to the next page. he’s engaging when it calls for it. using breaks between chapters to discuss characters and plot lines. the more complex literatures, those twisted with mystery and intrigue are the ones that stick with him through out the days. giving him something to process during his lengthy missions. will sometimes bring new books home based off the recommendations of strangers. the two of you have a long life ahead of you, if he has any say in it. there will never be too many additions to the collection.

— my boy is always steady and collected but there is a certain grit to his tone when he catches on to someone giving you unwanted advances. it obvious that whoever they are don’t think that you could possibly be with him. why else would they stupidly challenge his claim right under his nose. whether you’re capable of defending yourself or not, he has every intention on bringing attention to himself. which isnt that hard, i mean he’s like 200cm. frankly the fact that anyone would just approach you with him in your shadow is wither impressively stupid or bold. maybe both. doesn’t matter. big boy is annoyed now.

— he’ll start with making his already overwhelming presence that much more prominent. going as far as to bring a bulky arm around your waist to draw you to his chest. your admirer will sputter indigently prepared to turn on gyomei, only to really come to terms with the visage in front of him. i mean, if you have to look up to your competition, are you even in the same league? and oof, you can just feel the vibrations of gyomei’s baritone as he speaks. “i pray that you may eventually seek out the soul meant for you, because you will not find them here.” this is supposed to be unsinful, so i wont go into detail about what it does to you.

#gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #gyomei blessings

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velociraptors-dont-lie · 4 years ago

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My Way (3)

Summary: Anita’s adventure truly starts.

Warnings: blood? fighting? More swearing? More bad writing and OOcness?

A/N: I. still.hate.this. But imma continue writing it because im not a quitter.

Part one Here, Part Two here

Chapter Three

''We'll rest here for the night''

Anita groaned in relief and dropped to the floor, still cuffed hands going to her red and sore feet. Scamp cooed sadly from his pod and his ears dropped when Anita looked at him. ''I'm okay, sweetheart, promise.''

It got dark in what seemed like no time at all, the sun just under the horizon, and All Anita could hear was the Mandalorian's pained noises. She might've offered to help if she wasn't still distrustful of him, it was only his arm after all and it didn't look too bad.

She'd fed Scamp, gave him a drink and he seemed bored, unable to run about like he was used to doing with his mother. He looked at Anita as she chewed on something she'd stolen from the encampment before looking to the metal man who seemed in pain, deciding to do something about it, Scamp started to fidget.

She saw him moving out of the corner of her eye, saw him drop from out of the pod, and head towards the Mandalorian. Intrigued, she watched Scamp raise his arm and squint his eyes only fearing once the Mandalorian took Scamp's hand and picked him up.

Only to be surprised at his gentle drop into the pod, leaving the child there. So perhaps he wasn't as course and harsh as she first thought him to be, something about Scamp had already wormed its way into his armor, it was only a matter of a time before it reached his heart.

Scamp's second attempt to help yielded the same result, It also had Anita laughing quietly to herself when the man shut the pod with Scamp inside. At least now the little bugger had to sleep.

''I can help with that if you take these off.'' She lifted her hands to show the cuffs ''They're starting to hurt and I promise I won't jump on you again.''

''It's fine''

''It's not fine. It won't get better like that, at least let me clean it.''

He looked at her for a few seconds, debating the options in his head. She hadn't done anything else since arriving out of nowhere except care for the baby. In the end, he relented and released her hands from the cuffs and watched as she took the last of her water and used it to clean his wound.

''You know, that whole situation when I found you was a complete fluke.'' she chuckled to herself mostly as she dabbed his wound dry gently. ''I can't fight at all but you were walking off with my child and I had to do something. Honestly, I didn't think I could take but I was gonna try.''

''You were smart. Avoiding the beskar.''

''Well, I didn't want to break my hand.'' Anita was grinning, checking over the wound for the last time. ''Cause you know I only have two and I need them.''

It was silent again, He didn't reply to her but she had a question on her mind.

''Whoever you're taking him to...'' He turned to face her, the only indication he was looking was that his helmet seemed to bore right into her soul. ''What will they do with me? I'm only on this planet by accident and then Nikto's found me and told me to care for him. I don't-I'm scared.''

Again he was silent, she assumed to try and find an answer that wouldn't make her panic but his silence was doing that already.

''You're his mother. I'm sure they'll keep you around him.''

''And then I need to find a way home!'' Anita looked away, her face scrunched as if trying not to cry. Shuffling away from him. ''But I don't want to leave him but I have to go home, I have godchildren, my friends, my house. I can't stay and I can't take him with me because he's green.''

He was sure Anita would have had a full breakdown if the child hadn't started to cry from within the pod. Anita's ramblings stopped as did the appearance of tears in her eyes when her attention diverted to him Immediately.

She opened the pod and shushed the child, hands either side of the pod and gently rocking it side to side. He stilled in his bed, looking up at her with sad eyes and the beginnings of his own crying fit; The Mandalorian prepared for the loud screams but instead, Anita started to sing.

La la lu, La la lu. Oh, my little star sweeper. I'll sweep the stardust for you. La la lu, La la lu.

She was a good person. He could see that and some part of him didn't want to hand her over to the likes of the client. He saw the love she had for the child, the love the child had for her and he knew she would be devastated when they were separated.

His lie would be found out, she'll hate him but it was a job he had to do. For now, he enjoyed the sound of her soft singing as much as the child.

Little soft fluffy sleeper. Here comes a pink cloud for you. La la lu, La la lu.Little wandering angel Fold up your wings close your eyes

The child had calmed, his eyes drooping down as the familiar song she sung set him off to sleep. The Mandalorian had never heard it but the soft tones that followed on the words were enough to know he'd go the same way as the child did if he wasn't focused on his armor.

La la lu, La la lu And may love be your keeper La la lu, La la lu, La la lu

She closed the pod the instant she finished to protect Scamp from the noises of the Mandalorians fixings. Anita's own eyes dropping closed, the exhaustion of the day reaping the seeds it had sown and there she herself drifted to sleep; forehead pressed against the metal of the pod.

He had gone through her bag while she slept, heavier than he expected to lift. Inside were some familiar items, food packets, water but some were not so familiar. Two rectangles, black on one side and pink and blue on the other.

Wires, one white and the other black. A weird stick, pop off the lid and it smelt...strange and he couldn't place it. Small tubes he assumed was makeup, it did say the words 'Eye' and 'lip' on them.

He kept pulling things out, it wasn't that large of a bag but yet seemed like a black hole of just ...stuff. deciding none of what was inside could be used as a weapon, The Mandalorian placed everything back inside and put the bag back with its owner.

He almost hated to wake her up, to force her closer to the separation she'll experience when they get to Nevarro. She was groggy, her backed ached and her shoulders clicked as she stretched out her arms.

He noticed her feet a long time ago, the way she tried to take small steps and yet keep up with him at the same time while also trying to feed the kid. Walking along the hot floor seemed to hurt her and yet she kept on going, he tried to think if he had any shoes somewhere on the ship for her.

Not that his ship was all that useful at the moment. After walking for a while, Anita stopped behind him as he took the rifle looking weapon from his back, kneeling and pointing it down the ridge at a ship, where some ...small beings were doing something.

''what are they?'' Anita asked as he fired his rifle, disintegrating one of them. ''The small one is your...spaceship?''

''Jawas'' The Mandalorian fired another shot after reloading, Anita noted the rifle seemed to only use one charge at a time. ''And yes.''

''Manny, your ship looks wrecked.''

After the third kill, the Mandalorian took off running down the small ridge and towards the big fortress the Jawas had retreated into. Anita sighed but ran after him and the pod that followed whether she liked it or not, her feet burning with pain and yet she didn't want to leave Scamp with him.

''You want me to hold your gun, Manny?'' She watched him fire another shot at the moving fortress before he carelessly threw the weapon her way and continued to run after his ship parts.

For a moment, Anita was stood still and struck dumb by how fast he actually gave her the weapon. She assumed his ship was more important than her imaginary mutiny he knew she wouldn't commit.

''Oh he's-okay.''' She ran after the pod, noticing it got too far away and witnessed her only source of life on the planet was trying to climb a moving vehicle. He narrowly missed being throw off by a close wall, and the Jawas started to throw random metal stuff down at him.

Anita continued to keep pace by the pod, the empty gun in her hand. Normally, Anita didn't have trouble running, she was quite fit and enjoyed a run in the mornings; yet her now bleeding feet slowed her down, caused her to bounce each step she took and she was finding it hard to breathe.

Huffing out in relief as the Mandalorian reached the top of the fortress, hoping she didn't have to jump over any more Jawa bodies. Though the relief was short-lived as his visage seemed to glow with blue light before he dropped backward, hitting the ground below with a hard thunk.

Anita cringed as he hit the ground, the pod stopping nearby but she kept going to drop by the man's side, the rifle was forgotten on the floor under the pod. She touched the chest plate of his armor, pulling her hand back as her fingers were zapped by lingering electricity.

Hissing with surprise rather than the pain she shoved her hand under his helmet, pulling down the fabric around his neck and pressing two fingers hard just under his jaw; checking for a pulse he still had.

Scamp made a noise from the side and she looked over to give him a smile. ''He's alright. He just got a bit of a jolt.'' Anita herself got a jolt when he suddenly moved, awake and in pain. ''You good, Manny?''

He said nothing. Only sat up, looked around, and made sure his helmet was still on. Groaning as he stood up with her following, he walked back into the direction they came from and she assumed it was to return to his ship.

The hull had a few holes in it from where the Jawas had stripped it of its metal. The Mandalorian made a few frustrated sounds and slammed some doors, understandably mad that his ship was wrecked.

She followed him to what she assumed was the cockpit, he sat down in the middle seat and pushed buttons, flicked levers. There was sputtering, the ship wasnt able to take off and he gave up, disappearing back down the ladder.

''Dude, they got you good. This place is a mess.'' Anita jumped from the cockpit, forgoing using the ladder. The Mandalorian had Scamp in his arms, moving to leave the ship and go somewhere else with them since his mode of transportation was unusable.

''We gotta get your shit back man. I hate this planet.''

''Are your feet okay?''

''No, they're fucked.'' Anita laughed, though, to him, it sounded more like a pained whine. ''But if what you're actually asking is ''can I walk'' then the answer is yes. You are not carrying me.''

''I wasn't going to.''

Anita made a face at him from behind, still following to whenever the next destination was set. The sun was setting and was near fully got when they arrived at a camp, someone of yet another race was fixing a tall, metal pole.

''I thought you were dead.''

''He almost was.'' Anita giggled to herself. ''My name is Anita. It's ...nice to meet you.'' Though confused and still afraid.

''I am Kuiil'' he replied, starting to climb down from the pole. He was small like a child and yet his face wasn't child-like at all. when he was finally on the ground and in front of her, he noticed her feet immediately. ''You are injured.''

''Hm? oh yeh, just a little.''

''Sit. I will bring you supplies.''

''Oh no its-''

''I have spoken.'' Anita opened and closed her mouth dumbly, looking to Manny to help her but it just continued to stand there, silent as the grave. Kuiil hadn't said it rudely, it seemed more like a mannerism of his speech more than a rude demand that he was going to help.

Scamp had crawled down from inside his pod, playing with the small froglike creatures that hopped around while Anita tended to her feet with the supplies Kuiil had brought her.

''This is what was causing all the fuss?''

''I thinks it's a child.''

''He is a child.'' Anita butted in, wiping the blood clean from her sore feet. ''his fifty years must be at least...8? maybe younger judging by the interest in slimy friends.''

''It is best to deliver it alive then.''

''him''

''My ship has been destroyed. I'm trapped here.'' The Mandalorian ignored her correction. Anita rolled her eyes, bandaging up her feet while the two men talked. She wasn['t looking forward to yet another journey across the planet for his ship parts.

But where Scamp went, so did she.

''Hey, spit that out.''

Anita smiled at Scamp, who had caught his frog finally and shoved it face-first into his mouth. Leaning back his head, he swallowed it alive and looked to his mother with pride on his face.

Anita giggled, clapping as she was indeed proud of her little alien son. Though it was very gross, she couldn't help but find it incredibly cute.

The child was too cute.

#Star wars fic #Star Wars #The Mandalorian fic #Mandalorian #din djarin x original character #din djarin fic #My fic #My Way #Fanfic #Mando x Oc #din dijarin x reader

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fuckyeahjerlita · 4 years ago

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Code Lyoko Fanfic - Memories Buried in the Snow - Chapter 2 - Memories of Long Ago

The memories the old house contains call out to Aelita. An old box hidden in a closet may contain the final answers she’s been seeking.

He followed the GPS for the rest of the drive, turning where he must… until at last, it sprung into sight: a large wooden chalet, flanked by pines and banked in snow. The house was two stories tall with stairs and a long balcony on the second story.

At the sight of the house, Aelita stirred for the first time since they had switched places. She leaned forward and stared at that building, as one in a thrall.

“Here we are. Kind of a pretty place, isn’t it?” smiled Jeremie, by way of lightening the strange atmosphere.

Without acknowledging her husband, Aelita unbuckled, opened the door and exited the car. She stood in the falling snow, looking all around her, taking everything in. Then, she began walking slowly forward.

“Aelita!” Jeremie called, deeply troubled by his wife’s strange behavior.

He quickly killed the engine and got out to follow her. He watched as Aelita walked up to the chalet’s front door, fished out the key they had been sent, and opened it. Jeremie ran to catch up with her, cursing the deep snow with each step. Finally, he made it through the front door,, shutting and locking it behind him, cutting out the cold of the outdoors.

The inside was a cheerful atmosphere, well furnished with all the creature comforts, yet unmistakably rustic.

Jeremie tried the light switch and thankfully, the overhead light came on.

"I'll make a fire!" he announced by way of dissipating the lingering weirdness in the atmosphere.

Aelita continued to be remote as she walked slowly away without acknowledging Jeremie, as though she were being lured in by the house itself.

‘Like at the Hermitage,’ Jeremie thought vaguely.

He watched after Aelita, but decided to leave her be, for now. She would come to him when she was ready, as she always did. For now, Jeremie concentrated on putting the logs into the fire, then lighting the match. Soon, he had a fire going to chase away the lingering cold.

Aelita walked slowly through the house. With each look at a room, flashes came to her in more rapid succession and with trebled clarity. Though the furnishings were different, the rooms themselves had changed but little. She mounted the stairs slowly, but with purpose. At the end of the hall on the right, was a door, which opened to reveal a small bedroom.

Aelita blinked and suddenly, it was transformed into a child’s room with light pink walls and curtains covering the windows, filled with a little girl's toys: stuffed animals, a few dolls, books, and a small bed with a pink blanket and pillow. Aelita blinked her eyes and the room was back to its present state. Closing the door, she left the room to itself.

Across the hall, another door opened to reveal the larger master bedroom. Aelita blinked and saw the bed and furnishings that had been forgotten to her for almost 20 years. Lying in the bed were a man with a gray mustache and a woman with pink hair and green irises like her own. The woman looked over at her and smiled.

Aelita blinked and the room was empty again. Tears blurred her vision and her throat tightened up, her breath hitching out in a strangled sob. Guided by some unexplained compulsion, she stepped into the room and made a beeline for the closet, whose door she wrenched open with nearly enough force to pull it from its hinges. Through the veil of tears, she looked… until she saw it, a small cut-out in the farthest back corner of the closet.

Kneeling, Aelita pulled at the bit of wall that stood between her and what she was after. It gave way easily enough, revealing a small box ensconced in the wall for over 20 years. She pulled the box out and removed the lid.

Inside were many old papers, cards, and most importantly… photos of either the bespectacled man or the pink haired woman, each taken by the other. The final one she saw was the man and woman posing with each other for a timed shot before the cabin, the woman’s hands caressing her swollen belly, a small contented smile upon her face.

Aelita let the photos slip unheeded to the floor as a fresh wave of emotion broke over her. She lowered her head and sobbed brokenly into her hands, her entire frame shaking with each hitching, broken breath she took.

Through her haze of agony, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Didn’t realize she was no longer alone until she felt those gentle, familiar arms encircle her from behind. She turned, wrapped her arms around Jeremie’s waist and began sobbing with abandon into his sweatshirt while he held her close.

Poor Jeremie was utterly taken aback by Aelita’s present state. He had seen her in the throes of her melancholies and had held her when she cried many times throughout their relationship, but not since finding out of her mother’s death years ago had she broken down this completely.

Closing his eyes on his own tears, Jeremie rested his chin on the crown of Aelita’s head as he began gently rubbing her back and stroking her thick, soft hair with both hands, familiar gestures that he knew would soothe her… eventually. This was going to take a while.

Jeremie remained silent as he held Aelita close and continued his gentle ministrations on her. His heart mulled a thousand questions, but now was neither the time nor the place for them. The only thing that mattered was comforting Aelita through whatever was distressing her.

Finally, after an indeterminate length of time, Jeremie felt the tension begin to drain out of Aelita’s body. Her sobs grew fewer and farther between and her grip around his waist slackened. Finally, he felt her go completely limp in his arms, breath soft and even in sleep, utterly spent.

Only now did Jeremie dare try to take stock of things. She had been acting strangely distant practically since their arrival in Switzerland. With each passing mile toward this chalet, the strangeness of her behavior had grown, until reaching the crescendo they had just endured. When he looked down at the floor, Jeremie saw the pictures lying in careless disarray around the small box.

Moving slowly and carefully, he picked them up and looked through them. He immediately recognized the mustachioed and bespectacled visage of Franz Hopper staring at him from out of the pictures. And the pink haired woman with the familiar emerald irises was unmistakable!

‘Franz and Anthea Hopper!’ he thought. ‘Oh, my god! I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but somehow… Poor Aelita…’

Moving slowly and carefully, Jeremie shifted their positions so that he was able to pick Aelita up in his arms bridal style, then rose to his feet. Fortunately, Aelita was tiny and very light, so he was able to do so without throwing out his back. Jeremie carried Aelita over to the large bed and gently deposited her upon the mattress.

Jeremie began the careful process of undressing Aelita so she could sleep more comfortably. He moved slowly and carefully as he worked. This proved unnecessary though, as she never stirred, even as Jeremie manipulated her limbs.

‘Wow! She’s totally out,’ he thought worriedly. ‘I just hope she’ll be OK. My poor angel…’

Jeremie covered Aelita in the thick blanket to let her sleep and hopefully recover. This done, he returned to the closet and put all the photos and papers back into the small box. He then picked up the box and brought it over to the bedside table. This was Aelita’s and she should be the one to decide what to do with it.

Finally, he stepped out of his boots and stretched out next to his sleeping princess. Jeremie pulled the blanket over both of them, then wrapped Aelita up in a protective embrace. He then shut his eyes and let his mind drift.

Dreams of days gone by arose unbidden before their minds.

Aelita dreamed of running about in the forest behind the house, of her parents’ admonitions never to wander too far away. Red deer peeked out from among the trees at her. Squirrels peered curiously from their holes.

Snow came and with it, scratching out snow angels in its depths, rolling balls to make snowmen, drinking hot cocoa inside in the evenings. There was a large pine tree decorated with various bulbs and lights with festively wrapped packages at its base.

“Oh, he’s so cute! I love him. What should I call him?”

“How about Mister Puck, which means ‘elf’.”

“Do you like him?”

“Oh, yes! Thank you, Mommy!”

Meanwhile, Jeremie dreamed of switching on a computer in an ancient factory and being gobsmacked by the sight of a delicate looking young woman with bewitching pink hair staring back at him from out of the screen. From almost that moment, he knew he must do everything he could to have her by his side and in his arms.

The scanner opened and there she lay, innocent and fragile as a newborn lamb. Her eyes opened, revealing bright, intelligent, yet entirely guileless green irises as she smiled up at him, face to face for the first time in this world.

She lay on the cold steel floor of the computer room with the silent machine looming over her. He had to be quick! The machine roared back to life and he pulled her into his arms, praying to the universe that he wasn’t too late.

“Aelita! Answer me! C’mon! Wake up!”

When her pain fogged eyes opened and she took a hitching breath, he held her close and choked back a sob.

“You’re insane! Why did you do that?!”

“To save the world… To save you all…” she managed to gasp out.

“We’ll save it together. Then you’ll have your whole life in front of you; a brand new life!”

“Noooo!” Jeremie cried, watching helplessly as the Scyphozoa drained the last of Aelita’s life from her, before dropping her carelessly to the ground. “Aelita’s deeeeaaaad!!!!”

The four could only watch as Lyoko died along with its keeper, facilitating XANA’s escape to the greater Internet. Just when all seemed lost, a glowing entity appeared, lifted Aelita into the air and restored to her what had been lost. Jeremie’s joy knew no bounds as Aelita began to move again.

He was there at the scanner to catch her as she collapsed into his arms, her humanity fully restored to her, entirely free of XANA and Lyoko.

Happy times. An angel soaring aloft on pink wings and shooting energy from her hands.

The sure and steady captain of an underwater vessel named for Freyr’s great longboat.

Sad times. A young musician not understanding why he would rather spend his days at his computer than come to her debut.

The grand battle. The life of Waldo Schaeffer faded away with the flying mantas’ lasers as he gave his last strength over to power the multiagent program his daughter was trying to launch. As Aelita watched helplessly, her father faded from existence, this time forever.

Jeremie sighed as he felt fingers caressing his head, pulling him from his dreams of long ago. His eyes opened to reveal a pair of soft green irises staring at him.

“Lita…” he asked as he watched her, uncertain of what to expect. “Are you OK? If you want, we can get another place…”

He was silenced by Aelita’s index finger, pressing against his lips. Aelita picked up the box from the nightstand and opened it. Jeremie watched her in equal parts fascination and dreadful anticipation of another emotional breakdown. Aelita glanced up at him and patted the spot right next to her. At this invitation, Jeremie snuggled up next to Aelita, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a comforting squeeze.

Grateful for Jeremie’s support, Aelita once again went through the box’s contents: all the old photos, love letters and other assorted papers. Many times, Aelita would feel her emotions beginning to break again and would need to stop and rest in Jeremie’s arms for a bit before she could start again.

As they did this, Jeremie found himself getting to know Waldo and Anthea Schaeffer in a way he would’ve never thought possible. Their photos and letters were truly windows into the world of their departed souls. The best of all were Anthea’s old diaries, full of love for Waldo, and later on for baby “Lita”. Details of her first time crawling, first steps, and first words filled the pages, causing Aelita to tear up and Jeremie to smile at the thought of Aelita as a tiny child.

“Your mom was so pretty,” Jeremie noted. “I totally see where you got your looks from.”

Aelita fixed Jeremie with a sad smile at that compliment.

When everything had been gone through and put away, Aelita lay still in Jeremie’s arms, face damp with tears, but her lips quirked up in a small smile that gave Jeremie hope after a day spent worrying about her emotional state.

“I’ve come home,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper.

“I was never a believer in fate, but of all the chalets in Switzerland…” Jeremie began.

He was silenced by Aelita’s lips suddenly crashing into his. Jeremie’s eyes widened at this unexpected display of affection, but he recovered quickly and eagerly returned it, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The next few hours were spent in the passion of their gentle and drawn-out lovemaking. Feelings were exchanged physically, vows of devotion, protection, and cooperation were renewed on a spiritual level. When they reached their completion, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, intertwined until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The two remained thus for the rest of the night, drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming of their future together under sunny blue skies, with gentle breezes at their backs and soft grass under their feet; the silent contentment of being together, surrounded by the memories of a distant past.

#code lyoko #jerlita #fanfiction #aelita schaeffer #jeremie belpois

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greensconnor · 5 years ago

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i’m asking about your dragon age characters

molly i would KILL for u im ur personal hitman now

anyway i said my city now because the entire bioware writing team sucks shit xoxo and i’m so much smarter than all of them but also fully incapable of having a normal amount of ocs for anything (see: the time i made 20 rwby ocs in less than two weeks) so i have. five worldstates here r some assorted thoughts

uhhh so the worldstates r as follows

eira mahariel (two-handed berserk/champ spec), rhett hawke (two-handed berserk spec), alas lavellan (mage knight enchanter spec), romanced alistair/fenris/dorian respectively

shiv tabris (dual wield duelist/assassin spec), radella “rads” hawke (mage spirit healer spec), kat adaar (two-handed reaver spec), romanced morrigan/isabela/cassandra respectively because im a pc gamer and i think i should be able to date whatever video game woman i like because im infinitely better than cishet men

this world state said yeah i respect mens rights. mens rights to shut the fuck up

twins bronson (sword/shield reaver spec) & bryant cousland (archer ranger spec), carmine hawke (archer assassin spec), syracuse trevelyan (dual wield tempest spec), romanced zevran/anora/josephine/bull. if ur wondering how that works my city now and the warden, hawke and the inquisitor should all meet and so they do because i Said So

riva amell (mage arcane warrior/battlemage spec), graham “gray” hawke (mage force spec), hellathen “hela” lavellan (archer assassin spec); romanced cullen/anders and later blackwall because hawke only likes men who will break his heart. hela doesn’t have a romance because she’s literally 20. who let her lead the inquisition (me it was me). also it should be noted the version of cullen i have in my head only vaguely resembles actual cullen because i write better than dragon age writers ever could and i gave him an Actual Cohesive Narrative and he gets bullied relentlessly for being scrawnier than his mage boyfriend

malien “mal” surana (mage spirit healer/keeper spec), jules hawke (sword/shield reaver spec), ash adaar (mage rift spec), romanced leliana/merrill/krem because i should have been able to kiss krem and its a Crime that i am not allowed to

knight enchanter is a Very op specialization and by Very op i mean it makes a mage with their built-in low constitution stats able to solo the biggest baddest dragon in the game on nightmare mode in under five minutes so like. alas lavellan fist fights dragons for fun send tweet

i think lavellans should be able to hit ppl with bricks for all the shit they endure. thus solas gets pranked by mahariel and alas by which i mean they just tip buckets of water onto him from the rookery

kat might be my only competent inquisitor but she did also try to knock out the right hand of the divine and attempt to gap even tho there’s fucky magic burning up her hand so does she have a brain cell? you decide

also its fantasy land and i do what i want so kat has blue/gold sectoral heterochromia

gray “mage rights” hawke is best friends with fenris which surprises literally everyone. their friendship started because they got into a fist fight and then they were like okay i respect u now. hawke is like hey fenris give me ur sword i have a fun trick to show u [uses his sword as a foci to zap carver in the ass with lightning]

i am Always thinking abt like how cullen could have been one man anti-chantry propaganda machine if he hadn’t so blatantly been shoehorned into every game past origins so anyway bioware forgot about a wholeass moon i can write what i like. [holds up cullen by the scruff of his stupid armor] not only are you bisexual you are also a bottom

i also Hate the whole uwu mage haters get fixed by romancing a mage

unlocked secret dialogue option where my inquisitors verbally cuss out dorian’s dad instead of whatever sympathetic narrative the writers were going for cuz its bullshit.

riva is a showoff and a Menace about being as good as he is because he unabashedly loves being a mage and hes like oooh look at me im sexy i dont need to use my hands to cast magic because i’m just that good ;)) and you know what. hes right.

gray, on the other hand, does Not want to be mage. he wants to be a druffalo farmer and retire in the hinterlands and be left the fuck alone. unfortunately he is gay and has one brain cell and terrible, terrible taste in men. ribbed relentlessly for this by riva (altho does he have room to talk hes been hung up on cullen since he was like 13)

shiv is trans n kieran is the result of doing the dark ritual with her wife and he looks a Lot like shiv (dark skin pointed ears, shock-white hair) and morrigan always just Assumed she dyed it or did something magic with it so seeing their kid come out like that was a WEIRD time for her

leliana almost Murdered by cassandra in worldstate 5 because the warden is Actually There The Whole Time, but its been 10 years, mal’s cut off all her hair and gotten full facial tattoos and she’s like “no one will know its me its fine” and she’s right. she gets away with it. only cullen like, Knows, because he knew her before the blight but he doesnt have a death wish n he like. will Not piss her off

shes dalish by birth n she was stolen from her clan by templars and thus is vehemently anti-circle and anti-chantry in general

uhhh the vallaslin (elf face tattoos) of my 4 dalish characters are:

eira = ghilan’nain (chose em cuz shes rlly interested in the navigation aspect of the goddess)

alas = falon’din (god of the dead n he picked them because he’s Also the god of fortune and alas is like tee hee fun but also he can and will kill u if u fuck with him so yk its fitting)

hela = june (god of the craft bc she likes to Make things but june is also the god who taught the elves 2 hunt and hela is. a hunter.)

mal = elgar’nan (allfather/god of vengeance bc. she is Vengeful. she is Angry. but yk fucking with shem politics and fucking their divine is like. mal may have little a retribution. as a treat.) yes she has the full half-face solid colour tattoo she does NOT fuck around.

bronson and bryant r not genetically identical but they Look similar enough 2 anyone who doesn’t know them well enough 2 play spot the distance. anora and bronson think this is a super fun game to play, especially when nobles realize they’ve swapped out the king but they’re too nervous to say anything

eira mahariel has two hands. one is for holding hands with alistair and the other is for throttling elven gods, apparently. she’s killed one before so solas she’s coming for your bitch ass next. watch urself.

speaking of eira and alistair are married thru dalish tradition and humans don’t recognize it n alistair loves 2 re-propose to her with random things. he’ll just pick up like. a bit of cheese and be like “marry me ;)” and she’s like GASP but whatever will the chantry say!!!! all of their friends r sick of them

“vhenan if you love me bring me a sword” “you think i could do better than a sword made out of space rock?” “:)”

eira is my youngest hero at 18 at the start of her game and kat is my oldest at 32 at the start of her game.

none of my hawkes are under six foot. rhett is the tallest (6′8″) and rads is the shortest (6′2″).

syracuse trevelyan would have been the Perfect inquisitor if he were not a pretty boy himbo and a gay bastard who does Most Things just to spite his parents.

[corypheus pointing at syracuse’s visage in his crystal orb thingo] i want that twink obliterated

i love the companions from older games return thing i truly do so i make it a point for Every companion to return in inquisition so the gang rlly is all here because i am a Slutte for found family

i lie in my keep worldstates because i dont want to choose between hawke and alistair during here lies the abyss but i never make him king and every time i play inquisition and cole has the wicked grace line it makes me Scream. alistair baby im so sorry i did this to you but i didnt actually do this to you

yes this is my everyone lives au but like. all the time. i have never left hawke in the fade and i do not intend to.

fuck whatever nonsense about wardens not being able 2 have kids. by sheer divine power (me) anora and bryant have three daughters; eleanor, sabina & cecelia n both bronson and zevran make Excellent uncles because i think anora deserves good things because i’m tired of bioware being like women bad, actually,

so like most of the time i have the warden & hawke turning up after the move to skyhold n then staying on, with the exception of bryant, carmine & mal. mal is as mentioned previously just There the whole time with her girlfriend. bryant steps in as king of ferelden w/ interests in closing the big hole in the sky spewing demons in2 his kingdom yk. carmine shows up because she wants to help & she wants protection for bethany but she outright says she’d rather die than be inquisitor so cassandra is shit out of luck.

“CHANGE HER MIND VARRIC” “she once doubled down on insisting amaranth was a shade of blue because she didn’t want to admit to being wrong. no one’s changing her mind seeker”

alas is the middle child of eight and is thus very good with children and also bossing around people older than him. 2 of his older siblings come to the inquisition when stuff in wycome has been settled

i left ash with the basic canon background with Some variation (he grew up under the qun and left of his own free will when his magic was discovered n he realized he couldn’t take living as a saarebas

kat on the other hand was raised tal-vashoth and has bounced around basically all over thedas and leads her own merc company when the conclave blows up. she also speaks multiple languages. is there a language she doesn’t speak? probably not

just realized how long this got so im gonna like. stop my general rambling now but lmao yeah theres some basics. waves hands.

#sol.txt #sol.orig #long post #late night followers im SO sorry for this #but also like.#i love them so yall just have 2 cope w/ it #no thoughts head dragon age #peonydarling

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tarralin · 6 years ago

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IkesenNW Golden Week!! 10/25/18

Hey guys!

I had the pleasure of participating in @ikesennw October Golden Week. My prompt was "Scary Stories". Don't forget to follow the page, if you haven't already, so you don't miss out on the amazing art and fics of the creators.

Check the link above to see all of the amazing talent coming up this week!

I tried really hard to keep this as a one-shot but life hit like a freight train this month and so there will be a second installment at a later date.

Thank you @ikesenhell for beta reading and helpful advice!

As always, you can find all other works here.

Enjoy!

💀🍁👻🕸🕷🕸👻🍁💀

Diabolicus

~ All Hallows Eve, 1717 ~

Damn that angel!

The one called Mitsunari had spoiled yet another of Kennyo's potential contracts. As a Crossroad Demon, his job had been simple enough over the centuries; get summoned by a mortal, negotiate a deal by out talking whatever Crossroad Angel appeared, seal the deal, and deliver to the Keeper of Contracts. And Kennyo had been one of best negotiators…

Until he started showing up.

Kennyo knew his crossroad had been specifically assigned to Ishida in attempt to combat his own near perfect success rate of demon contracts. Ishida had been sighted at all of the top demon crossroads and they’ve each felt the decline in successful negotiations. With the seemingly sweet and sincere smile of his angelic calibre, who could blame the Earthlings for their second thoughts?

I can, damn it!

But… what is this? Not far to the east, Kennyo could still feel the angelic signature of his nemesis as if he'd never left. Ishida usually disappears without another thought after persuading the Earthlings from the contracts. What’s he still doing on this realm?

~*~

Never in all his years, would he have ever thought a converted nephilim be a match for a demon, or several demons…

Or so carelessly leave a sister on Earth unattended.

How… useful.

He almost couldn’t believe the stroke of luck while he gazed upon the sight. The angel Ishida had glamoured an appearance similar to the other festival goers who mingled about the All Hallows Eve celebration. Almost immediately, he'd been embraced by a woman of astounding resemblance. Same hair the color of moonlight that was partially tied back in dual braids and then left to flow freely with her movement. The lavender eyes of her brother fell dull and flat while hers seemed to glow and sparkle in the town fire’s light. The duo even shared that speck under the left eye.

A twin sister no doubt… Very useful indeed.

Ishida remained among the festivities only long enough to share a single dance with her before he returned to Heaven's realm. Kennyo couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely grinned but here he was, boasting a truly wicked visage as he pushed from the shadow covered wall while a plan snapped into place in his head. To break the angel, he'd have to break the sister and he'd do so through her dreams. To do that, however, he needed a hair of hers. But how to get the hair when demons couldn’t touch without permission?

His answer came with her smile as a new tune swelled from the musicians. Many of the villagers partnered off and danced lively to the beat given by the drum but she remained in her place against the wall, shoulders softly swaying to the music. A quick snap of the fingers had a mask glamoured in place so he'd easily be mistaken for one of the townsfolk.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” he started as he sidled up to the remaining free space of the wall at her side. “Or have the cretins truly left one as lovely as you to her own means?”

A grin blossomed across her features as she met his gaze through the mask. “Your eyes see true, traveler, but I am often left to my own means.”

“Well then, might I help alleviate that burden?” He questioned with a hand raised toward her and what he hoped was a pleasant smile, but he was so unused to portraying proper facial expressions he couldn’t be sure. He must have succeeded for she willingly accepted his hand and pulled him to the dance ring with a strength he would never thought possible from her.

The steps weren’t too complicated but, regardless of the routine, she may as well have been a professional dancer compared to the rest of the townsfolk around him. Her natural born elegance had her practically floating in his arms as if she truly were grace and holiness incarnate.

“Please forgive my boldness, but what are you?”

The question froze him mid-step, forcing disgruntled villagers to change course in hopes of avoiding a collision. “Pardon?”

Her eyes never left his and, for a moment, he wondered what she saw. Could she see the demon beneath the glamour? The plan in his mind? It was rumored Nephilim could contain a number of abilities even before converting into a full angel and only now he worried for his lack of knowledge on the being in front of him.

“You’re not mortal, I can feel that much,” her eyes and smile remained gentle and he put the worry behind him.

Ah, an Empath then. Kennyo mentally slapped himself. Of course she doesn’t have the Sight. If she did, she would have ran away shrieking by now at first glance of my true self.

“What do you think I am?”

Her lips turned down into a pout at that. “Well, I know what you're not. I’ve met Fae, Wraiths, and several other beings… but never one like you.”

“Never?” He grinned down at her in hopes of further distracting her as he continued with his original objective. He could feel her silver tresses teasing his knuckles on her back but they continued to evade his grasp.

She shook her head in response. “The few I met have been either all dark or all light but you have an odd mixture of both.”

Both? The darkness he understood, he was a demon after all. How much blood coated his hands? How many souls had he ferried into the darkness? Too much and too many for any mortal to fathom even if they had ten lifetimes to contemplate it.

How could there be any light in him?

They were moving again and she smiled up to his eyes as if she hadn’t just rendered him speechless. He was grateful his lungs had no need of air as she would have surely claimed his very breath for her own. What had this Lady Nephilim done to him?

Whatever magic she worked, it was dangerous. He'd lost count of the number of music changes before he realized he still hadn't achieved what he'd set out to do.

“Do you need a moment to rest?” he questioned once the music ended again. She simply nodded in response, causing one of her braids to tumble apart—another stroke of luck! He caught the falling curtain easily and smoothed it in place behind her ear; allowing his fingers to comb through the flowing silk as they traced the back of her arm until they finally found her own and he placed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Princess!” A young girl suddenly pounced between the pair and stole the Nephilim's hand from him. “The others are ready for stories.”

“O-okay,” startled, her lavender eyes shifted between he and the girl. “I promised the children a few scary stories once they were ready.”

Kennyo nodded with an amused grin. “Then, I leave you to your evening.”

“Thank you for the dances,” she called over her shoulder as the little girl dragged her away.

Oh, no, he thought as he swirled a strand of spun silver around his fingers. Thank you.

~*~

Kennyo glared upon the small hut she had the nerve to call a ‘shop’. The growing chill in the air apparently meant good business for her as a local healer. The sun had not even rose to midday before she had already tended to several visitors requesting treatments of different sorts. Rather it be sniffles, coughs, or burns from stoking a fire too high, the Lady Nephilim seemed to have a salve or broth for it all. She barely even stopped to eat as villager after villager came calling for aid, never turning anyone away and serving them as quickly as she could.

And she did it all with that insufferably bright smile.

In the weeks since All Hallows Eve, he had fashioned new nightmares each night and yet she still greeted the dawn with an impossible giddiness. What was it that kept her distress at bay? Was she immune to his powers? Was there some kind of angel magic at play?

It was time he investigate it himself.

No more games, Lady Nephilim.

💀🍁👻🕸🕷🕸👻🍁💀

Next Chapter

#ikesennw #golden week october #golden week #ikemen sengoku #my writing #ikesen kennyo #ikesen mitsunari #nephilim angels and demons. oh my!#dem!kennyo #colonial america au #diabolicus #db #1700s

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darth-salem-emperor-of-earth · 6 years ago

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For Aster and Mirri: “Because I love you god damn it!”

Awww, what a perfect little prompt for these two! Thank you for the ask and I hope you enjoy this little fic!

Rarely had Asteroth directed his temper at her. Even when he was furious at her (probably for taking on one too many risks during the missions), the choler dissipated when he was able to hold her in his arms and touch and kiss her, all to reassure himself she was here, with him, and alive. Ever since her long undercover stint in the Republic, the fallout, and her getting out of that mess by the skin of her teeth, Aster was worried about losing her. Mirri understood that, for she felt the same way. Which was why she ended up accepting yet another undercover assignment–this time to lure and capture a rogue Sith who was none other than Asteroth and Mathim’s missing, bloodthirsty brother, Valefor. The details of her latest duty were suppose to be private but somehow, Aster found out.

“Do you have a death wish, Mirri?!” Aster hissed, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he crossed his arms. Yet she did not miss the shadow of fear flash over his crimson visage. “Valefor is lethal and not like those Republic scum you dealt with months ago–he’s way worse than them!”

“I am well aware of the risks, Aster. But your brother has been roaming free across the galaxy long enough. He needs to pay for his crimes, especially the ones done to you and Mat.”

Aster glowered. “I rather have him free and half way through space than know he’s within ten feet away from you and could kill or torture you based on his mood!”

“I realize that, Aster, but–”

“Then why are you risking your life like this?!” He interrupted,gold eyes now blazing with a maelstrom of trepidation, panic, ire, and uncertainty. Hey may not say it out loud, to her face, but he definitely was freaking out at the mere notion of her having to be in the same room with Valefor. “Don’t you recall what happened to the first girl my brother Mat fancied?”

“Yes, I do!” Mirri retorted, matching his glare with one of her own. “And that is why I have to do this, Aster! There is a finally a chance to capture Valefor and I know I can stop him from slipping away and sulking back into the darkness, out of everyone’s radar!”

“Why you, though? Why did you have to volunteer for such a perilous undercover mission to end the shadow that has been hovering over Mat and I for years?”

“Because I love you, god damn it!”

A confession she never made before (not a romantic one anyway), exploded from her mouth without warning as frustration and desperation rose up inside Mirri during her argument with Aster. Now all fight had been sapped out of him, amber eyes wide as he absorbed the startling, personal statement that flew out of her without much thought. Yet she meant it, every single, last word.

“Oh, little flame,” he murmured, reaching out to grasp and then embrace her, his usually fearsome countenance soft and unguarded. She slipped into his arms and rested her head on his chest, letting his arms and body cradle her close, not caring if there was nothing else he could say. He carded his powerful, blunt fingers through her glossy, curly ebony hair prior and softly added, “I love you too. That’s why I’m so terrified to lose you.”

Mirri kissed his chest, standing on her toes to press her lips to his collarbone. Perhaps they knew about each other’s feelings all along and that’s why their admission of love wasn’t so shocking in the long run. “You won’t lose me, Aster. I’ll be careful. This is one assignment that I won’t take unnecessary risks on. Underestimating Valefor is the last thing I’ll ever do.”

Asteroth frowned, framing her head with his large hands to tilted her face up so their gazes were direct and locked on to each other. “I’d feel better if I was with you on this mission, maybe not as your partner but in at least operating in the shadows, where I could guide you to stay safe and on my crazy brother’s good side while also be in reach to come to your aid should the undercover operation fail.”

Now that was an idea she could work with! In all honest, she would feel better having Aster near her side, watching her back, and giving her tips in how to deal with Valefor without inciting him to maim or slaughter her after one wrong answer. “Why don’t you float that strategy to my Keeper tomorrow morning? Given to your reputation and connections to the target, he might be persuaded to let you in on this covert operation.”

A slow, toothy smile tugged on his lips as he pondered her suggestion over. “And if he isn’t, I’ll just get Mat to push him to accept. Might as well use the fact my brother is a Sith to my advantage at some point or else what is the point?”

Giggling, Mirri nodded and rubbed his back with approval. “If that happens, please let me know. I want a front row seat to witness the look of Keeper’s face when he has to deal with both you and Mat. Maybe I’ll bring some popcorn.”

His grin broadened. “If you do, save some for me. I want to throw some at Mat when his back is turned.”

“How about you wait to do that after we return successful from our undercover assignment? I don’t need two wrathful brothers out for your blood, Aster!”

“Touche.”

#bewitched-elf #Aster Zagen #Mirri x Aster #Mirri #Imperial Agent Mirri #SWTOR #imperial agent #bounty hunter #Zabrak #Sith Pureblood

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unicorn-incorporated · 6 years ago

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On Gender in ABOs

It’s so interesting thinking about gender in ABO works.

Note: ABOs have a lot of variety. I’ve tried to make this pretty generic, but you may not agree with everything I have to say. That’s just how ABO is; sorry. This is basically just one universe of ABO

The formula you tend to see in ABO is a small fraction of the population is classified as Alpha or Omega and most people are just betas. At least 60% of the population are Betas in fics that I’ve read. So, I’ll talk about Betas first.

Betas.

If a beta shows up in an ABO it’s usually the Omega MC camouflaging as a NPC type character; a police officer, mother, clerk etc, so few explore what it means to be a Beta, so most of this is mine.

I imagine Betas, being the majority for a biological reason have drives unique to them, just like a Alpha’s urge to conquer and have kids, or an Omega’s drive to keep home, take care of kids, and protect their families. I imagine Betas having a draw to steady, salaryman style work. Any ambition they have to climb the corporate ladder comes from themselves, not their biology.

Beta’s biology does not press them to mate or exact major changes in the world around them, but to work and keep society stable. Personalities of Betas often vary greatly and therefor temperaments and wants of course, but in a world where there is so much biological, primal drive it only makes sense for Betas to have their own drives.

I see Omegas and Alphas having biological drive to seek out physical touch, companionship and cuddling, whereas Betas feel no need to touch each other (but still might find touch comforting. It depends.) I see Betas feeling anxiety when unemployed, even if said Betas is lazy and does not want to work. I see Alphas as biologically inclined to be managers and CEOs, but a Beta happy to work as a functionary or a badass engineer underneath an Alpha supervisor without much thought of climbing up.

Alphas and Omegas feel the need to procreate and have lots of children, because their children are usually unusually healthy. Betas may feel desires to have children and start families just like any other person. But while the typical Omega is siring their 5th child a Beta couple is sending their only one off to college. I see Betas as just as sexually adventurous as Alpha/Omega couples, even more so considering they’re not often locked into the power imbalance of those relationships.

They are the workers, the majority, the keepers of the world. They are much more important than Omegas and Alphas in a lot of ways, because they’re the ones that do everything. There’s got to be a reason there are so many of them compared to Alphas and Omegas.

Yet, there’s often a huge imbalance of Alphas in power, not just to Omegas but to especially to Betas when compared to the world’s actual populous. Alphas are often biologically natural leaders and more aggressive so they often end up in positions of authority. This means a minority of people may end up as a far majority in seats of government. What does this mean for most of the population who are not Alphas? How does being an Alpha effect their priorities?

Alphas

The ratio of Alpha to Omega (to Beta) is different in every story, but I find in apocalyptic worlds (that are fascinating all in their own, but not what I’m talking about.) the ratio is about equal. I’ve seem 60:20:20, 80:15:10 90:5:5, etc etc, and these ratios can change the world an incredible amount. In any case, Alphas are a minority, and are the gender on top of the food chain.

What are Alphas, other than the second most likely to be the protagonist of your ABO fic? Well, in most stories Alphas are characterized by their bigger frames, greater physical strength, aggression, and desire to mate and give their Omega lots of children. In many fics Alphas go through periodic ruts similar to an Omega’s heat, or have a chance if they get really into the sex to go into a rut state. My Alphas also are generally very territorial and possessive, and not just over their Omegas. Other variations will die without Omega partners, which I love, but will not include in the Alphas I am mostly talking about.

Alphas in works are portrayed as very primal, especially when it comes to sex. The smell of an Omega’s heat may make them lose control, they prowl instead of walk, and are generally the apex predator. A large part of the Alpha cultural identity is that they are aggressive badasses. Think an extreme version of our culture’s masculinity. Alphas are often portrayed as either masterminds or... Not so bright. It is generally seen as normal Alpha behavior to think with your dick... Or something else, depending on how you portray your female Alphas.

This doesn’t mean that all Alphas are or are expected to be super aggressive all the time. Alphas often have care taking instincts along with their regular taking instincts. In the ABO’s I write this is something that is shown in the closed door of a nest, however, and it would be weird to see an Alpha do these things outside of the mating. Alphas have the power in the world and generally can move mountains by looking at them, but they actually have the smallest amount of freedom to have the different personalities they inevitably have.

Alphas have biological drives that make up a lot more of their cultural visage than the Betas I mentioned earlier. As mentioned before, Alphas want to mate. They are virile and want to bear as many happy healthy little children as possible, as fast as possible. Alphas also feel the biological need to be at the top, whether it be of their high school clique or the government. They often don’t get on well with other Alphas because of this. If an Alpha does not feel the need to be dominant over others it is seen as being submissive, which is generally a humiliating and dangerous thing to be seen as if you are an Alpha.

Before I continue on to what Alpha’s uneven power dynamic with the entire world can mean, I’m going to talk about Alphas gender expectations and it’s parallels to toxic masculinity. Fun!

Many of the traits associated with ‘Alpha’, be it a male or female Alpha, are the exact same traits you’ll find labeled as ‘toxic’ forms of masculinity. In ABOs it is expected for an Alpha to own and mate their Omega and an Omega mate publicly disagreeing with an Alpha could be an awful humiliation for Alphas. The slightest sign of backing down is seen as a sign of submission to other Alphas, and Alphas who show ‘Omega’ traits (as there’s a lot more judgement by secondary gender here than male or female) could find themselves ganged up on by other Alphas either psychologically or physically. It’s really a fine line here, at least in the way I’ve read things; be nice to your Omega, that’s a good thing as long as it’s still your Omega, but make sure you’re strong and dominant or you’re not any good as an Alpha.” With the internet, a single mistake could ruin your life. So remember Alphas, be a strong, proud, sexual being, and don’t forget to be dominant!

Once an Alpha gets on top they generally will want to stay there. This explains why Alphas are so disproportionate in government and other leadership positions. So what does this mean for the rest of our fantasy world? Though I am not a master in political sciences or gender studies, I do have a few thoughts.

One; Alphas care for Alphas first and foremost, and Betas second. Alphas because of their bias as being an Alpha, Betas because they are the voter base. Two; There is often a fair amount of discourse and heated debate in congresses and parliament between Alphas, of which Betas are often left out of and Omegas are forced from if they try to speak within it. These debates usually are resolved between the present Alphas, however, and it does not necessarily end in calling of all partizans! Three; Alphas, because of their biological drive to mate (and be the dominant partner to Omegas) often screw Omegas over when it comes to things like ‘Human rights.’ Omegas often have to fight tooth and nail to get recognition for even small things. You’ll see countless fics where Omegas are forced to mate at a certain age, are not allowed to hold positions of power, or are even subjected to slavery and it’s all good and legal, nothing to see here ^-^’ Not all worlds are like this, and many set in modern day will have Omega rights start to reflect woman’s rights here in our non-fictional universe, but it’s probably time to talk about Omegas and how much it usually sucks to be one.

Omega

Yes, here we are! The gender most likely to be a protagonist. Beautiful boys who self lubricate and can bear children--It’s a dream! Alright; lets say you’re an Omega. Here’s what you have to look forward to!

(Tw for rape. )

So, you’re an Omega in World One. You wake up and realize it’s your 16th birthday and you will have to choose a mate today. You don’t really want to choose a mate; you’ve been hoping to avoid this. Luckily, you are the protagonist! You get away from the old ugly Alpha before he bites you, and go on an adventure, and meet another Omega!

Unfortunately, you are the only one who is the protagonist. Everyone else gets forced into an arranged marriage and probably raped if they’re not a fan of their chosen husband.

So, you’re an Omega in World Two. You live a pretty normal life, though being an Omega makes life considerably harder. You have to fend off Alpha advances constantly and most of your omega friends are not in healthy relationships. Luckily, you are the protagonist! You find the perfect Alpha and life is going great actually and this was a cute smutty romance story.

As you happily hold your stomach, your best friend cries alone in her bedroom, because her mate that’s meant to love and cherish her sees her as an object, and a useless one since she hasn’t even gotten pregnant, and that means she is terribly damaged in the eyes of society and he’s just going to try again and again until it catches.

So, you’re an Omega in World Three. You’ve managed to live as a Beta all your life, and you’ve been found out. An agency has taken you away where you will be forced to bear children. Luckily you are--Wait. Not even being the protagonist will save you from this one. Sorry! You’re screwed.

But really; what’s with all the rape and objectification of Omegas? I have read fics with all of those premises and enjoyed them, but god damn there is a lot of rape culture with Omegas. It makes sense considering biology and how these societies work, but holy fucking shit.

(End TW)

So lets say we remove the rape culture from the story. What now? Well, first off, lets talk about what an Omega actually is. Like we did for the other ones before going on dark tangents.

The Omega is the third gender of an ABO. They are super fertile, generally naturally submissive. More often than not a male will be portrayed as the Omega character shown, but it could just as well be a girl. Omegas usually have lots of issues being treated as equal members of society; there’s a lot of parallels to woman’s liberation I’m pretty sure but I haven’t done enough research on that to draw proper parallels.

There are biological reasons for why Omegas have less opportunities and rights. I’d argue that Omegas should not be in the military. Omegas might be just as capable as an Alpha to be combat effective, but in the end their heat is a ticking time bomb (especially if suppressants or unstable or even taken orally. It could be a major liability.) Other things like government or commerce however; Omegas are not impaired for that.

Omegas are obviously, from the perspective of the reader, people. However, it is common in fiction to see Omegas being seen as objects, things that can be possessed and owned.

I’ve seen Omegas and the injustices done towards them explored the most in actual ABOs, so I’m a little less inclined to talk in length about it here.

Anyways, these are just my opinions and only a small corner of ABO.

Depending on how much time I have I might do one on LGBT+ issues in Omegaverse worlds, but that just delves farther into head canon and this is long enough.

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isaiah-lee · 4 years ago

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ISAIAH:

'I am nearby! Where are you?' The woman's voice across the phone put his heart to be delighting, successfully inviting smile, drawing itself on his lips. Yet, it is not a secret that his life has remained dark and strict. Every day has always been all about Hiram and his obsession. But, of course, being the firstborn of Lee means carrying the responsibilities, and he tends to do whatever his father asked him to do.

However, there is a part of him that he shall reveal.

The love life.

Her name is Anastasia Young. Her existence is indeed a clear explanation of every life lesson that he never gets from his family or even every living substance around him. But, to his dull life, her presence seemed to be a relief in the atmosphere. Any woman has never stirred his heart but her.

He walked closer, "I am here."

She seemed to inhale a relief breath. "Oh, God. Thank you."

It took Anastasia the whole day to persuade Isaiah at this point━to give her company. To be involved in a crowd was never his forte.

"I promise, I promise, it won't take long. Two shops then dinner. All done."

“Okay.” He understood with a slight nod of his head.

SABAI:

Like most girls, Sabai just finds herself fond to shop, especially in her early years of working as a flight attendant. The system of laying over surely gives every crew time to at least spend the glamorous life. May be some people were born to love sport, some others were born to love music. Meanwhile Sabai, everyone, she was probably born to shop. One of the life goal that she would achieve when she aimed to be a stewardess. As the sector of the flight today is New York, Sabai won't waste any chance. After two hours of doing the post-flight, checking each of the seat in the cabin, heading straight to the hotel, Sabai is all ready to do her 'retail marathon'. The shopping mall in NYC is just like any other state or city. They have Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Armani, Chanel, DKNY, and many other world brands.

Chanel has always been Sabai's favorite ever since she had her eyes on such taste. Sabai strolls, but her eyes direct to the store she badly wants to go in. It turns out that Chanel has just put her SALE on the website.

Few people come in, Sabai is much more attracted!

The flight attendant who is now wearing no uniform but a denim skirt and sky blue silky blouse enters the building. It is decorated elegantly in black and white. All the products are all shown with the price tag can be known only if you are asking the keeper. Jet lag and lack of sleep often make Sabai becomes more delirious. But especially today, a black dress with signature suit from Chanel has completely stole the lady's attention.

ㅤㅤ"Oh." ㅤㅤ"Sooo pretty!!!"

Sabai claimed, falling in love at her own first sight.

ISAIAH:

Isaiah might seem old-fashioned, and everything within his life was all about serving the name of Lee to reach its peak. However, even since he was little, he was destined to be the key person of The Lee Entertainment. So, whether he wanted it or not, fashion sense is one of the soft skills he had to master within the industry. And Anastasia contributes to that point very well.

"See? I told you, I have a very good reason why your father let me out with you. He doesn't seems that tough like how you told me." A thin chuckles let out of his lips. Because, of course, in a blink of an eye, a powerful person like Hiram Lee must be seen as a good person. "You don't even take a look to magazines I sent to you. So, while I am doing my part, you do your part." A light pat is given to his chest. Her part means she does the shopping while he does the research.

They entered a famous store, Chanel. Once they went in, it doesn't take too long for them to get separated. He took a slow step while his eyes wandering to all the products the company served.

SABAI:

On the other side, Sabai walks closer to the mannequin and caresses the fabric on the dress. Her eyes itself scan closer into the details.

ㅤㅤ'Damn, beautiful.'

She claimed, while her mind is capturing herself wearing it. While she is into admiring the black dress in front of her eyes, a keeper comes to wake her up from the dreamy mind.

'A 70% discount, Ma'am.' 'Are you sure to skip it?' 'I don't think it's a good idea.'

A 70% discount? Sabai is screaming inside her head! They are almost giving them away, aren't they? Her eyes are sparkling, Sabai is more and more wanting it to be in her wardrobe.

'Perhaps, do you want to give it a try?'

Chanel's keepers are mostly this well-trained to persuade their buyers. Sabai is the living proof of how easy she is persuaded to nod her head for the offer.

Or is it just her, though?

ㅤㅤ"Yes, please?"

The keeper smiled in his victory. Right? He wins.

'Alright.' 'Please wait for a while.' 'I will take a new one for you to try.'

Sabai nodded and the keeper walked to do his part. In no time, he is back with the same black dress just like on the display. The eyes are sparkling the same like before, the spark of having the dress on the body is nearly there. Sabai can't wait!

'Here is for you, Ma'am,' he handed it. 'Shall we go straight to the fitting room or do you want to check for the other?'

No. She claims that she can't wait.

ㅤㅤ"I will give this one a shoot."

'Okay.' 'Please?', the keeper then escorted Sabai to a fitting room inside the store. She stepped in bringing the dress and now it is the time for her to see if she would buy it or not. What will be her choice?

ISAIAH:

Even though Anastasia and Isaiah were separated, he followed Anastasia's steps to enter the women's section. However, his woman must be somewhere at the store.

"Is there anything I can help, Sir?" A woman's voice reached to his auditory receptors.

"This one." His finger touched one of the bag collections. Before the keeper opened her mouth to explain further. Isaiah cut her off. "The classic black quilted calfskin... 'Packaged Meat' Handbag from Fall/Winter 2014 Collection."

"You're right, Sir. You seems familiar with these items. Your girlfriend must be lucky to have you." The man refused to answer. Instead, a thin smile stretched over his features. He knew every collection to this store's products. Hiram pushed him so hard to dig deeper about how every world's major fashion houses work. One part that he hates the most during his study. Without the help of Anastasia, he might never be able to master it all. However, Isaiah being skeptical of the compliment given because he knew that service quality is one of the most important value propositions for the store, so it has to be stand out among the competitors.

Just like how a woman who sits just a few steps in front of him. She got the service and a glass of wine plus unnecessary chit-chat. Then take a look at this keeper. She will compliment others with the same tone like she did to him. Knowing that fact, no matter how the girl tried, it doesn't feel special to him.

"Please have a seat while I take care of this for you." "Nevermind, I want to look around for a while." "Alright, Sir. I will be near if you need something else."

Isaiah took another stroll to look around the store. His eyes wandering to every product they served. The company's brand resonance reflected a strong brand loyalty. The classy and timeless design is all over the store.

Another lesson to learn.

SABAI:

With the black dress she got on her hand, Sabai entered a fitting room. A cubical with a curtain that the fabric might be more expensive than your gadget.

The smile couldn't leave her visage, she couldn't wait to try it on.

Once she stepped in, she claimed once again that she HAS TO own it. Actually, it was funny that 'I have to have it', 'I must have it', 'I need to have it' had come to mean the same for Sabai now. As she recalled her old days in university, they all meant different based on the needs she got.

Sabai started to take everything off her body, her blouse and her skirt obviously. But she left the bracelet, necklace, were on its place. Carefully she tried on the dress by unzipping the back first. Damn, its fabric itself was as smooth as a cotton candy. People could even tell the price by just watching it.

It's true that they said Chanel sells class.

Sabai could see her reflection on the standing mirror. It was almost looking perfect.

Almost until she realized she was unable to unzip the back because the fabric was stuck on his necklace. Or whatever you just named it, it was dangerous enough if she forced to pull the dress down. Might as well leaving scratch on that expensive dress.

ㅤㅤ"OMG," Sabai was shocked.

She could do nothing but needed a help. Shop assistant, yes, she needed him. Or her.

So Sabai with the hand tried to hold the back dress, she stepped out the fitting room. But why couldn't she find anyone around?

Only a man that strolled around, she guessed. This wouldn't be weird to ask for a help, right? Just a simple help.

ㅤㅤ"Excuse me," Sabai greeted. ㅤㅤ"Would you help me, please?"

Sabai didn't want to take any risk, not that she didn't own the money but it would much better to shop for more items than the damaged one?

She hoped that the man would gladly help her.

ISAIAH:

"Excuse me,"

"Would you help me, please?"

The woman voice diverts his attention from one of its product, the store. He was certain no one around at the moment. Later he turned his head to look around to make sure no one, not even the keeper, but him. So, was it aimed at him?

"Me?"

The woman behind the curtain was wearing a beautiful dress, a strike for wearing one. Not to mention, judging by her figures, her conditioned body, slender midsection and immaculate skin will be sizzling on-screen, the public will love it.

"What can I do for you?"

Meanwhile, in another place, Anastasia happily bought a pair of dress. The woman was so immersed in her shopping session that she didn't feel like leaving Isaiah anywhere else. After getting the shopping bag, she hastily looked for Isaiah with elated footsteps.

SABAI:

Panic. She needs the man. No, she needs his help. So when he aims himself, Sabai quickly nods her head.

ㅤㅤ"Yes." ㅤㅤ"Please?" ㅤㅤ"I have something stuck on my back."

At this moment, Sabai doesn't want to look like as someone who sets a scam only to get advantage. She turns around, shows him off her upper bare back and the zipper which stuck on her necklace.

Please. Please. She desperately needs help for this one.

Sabai doesn't even pay attention on how good looking the man is. She shall have been paying her eyes to, but his help comes first.

Will he mind helping her?

ISAIAH:

"I have something stuck on my back."

The man took a peek behind her shoulder, but Isaiah can see nothing clearly which part of her dress that is stuck. Later he decided to enter the fitting room, and the curtain closed after him.

He stood up behind her, parting the woman's hair to the side so he could further notice her stuck dress. The back zipper of her dress jammed onto the necklace she wears. Fortunately, she didn't force them to remove, or else the dress would rip off.

It doesn't take too long for him to help her unstuck the dress, but he pushed too hard until the dress opened to the point he reveals her bare back.

"Uh, I am.. sorry." He tried to zip her dress back, but someone pushes open the curtain and stops him from doing his way. It happens to be Anastasia who stood there.

SABAI:

THANK GOD! The help just comes right when she desperately needs it. She quickly stands up properly back to face the mirror and the guy followed after. In a fitting room like that, that would be weird to see a man and a woman inside at a time right?

Yet again, screw it!

They won't take long, it will be finished at a moment. He just needs to help fixing the zipper and they will finish it at a moment, not even a minute?

'Uh, I am sorry...'

Wait. The guy just unzips it lower so Sabai's bare back is exposed. That surprised the woman and she can't help but jaw-dropping. And that's even not stopping just like that. Sabai sees the mirror and her eyes are widen seeing that the curtain is opened by someone, by another woman that Sabai doesn't even expect this will happen.

The view of a woman shows her bare back to a man inside a fitting room, isn't it mindblowing to some? Really, Sabai lost her words. She doesn't even know that woman but she can feel the vibe. Some possible scenarios are popping up inside her mind.

ㅤㅤ'What if...' ㅤㅤ'What if...' ㅤㅤ'What......'

ISAIAH:

"This is not like how you see, Anna."

"What am I seeing?"

Anastasia left the fitting room, later he followed her but stopped for a moment to look at the woman he helped a while ago. "Everything settled, right?" Even though she had not given a response yet, he ran to catch his significant other right away, but then a keeper restrained his step.

"The bag is ready, Sir."

"Wait, I-"

It seemed that Anastasia listens to their conversation. The situation started to look even more suspicious to her. But she doesn't want to render hustle inside, then dragged Isaiah out of the store.

"I am helping her, the zipper was tucked to her necklace."

"But, you don't have to zip it open down to her back."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"And the bag?"

"For you, of course."

For the first time in forever, this is their very first fight. Within a relationship, Isaiah faces so many drastic sentiments that he barely feels before. From falling in love to this point, he was confused about what to do and explain. But, he knew that Anastasia was misunderstood to read the situation. The tendency to leave her was so strong because eyes are everywhere. His father would be furious to the death if this problem reached him. But then he stayed.

He fights; for the love of his life, he fights.

SABAI:

ISAIAH:

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