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sciencewithottsnpotts · 3 years ago

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Hunting Things

Saving People Part Two:

Criminal Minds x Winchester!fem!reader Crossover!

(Remember if you recognize it, I don’t own it. Takes place during Season 10 of SPN! Hope you like it. This is a blast to write :). One more part to go.)

Word Count: over 2,000 words ✌🏻.

Warnings: uuuh- computer hacking, Winchester shenanigans, and mentions of threats against a teenage character.

Part Two:

You sat at a desk in the precinct, watching the going-ons around you. The girls parents had been called as soon as the police could acknowledge who had walked through their precinct doors. The EMS was next as they made their way around to everyone. While you were used to Castiel healing your wounds instantly, you knew you had to let them touch everything up.

As soon as the FBI agents (you called it) got control of the situation they asked you all where you had come from. You were the only one who could relay accurate info (aka a relative address and description of the Unsub).

You didn't know how to feel though, after everything. While those girls had been afraid and helpless, you would've (probably) killed the guy if you had gotten your hands on him. While their standing around crying, and hugging their families, you sat alone, numb to it all.

Sure, it felt good to help people, but your heart hurt at seeing them. You missed your mom. It had been years since her death, but it still hurt. And your (half) brothers, while amazing, were used to depending on each other, and so tended to leave you out of the loop on most things. A way to keep you safe but also to "encourage" you towards a normal life.

Except you had killed your first monster at 10 years olds, normal was out the window.

Your thoughts were disrupted when you felt eyes on you. Zoning back in you watched as one of the female agents, Prentiss you recall her name, walks towards you. "Hey," there's a mixture of sincere kindness and caution in her eyes as she takes in your raw wrists, bruised nose, and large eyes, "Is there anyone you want to call to come pick you up?"

You shrug your shoulders in response. “I’ve got a cell in my car. I’ll call someone when this is all said and done.” You watch as her eyes partially bulge out of her head. You smirk to yourself then seek to calm her down before she decided to lecture you on the legality of driving without a license.

“Relax, Agent. It’s a legal license. I’m an official resident of New Mexico. Besides- I turn 16 next week. Then it’ll be less weird.”

Emily simply nods her head, storing away the info for Garcia to check into later. “Well, we’re rounding up officers now, we’ll get him soon.”

It’s a she goes to walk away that you stop her, calling her name do she turns around.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking. And I figure if you’re about to go to the lions den, you should at least hear the theories of someone who was just in it.”

She nods her head, taking the chair next to you as you turn to face her. “The guy who kidnapped me and who brought in Katy was a brunette. It was longer, shaggy. But I over heard Alex, and she thinks her guy was blond. And it’s had me thinking. This Unsub of yours is incredibly ritualistic. Every two hours someone’s taken. Every two hours someone’s killed. There’s only an half hour time difference between the newest abduction and the latest death. The order of when those two take place seem unimportant. But it has two be two hours. That barn is at least a 15 minute drive out of town, and I was speeding. This guys can’t afford to speed. He needs to be conspicuous. So what if it’s a partnership. Two highly organized unsubs who take turns on who kills and who kidnaps. I bet if you analyzed the wound patterns on the victims you’d be able to identify two different patterns or methods. I mean, you don’t get away with dropping 53 bodies in such a short period of time without it help!”

Emily froze at your words. “53? We only have the three bodies! We were called in because of the child abductions.”

You look at her, frustration clear in your eyes. “These bastards work with the utmost efficiency and with short timelines. You think they’ve only killed three people?” You watched as the agent tried to process your words.

————————————————

“I need it in writing that I’m not going to get thrown in Juvie if I hack into these data bases for you.” Derek Morgan wasn’t going to lie, he really wanted to laugh at that statement. Mostly because it came from the 15 (“I’ll be 16 next week I’m not that young”) sister of two of the most wanted men of the FBI. And she was helping. Hotch had his suspicions and so had asked for what cases she was talking about for Garcia to look into, but she had only been able to find half of the girl’s (very comprehensive and detailed) list (that she had memorized!), and so to confirm her theory Hotch made the decision to allow her to find them herself (with Garcia’s virtual supervision).

Garcia’s voice pops up over the computer, “Don’t worry hun, if Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner makes a promise, he’ll honor it. A verbal contract is as good as a written one.”

You scrutinize Hotch and the team for a moment before shrugging your shoulders and getting to work.

“Alright Penelope, you had centered your original search around this and the surrounding states, right? Well, we’re about to go across the whole continental US of A.”

“48 states? Really?”

“Trust me, these douchebags are efficient and mobile. Over the last 7 years they’ve literally hit every state. Victimology changes based off populations percentages. For example, 76% of the populace here are people in there early-60s to late-30s. 87% of that populace is a household that has at least one child. 52% of those kids are in middle school and up. So, our Unsubs targeted high schoolers, though- at least one of them had a type as most of us were seniors- me being the youngest at fifteen. In Pennsylvania three years ago there was a spike of homicides in retirement homes. The owners of those locations however, were able to pay mighty sums to keep it on the DL. A total of 10 deaths occurred, all bodies drained of blood. Coroners office placed it as heart attacks though as to not alarm the families. It took place over 3 different jurisdictions too- so that helped keep it out of the eye of the FBI.”

The team all turned from the girl, to each other, to Reid and then back to the girl. The sound of clicking keys filling in the short silence.

“Since when does Reid come in a female option.” Whispered Morgan to JJ. Chuckles come from the surrounding team only for you to give a quick “I heard that” before Aaron shut up his team and motioned for you to continue.

“Over all, in the last five years there’s been 53 deaths, including the most recent occurrences. They don’t strike again after the deaths are completed, but until then, they’re loose canons. More than likely, since they picked their type, they’re going to try to stick to it. However, four years ago, in Indiana, they started killing women in their 30s, got interrupted, and started up again two days later with men in their early 20s. It actually went just like this one, three successes then a disruption. That’s why I made sure to get taken before they could kill the fourth victim. I figured they’d stuck to the pattern. It means we have two days till they kill again.”

“Wait- you purposefully got taken, kiddo? You’re a little young to be playing hero?”

You pause your typing from pulling up the old cases, and turn to face David Rossi. “Aren’t you a little old to be out of retirement?”

“Oh shit.” The snicker from Derek Morgan had you blushing in just a moment.

“Sorry. That was rude.” You turn back to the computer. “Anywho- moving on. Penelope, with all this information I sent to you I would appreciate your assistance in cross referencing every suspect from each case. Remove anyone of color or with any hair color that is not blond or brown. Look for anyone who appears more than once. One of these Unsubs is not nearly as smart as the other, which means he would’ve been focused on at least once. I think it will likely be the brunette one.”

“What brought you to that conclusion?” Dr. Reid prompts.

“He was constantly looking at the clock. Shifty and nervous. He tied Katy’s and my hands thumbs together. It was purposeful. Whoever tied Alex’s, Sam’s, and Tracy’s wasn’t worried they’d escape, but wasn’t careless either. He used a constrictor knot, mine was an adaptive clove hitch. It made it more difficult but not impossible to escape,” you snort, “Obviously.”

“Oh! Oh! I got someone. Ok- Brandon Sikes. 28 years old, he was suspected in three of the cases. And I know what your thinking- 3 out of the 28 cases? Well, once was in Wisconsin, another in Florida, and lastly, was in the Pennsylvania case you mentioned.”

You watched as the image appeared of a 6’ 3” man with soft brown eyes and longer brown hair. You took the time to study him. Like, really study him. The moment right before your grabbed flashes into your mind. You had been careless on purpose.

You had needed to get caught to know what was going on, but it was still kinda scary. You heard him first, but acted oblivious as you walked out of the convenience store and down the side alley where he appeared. You remember his eyes reflecting in the window in front of you.

The team watched you inhale a deep breath, shoulders stiffen, back straighten. You take a moment to yourself before turning to the closest agent, “Yeah.” Your jaw clenched, but then your whole body relax’s. “That’s him.”

The team watches as you click a few more buttons.

“Alright, I just sent everything we have on Brandon and all known affiliates to the printer. Time to go get that son of a bitch.”

———————————

Sitting in a cold bunker, nursing a beer, the last thing Sam expects is for his laptop to go off. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, but he doesn’t acknowledge the sound any further, as his laptop is halfway across the room, and quite frankly- he’s exhausted.

Dean’s taunts and snide remarks were wearing on him. Who knew attempting to cure someone of their demon-ness could be so taxing.

Today’s session was just that much worse though. Before, Dean had just been taunting Sam. Today, though, he threatened their sister.

He threatened Y/N. He had threatened you.

A dark chuckle escapes from Dean as he recovers from his latest injection. Sam stands there, tense, numb, tired, and determined. Every time the recovery period took longer, Sam had hope that his plan was working.

“You Sammy, you’re so…focused. So… diligent.” His necks cracks as he lifts it up to stare into his brother’s soul. (How ironic considering just four years prior he was the one without it.) “You know, you’re where Y/N gets her brains from. Yet how lucky she is to never be just like us.”

Dean smiled with sick delight as he watched his words effect his baby brother.

“Maybe I’ll fix that.” Snapping to attention, Sam glares at his brother. “When I get out of here, and oh oh oh- I will get out of here Sammy. I’m going to find her and I’m going to turn her. Maybe Crowley or one of his minions would like to get his hands on her. Fresh meat.”

Sam shuddered at the memory. It was only a few hours ago, but it still hurt him. The thought of anything happening to you, especially at the hands of your own brother. It scared the ever loving shit out of him, and he’s been stuck in a cage with the devil. Recurrent pinging from his laptop pulled him out of his worries, and reluctantly moves towards the device. What he doesn’t expect is 53 different case files to pull up and a 54th screen to appear with a little emoticon smiley face :) and a message saying “I know I said I’d see you in a week, but it might be two. Gmen sticking to my shoe- but we’re friends now! Peace out brosif”.

A gentle smile comes to Sam’s face before worry furrows his brow. Gmen? As in Feds? You really were a Winchester. How dangerous that is.

——————-

Ah! Part two!!! Let’s gooooo! Thank you for all of the support and to those who asked to be tagged: you are below! (I hope it works I’ve never been asked to do this before lol)

Tags: @super-sexy-agent-hotchner @supernerdycookietrashblr

#bau team #criminal minds #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #supernatural #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester

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caguaydreams · 4 years ago

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A thorough analysis on why Vah Medoh’s dungeon theme makes me want to cry

Yep, that’s an accurate title. Hi there! do you have a moment to hear about Breath of The Wild soundtrack? posting for yet a third time in hopes that tumblr won't hide it. I'm so tired

What started as a quick and harmless post, pretending to simply point out a couple of things, rolled downhill, out of my grasp and turned into a massive snowball of a short essay. How and why did this happen? Well, I assume a lot of people know about this song, and know what I’m talking about when I say that it makes me tear up and sob uncontrollably with every change in key as the seconds tick by and I spiral down into a dwell of misery from where I struggle to find the exit and to later recover.

……No?…..At the VERY LEAST it makes you a little uncomfortable. And I state this with much certainty, because after reading hundreds of comments everywhere online where this song is present, I picked up on a vast majority of people who expressed to feel the same way I did when it came down to our current music subject. See, statistics don’t lie… normally. So, naturally, my intrigue got the best of me. I wanted to find out exactly why this soundtrack was mercilessly stirring up everyone’s emotions, so I caved in and we ended up with this.

Buckle in, fellas.

Out of all Divine Beasts’ dungeon themes, Vah Medoh’s is the one that I can’t sit through. Not without growing antsy and wanting to turn it off as soon as possible. I find it genuinely difficult to listen to, and it’s not only because Revali is my favorite character and the song is just, plainly put, depressing, mind you.

We’ll start from 0 terminals activated.

It opens up similar to the other three dungeon themes; the pace is slow but eerie, gives off the impression that it sounds broken somehow. Something is off here, and it’s easy to figure out what that is from the get go: you’re basically entering a majestic, ancient, mechanical mausoleum, where everything went terribly wrong a century ago. Someone is gone, someone you knew, someone who was probably close to you, but it’s impossible to be sure. You don’t remember a thing, and this entire ordeal is confusing at best, and terrifying at worst. It’s your duty to make things right again.

It’s the same for all four Divine Beasts upon entering, save for the obvious little differences that separates them from each other and make them unique. Ruta’s is played on a major key, adhering to a sense of hopefulness. Naboris’s begins with a startling smashing of the piano keys, much like thunder of a sudden lighting strike. And Rudania’s theme starts threatening, dangerous, like scalding lava.

But now, back to Vah Medoh. The tone here is… alienating. The dissonant chords are all over the place, and feel disconnected, cold. It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want us to be here, or just like the elusive key, our presence is unexpected. Fitting, for a Divine Beast that’s high above the land, impossible for most to reach, yet we somehow made it. Apart from the piano, we have the occasional hint to rito culture, in the shape of a short, synthetic version of the rolled chords at the very beginning of Rito Village. A quiet reminder of where we come from. There is also, of course, the morse code distress signal, but we’ll talk more about that later.

As soon as this formal introduction is over, we finally get to the more, say, intimate stuff. Oh, and wouldn’t you know, it’s just tragic.

One terminal activated.

There’s no better short way I can describe this passage, other than anxiety-inducing. Especially when the strings come into play, and there’s two reasons I can think of why I feel this is an important thing to point out:

1- Characters and Symbolism.

I tend to associate stringed instruments, all of those which compose the violin family, with rito culture. And Revali, most specifically. In Creating a Champion we can see the early concept art and designs for all or most major characters in the game, and Revali’s highlighted rough design might be the one that changed the most throughout proper development of the character, out of all champions. He looks quite different from our usual depiction of him, it’s fascinating. What truly catches my eye, however, is the design of his bow.

You thought bird puns were bad? Oh boy, how do you feel about Revali having a bow that looks like a violin/cello/viola??? And do you need a bow to play it also??? Like, is it even an instrument or it’s nothing more than a mere fashion statement?-

Anyway. I believe this was originally going to be a not-so-subtle wink to rito culture, being heavily musically inclined as we can see and conclude for ourselves. Perhaps Revali was going to be a musician as well, now how cool it that!

Needless to say, the idea was eventually scrapped. But one detail I am CERTAIN carried over to the character we know and love today(okay not all of us love him but seriously if you dislike him why are you still here lol): strings. The association between bows(weapon) and stringed instruments, aside from being a quite clever and creative one, goes beyond the concept art and remains strong as part of Revali’s character, settling for having a presence via score. After all, Revali is a master of archery, so in that way it makes sense to keep strings as symbolism to reinforce the idea and drive it home.

But can you guess what other thing Revali excels at? That’s right: flying. He’s the only rito we know of who successfully managed to take advantage of wind currents and bend them to his will. And do you know what musical instruments are often used to evoke the feeling of flight and gale? If you thought of bowed strings, you’re correct! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much support on this topic online, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I am most certain that this is fact, although not something worth discussing on the Internet, by the looks of it.

Anyhow, violins/cellos/etc are ever-present whenever we’re close to Rito Village or dealing with a rito related mission. Attack on Vah Medoh, for example, features a sequence of strings that is meant to evoke the strong winds we’re fighting against in that particular moment(*). Another great example is The Final Trial, the song that plays at the shrine of resurrection nearing the end of the Champions’ Ballad. Preceding the activation of each terminal, you’ll notice that a new instrumental element joins the crowd: the first one corresponds to the tambourines, related to the zora and Mipha; the second one are strings, referencing the rito and Revali, etc. I tell you, the moment I heard this during the trial I almost started crying like a baby. And, although strings have a lot to do with Rito culture in general, they tie most strongly to Revali, since he was the champion of his people, and his legacy carried over throughout the years. His accomplishments became material of folk tale, a legend, a source of pride and inspiration for the village. And let’s not forget that, at the end of the day, Revali is the crucial and foremost connection Link has to this place. Other than appeasing Vah Medoh, Link’s responsibility here is to free his past fellow champion’s spirit from Ganon’s malice. The soundtrack is referencing Revali first, and by extension his devotion to his home.

With all that in mind, let’s move on to our next point:

2- Nowhere to Go.

You shoot the canons, land on top of the Divine Beast, do what you gotta do, activate the first terminal and the soundtrack goes off unannounced. Like some sort of surprise anxiety bomb. The rhythm turns fast, the melody erratic, incredibly desperate in its execution. There’s this sheer despair, fear, this feeling of suffocation almost, which are so well achieved in this particular piece.

And that is, partially, because a quite familiar resource is used here as well; one that we’ve heard before in songs such as Rito Village or Revali’s theme. You could even think of it as a motif: two notes are played in an semitone interval, repeatedly and in quick succession. For the sake of later convenience, we’ll call this the Flight Motif, now let me explain why. In Breath of The Wild, this semitone loop is often followed up by some form of resolution. In Rito Village, formerly known as Dragon Roost Island(**), that resolution consists of a graceful descent of the melody, from a high that was built up previously during the motif. On the other hand, if you listen to Revali’s theme, you’ll notice that the interval repeats itself for a couple of times as thought charging up, to then rise fast and determined into a triumphal reprise of Revali’s distinctive assigned melody. This juxtaposition supposes the difference that lays between common rito flight and Revali’s trademark ability; both musical sequences are speaking of flight, albeit in two different languages depending on the way to achieve it. While the rito traditionally use their wings to glide and let themselves get swayed by the air currents Buzz Lightyear style, Revali takes full advantage of his flying capabilities to somehow create an updraft of his own, rising meters above the ground whenever he likes or needs to.

So, now that I layed out my base of thought when focusing on the strings, this’ll be much easier to explain. We’ve settled what the instruments themselves are a symbolic representation of Revali, in this scenario specifically. He was the only one inside Vah Medoh, and the score is, in a way, a retelling of what we can vaguely assume went down here during the Great Calamity, as much as it is what sets the tone and ambience for Link’s mission. But what are we hearing exactly? What we talked about, the Flight Motif, is being repeated nonstop. And that’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that this sequence usually finds resolution at the end? Well. Inside Vah Medoh,… it never does. The melody picks up in numerous occasions, but it’s not nearly as graceful, or calculated, as we’ve grown used to by now. It gets tangled and lost, and then inevitably falls to the ground in disarray. The pattern repeats itself, reaching higher after a handful of failed attempts, but no matter how much it tries, the cycle never ends. What used to tell us about flying and freedom in the skies, has morphed into an almost sinister musical incarnation of a tornado, and there is no way out of this trap. What do you think it must feel like to mindlessly flap your wings against wind currents so strong and violent, that it is impossible to get anywhere nearby, let alone take off every time you lose your balance. Or every time you’re shot down. On top of that, trying to aim and fight back in whatever short breaks and opportunities you get, at an enemy that’s much more powerful and relentless, who’s using your own element as a weapon to destroy you… it’s a risk Revali surely had to take in order to put up a fight. Even knowing full well that the odds were not in his favour, that he was most likely going to lose this battle, that he was going to die. Let that sink in. I’ll skip the activation of the second terminal, since there’s barely any change registered in the theme in general. So-

Three terminals activated.

I know this post is supposed to be a breakdown of the song purely, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for a little theorising, and the following scrutiny is also quite relevant for our discussion. Bear with me for a bit. I’ve read almost everywhere about people’s most common interpretations on the Divine Beasts SOS signals, and how everyone thinks that Revali’s coming in last (a few seconds later than the other champions) has to do with him holding on for longer. Or, also, overconfident as he was, it means that the idea of calling out for additional support didn’t cross his mind until it was too late, and that’s why the beeping sounds more frantic and panicked than the others’ when it does appear. After giving it some thought myself, I’m betting on the latter option holding more ground, and that’s not all. I want to touch upon a detail of the piece that I never acknowledged was there until very recently(after seeing myself obliged to listen to this song fully and a handful of times, suffering every minute of it for the sole purpose of this analysis. It’s okay I didn’t need my heart anyway). Soon after activating the third terminal, the SOS signal disappears, or grows distant and faint enough that we can’t make it out from the background anymore. In its place, we’re confronted by this… shrill, piercing and painfully slow tune. It sounds synthetic, artificial, devoid of life. And it’s funny, because you know what it reminds me of? I’ll tell you:

A heartbeat flatline sound.

And I want to highlight that this doesn’t happen in any of the other Divine Beasts themes. All their SOS signals carry on, but Medoh’s is no more. This abrupt stop, followed by this bone-chilling tune…. makes me believe that Revali was the first of the champions to fall. A few days ago I came across SuperZeldaGirl’s video on a similar topic, theorising that this could very much be the case. There is not much evidence to support this claim other than some visual cues that could be suggesting to it, but after I found this in the soundtrack, and if we’re to rely on it for anything, I believe Revali was either the first champion to be ambushed by Ganon, or well…. the first to be killed. It is plausible, because short after Calamity Ganon unleashes his power, Revali parts from the group and flies directly to Vah Medoh, and he very well could’ve been the first pilot to arrive.

On this note…. we’ll have to wait and see for ourselves, when Age of Calamity provides long-awaited answers to many of our questions.

Four terminals activated.

An interesting melody is being played on what, for me, would qualify as a glockenspiel or a celesta, which are keyboard based instruments that produce a sound similar to that of a music box(***). If you want to pay more attention to it, I suggest listening to Vetrom’s Instrumental Mix Cover of the theme, where they practically zoom in on this part of the song (keep in mind that it uses the All Terminals’ time signature so it’s being played faster). For some reason, this particular addition makes me feel profound empathy. The sound of this instrument could be described as cute or childlike, magical, even. It is more often than not used to represent innocence, but I highly doubt that’s specifically the intention here. Much like the leading strings’ melody, the melodic contour of this one is trapped in a loop of going up and down constantly, but the difference is that this time around it sounds more under control. And much more uniform too. It doesn’t lose focus or takes risky, fruitless leaps, but rather chooses to stay on a path of waves that consistently rises and falls without taking detours. Like a determined battle strategy, giving it your all. You fall, but get back up again, and try again, and again. It reminds me of Revali’s approach to training, being persistent to the point of overworking himself. He had discipline nailed down to a tee, which I also think served him well in combat. It’s not just about being hard on yourself, either, but being confident and having complete faith in your abilities; believing that you’ll make it. For this to appear now, that the SOS signal is almost completely gone, is significant because it means that by this point, being so close to success on Link’s behalf, the music is sparing genuine encouragement for once, in spite of the tragic outcome of the past and the danger of the current situation. But, in all honesty, this is probably just me reading too much into it. Perhaps the composer just thought this addition sounded pretty bitching and there’s not much else to it, which is completely fine. Although, intentional or not, sometimes coincidences do happen, and at the end of the day, interpretations like this are a form of appreciation for an artist’s work and for what they can unknowingly accomplish.

All terminals activated.

This is the moment when the song finally lightens up. Notice how the strings abandon the wave pattern for a more even contour. The beat quickens, the melody stabilizes. At first I thought, coming from our flight analogy, that this meant a cease in movement entirely, and it was partly one of the reasons why the song in general makes me anxious. But thinking about it now, …there is something different going on here. The strings are playing on a steady rhythm. It resembles a march, it’s like a pounding heart. It’s a lively, hopeful statement. And what’s interesting is that, up until this point, there was so much fear and helplessness present in the score, even going as far as to reach a dead end when we activate the third terminal. But that’s it, isn’t it? the music just keeps going further.

It’s saying: this isn’t over yet. Even after complete and utter defeat, there’s still hope and an underlying wish to overcome this predicament, and we started to hear this as soon as a fourth terminal is activated. The melody we previously talked about? it’s here as well, and its beat is much more daring and confident.

And I just want to say… this is so powerful. Because this sentiment is deeply tied to the game’s story and Revali’s character arc. You see, he is introduced as someone who resents Link for being the manifestation of his failure, in a way, because Revali has trained arduously his whole life to be where he is, to be recognised. And yet… this hylian gets chosen by a magic sword and some tale of divine destiny and, apparently, that’s all it takes for him to be deemed the hero that will save the land. In Revali’s eyes, Link has done nothing to prove his worth before him, so it is easy to see why he despises the silent knight so much; he is yet another individual that was born into their destiny. Meanwhile, Revali has had to build his reputation from the ground up, earning him a place among the greatest warriors of Hyrule, and even then he finds himself surrounded by people who grew up praised for being born gifted. We can see how Revali is the odd one out, and can map out the reason for him acting so antagonistic towards Link.

But once we’re on Medoh, things start to change. When Link enters the Divine Beast, Revali greets him with disdain, as per usual. Of course, Link has no recollection of whatever happened a hundred years ago, other than a small glimpse of the rito champion talking down to him, a memory that came and went in a flash. So as Link, we more than expect Revali to act cold and mocking, which he does. He provides us with as little help as needed in order to free Medoh, reluctantly, shielding his wounded pride over having to wait for Link, of all people, to come to their rescue. But you can hear him starting to open up bit by bit(I wish I could translate his dialogue directly from Japanese but I’ll make do with a couple of dubs and other numerous sources from translators online). With each little step Link takes towards success, activating the terminals, the perception Revali has of him shifts from one of resentment to one of genuine admiration and respect. By the end of it all, he is willing to not only cheer on Link during the boss battle, but to trust him with his life’s worth achievement. And once left alone, he admits defeat and lets go of his bitterness, realising that he was wrong to underestimate Link, and later wishes he could’ve had a chance to measured up to him. To take all of this into consideration and work with it in the soundtrack I think it’s genuinely splendid. And for once, I am grateful that it ends in somewhat of a positive note that puts my soul to rest. I still have a hard time listening to the first two thirds of the entire thing, but now I can look forward to a hopeful and earnestly heartening conclusion for all the pain that this composition puts me in. I must admit that it’s beautifully and brilliantly crafted, and that I am enamoured of it regardless.

That is why I wrote roughly 4k words about it! I hate myself!

If you’re as crazy as me about the soundtrack of this game, I recommend you read the published cd interview with the composers themselves! if you haven’t already. I just found it yesterday(unbelievable but it’s true) and… after writing all of this and checking it out, I felt validated. It sure is a one of a kind feeling.

Alright folks, we’ve made it to the end. Congratulations for sticking around and thanks being interested in my nonsensical rambling!

I also hope that you, like me, will now be unable to listen to bowed strings without being reminded of Revali. Good luck!

————– Annotations/Sidenotes/Whatever

(*)The Flight Motif(in point number 2) is also present in this track. We can hear it in the background right after the Rito leitmotif, as per usual. It starts with a clarinet, I think, before the strings take the lead. (**) Note that the Flight Motif only comes into play in the Breath of The Wild rendition of the song. (***)I strongly associate this instrument with Mipha, given that it is used in her theme, in every “response” to the initial melody. It can be heard in Attack On Vah Ruta, as well, it enters the scene when the notes Mi(E) and Fa(F) are played. The initial tune, Si and Do(B and C) are played on a clarinet or oboe, wind instruments just like the flute that leads Sidon’s respective theme. The celesta can also be heard inside Vah Ruta, activating the first terminal…. when the song really takes a turn just like Medoh’s. Mipha has nothing to do with the song of this analysis, however. We must understand that instruments, although they are attached to characters/various story elements in some cases, can always be used outside of that context, for that is the nature of an orchestral soundtrack. If you have this many tools at your disposal, you will make good use of them.

#Revali #Vah Medoh #botw #loz #aoc

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delldarling · 4 years ago

Text

confession | merrick

chasing truth | chapter five male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 6330 words lime | nakedness, cuddling, lots of smooches! but also some angst note: Not going to lie, this is one of my favorite parts. Hope everyone enjoys! chapter index? or chapter four?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

Merrick is a faerie.

The knowledge knocks you for a solid loop, leaving your breath coming fast and your shoulders tense for all of three seconds before you’re shaking it off. You laugh instead, short and sharp. You can’t help it, even though you don’t really find any of this particularly amusing. It’s just.. you immediately want to reject the thought. Merrick. Sarcastic Merrick, with his aversion to most modern day tech and his disdain for questions. Merrick, who has wing tattoos and pointed ears and- He doesn’t glitter. He can’t be some kind of fairy tale creature... can he? You aren’t living in some kind of coming of age story, where the weird new boy at high school ends up being a vampire. You’re not in high school, and all that paranormal stuff is just...

Your eyes are drawn back to the wing tattoos. The top pair curls around his shoulders and biceps, while the second goes straight down his back and over his ass, laid flat along his fair skin. They look real enough. They have a strange texture to them even, but tattoos can do that, right? They can have raised edges, can make the skin rough, depending on ink or the kind of needle or- tattoos are like scarring, so texture makes sense. Though this is the most you’ve ever thought about tattoos while lying in bed next to someone in the dark

You sit up, achingly slow, trying not to worry at your bottom lip as you keep staring. He has ear mods—or they’re real, your brain insists. And there had been some kind of light or glow in the room earlier..

This is silly. You lay back down, huffing before you focus on trying not to make any noise. You draw the tangled sheets up over yourself and Merrick, and the only thing left to do is grab some sleep. This will make so much more sense in the morning, you’re absolutely sure of it.

It doesn’t.

You wake before Merrick, still tired, but restless and turn to face him. His mouth is partially open, lips pink and soft, and his body is close to the edge of the mattress. His arm is thrown over the edge, fingers likely dangling close to the floor, but he doesn’t so much as twitch when you get up. You tug on your trousers, mulling over what you know of Merrick, trying desperately to come up with some other kind of solution. But it all makes a heart wrenching kind of sense. Faeries aren’t supposed to be able to lie, and you don’t know that Merrick has ever lied to you. Most people do, in small ways.

Say someone moved something, and they’re not sure you saw them do it - half the time they’ll insist they never touched the item. Some people will peek over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the book you’re reading or the image on your phone and when confronted? They’ll lie. Plenty of people will spare feelings with white lies too. But Merrick? He's never spared anyone's feelings. Even if someone has asked him not to do something, and he does it, he’ll admit to it readily. He words answers so strangely, like he has to think over every syllable as he speaks, but he’s never lied. It’s part of why some people find him a bit irritating and others are drawn in. It’s why his laziness sometimes drives you up the wall. He’s so fucking honest about it that it’s hard to stay angry with him.

And why would Merrick—stoic, sarcastic Merrick—get faerie wing tattoos and ear mods when he’s never shown the slightest interest in anything to do with them?

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, turning to glance at your window, growing lighter with every passing second. You shove your arms through your shirt sleeves, but you pause before you pull it over your head. “Just ask. Just ask a direct question, and then he’ll have to answer—or he won’t, and that will be an answer too. Direct,” you repeat, sucking in a breath. Part of you thinks he might laugh at you as soon as you ask though.

He’ll drop the act and claim it’s because of some sort of… Vow, or whatever, something religious maybe, that makes him only speak truth. And the whole faerie thing? Is something he did before he took the vow and it was all just a joke. Just a weird, perhaps unhealthy interest in fantasy oriented things that he shook off after his religious vow.. You cringe. None of that sounds right when applied to Merrick. Not in the slightest.

Merrick yawns, and you can’t help staring at his mouth, hyper-focusing on the beauty mark on his chin and the memory of kissing it—multiple times—last night. His eyes flutter open and for a moment he looks confused, gaze lazily sweeping the room until his eyes catch on your face. Then his smile is radiant. You’ve never seen him look so happy, so much like something out of a literal fairy tale book, with rosy cheeks and lovely curls.

You were planning on leading up to it, and even now you’re tempted to cross back to the bed, throw yourself down in it and let him pull you into his arms. It’s probably what he’s expecting, and you can’t lie to yourself and say you wouldn’t expect the same if the tables were turned. It's what you would want, but the knowledge sits heavy in the pit of your stomach. Tripping over your own tongue, cursing yourself for letting your thoughts run away with you, you blurt: “Are you a faerie?”

Your shirt still isn’t entirely on, so you tug it over your head, sparing yourself the sight of his face for a few seconds more. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, straightening the way the shirt sits on your shoulders, trying to steady your breathing. This isn’t anything to worry about. You chance a look at him, heart pounding. His face is blank.

“What?” He finally asks, and his voice is soft and careful. He probably just thinks you’re acting crazy, but his hands are clutching at the sheets a little too tightly and his shoulders are growing tense.

“A- A faerie,” you repeat, and your heart falls. He doesn’t laugh, and the moment stretches, utterly silent. He still hasn't laughed, and now that you’ve said the words, you’re halfway convinced. “Those tattoos are- they’re intense, okay? People get weird tattoos all the time, so if that’s all they are, I’m not judging, they’re gorgeous but... And your ears. Did you really go out and get ear mods?”

Merrick just stares, all the sweetness having faded from his expression. He curls into his pillow, like he's trying to use it as a shield, worrying at his lower lip.

“I didn’t get ear mods,” he murmurs, and… Doesn’t say anything else. You catch sight of his pulse jumping in his neck though, a furrow deepening between his brows and that makes you sigh. You walk back to the bed, trying not to twist your hands.

“Okay, you didn’t get ear mods. Merrick, are you a faerie? Or some kind of elf? I don’t know what, what classifications there are, or-”

He laughs, though the look on his face isn’t funny at all and then he covers his face with both hands, rolling over until he’s muffled by both pillows. He says something then, just low enough that you can’t quite hear, though you don’t push for him to repeat it. You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out, hesitating for barely a moment before you’re stroking your hand down his back. Some of the tightness eases out of his shoulders with every pass of your hand.

“What if I was?” He asks, turning back towards you, letting his hands slide off of his face. He catches your hand when you start to pull away, unsure if you should stop touching him or not. He tangles his fingers with yours, not painfully, but tightly, holding on like he's trying to keep you both in place. “If I was, what would you do?”

All you can do is stare at him. He whispers your name, thumb stroking over the pulse in your wrist.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I mean - Faeries can’t lie, am I right?” He doesn’t answer, so you forge on ahead anyway. “So that means you haven’t ever lied to me about anything. There are always people who omit things—and some people call that lying, but it’s not like I ever asked if you were human before, have I?”

“You haven’t,” he whispers, and his lips tremble, though whether it’s with happiness or sadness or some other emotion, you don’t know.

“So you haven’t lied to me, and that’s nice? Truth is always appreciated. And I just- I really don’t know, Merrick. What does that entail? Do you- do you secretly drink morning dew-”

“I haven’t even answered whether I’m a faerie or not, and now you’re asking about morning dew,” he complains, and there it is. A bright spark of his normal self. Some of the strange tension eases from the room and you settle more fully on the bed.

“You’re not angry?” He asks, reaching up to cup your cheek, and then it’s your turn to scowl.

“Merrick, can you answer the question?”

“I can,” he replies readily, lashes shading his eyes as they dart to your mouth.

“Then are you going to tell me, because-”

“I’ll show you,” he interrupts, lifting his gaze back to yours. “If you’d like. For- for a kiss, I’ll show you.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. He makes it sound like he’s going to change so utterly that he fears you won’t want to kiss him. You trust him.

“A kiss then,” you whisper, and lean down to press your lips to his.

It is... entirely more than a kiss.

Kisses always sound like soft, sweet things. A kiss is the careful alignment and brush of lips, and that’s how it starts, of course, but this is more. This is the in and exhalation of air, this is shared breath and space and the taste of yearning. More than touching lips, it’s exchanging atoms, spiraling into the depths of your chest before your mouths are sealed together. Merrick raises a hand, those long fingers careful as they slide along your jaw and curl around the back of your neck. You aren’t ashamed to say that you forget why you’re kissing him for a few moments, lost in sensation. He raises himself up on his elbow and then he’s leaning into you so completely that you have to shift back onto the bed or risk being pushed off.

He straddles your thighs, changing the angle of the kiss, and you can’t help cradling his face in your hands, arching your neck to keep the kiss going as he slowly lays you back against the bed.

You make a soft sound against his mouth, and his tongue strokes over yours, like he’s eager for the taste of your noise, and then there’s a brightness flaring through the room. Even with your eyes closed you can sense it, almost warm— and then you tilt your head to break the kiss. Merrick lets you go, but he doesn’t drop his hand from the back of your neck, and with his face so close you can’t quite see at first. As soon as your eyes adjust though, your eyebrows raise.

“Oh,” you whisper, and Merrick finally, slowly, releases you. He sits back, though he keeps his full weight from resting on your legs, hands balanced on his knees. His cheeks are bright and when he meets your gaze, he quickly turns his eyes down to the bedspread tangled under you both.

There are four wings coming out of his back, larger than you had imagined. They’re thin and iridescent, and again you’re reminded more of bees or beetles than of butterfly wings. Suddenly they flutter, too fast for your eyes to follow, and there’s a soft buzz of noise that accompanies the movement, filling the room before Merrick’s shoulders hunch and they stop. You’re fairly sure he’s forcing himself not to move them.

Beyond the wings, his hair and eyes and ears are much the same, but there’s an… aura almost, that accounts for the feeling of light. You can’t focus on it—as soon as you do it seems to vanish, but if you stare at his face-

“Prettier than Fern Gully,” you tease, letting your hands come to rest on his thighs. He moves his hands, hesitating, hovering them over yours before he finally trails his fingertips over your knuckles.

Merrick arches an eyebrow and a soft huff escapes his chest. “No more questions for me about morning dew?” He asks, and he hesitates when he starts to lean towards you. You solve the problem by slipping a hand out from underneath his, reaching up and tugging at his earlobe, urging him to come closer.

It doesn’t matter. He can’t lie. He has wings and pointed ears and there is so much you don’t know about him, but.. He’s Merrick.

“I can’t deny I’m still curious about that. You’re a picky eater, you know, and other than that one drink at Corner Pocket-”

Merrick makes a disparaging noise. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard any of you get on Gar for his eating habits—” he starts, dark eyes narrowed, and then his mouth snaps shut and his wings buzz against his back, tickling your legs, even through your trousers. You have to keep yourself from kicking at the sensation, but then his words seem to penetrate your brain and you feel your jaw growing slack.

“Gar,” is all you say, and then Merrick is closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe rhythmically. “Garrick?”

“Is this all it takes?” He mutters, trying, and failing, to brush his curls off of his forehead. “One secret and then they all just fall out?”

“Is he a Gar-goyle?” You try, wondering, and promptly burst into laughter when Merrick gives you a decidedly unamused stare, dropping his arms back down to his sides. “Are vampires real too?” You ask instead of continuing to ask after Gar. You doubt, very much, that he wants to talk about your friend and his.. Erstwhile? Roommate. Not while he’s sitting naked on your thighs. And it’s not really his secret to tell, either. You don’t want to inadvertently have him betray anyone's trust, not when just having this small kernel of information might be too much.

He ignores your question, leaning forward and bracing himself over you, eyes darting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “You’re not angry with me,” he murmurs, like he’s only just realized. “You’re not- not throwing me out or pushing me away. You know what I am and you still-”

“I told you,” you interrupt, brushing your thumb over the beauty mark next to his mouth. “You haven’t lied to me. Not really. I have questions because I’m human and we’re utterly curious creatures—but you’re still..” You search his eyes. He has the same ink-dark irises and pale eyelashes. He always gets that sour twist to his mouth when he doesn’t find something particularly funny. He’s always made your heart beat double time when he says your name. “You’re still you. And, I don’t know if you remember, but last night you told me you now have the only thing you’ve ever wanted and—that’s intense, coming from someone who can’t lie.” That thought alone makes everything feel utterly surreal. More than the wings on his back, or the pointed ears poking out from his curls, you can’t quite believe that he’s returning your feelings, that... that he felt the same, for so very long.

His eyes fall closed, eyebrows drawn together like he’s in pain, and then he’s kissing you again. He nips at your lower lip, hand pressed gently into the middle of your chest, and shifts his legs until his erection is pressed against you. You raise your thigh so he’s pressed a little tighter to you, hands sliding down to rest at his hips. Merrick pauses in his trail of kisses along your neck, breathing deep, but he still ruts against you, eager for more contact.

“You’ve no idea,” he murmurs against your throat, and the whisper of his breath makes you shiver. “How relieved I am. You still- you want me?” He nips again, hand shaking slightly against your chest when you tell him yes and of course.

A sucking kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder has you tugging on his hips. You regret putting your clothes on now. It’d seemed so important earlier, but-

Merrick is a faerie. His wings buzz when you make a soft noise, and you catch sight of the barest flash of embarrassment on his face before he’s nosing at the collar of your shirt, hand slipping underneath the hem. That haze, that- corona of a glow, faint in the corner of your eye, brightens when his mouth touches your skin again.

“Merrick,” you murmur, and notice a slight twitch in his fingertips. You must stiffen, because Merrick leans back, eyes heavy lidded, but focused intently on your face.

Faeries aren’t supposed to share their true names, right?

“Is- Is that your name? Or, part of it, I don’t-”

The hint of wariness in him vanishes and Merrick’s mouth curls into a smirk. “You’ve heard about true names then?”

You push gently at his chest, laughing when his smirk only deepens. “Yes, I’ve heard about true names. Someone, somewhere can always quote stories about faeries and true names. Wait- don’t tell me, is it Rumpelstiltskin?”

He shakes his head and leans in close again for another kiss. “You’ll never cease to surprise me, will you?” He asks, a dimple appearing when you kiss that sweet little beauty mark on his chin. “No, it’s not Rumpelstiltskin. Faerie names are much simpler than a long, strange sounding word that we think no one will ever guess,.” After a moment, his nose wrinkles. “Though I suppose it’s that, too.”

“Faerie names are simple?” You ask, and you’re listening, you are, but it’s still so hard to think with him so close to you, let alone when you’ve been exchanging kisses.

Merrick braces himself on his forearm and leans his chin against your shoulder, tapping his fingers idly on the sheets. “We are every name, every title, given to us. We are the names our forebears gave us, and the nonsense names our parents tease us with and affectionate names from our friends and loved ones. My name is Merrick, now. I took it before I came here, and having it shaped who I am, who I’ve been in my time here. I’m Mer and Rick, and-” He sighs. “I’m Merry Rick, as well,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it.

One of the local drunkards at the bar had once slurred the name, laughing and repeating it for any and all who would listen. Gar had gotten a good laugh out of it, had even said something about Merrick needing a healthy dose of merriment in his life.

“That’s a lot of names,” you say, unable to fight the grin on your face. Merry Rick, indeed.

“I would be willing to bet, if this Rumplestiltskin truly came from Faerie, that his true names all start with the letters that spell out Rumplestiltskin.” Merrick shrugs. “If that were the case, I’m not entirely sure I could pronounce the string of letters I consist of. So yes, Merrick is my name. Not the only one, not even close, but it is the person I am, here.”

You have to concentrate, to force yourself not to ask him for any of his other names, but you wonder if he can see the desire in your eyes.

“I was recently called Aodhfin, in Faerie,” he murmurs, and it sounds almost like Aiden, with a soft f in the middle, even though the word has a sharpness to it. The smile on his face turns a little brittle. “The King gave me that name. White Fire, because I have always burned hot. Because I don’t leave even ash behind when-” Merrick’s jaw clamps shut, blowing out a breath through his nose. A frown grows on his face.

“It’s not a name I thought I would ever share,” he mutters, and glances away from you. “It is the name of someone who lived only for the task at hand, and not for those who surrounded him. I thought I needed no one. Faeries are…” He huffs, leaning into your touch when you turn his face back towards you.

“If you’re not ready to talk about everything, that’s alright. I mean- I just found out my- my boyfriend?” You say, almost breathless, and take Merrick’s quick grin for a mild agreement, though actual labels can be figured out later. “I found out you have wings and like a hundred names or something. I can be patient if you’re not ready to share other things.”

“It’s just this: The Faerie do not show affection so freely as humans do. There is.. Safety, in the detachment of the Fae, but nothing has ever warmed the core of me like the kindness and care you’ve shown.” Merrick’s expression is earnest, intense.

“Smooth talker,” you sass, feeling your heart jump when he arches an eyebrow. He looks brighter, but you can’t decide whether it’s his Faerie-side showing, or if it’s simply the endorphins, giving everything in the vicinity a rosy glow.

“There are things I don’t want to tell you,” he confesses, and you can’t help but feel the need to reiterate: you don’t ca—no. It’s not that you don’t care, it’s that, even as people, if you were both humans and you started dating, you wouldn’t expect him to share his life's story. You’ve known him for a year! You’re not exactly rushing into things here.

“They can wait,” you finally get out, turning slightly, until Merrick has to shift so you can lay side by side. His leg is still thrown over yours though, and you have to force yourself not to look down, to get distracted by his nakedness. “I’m not going to force you to tell me, I promise.”

“I know,” he says, voice soft as he presses his forehead to yours. “But I need to tell you at least a few things today. Now, even.”

“I…” You feel like a break between bombs might be important, but if Merrick says he has to tell you? “Okay,” you agree, willingly letting him reel you into his arms, until your chin is hooked over his shoulder.

In stilting, awkward tones, Merrick tells you how he came to be here. How he was chosen, and what exactly, he was chosen for. He tenses the longer he speaks, and for a second you think he’s going to pull you closer, afraid that you might turn away. Instead Merrick’s hold on you loosens and he leans back far enough to look you in the face.

“I didn’t complete the task I was given. I didn’t kill Gar. I don’t want to. While I believe I made the right decision, that doesn’t change what my Court, or Gar’s Court wants. They’ve sent someone else, and while they might not be familiar with the human realm, I… I need to lay low.” He finally glances away, guilt written in the hunch of his shoulders as he continues. “I don’t know that I should even be here right now, because I don’t want to chance them finding you.”

You let him ramble about danger for another few minutes before you thump your hand solidly against his chest, mouth twisting into a frown. “You’re going to pull the whole it’s not safe for you, schtick?”

Merrick’s wariness fades almost immediately, and he scowls.

“Don’t look at me like that! You said it yourself, okay, you need to lay low, and whoever came isn’t going to be familiar with the human realm-”

“We hope they aren’t,” Merrick corrects. “Those much older have little desire to leave Faerie, and it’s likely that anyone with experience of your realm will be centuries behind the times.” Merrick opens his mouth, waffles over the next words he plans to say and then shrugs, finally settling on: “It’s not a guarantee, though.”

“Laying low,” you repeat, ticking the list off on your fingers. “No glamour, keep in contact-" You pause, a thought occurring to you. "When was the last time you and Gar checked in with each other?”

Merrick doesn’t move, but the pause after he opens his mouth is all the answer you need. You make what you think is a decent attempt at copying his arched brow. “I was distracted,” he mutters, tone a little sullen. He still gets to his feet, even as he glances longingly at your legs, cheeks turning faintly pink. He moves towards the clothes he’d abandoned in the living room, wings fluttering as he walks through the doorway.

“Can’t exactly say I wasn’t,” you add, hoping you sound encouraging, because this—Learning Merrick is a Faerie? Surprising, but… okay. You’ve filed that knowledge into a place titled: Things You Can Handle. That he was employed as some kind of assassin? You shake your head, unsure what to do with that particular detail. You’re still kind of processing here. You won’t tell him it was a mistake to share the information—you’d meant it when you told him that truth was appreciated—but it’s a lot.

The thought of him up and vanishing to keep you safe is at the forefront of your mind anyway, so you let your brain focus on that. You follow him into the living room, arms wrapped loosely around yourself, and politely avert your eyes when he bends over to rummage through his clothes. Maybe you peek, eyes catching on the gleam of his wings in the sunlight, but only for a moment.

“Yesterday evening he said he was fine,” Merrick mutters, standing back up and scrolling through his messages. Your eyes dart back to his face. The image of him now is absolutely surreal, standing in the sunshine with iridescent wings, holding a phone of all things. He looks like he should be posing for some kind of magazine.

“Do you want to check in with him now, then? The sun is fully up, and—” You sigh, watching Merrick set his phone aside on the kitchen counter, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. "You aren't going to?"

"I will soon," he reassures you. "I'm not trying to pull anything. It's the truth! Me staying here probably isn’t the best—"

"You said something about glamour?" You interrupt, heart jumping when he turns around and walks towards you. "Merrick, it is—it is difficult to talk about things like this when you- Do Faeries generally walk around naked?" You ask, knowing that your embarrassment is written all over your face. With the way he stands, the way his lips twitch when he knows you’re looking, it feels like an invitation to touch him.

Merrick's arms slip around your unresisting body, but instead of pushing for something heated, he gently kisses your forehead. "I wish I could say we do, just to see the look on your face," he says with a sigh, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You scoff, tempted to push him away when you catch sight of the small smirk in the corner of his mouth, but you still lean against him, into him, eyes falling closed. Touching him at all might be distracting, it’s still so new, but being allowed this after a year of pining... Even if he never returned your feelings, you’ve always known he still cared. There’s always been something between the two of you, it’s still just kind of mind blowing, knowing it’s not friendship alone.

"Then you're just doing this to try and distract me," you whisper against his neck, opening your eyes again when his wings buzz. You’ve kept your hands to his hips, worried about where exactly you should place them to keep from damaging his wings, but Merrick doesn’t seem to notice, even when the edges of them brush against your hands.

"Maybe," he sighs, draping his arms over your shoulders. "Yes. You have to understand, I don't want to leave—"

"Then explain this glamour business to me again. Tell me how Fae can track each other using it, because it sounds to me like you don’t need to leave.” Your fingers twitch, half wanting to feel his wings buzz over your fingers. “Running around out on the streets sounds much more dangerous! Especially after you’ve said that you haven’t been using glamour here.”

Merrick grumbles, finally stepping away and picking his clothes up off of the ground. As much as you’d like to let him distract you, you’d rather him stick around for more than just a confession and romp in the sheets.

“It’s almost like… Heat, when we use our glamour. Or light. There isn’t actually any lingering residue that you can physically see or smell, but Faeries can feel it.” Merrick picks up his shirt, starts to lift it over his head, and then he frowns. He rolls his shoulder, dropping the shirt back down to the ground, and lays his wings flat against his body. He strokes his hands slowly over what he can reach of his shoulders, and the wings—You don’t quite have the words for it. Shift? Slide? They merge with his skin, until all that’s left of them is the larger than life tattoos. They’re still ridiculously cool looking on him, but it’s hard to be quite as impressed after having seen the actual thing. He picks up his shirt again, like he’s just done nothing at all.

“Was that glamour?” You can’t help asking.

Merrick’s smile is a little more genuine now. “Not a form that most can track, anyway. I’m not taking away a part of myself, only bringing it closer. What Gar usually does, the way he hides his ears and his hands-”

“His hands?” You say, before you can think better of it. You shake your head, sighing, as he proceeds to dress himself.

“Who was it that was distracted?” He murmurs, a little heavy handed as he buttons his trousers. “What I was saying,” he continues, as if you never interrupted, “is that Gar’s form of glamour, taking away from himself, leaves a kind of… Gap. We might not realize at first, even though Faeries can see through glamour, but we’ll realize that something feels like it’s missing from them. More so when they’re trying to hide themselves entirely. This- wait,” he says, turning towards a soft buzzing from the kitchen. His phone is ringing. It’s probably Gar, calling to check in.

You turn towards the sliding glass door, intent on giving him a bit of privacy. He might be willing to share all the knowledge he has at hand, but there’s no need to eavesdrop. You slide it open, realizing as the fresh breeze blows through that the apartment probably smells entirely of sex. There’s no time to really be embarrassed about it though, because a heavy shadow falls over your face.

For just a moment, you find yourself wondering if this is what Gar has been hiding of himself. Merrick still essentially looks much the same, so you’re confused about why Gar would change his appearance so completely—But there is none of Gar’s soft smiles or contagious energy about the Faerie lighting down onto your balcony.

The man standing in front of you is tall and thin, and sharply beautiful. His hair is black, as are his eyes, and unlike Merrick, he’s made no effort at all to hide his otherness. His wings are splayed wide, pointed and layered like a bird, but they’re still crystalline and reminiscent of an insect. There’s a strange paleness to him, trailing him like smoke, and there’s a smattering of freckles spread over his serious face.

“Roran,” Merrick chokes out from somewhere behind you, and the faerie turns his eyes away from you. Then the room is chaos.

You know the unknown faerie made a grab for you, you felt fingertips just barely grazing your forearm, but Merrick has you wrapped in his arms and pressed against the wall next to the front door before you can blink. The couch is knocked over, as is an end table, and through Merrick’s phone, sitting forgotten on the counter, you think you can hear Gar’s voice, shouting repeatedly” “I’m coming, I’m on my way, I’m-”

“Aodhfin,” the faerie says, ignoring you entirely. He looks frightening. Frightened? He’s standing next to your overturned couch with pain on his face, hand still outstretched, searching Merrick over like he can’t believe his eyes. “The King believes you dead,” he finally says, and you don’t know him, you’ve never seen him before, but even you can tell that isn’t what he wants to say.

Merrick’s arms are trembling around you, fingers smoothing awkwardly over your forearm, feeling for your pulse. You know there must be a reason for it, that something about your actions or the look on your face must have made him worried, but you’re not... You think you’re in shock.

It’s one thing to find out that Merrick’s oddness was because he’s a Faerie. To have him reveal himself to you in a slow show of gleaming wings and a blushing face. It’s quite another to have an unhappy Fae fly onto your balcony with anguish rolling off of him in waves, near destroying your living room with one swipe of his arm. He must be the assassin that Merrick claimed was in town. Someone Merrick knows, it sounds like.

“I know, Roran,” Merrick finally says, letting go of you only reluctantly. He tries to keep the other faerie from seeing you, angling his shoulders, pressing his back close to your face—but you meet the faerie—Roran’s narrow gaze and his lips thin with distaste. A chill settles into the marrow of your bones..

“I thought you were dead,” Roran adds, and he’s openly glaring now. Merrick shifts so until his line of sight is broken. Pressed between Merrick and the wall, all you can do is stare at his forgotten hat on your floor.

“I… I know,” Merrick says, and his shoulders droop.

A broken, haunting wail fills the apartment, followed closely by a thud. You bite down on your bottom lip, hands clutching awkwardly at Merrick, and try not to join in yourself. The noise is wretched, heart breaking, and then there’s a clatter as something is tossed towards Merrick’s feet.

“I found this in the traitor’s home and I assumed the worst! The human realm is—it’s changed,” Roran whispers. “Even after I got here, I held out hope that you were simply taking your time. Never mind that you’ve never—I hoped, and then when I found that human-touched den, and this, this hidden under a bed? I was sure that he had taken it from you.”

Some part of you realizes that there’s another noise, far off, but getting closer, but none of you acknowledge it.

“That was my room,” Merrick murmurs and the clack that reaches your ears sounds like teeth being clenched too tightly. “I left it there.”

“That’s what he told me,” Roran bites out. “I thought he was lying, was sure that the traitor was mad with lies, but then-”

The noise you’d heard blasts into the front door. The only reason it doesn’t bash Merrick in the face is because he has the reflexes to get out of the way, pulling you with him. Gar barrels in, breathless, his cheek bruised, lower lip bloody—and freezes when he sees Roran. His mouth opens, but he stops, hands unclenching as soon as he catches sight of you in Merrick’s arms.

“You cannot honestly be working with-” Roran starts to say, getting to his feet, and then you’re being pushed towards Gar, air rushing through your ears and muffling Roran’s speech. Gar steadies you, glances down at Merrick’s hat on your floor, and snatches it up.

“Roran, I know you’re hurt—” Merrick begins and then you’re gasping and tripping as Gar pulls you out the door.

“Wait a minute,” you hiss, because you can’t leave him. That faerie, Roran is supposed to be some kind of assassin, isn’t he? If Gar leaves—

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, but Merrick will be handicapped if he’s attempting to shield you from harm. And his friend back there? I’m fairly sure that he’s a ‘take hostages now, ask questions later’ kind of guy.” Gar pauses and you stumble into his broad back while he glances between the staircase and the waiting elevator.

“I, okay,” you say, because it’s.. It’s a reasonable decision, even if you don’t like it. “Uh, hi, Garrick, I hear that Faeries are real things?”

He spares you a bright smile, and another flood of relief rolls through you. Faeries or not, Merrick and Gar are still themselves. Things are confusing as hell, but you can hold onto that much.

“Also, we’ve left behind my shoes, and while I am all about keeping you and Merrick out of the crossfire—I can’t exactly run around town barefoot.”

Gar’s smile wilts and he pulls you into the elevator, jabbing impatiently at the close door button. “Shoes, got it. We can make a pitstop. I’ve got to find a car somewhere anyway.”

“...A car?”

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #male faerie x reader #fae boyfriend #d.darling writes

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yetremains · 3 years ago

Note

♡ + both blurred lines & fire-threaded please =DD

SEND ME ♡ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

This will be long So I am putting it under a read more! You get both as you wished~

BLURRED LINES

Who is the most affectionate? They are both affectionate when given the chance, and I can see this switching between who is more so depending on the situation. But there is no denying that Yang and Hanzo will take the chances they can to give little ghosts of touches or kisses through out the day.

Who initiates the handholding? Yang more than likely would most times, reach over and thread her fingers with Hanzo's. But on the flip side he would be the one to pull her in closer and enjoy her warmth and feeling her pulse beat.

Who worries more for the other? While Yang will always worry about Commander Hanzo, knowing what he has gone through, she wants nothing more than to help him be safe and feel content, it is most likely Hanzo that worries the hardest. He has already lost far too much, and will not loose another. Soldiers for war or not, he's going to worry and hate circumstance.

Who is more likely to ask for help? Being still eager and gungho, yet wise enough to recognize when she is in need, Yang can definitely ask for help more often than Hanzo. He is quite stubborn, and she has learned to recognize through body language, his shifts in gaze, and the small tells to inform her when he needs help and support.

Who is the one always losing the keys? Both of them wouldn't be loosing much of anything. Being hard trained as they both are and always aware of their important items, loosing keys is a very low likely hood on either side.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? Hanzo no doubt starts it. I feel this would turn into exchanging love notes back and forth here and there. But in the end, Yang might write more little notes. While Hanzo would respond verbally in kind or with his actions

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? Sleep isn't easy for either of them and no doubt wouldn't sleep well without one or the other there. When being able to be together, it's so much easier to sleep peacefully, because waking up with nightmares means there is an immediate hold of warm arms and comfort waiting, safety.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Being in a very unknown state of danger since they are Special Forces, it might not entirely come up as a priority thought. But seeing as Yang was engaged before, and Hanzo actually married, they might both end up talking about it some day down the line.

Who introduced the other to their family first? HAH, WHAT FAMILY? If you count close friends and other protectors, then I feel this has been Hanzo, considering the joint training with Lin Kuei and Kuai Liang.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? I'm going to say Yang, since she has already helped Hanzo with his before and does quite enjoy playing with his hair more often. This is just a fact, Yang likes running her fingers through her partners hair.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? Please take better care of yourself Hanzo, Yang is going to worry more, staying up late is bad enough. While Hanzo cooks special meals for the others, Yang would make sure to always check and double check that he is at least hydrated.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? Oh the both of them. Nothing is going to get in their way of the other if one is in peril, two very feral fighters that go the extra mile above and beyond what should be deemed sane. But in the end, Hanzo would probably take far more steps to ensure this.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? Considering both of their personalities, there would no doubt be surprised from either for one another. Both extremely heart felt and carefully thought out.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? While Yang has been through a lot already and lost much, there is still that bright eyed hope and eagerness. Which can sometimes become her having Hanzo pinky promise to take more careful choices when on a mission to protect their world. On the turn around, it would be Hanzo to make Yang promise not to take unnecessary risks.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? Taking into account how the two of them can not sleep very well alone, this would be rare. But in the end, on the rare blue moon, I can see that it would be Hanzo to potentially fall asleep on the couch being a workaholic, and Yang putting the blanket over him. Followed by sitting next to the couch to lean against it and nap too. Hanzo waking to see her curled up next too him peacefully.

FIRE-THREADED

Who is the most affectionate? Once the love is known and accepted as it is now, there was gently touches, desperate holds and embraces, lots of soft kisses that can easily turn passionate. The affectionate damages hearts need an outlet and have found a hearth in each other. There is no 'most' here, just need and more. And when cuddling, it is very tight holds and Scorpion will bury his head into Yang's neck, while hers in his shoulder, height difference.

Who initiates the handholding? If it is not a hug or embrace, then holding hands is the next wanted thing. Yang would probably reach over more often to entwine their fingers, but Hanzo would be the one with the tighter hold and to keep the hands close too him.

Who worries more for the other? There is no more, there is only Worry and Concern, because the two of them are absolutely risk taking fools that do not know the meaning of back down. However, seeing as Hanzo is at an advantage of surviving seeing as he is an undead of a sort, his worry would burn far more for Yang who is very mortal, despite not aging at all.

Who is more likely to ask for help? In this particular verse, it would be very tense when one or the other asks for help. And when it comes down too it, both of them would be reaching for each other when finally cracking to ask. Yet again here, with how empathetic Yang can be and her understanding, she can see when Scorpion/Hanzo needs something, and will always ask what she can do for him. On the flip side, Yang tries to keep it together so hard to be his support and pillar- but when shaken he can tell fairly quickly when she needs him. And will ask for help when approached, even if just for an embrace.

Who is the one always losing the keys? More than likely Scorpion, since Yang would have many keys too different locations all over. Since she has quite a bit of sway. Then again, when the hell does he need keys when he can teleport directly? This is partially just to see Yang's expression when spooked, as well as exasperated.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? Hanzo without a doubt hands down. But eventually Yang would start composing small lyrical poems or short songs to write back in return for those love notes.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? With absolutely terrible sleeping habits they both have, and Hanzo/Scorpion being as he is, it's him that sleeps less. While Yang does go for long periods with maybe a small nap, she manages a more peaceful sleep for longer with he's present. Yet still he doesn't sleep as normally as her, staying up to watch her sleep sometimes.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? When I think about it and how they both can be, perhaps one day this may happen down the line. It's far too soon just yet. But between the two of them it would most likely be him to do so. Engaged or no, Yang is the type to play everything very close too her chest in personal matters, and over think for ages. Often locking herself in a mental loop.

Who introduced the other to their family first? I think that between the many people both of them have met, it is a mutual introduction too the friends found family, and in Scorpion's case, his actual family and descendants. Just happening as they forge their relationship closer and continue to strive to better not just the world but them selves.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? This is possibly a flip of the coin that changes, who does this more. Sometimes it is Yang who plays with Scorpion's hair, or it is him that strokes his fingers through hers.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? As much as the cooking is an enjoyment from Yang, considering she is mortal and has a higher than normal metabolism, I feel Scorpion would be the one making sure most often. But Yang will continue to go out of her way to cook meals and tea from his ancient era, just for him.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? So not sure if you know this but there is a thing called 'self control' and another called 'feral'. If one or the other is in danger or needs help, then the feral switch is turned all the way up with the knob broken off. Hanzo will take the more dangerous route every time without a doubt, as incredibly protective as he is, but Yang does not have a bitch pedal either if she has to throw down.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? SCORPION. While gifts left out for him or offered freely are common, the true surprise happens when he just suddenly warps in and appears from no where while Yang is relaxing or doing something quietly. Even reading, or reviewing maps and notes. He will surprise her by just appearing and making her jump three feet in the air and yelp with a shriek. There goes the pencil across the room.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Both of them do more than likely, in their own ways. Having come across horrifying events of loved ones and knowing that each other will walk headlong into the worst of dangers. Promise not to leave the other alone in the end.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? While the sleeping habits are complete garbage, it can not be helped that more likely it is Yang that falls asleep on the couch even if she tries to maintain awakeness. So it'd be Scorpion/Hanzo to put the blanket over her and make sure she stays warm.

#sasorikigai #-Brothers In Arms || kathexismania #Refulgent Flames of Conviction || sasorikigai #-Hope burns bright || Younger years #-Another Era Of War || MK2021 Verse #BLURRED LINES || Hanzo x Yang #FIRE-THREADED || Scorpion x Yang MK2021 #(( throws this down ))#(( WHOOF ))#(( I hope you approve of all this ))#(( some of these things havent even happened yet but ))#(( ENJOY THIS SOFT ))

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greencharisard · 4 years ago

Text

I promise I'm still working on that pokemon project, but it's a pokemon-trainer set of 6 of a 'mon that's very detailed so it's taking a lot of time, and I ended up artblocked.

The first pick was the first thing I did after almost a week of not drawing, what happened is roughly this:

- Was still working on-and-off on the pokemon pic set, and a new TLK one.

- Re-downloaded Steam for some reason I can't remember.

- Found out Spore is in there with all three packs and on sale (base game+creepy & cute+ galactic adventures)

- caved and bought it cuz it's been years and I wanted the third pack and a convinient way to access it that wasn't a 10+ y/o disc/code I've used a million times on 5 or 6 PCs.

- Played it for 3 days or so, including a day were I completely messed up my PC by tampering with the core folders (went back to normal now THANK GOD) and played switch games for that day.

- Spent another half day after fixing my PC making an EA account to have a proper acc on Spore itself (had to go forum digging, it's a mess). Then played Spore more.

- In all of this watched one HK meme video and stated getting a bajillion of them in my YT recommendeds.

- Played a bunch of switch games for a day trying to stay away from Spore and start drawing (failed).

- Decided to start playing HK again at piss off o'clock in the evening. Still couldn't get past Hornet in Greenpath.

- Next morning finally beat boss 2 and open up a MASSIVE CHUNK OF THE GAME.

- spend the next 2 or so days playing that, including most of today.

So yeah, I fried my brain, in an attempt at grudging trough the art block I tried making an OC, then also tried making self-inserts because Hollow Knight has been my lifesource for the past few week or so, while Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss have been one of my latest obsessions for months, so it only felt fitting to morph my crittersona to fit in those universes.

- First I wanted to draw him as an imp, technically I already drew him as a demon/sinner, so a creature native to hell seemed like the next best AU choice. I didn't think much about what he would do, I just focused on the design part itself, and even then as you can see I had quite a few ideas I tried out on the side. One of the main reasons that made me think he'd fit as an imp is that in an earlier design he had that I never posted the tip of his tail was arrow shaped instead of being just a tuft like now (I should draw that impish form again sometime, he was basically like now but not a noodle). For the clothes I kinda used stuff I own irl as inspo, while thinking "what would fit the HH/HB style?" so I used a sleeveless hoodie, a black shirt (I have a lot of those, I just made one with a generic skull pattern here), and the only pair of jeans I own that I can actually stand to wear... escept by the time I remembered I wanted to draw those I had already drawn cargo pants on him out of habit, so I just colored them like jeans instead... I would probably love pants like these lmao. Oh and chains linked to the belt loops, I actually have those too, they're made form crafstore legit normal chains, not ones made to be actually worn like this. Listen I got them in high school I was an edgy basard and I didn't know where to get stuff like that so I just asked dad to get some like this instead ok. I have a pair of normal steel and a pair of black ones, here he's wearing the latter.

- The other idea was to turn him into a HK bug, more specifically, a mosskin tribe member from greenpath, cuz it's my favorite stage of the game with how pretty it is (listen the artwork of that game is goreous ok). He would probably be a bit of a loner/outcast, always hiding with his leaf/bush cape; the lighter fuzz is part of his body. I imagine he'd be a side character you have to go out of your way to meet and interact with, and depending on how you do so his outcome in the story may vary: one option is that he just stays like normal if you befriend him, the second is he succumbs to the infaction and he ends up being a secret boss an you have to kill him, a third however is maybe he does get infected, but if you do some sort of side quest before defeating him you can cure/save him still(?) Idk. His boss/infected form is partially inspired by aspids (because they're some of the most annoying enemies and I think that fits him/me well enough :') ), he probably attacks from a distance with a combo of spitting at you directly from the ceiling and throwing bubbles of infection around the stage by swinging his tail; maybe even releasing bursts of orange gas like some other enemies when you hit him (in later pahses). And yes, the name is a pun; I noticed the characters in this game either have descriptive names/adjectives, or normal names so I went with a combo of the two.

art and characters by me, do not copy, trace, repost, reuse ecc without my permission please.

#hollow knight #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #self insert #fan character #fan art #my art #my ocs #my sona #videogame #cartoon

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nam-nam-joon · 5 years ago

Text

by the sea

Pairing: jeon heejin/reader; kim seokjin/reader

Genre: inspired by this post by @kurara-black-blog ; selkie! AU

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: someone opens a door in only underwear (partial nudity); implied consumption of alcohol (this does start in a bar)

Summary: the night is dark and the tiny town by the sea storm-swept when you make your way into the local bar; to meet Heejin and catch up. who could've guessed a chance encounter could extend your horizon far beyond what you thought was normal - real?

Thunder clapped overhead as you shut the pub’s door behind you.

It wasn’t the first summer storm that raged high above the little town by the sea, but it was among the more vicious ones, and you were glad to even have found the bar in this downpour.

The coat rack by the door was overflowing with oilgear in all shades of black, grey and yellow; depending on the age of the garment. In the dim orange light they mostly looked the same anyways.

Not wanting to lug the drenched coat around with yourself you dove between the jackets, arm outstretched to feel if there was a hook under the mountain of cloth that could still hold one more – your knuckles brushed surfaces both smooth and rough, canvas and wax, and then, fur.

It was very soft but came so unexpected you froze, until you remembered someone probably left their heirloom mink or something. The hook next to it wasn’t blocked yet, and with great difficulty, you managed to wedge the loop of your coat over it. The fur brushed your hand again, and then the previously unseen garment landed in a soft heap in front of the worn Blundstone’s on your feet.

It wasn’t mink, as you’d thought, and it didn’t look like your run of the mill fur coat either. It was a vest with applications of some sort; The fur only on the inside for insulating purposes, probably. What it was doing here in the middle of summer was beyond you; you hadn’t seen anyone wear anything heavy like this the days you’d spent here over the summer. The chance to dwell on the matter longer was taken from you when-

“Hi.”

You turned, vest still in hands. You couldn’t make out much of the stranger, but he was very tall and had wet eyes.

“Hi!” You spoke back, over the backdrop of the noisy bar. “Sorry – Is this yours?” You held the vest up. A glass smashed and cheers erupted somewhere deeper into the room, and the stranger twitched, shoulders sagging down.

“Um, ye-“

“I’m so sorry I dropped it!” You had to shout now, as claps and more cheers arose. “I hope it’s not dirty!”

And you brushed it off half-heartedly and held it out to the other.

Around the stranger’s side you could spot Heejin close enough to the bar that the many many candles burning on it illuminated her face.

“Alright, sorry, got to go. Sorry about dropping it, again!” You patted the stranger’s lower arm, smiled up at the wide eyes and made a beeline for the small table Heejin was sitting at.

“Heyy!” She greeted you, lifting her bottle and looking visibly relieved. “Thought you’d drowned in the storm! What took you so long?”

“Haha!” You huffed, not really angry. “The streets are swimming, I had to make sure I didn’t accidentally walk off a cliff!” That seemed to settle her, and she took a swig of her drink.

The air inside the bar was warm and filled with noise by the people inside it – likely most of the tiny town’s residents. It would’ve been stuffy, too, if it weren’t for the windows that were all propped open the smallest bit to let the breeze smelling like sweet rain and salty sea be blown in.

“What’s with the candles?”

Heejin leaned in close to hear you before nodding.

“Power went out. They really need to fix the lines and the generator, this is the second time it’s happening during storm. The salt gets to the lines, you know.”

You nodded and caught the eye of the bartender. She nodded and, pleased with your work, you settled back into the crummy chair.

Around three the storm calmed down, and it was around that time you and Heejin decided to head home, too. Leaving before the barkeeper kicked you out was always a good thing and meant you knew your limits which automatically put you on the good list of any respectable bartender, and besides, it wasn’t like Heejin and you didn’t have something to go home to.

Dawn was far beyond the horizon, especially with those thick clouds still covering the sky. Not even gulls were awake yet as you and Heejin walked with your arms around the other’s back, breathing in the fresh scent of the town scrubbed clean.

“You should come by more often.” She sighed, putting her head on your shoulder. You smiled.

“I would, but I do have a degree to finish and some kind of job that’s waiting for me out in the world. But I promise I’ll always come back to you.”

She huffed, seemingly not entirely satisfied.

“Hey, I’m spending every second weekend of summer here, do you know how many hours that are on public transport? Not to speak of-“

“Alright, alright!” She laughed, touching her free hand to your shoulder, grinning. “I rest my case, don’t worry. It’d just be nice to have you around more. Even more.”

You shook your head and fished out the key from the bottom of your shorts’ pocket as you approached the salt and sun bleached wooden gate leading into the weathered garden surrounding Heejin’s house.

It was small, had been Heejin’s Grandmother’s before the old woman had passed away unexpectedly years ago. Unsure of her future in the city, with her family placing the weight of responsibility for the business on her older brother’s shoulders, Heejin had leapt at the chance to escape it all and settle for slow life on the border of the ocean.

You’d asked her, during one of your many visits, lounging on a sundeck chair in the garden that couldn’t have won many prizes for its beauty if it’d tried. You’d asked her, if she regretted it – dropping out of Uni, coming here.

Putting a screeching halt on the modern life of decadence and decent luxury she’d had in the city.

“It’s scary, a bit.” Heejin had said, swirling the virgin tequila sunrise in her glass – an old mason jar. “Everything’s so different, you know? But I like it. I feel like I can do good here.”

And that had been enough for her, and by extension, for you.

What had been her Grandmother’s study slash miniscule library had turned into a sort-of guest room with a bed and some other necessities. It couldn’t really be called a guest room, as it was only you who ever slept there, and you and Heejin had a queerplatonic relationship going on and to call yourself a ‘guest’ under those circumstances didn’t fit very well.

“Where’d you leave my toothbrush!” She yelled from the bath while you were still busy hanging her and your own coat properly so all the dampness would be gone in the morning.

“I don’t know, I didn’t touch it!” You shouted back, hopping on one foot after pulling your shoes off with your feet and almost losing your balance. The underside of your sock stuck to your sole after you stepped in a puddle of water and you caught yourself on the door frame to the bath, face showing the sheer disgust you were experiencing right now as you briefly caught your reflection in the mirror.

Heejin, having found her toothbrush and already scrubbing away, couldn’t contain a laugh at your misery and sprayed your face and shirt with a fine mist of white bubbles.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, sidling up to her and wiping at the spots visible in the mirror.

“Sorry.” She said around her brush. “What happened?”

“Stepped into... fucking water, is what happened.” Putting your own brush into your mouth, you sat back on the closed lid of the toilet and tugged at the wet sock until it came off and you could wriggle your toes in the air.

Heejin laughed again, and you could still hear her giggling as you laid down on the comfortable bed, surrounded by the smell of books and faintly, the sea.

“Shut up woman!” You shouted, grinning yourself. She cackled loudly but still wished you a good night, which you gladly returned.

The sun wasn’t out when you woke, but that might’ve been because of the clouds still hanging around. Or maybe Heejin had drawn the blinds yesterday and not told you; but either way, when she touched her hand to your shoulder and said she’d go see what the bakery had that’d make a good breakfast, you only hummed in agreement.

She pressed a loving kiss to your temple and you had made the effort of squeezing her hand, and then she’d left again.

You had half the mind of asking her if she had taken her keys but by the time the thought process had reached the point in your brain responsible for signalling your mouth to talk, the front door had shut and all attempts had been voided.

Whatever.

You really weren’t used to such long nights anymore, you thought to yourself, and sighed and rolled onto the other side, tugging the blanket around you a little tighter.

How great it was it was Saturday, and you didn’t have to be anywhere but here.

It felt like five minutes later, at most, when you were roused from sleep again.

You lifted your head.

The house was silent.

What?

Then came knocking on the front door, and not the gentle knuckles on wood kind most everyone did here, but the loud one from the old fashioned metal knocker, almost eaten by the rust.

Grumbling, you sat up.

Did Heejin think this was funny? Knocking this loudly? Did she really think you were sleeping so deeply!

Not bothering with any more than what you were already wearing – underwear – you haphazardly made your way down the crooked stairs, eyes not even fully open when you reached the door.

The knocking came again, loud, so loud, pounding in your ears that were filled with the sound of rushing blood and-

“Heejin I swear to the good lord, wh-“

Where Heejin’s head would have been was someone’s chest.

Blinking against the brilliant white of the even clouds, you lifted your eyes.

“Ha- Hello.” Soft cheeks and windswept hair, and dark eyes that looked at you far too intently for such an early hour. Was it? Still early?

He bit on his lips and had his shoulders squared, but only when you took note of the soft leather and the stitching on it did you make the connection.

“Oh! Oh, my god! The fur vest! It’s you! Hi.” A breeze curled into the small hallway, and the last of the bed’s warmth stripped from your skin. Shivering, you felt a bit indecent. Almost exposed, as it was – still the guy’s eyes did not waver or drop from your face, which was a stellar behaviour.

“Can I help you? Did I get dirt on your vest, I’m really sorry-“

He smiled, releasing his full lips for the first time, and softly shook his head, effectively shutting you up. He’d reached out with his hands, as if to gesticulate, but settled on clasping his wrists.

“No, it’s nothing like- Please, can I come in?”

“Uh- This is my friend’s house, so I don’t-“

“It really is urgent.”

Something about the way he talked seemed a bit off. You stared at the flat stone acting as the doorstep for a moment.

“I’m sorry, who were you again?”

His lips widened into a full smile – still somewhat shy, though. He puffed his chest a little.

“Kim Seokjin. If it helps, I’m friends with Heejin?”

It was like he tried to sound the most proper way he could, like he was putting special emphasis on pronouncing every syllable correctly.

You were too tired for any of this. Had Heejin ever mentioned him?

“Um... Sure, just- Here, head down through the door into the living room, I’ll grab... some clothes and- be there in a minute, alright?”

You opened the door wider to allow him in, and he leaned down to quickly hug and press a short kiss to your cheek before continuing to where you’d pointed him.

You stood stock-still, the door handle still in your palm, utterly confused.

What had happened?

Head still void of thoughts you took the stairs two steps at a time, dove into Heejin’s room, grabbed one of her spare blankets from where she kept them folded over the old box by her bed, and then hastened back down, silently wishing for her to come back soon.

Wrapped in the soft knitted sheet, you stopped to breathe deeply, and collect yourself a little. Everything would be fine. Of course it would.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Kim Seokjin turned away from the small shelve with Heejin’s favourite books and little keepsakes, looking a little like you’d caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Your gaze zeroed in on the framed picture of you and Heejin, a candid a friend of yours had snapped of you sitting on campus. He tried to push it back in its place and you looked up into his eyes again.

“Wh-what,” He weakly asked, ears a fierce red.

“Would you... like tea? Coffee? A glass of water?”

“I’m, I’m fine thank you.”

You left the door, came towards the couch.

“Actually, just a glass of water would be lovely, if... you don’t... mind?”

His voice got quieter towards the end, but you managed a smile and soon returned with two glasses, a water carafe and a bottle of orange juice on a small tray.

“If you’re looking for Heejin, she’ll be back soon.” You lowered yourself on the couch, and Kim Seokjin did the same in the small armchair across. Folded into it, he looked even larger than in the pub yesterday night. He nodded, and then he shook his head, opened his mouth but didn’t bring any words out.

He downed almost half of his water, and then his fingers wouldn’t let go of the glass. After seeing his knuckles turn pale, you swallowed the juice in your mouth and decided to try again.

“So... What’re you here for, again?”

That seemed to sober him up. He leaned forward and put the glass on the table, and then sat at the edge of his seat, with his palms pressed between his knees.

“So, you see,” He began, his eyes flickering from here to there until they finally landed on you and stayed on you. It seemed like his body let out a huge sigh. “I figured-“ He reached into his pants’ pocket and produced something small he hid in his hand. “This is for you.” And held it out to you.

You didn’t move, staring between his hand and his face.

“What?”

He came around the couch table, nervously sitting closer to you, and you let him take one of your hands off the glass and put a small bag of rough fabric in your palm.

A small, shimmering pearl came tumbling out of the pouch. Understanding less and less, you furrowed your eyebrows at the visitor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a ring just yet- Everything went so fast and the shops aren’t open that early, so I figured- I mean, after all, it would only be proper for us to get married by human standards as well, so please accept this as my wedding gift, until I can give you the ring later.”

You stared into those big, brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, I think you’re confusing me with someone else.” You put the pearl back into its pouch and wound the string around the end to keep it securely inside, but when you tried to hand it back, he wouldn’t have it.

“No, no it’s yours, you can’t give it back! –That wouldn’t be proper.”

“Okay? Okay.” You put the satchel down next to your glass and rubbed your hands over your face. Heejin would be back any second, and she’d surely help you get this lunatic out. She’d be back any minute. “Okay, first of all... We’re not getting married, I have no idea who you are, and? What...”

He smiled, wider than seemed acceptable at the moment. Giggled, even.

“Oh, you don’t want the ceremony? That’s okay, more time for us, then. There’s so much I want to know about you, and you have to simply tell me everything! Le-“

“He-Hey hold on, wait, a minute? Ceremony? What? What are you talking about?”

“You gave me my pelt back, I figured you’d want the proper human ceremony, to make it official on your side, too.”

“You... are human too, you know that, right.”

This time he really laughed, once, dropping his head. When he looked up again his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Oh, funny, you’re funny, I like that. We’ll do well together, I’m sure of it.”

“You-“ He’d inched closer on the couch, and you stood up to bring some distance between you. “We are not getting married, I have no idea who the hell you are, and please, leave now. I’m not even sure Heejin really knows you, she never mentioned you and as crazy as you sound, that’s a huge thing. So, please, if you could just-“

All humour dropped off his face, but it didn’t turn bitter or blank either.

“O-oh, you... You want me to leave you alone so soon, ah... Okay, well.”

He rose, and though he towered above you, looked very small. It appealed to a thin sliver of you, those heartfelt, sad eyes and the hunched over posture, but you fought it down, unwilling to cut this maniac some slack.

“Hurry up, would you?” You huffed as his steps towards the front door came almost in slow-motion.

By the coat rack he turned to look back over his shoulder, bottom lip sucked into his mouth again, the corners turned down.

You looked away as you noticed a tear roll over his cheek. What the hell was going on?

“I suppose...” He faltered in front of the jackets, running his palms over his vest and grabbing its edges. His voice had lost all of the cheery brightness from before, was now solemn and downtrodden. “I suppose you’ll want to keep this, then.”

And he began to shrug out of it, until you stepped closer, put a hand to his arm, looked up at him through bewilderment.

“Why would I want that? It’s your vest, why would I-?”

He froze mid-taking it off, sniffled and blinked and by now there were thin trails of wetness running down his cheeks, and his ears were still red and his nose began to colour too and even though you’d never really met him before yesterday he still looked so lost and sad that it tugged on your heart.

“Listen-“ You began, at the same time he was starting to say “You-“, and both of you were interrupted when the front door opened and Heejin stood there, panting, with a paper bag in her hand and a rolled up newspaper under her arm. Her hair curled a little and with the thrown open door the wind came blowing in, carrying a few drops of rain inside before she shut the opening. Obviously having run from the rain, she pushed her hair back, the elated smile on her face twisting into confusion as she took in the two of you.

“Seokjinnie, I didn’t know you wanted to stop by-”

Her eyes landed on your hand on his arm, her eyebrows lifted. The smile returned to her face. “Oh, you two know each other?! _______, why didn’t you say anything, ever, we could’ve-“

“They don’t.” Kim Seokjin said, his voice coated. The smile trickled off Heejin’s face again. A bit embarrassed you took your hand back, and he pulled his vest back on all the way. “Heejin, if you could-“

Her eyes left him for you, and you tried to convey just how helpless and confused you felt. Something settled on her face, and she nodded, but it hadn’t been directed at you.

“Do you want to stay?” She asked, directed at the tall male. He cleared his throat.

“I guess that’s easier.”

“Come on then, both of you. Time to sit down.”

She pushed between you and tugged you forward, with Kim Seokjin trailing after you.

Since the couch wasn’t that big that it could’ve comfortably housed all three of you, Heejin took one for the team and sat on the couch table between you, looking as serious as she could. It was a little unsettling.

“What’s going on.”

Kim Seokjin took a breath, got choked up, and broke off. Seeing him struggle and desperate to get this off your chest and Heejin on your side, you jumped at the opportunity to explain yourself.

“He showed up here this morning, saying stuff about a marriage and ceremonies and he kissed my cheek? I’ve never met him before but he said you were his friend? You never mentioned him? Or am I losing my marbles here? I mean I never met him before yesterday night, at the bar, but-“

“I was about to head home,” He said, voice laced with tears and his fingers interlocked in his lap. “I was about to go, and then they- My pelt fell off the rack, and they-“ He swallowed and looked at you, causing Heejin to turn her head, too. At the centre of attention, you focused on your own knuckles.

“And they gave me back my pelt. No questions asked. Just like that.” He whispered the last sentence, and you forcefully relaxed your feet. Wouldn’t bring anyone any good to get a cramp now.

Heejin sighed, but it didn’t sound condescending.

“I understand.” She stated. You looked back to her.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“Great! Then can you please explain him-“

“_______, Seokjin is a selkie. Do you know what that means?”

You blinked. “The... The Seal Spirits? But they’re...” Your gaze found his, and the words ‘not real’ died in your throat. You closed your mouth and swallowed.

The silver fur on his vest suddenly seemed a lot brighter than before.

“But...” You tried again, mind blanking at what to do next.

“To give a selkie their coat back means as good as marrying them, in their tradition. That’s why he came here this morning, to make it ‘official’ from your side, too. Did you accept his gift?”

“I didn’t-“

Seokjin nodded silently, pointed at the little pouch still next to your glass with juice.

“They don’t want me.” He said then, voice wobbling and tears collecting under his chin. “I w-waited so long and now-“

“Can you give us a minute? I’ll come see you upstairs, okay?”

Thoughts flurrying, all you could do was nod. “-Sure. Yeah, I’ll... I’ll wait, yeah. Okay.”

And you collected the blanket around you and left for the stairs.

Seokjin’s pressed sob was the last thing you heard before closing the door and climbing the stairs.

By the time Heejin softly knocked on your door you had freshened up, got dressed and combed your hair. She closed the door behind herself and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wood.

“Can you please help me because I am... Extremely lost right now.” You confessed, sat on the wooden, revolving chair in front of the old, creaky bureau.

Heejin sighed again, and now she did sound tired.

“Yeah. You got yourself in quite the pickle this time, not going to lie...”

You stayed silent, hoping she might elaborate. After another intake of air, she did.

“So, dear Seokjinnie is a selkie, and you happened to give him back his coat, and without conditions, too, so yesterday, when you did, it was like... Like a dream come true for him. You gave him his pelt back without any demands, basically saying ‘I’ll take you as you are and we are one now’, and Jin, not knowing you had no idea, came to see how you would proceed, and now we’re here.”

“But I didn’t- If I’d known he’d think that I wouldn’t have given him his coat! I mean hand it to him. Gosh, what- And now? What now? Can’t he understand this was a mistake? A, a, an accident? –Does he think I own him now?” Panic seeped into your words, and Heejin was quick to shake her head and reach out her hands placatingly.

“No, no no, they have their traditions but they’re aware that people don’t-“ She sighed again. “No, I explained to him you had no idea what he was and what that action might cause, and he understands that, it’s just... He’s a huge romantic, you know? Has always spouted about how when he finds someone that’ll be it, he’ll be that person’s, faithful to one and only one, ever. And all the soulmate stuff and fated one and all that in the books didn’t do much good, with how Selkie’s treat their history and- Can you... Follow me? Where I’m going with this?”

“I think... Maybe? I think I can, yeah... Can’t I just- Break off this marriage? Or... engagement? Whatever that is between us?”

“Technically yes, as you already ‘gave him back’ his pelt and he is as such free to go, but... This is very complicated. If you’d be okay with it, we could go downstairs and sit in the living room and talk while Seokjin is there? He’ll know better answers to all of the specific questions, I promise.”

Still feeling a little light-headed, you nodded. Before Heejin could open the door, you held her back.

“How long have you known? That he’s selkie? That they... exist?”

She pulled back from the door, covered your hand.

“I came to know after my Grandma’s funeral. She was somewhat of a... A warden or, a keeper of peace between the merfolk and the town. A bit like a mediator, because there’s a lot of Selkie’s living amongst humans these days, and all that. Seokjin was among the small group that approached me, to ask if I knew anything of my Grandma’s heritage or if I’d follow her footsteps.”

“So that’s the whole ‘doing good here’ was about.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more, I really am-“

You shook your head, squeezed her hands.

“No, don’t apologize. You kept their secret, that’s- That’s important. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Thank you for understanding.” She smiled at you, and you dared to smile back.

Kim Seokjin was a heap on the couch when you came back in the room.

The skin around his eyes and nose was red and a bit puffy, but the tears had dried and he blinked against letting any more escape.

Even though you understood who he was a little better now, it still felt weird to think of him as your husband when you took your seat next to him once more.

It was too soon for any of that.

Heejin resumed her position on the couch table – fully embracing her role as mediator, evidently – and looked from him to you.

You turned to the Selkie, fully turning your torso so you really did face him.

“I’d like to apologize. I had no idea about any of this, and- I’m sorry for doing this to you. All of... This.”

He swallowed and nodded slowly.

“I know- I know basically nothing about Selkies other than the thing with their coat; when you hide it, they can’t go back to the ocean, and so on. But I don’t- I’d never do that. And I will never do that. And I, I was wondering, if there was- Any way of... not doing this? Marrying and all of that, I mean.” He blinked, and Heejin shifted, and hastily you continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re really pretty-“ He turned his eyes away and dropped his head a little, as if ashamed. “-and I’m sure you’re a really sweet guy, but I barely know you and wouldn’t it be better for you to marry out of love and not because... Because some dumb person accidentally proposed to you in a manner they didn’t even know about?”

“But it happened.” He said, voice small. “You did, if you meant to or not, and if you want to, you can have me. I’m ready to live with you. Unless... Unless you don’t-“

Heejin reached out and rubbed his knee comfortingly, and he collected himself.

“Unless you reject me, and tell me to go back to the sea. I would do that for you, too, live as a seal again. But, if I may, I would-“ He held eye-contact with Heejin, even though his head was turned towards you. “I would like for us to give this a try, before y- we, break apart.”

It seemed like he’d practiced saying it, for when he finished and his eyes glanced at you, his shoulders sagged down a little.

You leaned forward.

“This is all a lot.” You stared between Heejin’s socked feet. “Like, a lot. Can I- May I think about this? About... you, and me? Just-“ Your eyes found the clock on the old piano, focused on the pointers. “Until six pm? Give me time to think this over until then?”

You caught Heejin giving him an understanding, but still questioning look, thumb still rubbing over his knee.

He looked from her to you.

“Yes,” He agreed, swallowing bravely. “Okay. Six pm.”

Heejin invited the Selkie for breakfast, as she’d bought way too much, and even though you’d been reluctant to agree at first, it turned out to be nice.

He’d taken a glass of homemade marmalade that Heejin’s Gran had made, weighted it in his hand and Heejin, apparently knowing what was coming, had been barely able to contain her giggles before Seokjin had said “This is my jam!”. It had eased the way into chatting with him, about his visits to town, his friendship with Heejin, among other things.

He was funny, you had to admit that, and could also eat a lot. After munching through three rolls with various toppings he finally leaned back, satisfied at last.

Even though food coma must’ve been upon him, he helped in clearing off the table and putting everything back in the fridge, wiped the surface and then even stuck around long enough to help with the dishes.

The sun finally broke through the clouds as the hour neared two, and Heejin packed a bag for the beach.

It was warm again, summer having come back in full force after the cool down of the storm last night.

Clouds gathered over the horizon, far out over the water, but the sky spanning above you was clear and blue.

Baking in the sunlight and listening to the waves and the gulls crying out it was almost easy to forget the decision you had to make by the time the early evening came.

Seokjin had excused himself for now, going about his own business, and so you were left alone with Heejin and your thoughts.

“You really don’t have to do it, you know.”

You cracked an eye open and saw her lying next to you on her stomach, open book in the sand. It was a new softcover, otherwise her Grandmother would’ve likely been turning in her grave.

You sighed. “I know this is probably weird but-“

She glared at you. You hurried to backpedal.

“I mean, I guess in the big picture it’s not that weird, but I kind of... He really is cute, isn’t he?”

That got her laughing.

“He is. And he can dance, and sing, and loves to cook, and it’s a miracle nobody from this tiny village has dated him yet.”

The waves were light blue where they rolled on the shore.

“This affects you, too, though. I mean, I was with you first, doesn’t this- Isn’t this like marrying your side hoe? Or something?”

She laughed again and closed her book to turn her sun warmed face to you.

“I mean technically, yes, but under these circumstances I’d be willing to let you have your side hoe. We could still see each other? And...” She trailed off, squinting over the water.

“What?”

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Forget it.” A small smile played around her lips.

“What.” You poked her arm.

“I was just thinking-“ She slapped your fingers away. “-Hypothetically, if you do accept him, and you go off to have your thing, it would be nice if you moved in with him. Like a shared house. Preferably somewhere by the ocean, like... here.”

Her smile simmered down, and she looked at you again. “It would be nice to have you around again, you know?”

It wasn’t the first time she said that, and it wasn’t the first time you toyed with the thought what moving here permanently might be like.

“But if I move here I won’t be able to attend my lectures. And I really want that degree, I worked so long for it-“

“You could always do online classes.” Heejin dragged a finger through the soft sand, sneaking glances at you.

“Half the houses here don’t even have WiFi, and the internet café would cost a fortune if I stay holed up here for eight hours a day.” You shot back. Heejin pouted, still drawing swirls into the sand. You’d had this argument before.

“There’s new houses being built uphill, they have WiFi there. Or will have, when they’re done.”

That was new.

“Those would be too high of a price range for me.” Both of you had lost your playful snark. Before she could answer to that you shook your head, huffing.

“Look at us, debating on where I should stay with the strange Selkie I’m married to. Life is crazy.”

“So you will?” Nothing on her face let you know if she really did sound hopeful of if that was just your imagination.

You sighed.

“Honestly... I mean, I can try. We’ll see about the whole married-in-human-terms, but for now... He can’t be so bad. Is he?”

She shook her head so hard you got dizzy just by watching.

“He is not.” She confirmed.

You shrugged and rolled on your back, blinking against the bright sun.

“I guess, I could try. If he’s as nice to be around like at breakfast, and like you said... It feels a bit like cheating though, you know?” She looked at you, raised a brow with interest. “I mean, everyone else dates and breaks up and then there’s me, having been with you for the last years, and now suddenly I have a husband.” You turned your tongue over after saying that, feeling all sorts of strange at using that word. “Husband. How that sounds, too.” You shook your head. “It seems so crazy.”

“You do!” Kim Seokjin echoed, after you’d repeated the words to him at shortly past six, with Heejin rumbling in the kitchen and preparing to cook an early dinner. “You really do? You want to try?”

“Yes.” You said, carefully reaching out across the gap between you two on the couch and covered his balled up hands with yours.

His eyes were swimming again when you shyly looked up into them.

“Can I,” He cleared his throat, never losing eye-contact. “Can I please hug you? Oh me, I’m so-“

You nodded, and he lurched forward, wrapped you up in his arms and then you were flush against his chest with your cheek against the soft skin of his pelt.

“-happy.” He finished, mumbling the words in your hair and tightening his hold.

And it felt nice.

You still had no idea who he really was, apart from all which you did know, but that was what the next weeks would be for, you supposed.

“So, you’ll stay.” Heejin said over a spoon full of broth. You nodded, with a lot more collected Kim Seokjin on the other side of the kitchen table.

“That’s good, ‘cause you see...” She blew on the broth and then dropped the spoon back down, erasing her progress. It didn’t seem to matter, her eyes were glistening and her hands clasped under her chin. “I kind of got my mother to invest in the houses being build uphill, and as such you can pick one for yourself! A branch of my family’s business will rent them out to whoever wants, but you’ll be able to live there as long as you want. For only a small rent, of course.”

You dropped your spoon.

“Heejin-“

She lifted a finger.

“I’m not saying I planned this, because I didn’t, but I had the hope that if I had a little more to offer than a creaky bed in my makeshift library, I might be able to persuade you to come out here more often, and maybe get you to stay longer, too. And now... Now it might work out, after all!”

Kim Seokjin’s eyes switched from your friend to you.

“I know you don’t live in town, but where do you usually live? The truckstop a few kilometres from here? Or on the other side of the forest?”

You looked from him to Heejin, and then back.

“Um, Kim Seokjin-“

“Seokjin. Or Jin. Or, anything, really, is fine.”

“Seokjin, I- live a little further than just the stop or the forest.”

“That’s okay.” He said quickly, stirring his soup in its bowl. “I haven’t really... I mean, I never really left town much. On the occasion of walking around.”

You nodded, and suddenly felt a bit bad again.

“_______ will be back second next week. They always visit every second weekend.”

“So long.” Seokjin mumbled, and you quietly reached out your hand to tap it to his.

“I’ll just- I’ll need time to sort things out a bit, and transfer all my stuff online, but- As soon as the house is finished, I’ll probably be able to come and live here.”

“Speaking of which,” Heejin clapped her hands and startled both of you. “We can go look at them if you want?”

“What, now?” Seokjin’s eyes were wide as he desperately looked down on his bowl.

“Maybe tomorrow.” She added, faced with his distress. “It’s Sunday anyways, so nobody will be around. It’s the perfect time!”

She was right concerning that.

The houses were sprinkled over a plateau halfway up the hill, visible from the town but not so that they had really caught your eye before.

There was one, furthest out from the gravel road that had been put down already, with its balcony positioned just right so you could see both sunrise and –set.

Only the walls and the stairs were built, and a roof, but the balcony was there already. Seokjin came out to where you were standing with your hands in the pockets of your shorts, well away from the handrail-lacking edge. You turned your head and observed him, how he let his eyes roam from the horizon to the town nestled about a half-hour walk down the hill.

Even before he focused on you and shyly reached out his hand, asking for you to hold it without words and then smiled, you knew he had made a decision.

“I like this one.” You said, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. It felt very nice to do so.

“Me too.” He mumbled, eyes not letting go of your gaze as he answered your touch and tightened his fingers briefly.

“You wanna choose this one?”

He nodded, buzzing with energy now that the decision had been made.

“Heejin?”

You leaned around the opening that would one day hold the door, and found her with her phone out.

“I think we’ll take this one.”

Besides you Seokjin’s smile widened. He tugged on your hands a little, and even though he refrained from leaning his head against yours, you could see the happiness radiate from his action.

“Thank you.” He whispered, not for the first time.

“Who knows, maybe I’m a terrible flatmate and you’ll really regret moving in with me... Maybe I leave dirty clothes everywhere... Maybe I never shower... Maybe-”

He wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll lo- I mean, I will like you either way.” He spoke bravely, but still searched your face for a response. You grinned, and he did, too.

“Yah, are you two done?” Heejin yelled from below.

Neither of you had noticed her going down.

It still felt very new and like you shouldn’t be able to do it, but you disentangled your hands and wrapped the freed arm around his waist. He hummed, smiling, eyes sparkling.

AN.: you can also find this and everything else i’ve written on my ao3 runningfaucet

if you enjoyed reading this, please let me know what you liked best in the comments :)

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lxxxladamneron · 5 years ago

Photo

Title: The Pilot of The Raging Storm (Title Changed)

Characters: You & Poe Dameron

Word Count: Too fucking MANY

Chapter Two - The Suffrage of the Force (And smaller obstacles)

You and Poe left Lah’mu with no struggle besides the lingering pain of your wounds, boarding the awaiting ship that was heading towards D’Qar, location of the main resistance base. Once aboard people rushed towards you and Poe, a clamor of questions causing your anxiety to rise.

“Alright people, back it up a little! I got a very hurt friend here!” His raised voice abruptly shut the lips of those curious rebels, parting to make room immediately after. His forwardness rose color to your cheeks, flattered how he was putting you first before his usual duties.

“I’m sorry about them,” He said once away from the crowd, “ Sometimes they can be a real pain in my ass.” Your purple hues flickered up to him in surprise, foul language wasn’t beyond you, but for the small time you knew him, you didn’t expect it. It was a surprise sure; but a welcome one.

You looked away, trying your best to hide the smile that had crept upon your lips, which he noticed without much effort, but left it at that. He thought your shy and quiet nature was refreshing, a smile of his own forming from the thought.

As the two of you approached a door, Poe pressed a button and it slid open, a bright light causing you to bat your eyes, conforming to the blinding light.

“This is our medical room, not that impressive but it does the job. And we have excellent doctors with us.” As if cued, a fellow Zabrak wandered in through the doors with a look of excitement.

“volks, nuin (hello, friend).”

The sound of UI’Zabrak came as a surprise to you for you hadn’t heard it in a while, not since your parents. It brought a comforting veil upon your shoulders and you responded with a head nod, a small smile being returned to him.

“When Poe said there was a fellow Zabrak now onboard, I had to take advantage of this opportunity. Most of our kind has...hidden away.” With a small moment of silence between the room he looked over his shoulder in your direction, then resumed grabbing the necessary supplies for your wounds.

You bowed your head in sympathy, it was funny what little words could do in the manner of memories. The UI’Zabrak, remembrance of what befell your kind, either pushed into hiding or worse. Amongst them all, you were probably considered to be one of the lucky ones.

While your wounds got addressed you couldn’t help but notice Poe, standing leaned against the doorway with observant eyes. Poe was the best of the best when it came to piloting whatever he could (or had to) get his hands on, which resulted in him going to places and seeing many things not everyone could attest to, yet the Zabrak were one of the few things he didn’t know a lot about. He was astonished, captivated by you and your exotic characteristics. His leering gaze carefully drew a line around your horns, poking through your lustrous black hair. With every small movement it was as if they were playing peek-a-boo, disappearing and reappearing which he found amusing. The moment a smile appeared on his lips, you rose your brow as if to question.

“S-sorry.” Damn it Poe, really. Staring at her horns, come on, man.

To your astonishment his words echoed through your head like word traveling down a cave, but instead of answering on it, you chose to let it go. Still, it rose questions for you, maybe a result of acute exhaustion yet that made no sense. The moment you decided to let it go the doctor pulled away, informing you that despite the beating you took you were healthy. Although he recommended extensive rest and minimal physical activity, he suggested you take it upon yourself and carry out introductions to General Organa, and with that he left.

After the doctor’s departure came Poe with a hand held out, which you took as you carefully slid off the medical table;his hand supporting your tremoring dependence.

“You heard the Doc, no more sticking people to the walls with spears. For now.” He joked, gently helping you balance your weight as you wobbled with only a few steps, “May I?” He asked, looking down at your legs. Your expression flashed confusion at his vague question, but shortly nodded in agreement. To your unexpected surprise he partially knelt down, one hand on your back as the other arm swept under your legs, his motions sturdy and slow to assure prudence. You hastily grabbed hold of his neck with a small squeak escaping your lips, oblivious to how tightly you were holding on.

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He said soothingly, feeling the anxiousness in your tight grip as he began walking out the room. He was sure to take it slow, allowing you to take in your surroundings so you felt a bit safer, more aware of where you were. He understood the feeling of uneasiness in a place you didn’t know, before the Resistance the feeling of apprehension would haunt him.

“I don’t mind you looking at my horns, Dameron..” You softly said to him, your head gently falling against his chest. The periodic kadunk..kadunk of his heart beat into your ear, creating a soothing rhythm that followed into your head. With every beat you expected and counted ‘til the next, you felt more solace; which brought your thoughts to spill out from your tongue.

Poe looked down in surprise. Now he knew he hadn’t been very subtle when admiring you, but the precise context of your comment threw him for quite a loop, “Was I..that obvious?” He asked, fixing his gaze straight ahead as a light shade of pink crept across his cheeks.

“No...i heard you scold yourself. I really don’t know how..but the thought was heard as if it were my own.”

He let out an embarrassed chuckle as his warmed cheeks grew deeper in color, approaching the bedroom that he thought perfect for you to rest in. With a single beep, the door slid open and he walked in, carrying you over to the bed before warily lowering you onto the surface. As gravity an exhaustion pulled at you, the loss of his arms from your figure befell you a pinch of disappointment, slowly adjusting yourself into a better position.

Poe stood over you, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers as he watched you maneuver around your aching wounds. He felt a new sensation that he hadn’t in quite awhile. Was it anxiety or something more? The question remained with nothing but butterflies erupting in his gut.

“Alright, Doctor Dameron is ordering you to rest. If you need anything, just press this fancy little button and i’ll come.” A sweetened smile followed his turn to the door but was stopped short when you gripped his wrist, forcing him to look back. Your eyes darted from the floor to his gaze, skin heating up rather quickly as the words you fumbled for just disappeared entirely.

“Is there any way you can s-stay for a while...?” You blurted out, your fingers sliding down his wrist with a softened touch along his fingers before letting go entirely. Despite the rapid firing of his scattered thoughts, his response took a mere second; a simple nod with a smile bringing you both easement and anxiety.

You took a second lifting yourself to the side of the bed, making room for him with your heart at ready to pop out of your chest. With a pat on the wrinkled blanket Poe sat beside you, elbows touching as he got comfortable. He finally settled with one leg off the side and the other next to your own heavily bandaged ones.

For a moment the air felt heavy with anticipation; anticipation of the first word to be spoken, anticipation of one another’s movements, the feeling gnawing from your stomach up. You looked at Poe, catching glimpse of his chiseled, stubble jaw from the side. With haste he managed to catch your glance, watching your face rise a few shades, seemingly the theme of the night.

“Y’know, I don’t know much about you..”He said, his cocoa hues hooking into your eyes with a severe inability to turn away. It was captivating for both parties, the obligation to hold becoming more of a want.

“I’m an open, extremely vulnerable but compelling book, Dameron.” You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling slightly out of character, but something about Poe granted you the ability to do so.

Your response cracked a joyful laughter from him, the gaze being broken for a mere moment before returning to yours. The questions started small and slow, but as the anxiety began to settle, the exchange of words began to flow. You told him how you got to Lah’mu in the first place starting with your parents, the accident, and your cut from the force. Poe chimed in about never being force sensitive which at a time like this was a privilege, following up with a touch of curiosity on the disconnects toll on you. You took a moment before answering, realizing that you’d never even asked yourself that.

“I guess...in ways more than one, I struggled. It wasn’t a physical struggle, it was an odd disconnect for my mind. Knowing that there is more within but suppressing it into normality, it can create a spiraling rage without realizing..” You looked up at Poe, nervously twiddling your thumbs at the realization that you were spilling out secrets you never admitted to another. When he looked down to see your nervous antics he placed a hand onto yours, giving it a consoling squeeze and pat.

“You will get through this, you have the Rebellion behind you, including me. I’m no Jedi expert, believe me, but I know a think or two about mental kriffs.”

As the weight of subjects began to grow heavier the night passed like that, laughter, heavy silences, and sweetened smiles all fusing into one as you unexpectedly fell asleep, your head gently falling against Poe’s shoulder. At the feeling of your soft collapse he slowly turned, reaching down to pull the top cover up and over you as lightly as possible. He felt obliged to stay, and if he allowed himself to be honest, he wanted to; and before he knew it, he too fell into a deep slumber of serene comfort.

Poe awoke quite discombobulated, unaware of what time it was or where he was laying. His first thought was i’ve been kidnapped, fantastic. As he started to look around he began to realize an unreality as the objects around the room were all trembling with unfocused power. When he glanced to his side, you still laid upon his shoulder, only you were twitching and emitting soft, fearful whimpers. Which each cry an object trembled even more intensely, leaving Poe with a mouth wide open in surprise and uncertainty, skimming across the suspended items. Quickly he took your arms in his hands, giving a gentle shake to start but your head bobbed back and forth, limp and unfazed. His hands then slid up to your cheeks, careful to grip as he felt his finger dip into a scabbed crevice sliced across your cheek.

“Wake up, come on wake up!” He exclaimed. At first the attempts seemed hopeless, unknowing that with every shouted word, it slowly broke through your clouded mind until finally, you awakened. The dim light was no match for your vibrant purple eyes, the suspended objects clattering to the floor as your mind began to clear.

“Kriff...” He mumbled, “Are you alright..?”

You shut your eyes once more, taking a moment to allow yourself to feel grounded. I’m safe, i’m here with Poe, you thought to yourself, repeating it until it circled like a broken record. It had been the same dream as before, same one as always, the one of your parents; and nothing changed, still as helpless as ever, never allowing the wound of that memory to ever heal.

“Yes...just a dr- a bad dream..A repetitive one..”You whispered. Before Poe could respond you hooked your arms up under his, pulling him in for an embrace, “Thank you, nuin (Friend)..Your effort means a lot to me...” You pulled away, your hands sliding down his shoulders, pausing momentarily on his hand. It was warm at the touch from the stationary comfort, and not the least bit soft from all the flying he did. He placed his hand over yours with a feather light caress, “Listen..I was thinking we could meet Leia, maybe get you cleaned up a bit, some fresh clothes..How does that sound?” In truth, he just thought of the idea. He was eager to get your mind off of the nightmare, seeing how much it put you into such distress. As long as he’d known you, (which wasn’t long) your actions had spoken more for you, and the weight of pain in your eyes had said enough.

You nodded in agreement and he immediately jumped off the bed, moving straight for the door. He turned back after the beep of the opening door, “I’ll be back with some clothes and then help you to one of the bathrooms, alright?”

You gave a hasty smile in response with a head nod, the curvature of your brims quick to disappear after he did. You looked around at the now cluttered room, clenching your teeth to contain the frustration you felt arising. The breakthrough of the force happened once before with a nightmare, only it had been worse; and this was close enough. You were unintentionally impulsive, and potentially dangerous, adding onto how hard you were being on yourself. Your thoughts were cut short when the door reopened and Poe came in with a short stack of black clothes,

“These were all I could find, I hope you don’t mind.” You shook your head, trembling arms increasing in intensity as you applied pressure to stand yourself up. It took time to get over to him, but you were fine with it. As Poe stepped forward to help you, you raised your hand to stop him, reaching out to take the clothes instead. He took note of your resilience, knowing in the slightest that it tied in with the deep pride of your people. He then began leading you out an into the hall, a passing glance momentarily catching the various types of rooms. Without realizing for your mind was elsewhere, you stopped as Poe did, his finger tapping away at a locked bathroom. It slid open with an inviting green light, revealing a brightly lit bathroom, stocked with all your hygiene needs.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” And with that, he slid out the door before closing, leaving you to take in the blinding room. If you didn’t notice before you did now, scouring your reflection at every inch of your body, littered with cuts and slashes both big and small, the dried crimson staining your fair toned skin. With a sigh you began running the faucet water, cupping your hands under the stream before bending down and splashing it across your face. You took a moment to feel the cool stream drip down your skin, your fingers following the deep lines of your facial clan engravings. For a moment you admired the engravings, them taking you back to a more simple time with your family. You shook your head as if to brush away the thought, knowing if you fell down that rabbit hole of a thought, you would never leave the bathroom. After finally cleansing your skin of the blood, both arms and face, you looked beside you a the stack of clothes, grabbing hold and shaking it out in front of you. A charcoal colored halter jacket fell from the stack onto the floor, the shoulder brandishing a rebellion patch like Poe’s. As for what you held, it was a black leather catsuit with lightweight armor plating lining the spine and torso, some red dabbled in along the collar. The arms revealed slits along the leather allowing for more breathability, which you loved.

Your first thought when beginning to step into the suit was I got this, nothing to worry about, but the moment you bent over to help guide your leg in led you straight to failure. The feeling of imbalance followed your ankle getting stuck and as you tried to quickly pull out, you fell onto the hard, cold floor, sending a wave of pain throughout your stiff body.

“Um..P-Poe?” You called out, halfway hoping there would be no response.

“Yeah? You alright in there?”

“H-help me, please?” You let out an exasperated sigh, letting go of the suit altogether for it to fall onto the floor.

The door beeped once before sliding open for Poe who stopped forthright at the realization of you have half naked with the suit at your feet. Hastily he slammed the touchpad and the door slid shut,

“Are-are you okay? What happened?” He asked, snapping out of his surprise to begin aiding you to your feet. He reached a hand out, gripping your bandaged arm and grabbing your other with his free hand.

“I..fell..trying to get my leg in.” You couldn’t help but smile with embarrassment, laughter breaking through as your irritation became a little bit alleviated.

“Don’t worry about it, happens to the best of us. Me especially,” He leaned you against the wall, retrieving the suit off the floor and taking a knee to better position himself, opening the leg hole a bit wider, “Juuust happened to me yesterday.” As gently as he could, he pulled it up your leg with small tugs, his warmed fingers grazing your inner and outer thighs which caused a small tickling sensation. He then did the same for the other leg, standing upright after to allow you for the rest. Ever so slowly you slipped your arms in, everything beginning to fall into place once the suit hugged your skin. You stepped over to the mirror, admiring yourself once more as a whole. You would turn left and right, inspecting all parts of the suit that almost felt like it wasn’t there. You smiled with a small chuckle to yourself, shortly realizing Poe’s eyes were following yours. At the realization that his roaming eyes had been caught, he quickly shot his glance over to your back,

“May I?” Poe asked pointing to your back, finding it rather hard to pull his eyes away from you. You bowed your head for him to proceed and he obliged, slowly raising the zipper with a soft zzzzzzzzzip! echoing throughout the small room. He reached down to pick up the jacket, raising it up to offer help putting it on,

“This, I will admit, picked just for you.” He laughed at himself as he slid each of your arms in, gently fixing the bends and creases in the front with his arms around your waist, inches away from touching. You couldn’t help but look down, feeling the light brushes of his steady hands before being pulled away. You turned around, your hands sliding down your body at the refreshing feel,

“You look good.” He said with a touch of enticement, his lower lip being gently nipped.

“Daynas (Thanks), Dameron...I believe i’m ready to meet Leia.”

He entwined a sweet smile with a nod of his head, cocoa curls slightly bobbing with his movements. He pressed the button on the touchepad and led you out into the hall, guiding you past the various different rooms apart of the ship until reaching the one she was in. The two of you walked in, Leia turning to greet you both.

“General Organa, this is-”

“The famous Zabrak i’ve been hearing so much about.” She smiled, walking slowly over. You reached your hand out, an excited smile stretching the corner of your brims. As she grasped your hands with hers, your smile quickly faded, a wicked cold veil grabbing hold of your being. A fluctuation of disembodied voices overflowed your mind, steadily overlapping each other until it became to much to bare.

I have failed you, Anakin, I have failed you.

Anakin, you’re breaking my heart.

-Of him killing younglings

Luke!

Leia! Rise, Darth Vader.

This Isn’t the Jedi Way.

I am your father.

Ben! Damn it, Han. I love you.

You quickly pulled your hand away, a look of surprise painting your face.

“The daughter of Skywalker and Amidala...” You whispered, a look of astonishment passing onto Leia’s face.

“Remarkable....You don’t understand the extent of your power, do you?” She asked, studying your facial engravings. You shook your head no, feeling the anxiety beginning to set in once again.

“Why don’t we sit down and have a chat. You can tell me about the Extermination Unit you took out, Poe only told me the little bit he knows.”

Nodding in agreement, you sat down in the chair offered by Leia, being joined by Leia as well as Poe who brought a stiff drink, setting them down in front of you two before pouring himself one. You began at the start, explaining how you first discovered being force sensitive, never shying away from any details. Explaining the Lah’mu event though left you a bit scatterbrained, trying your best to recollect what had happened, but once the memory started playing like a film, the details were easy to verbalize. It left Leia silent, taking mere moments to comprehend what it all meant. Although she didn’t say it, she realized the moment you explained your burst of desperation triggered the outburst of the force, emotions were linked to your power, and anger and fear made you powerful. It was a start down the path of the dark side, or something else entirely. Instead of speaking on her speculation, Leia laid her hand upon yours, lending you words of comfort and security, offering help with your amateur knowledge on the power you wielded. Not only did they have a few experts trained in the vast knowledge of the force, they had their own Jedi, and Leia herself. Now, Leia wasn’t a Jedi, but she on a very minuscule level was in touch with the force when it dealt with empathetic emotions.

“I have a task for you, it may help with your spiritual imbalance. There has been talk of a Darksaber on Dathomir, and we can’t let it get into the wrong hands. I want you and Poe to take a transporter out there. This is your first test as a Jedi, I know you can do it.”

You swallowed nervously, grabbing the cup filled with alcohol and downing it in one gulp in response to the growing anxiety. Poe noticed how quickly the drink disappeared, offering the bottle for another which you gladly welcomed.

“When would you like us to go, General?”

“As soon as you can, you need to be well prepared. Take some time to rest, gather your strength. And I advise you start meditating, it will help find the balance. I understand how you’re feeling, nervous, scared. Your mind is like a raging storm, which is what your power can manifest into if you don’t learn to control it.”

Diligence surrounded your cup as you started slowly turning it, using nothing but the force. The liquids trembled, causing small waves with each minuscule rotation until you pulled it into your grasp, downing the next drink in a matter of miliseconds.

“Very well.” You simply said, eyes flickering from Poe to Leia. The test of ages was oncoming, and your mind was sending itself into a raging spiral, unknown of what would happen; just knowing that this would be nothing you’d ever experienced.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poedameronfanfic #chapter 2 #starwars #starwarsforceawakens #Star Wars Last Jedi #star wars rise of skywalker #original character #FINALLY GOT IT OUT #The Pilot of The Raging Storm

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stereofeathers · 5 years ago

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I'm on a fair number of psych meds, and a few of them double as decently heavy sedatives. This means I never have problems falling asleep, which is definitely a plus. However, it comes with the effect of me doing things while I'm tired that I have no real memory of doing. It's like I'm leaving a fun surprise for my awake self. Or a not fun one. Depends on which apps my sleepy-self gets into.

Usually nothing noticable happens, and even if it does, a lot of the time it's only as bad as, like, sending my friends gibberish messages with random words and punctuation, or making posts that are basically the same. Sometimes I'd start off talking normally and making sense, only to descend into gibberish about a quarter through. Might even pick up the thread again in the final quarter. Or sometimes, just to spice things up, I'd wake up to find I've got a playlist of a vlogger's videos going loud in my earbuds. Those mornings are startling.

Anyway, that's what usually happens while I'm partially asleep. I always found that led zeppelin -> loop zoop post hilarious bc "man, at least I've never done something like that"

Anyway, yeah. Its weird, but nothing too weird

Except I woke up today, checked my photo gallery, and yeah, it's full of pictures and memes of Lightning McQueen from Cars

(apparently theres a reddit sub just for Lightning McQueen and that was also open in a tab in my browser so i at least know where and how but this is such a weird thing to find hgjjghj)

#mine #cars movie #lightning mcqueen #this absolutely reads like a fake story #i am the one who is most aware of this #but like #FUCK

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #243

honestly too lazy to think up random song lyrics here, so just have the survey.

What is the one thing you remember most about January of last year? Nothing. You look at the clock and it’s 11:11, do you wish? I never do, no. How do you think you will look 3 years from now? I pray the fuck to god I'm finally at a weight I want. And of course more tattoos and piercings. And colored hair. What would be number one on your bucket list? Meet, thank, and hug Mark profusely while ugly crying. How old do you think you’ll be when you make your will? I don't know. You get a text message. who do you hope it is? Sara. Are there any songs that you hear that just make you wanna dance? Not really, no. Do you get any of your songs from Limewire? lol how old is this... but no. I did when it was "the thing," though. You and your best friend get in a fight. Why do you think that is? I don't know. Probably said something that came across wrong over a text. What is your biggest annoyance at the time? Financial shit. You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? Apologize to him if he's even okay with me speaking a word to him and then letting him on his way because I don't want to make him think I'm still stuck on him. I'd wanna know how things are in his life, but I don't want him to get the wrong impression. It'd be better for both of us. Have/are you depressed? I mean I'm diagnosed with depression, but it's well-managed. At the moment I'm not *depressed*, no. Did you grow up in the United States? Yeah. Never left it, even. Do you call anybody "baby"? Besides my cat and snake, no. Who is the one person you can completely be yourself around? Sara. Are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yeah. Do you wear earrings on a normal basis? No. How old were you when you realized that life goes on? I don't know... This is such a vague question. But I guess probably when a childhood cat disappeared or died sometime in elementary school. Are your parent’s night owls or morning birds? Well, I don't live with Dad, but Mom is a night owl more than a morning bird for sure. She can be so grouchy in the morning. Do you like to sing? Eh. Who is your favorite author? *shrugs* I don't read enough. How many pillows are on your bed? Two. What’s your favorite thing about the holidays? Seeing my niece and nephew so excited. What is your favorite type of cake? Red velvet, baby. How many rings do you wear on a day-to-day basis? One. Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? Multiple times. Probably WOULDN'T have been multiple if the psych hospitals here were worth a damn. Went to the same one like five-six times and one other and both sucked. It was a partial hospitalization program, WHICH ISN'T AS "SERIOUS" AS AN ACTUAL FUCKING PSYCH HOSPITALIZATION, that saved my ass. What’s your favorite brand of flavored water? None. Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you take birth control pills? Not anymore, no. I was only on them for serious period pain, but as of recently my psychiatrist wanted to test out how I do mood-wise without them, especially as it was a regular occurrence for me to be borderline or actually suicidal the day before my cycle started, and the whole week leading up to it was sketchy. So far, I've been fine - I think even better. I was on it for years, and I mean your body changes, so. Do you like soy sauce? Noooooo no no no. Do you have a good doctor? My psychiatrist is literally the reason I'm alive. That's no exaggeration. I would've killed myself by now if it wasn't for him setting my medicine right. I know I would've. My therapist is great, and my primary physician is fine. What’s your favorite store to browse around? Morph Market, ahaha. I love looking at all the reptile morphs, especially the ball pythons. Do you ever meditate on Scripture? No. Do you like poetry? Yes. Do you have expensive tastes? Nah. What is your favorite color? Pink, particularly lighter hues. Have you ever made a scrapbook? Yeah, for a little while when I was younger. What is a question you get asked too much? If my lip piercing hurt. It doesn't bother me, I'm just asked it most. Worst grade you’ve ever gotten? Zeros on things I didn't do/missed. Who are your 3 closest friends? Sara, Girt, and uh... Chelsea, I think. Maybe Lisa. What is something you have always wanted to do? Travel somewhere cool/really memorable. What are you listening to? A playthrough of The Last Guardian. God, I wanna play it so badly. Do you like the smell of cinnamon? It's one of my favorites, omg. Are you in a relationship? No. Do you like the band Hollywood Undead? Yeah. Do you like Taco Bell? Only the quesadillas, THE CINNABON DELIGHT THINGS, and fiesta potatoes. Who was the first person you spoke to today? My mom. Who was the last? I was just texting the woman who adopted Kaiju; she's catching me up on how she's doing, and apparently great! We're trying to plan a day for me to come see her. :> Have you told anyone you loved them today? Yeah. What song is stuck in your head right now? You mentioned HU, now "Bullet" is looping in my head lol. Does it snow where you live? Sometimes, but rarely a lot. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? No. How old is your oldest living grandparent? 80-something. Do you wear contacts? No, I wear glasses, but I wish I could do contacts again considering I desperately want an undereye microdermal but it'd look stupid with glasses, so. Contacts just annoy me. Where are the last three places you went? Taco Bell, my doctor's appointment, and the gas station. Do you ever go hunting/fishing? I would never in my life hunt, and I don't even want to fish anymore. Both are cruel (hunting more than "cruel"...) imo. I'd only ever fish again if Dad asked me to go with him, because since I was a kid, that's always been our "thing," our bonding experience. I wouldn't be able to say no. Do you know anyone who is a nurse? A lot, actually. Would you prefer to own a lapdog or a bigger dog? Sigh. Didn't think I'd want a dog after Teddy, but as of very recently, I've found myself missing the companionship of one. I don't know if I'll end up with another, though, but if I do, I'd want a medium-sized one, like Teddy was. Are you more of a cat person? Yes. What is your worst subject? Math. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Yeah. Do you play guitar? Not anymore. Have you had to have stitches at all in the last year? No. Have you ever stayed up all night and then gone to work in the morning? No. That sounds like hell. How many relationships have you been in so far this year? It's a week into January lmao. No. Do you prefer to be single or with someone? With someone. Though now that I am single, I kinda think that's for the better right now...? Eh idk. Do you have any tattoos? Yeah. Are you planning on getting any? Oh, plenty. My Mark tribute is getting tidied up by a great artist on the 4th next month and I CANNOT contain my excitement. Did you lose your virginity before you were sixteen? No. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No, and I never would. What are the middle names of everyone in your family? Wow yeah, lemme share that on the Internet. Where did you go the last time you took a vacation? The beach. Would you ever consider adoption? I don't want kids so like, Who is someone you aspire to be like? Man, there's a lot of people who inspire me in different ways. I think the world knows I look up to the wisdom, determination, dedication, creativity, compassion, etc. etc. etc. of Mark, I adore the heart and empathy of Shane Dawson, Steve Irwin is my absolute idol in terms of passion for animals, and Jeffree Star's work ethic is like, unbelievable. There are plenty others, but those really stand out. How do you feel about your life right now? oof What is your favorite game show to watch? Family Feud with Steve Harvey. He is so fuckin funny. How good are you in trivia games? What’s your best category? Idk. I'm probably best with animal knowledge though, judging from games I've played along with. Would you much rather test your knowledge or share opinions? I guess it depends on the subject and with whom. How do you feel about word games? Fun. Who is your absolute favorite film director? TIM BURTON. THERE IS NO COMPETITION W/ HIM. When’s the last time had to cover a coworker’s shift? Never. Have you ever had a really unreliable coworker? I've never worked long enough to know. Have you ever had to have a ring resized? No. What is a question you would never ever ask somebody? "I would never ask someone what they weigh." <<< This. I'm not a doctor, so I don't see any situation where that'd be an appropriate question to ask anyone. What sounds like a rude word but really isn’t? I'm sure there's something, but idk rn. Have you ever made a blanket? If so, how did you make one? No. How many godparents do you have? Do they care about you? Zero, I think. What is something that should not exist? Rape. Is there a word you have an emotional connection to? It sounds weird I'm sure, but "petrichor" (the smell of the earth after it rains) makes me feel... weird. Nostalgic, anxious, melancholy. Shortly before becoming a couple, Jason and I were just outside at school while it was raining, and we wondered what that smell was called. When we went back to the computer lab (where we were after exams were done), we looked it up and found out "petrichor" was the term. I remember those days too clearly for them to have happened eight years ago. How about a sound? Any emotional connection to a sound? Ummm not that I can think of. Is there something coming up that you are dreading? Not really, no. Do you ever read graphic novels? No. What is the most ridiculous product you have ever seen? Oh idk. Are there any spiders in your home right now? I mean realistically, probably? None that I know of. What was the last thing that made you laugh hysterically? I can't remember exactly what it was, but something on YouTube. I think on Game Grumps. Are there any candy stores where you live? Not that I'm aware of. Do you own any fingerless gloves? Yeah, I still have them in my drawer, actually. I wore them every day in high school. Tell me about the last animal you touched. My cat Roman. :') Have you ever witnessed a birth? Only cats. Can you see your reflection from where you are sitting? No. Wait, yes I can, though only slightly. My snake's cage is just across the room, so I can see against the glass a bit. Quick! Sniff the air. What can you smell? Cat. .-. Have you ever been in a restroom that actually had a restroom attendant? No? What was the last photo you took of? A deer! There were like, seven or eight in the field just across the road a few evenings ago. My lens didn't go out as close as I'd want, but I took some as practice anyway. I only got a few shots though; I came out to the front porch, and after about a minute, they gradually went back into the woods. What do you look for in a mate? Physically and personality-wise. Am I the only one who hates when human couples are referred to as "mates"???? Idk man it shouldn't because we're just animals, but it's weird. ANYWAY, I don't have like, a concrete vision of a partner, but I do have some set-in-stone personality/moral alignments that are musts, such as just being a generally good person, empathetic, you must love animals or shoo, be in touch with their emotions, understanding, soft stuff like that. I also have a strong preference for having a good sense of humor, I lean more romantically towards outgoing people, you gotta be laid-back and approachable... that kind of stuff. Physically, I really, really don't care, but I think we all have preferences; ex., while it really doesn't matter to me ultimately, I tend to find longer hair on guys more attractive than short. Your thoughts on bacon? Ugh, I wish I didn't love it. I wanna be a vegetarian again so badly. What are your thoughts on little kids with cell phones? If they're of an age where they may be separated from their parents semi-regularly and without the constant presence of a guardian, I'm actually for them having *simple* cellphones. Emergencies exist, and even I, someone who doesn't even want kids, would be scared knowing my child is without an easy, quick method of contact with me. Now, remember I did say "simple" cellphones; I don't believe a little kid should grow up unhealthily attached to technology (like me lmao), so especially in developmental years, I wouldn't want my kid to be glued to their phone playing games or roaming the Internet too freely. What was the last lie you told? I'm not sure. Is there anyone in particular you always try to tune out? Ugh, yes. For political bullshit that I cannot stand hearing. Do you work out? No. What was the last thing you ate with a spoon? Uhhhh probably oatmeal. What is a food that you always are in the mood to eat? Ice cream lmao. Ever held a newborn animal? Yeah. Is there anything you’re in denial about? What? Maybe, idk. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? CREAMY. Don't come near me with chunky pb. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do you make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles? Yeah, even though I don't believe it does anything. It's just for the novelty of it. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Bentley just has a blue, average collar. Roman doesn't because he absolutely hates them. What is the last thing you searched for online? Surveys. Do you use any scented lotions? What do they smell like? No. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? I mean yeah, Spanish is common in America.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

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monstersdownthepath · 6 years ago

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Spiritual Spotlight: Narriseminek, the Crownless

Chaotic Neutral Protean Cantor of Ascendance, Keketars, and Revelations

Domains: Chaos, Knowledge, Liberation, Madness Subdomains*: Protean, Education, Self-Realization, Truth

Concordance of Rivals, pg. 14

Obedience: Surround yourself in a burning circle of flames at least 5 feet out from where you stand, chanting prayers until the flames burn down to coals or smoke from any source harms you. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred bonus on saves against fire-based spells and attacks.

(*IMPORTANT NOTE: The Subdomains are my best guess; Subdomains are not listed in Concordance of Rivals)

Hope you remember to bring oil and tinderboxes! And remember to practice fire safety, because this Obedience is a real good way to burn down an entire house. Or forest. There’s also the worrying detail that this Obedience requires you to wait until the fires burn down to the coals, suggesting that a ring of oil or grease will NOT, in fact, satisfy the conditions of the ritual. That’s a real chin-scratcher to me, and though my Rules-Fu may be weak, I can see how a more exacting DM might force their players to jump through hoops (or into them as the case may be). Do you have to lug around wood or paper and burn it? Can ‘smoke from any source’ come from a cigarette or stick of incense you have nearby? Does the Obedience end early if a freak gust blows ash into your face? Questions, questions.

Also don’t ignore the fact that standing in a ring of fire while chanting ominously is incredibly suspicious and you probably shouldn’t do it in a location someone can barge into, especially a Good someone. Or a Paladin someone. Or a Devil-hunter someone. In fact, it’s really hard to do this Obedience regularly without seeming like you might soon plot to sacrifice babies, so you might want to warn your party ahead of time that no, you don’t worship Asmodeus, you worship a different flaming serpent! ... Wait, Asmodeus isn’t a serpent in Pathfinder, scratch that last line.

As for the benefit, nothing we haven’t seen before. Nothing special, nothing grand. Fire is the most common damage type, so this ability WILL come up often and it’ll save you a lot of HP, and for that it has my applause. It’s just not exciting in any other way. I’m a little concerned that it doesn’t say “fire-based spells and abilities,” but “attacks,” but that could just be me being picky about language and wording. It comes in handy when dealing with fae, but it makes me paranoid everywhere else!

Boons are gained slowly, gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. Servants of the Monitors, though, can enter the Proctor Prestige Class as early as level 8. If entered as early as possible, you can earn your Boons at levels 10, 14, and 16. You MUST take the Monitor Obedience feat, NOT Deific Obedience. Monitors grant only a single set of Boons.

Boon 1: Ascended. Gain Anticipate Peril 3/day, Detect Thoughts 2/day, or Heroism 1/day.

Oooh, not bad! Three decent spells! Anticipate Peril gives the target a +5 bonus to Initiative for one combat, and as I’ve said before, Initiative is one of the best stats you can have bonuses to. Heroism gives +2 to arguably more important stats, though, in saving throws, attack rolls, and damage rolls. It also lasts for a phenomenally long time--a whole 10 minutes per level! It’s a pretty good boost for the beatstick of your party, but I’m not sure if it’s worth giving up on boosting up to three people’s Initiative (or one person’s Initiative three times). It depends on how many attacks your local DPS can throw out in a round, I suppose, or if your team is made up of the more fragile sorts who’d give their left arms to move first. Do note that Anticipate Peril only works for one initiative roll before fizzling, but Herosim’s lengthy duration means it will likely last through multiple fights, so scouting is essential if you want to use AP!

Detect Thoughts is something we’ve covered before, and though it technically only has niche use, it’s invaluable against enemies who’re holding information you need or sifting through crowds for specific individuals who’s thinking about how bad it would be if you found them. It’s powerful when you NEED it, but Anticipate Peril and Heroism are useful in the many battles that come with Pathfinder’s adventures.

Boon 2: Crownless Crown. You gain a floating halo of Protean symbols around your head. 1/day, you may use the Reshape Reality ability of the Keketar Protean, heightened to a 7th level spell instead of 9th; this means you may cast Mirage Arcana as a spell-like ability, except all of the illusions are woven with Maelstrom matter and become partially (20%) real, even to disbelievers, and the DC to see through the illusion is 17+your Charisma modifier.

CHAOS!

CHAOS!!

I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!

Have you ever thought to yourself “this battlefield is really nice, but I would prefer to be anywhere else”? Have you ever found yourself wishing you were on a nice beach while in the middle of a dungeon, or that this jungle would look better as a desert, or that this desert could use a giant glacier smack in the middle of it? Then have I got an ability for you!

Reshape Reality can overlay one 20ft square per level with terrain of your choice, and here’s some math for you: a 20ft square is 4x4 tiles, which means you affect 16 tiles per level. If you’re level 14 when you first get this ability, that means fourteen 20ft squares are yours to command, or 224 tiles. Numbers are good and all, but how about a visual demonstration?

(Green: You. Blue: unfortunate enemy)

BAM! That’s one configuration you can throw it down in. It affects a LOT of terrain, basically letting you decide if the current room is to your liking. You can also throw it down in a long line or loop to form a ‘cage’ for yourself and your enemies, or form an enormous barrier to cut a swath between enemy forces. Like many illusion spells, Mirage Arcana is best used by someone with a good imagination... But even the most unimaginative sorts can still cause an environment to turn itself into pure acid or magma. Whoever fails their save against the illusion takes 5d6 damage from hazards you manifest, while disbelievers still take 1d6 because of its semi-real nature.

You can also do some fancy things like creating a small stony labyrinth or even just whip up some cover for yourself and your allies if you so desire. And there’s nothing saying that every square has to be the same environment, either! Go nuts! This is one of the most powerful battlefield control abilities you can get! ... Provided your allies are away that reality is an illusion.

Also, I think it’s really cute that you get a floaty rune crown like all the Proteans. Makes it real hard to hide what you are and what you’re worshiping, though, so watch out!

Boon 3: Mantle of Revelation. 1/day, you can cast Foresight as a spell-like ability.

For those who’ve never used it, Foresight is a level 9 spell that lasts 10 minutes per level. Mechanically, it grants the recipient a +2 to AC and Reflex saves, and prevents the recipient from ever being surprised or flat-footed. At high levels, robbing an enemy of a surprise round can mean the difference between someone outright dying to a Sneak Attack or a spell thrown from out of sight, making this spell a life-saver... Though not a level 9 lifesaver. Such a feat could easily be replicated by a level 7 or 8 spell, allowing more crunch to be packed into this Boon, right? AC is nice and all, but...

You know what else is nice? These little portions:

“Once Foresight is cast, you receive instantaneous warnings of impending danger or harm to the subject of the spell.”

Don’t open the chest, don’t drink that potion, don’t sample the cheese, don’t take another step forward, don’t say the next words you’re planning, don’t cast that spell, don’t don’t don’t... Foresight stops a LOT of incoming harm in its tracks, allowing you to step back just as an arrow flies at your face, or stop your foot just before stepping on a landmine, or re-evaluate your attack target if forewarned of some sort of defense they have. You can even cast it on someone else to give them the same benefit... so long as you’re within earshot. You need to be able to communicate with them in some way to grant them the warnings, making it more attractive to cast on yourself than another, unless you have some form of telepathic connection with the second subject.

And speaking of second subjects, here’s the other interesting portion:

“The spell gives you a general idea of what action you might take to best protect yourself and gives you a +2 insight bonus to AC and on Reflex saves.”

And gives you a +2 insight bonus. Why’s that important? Because it means ‘general idea of what action you might take’ does NOT directly lead to this insight bonus, but is in addition to it. Foresight’s greatest power relies a bit on DM fiat, which is painful if they aren’t super open to discussion of the spell’s minutiae, but elaborated on and discussed beforehand with the DM will allow you to solve encounters MUCH more smoothly than normal. Say, perhaps, the enemy has a Scroll of Disintegrate on them that no one has seen yet. Foresight may warn you ahead of time to bolster your Reflex save even further, or somehow strengthen your touch AC. You don’t know WHY you’re receiving this warning, but all will become apparent in time.

Foresight warns you not to open a door, but you must to progress. The spell then warns you to protect yourself from Fire damage, and you can extrapolate from there. Or perhaps it tells you to draw your weapons and prepare your spells as you walk down an otherwise empty hallway, just before you’re ambushed.

Really, Foresight is a far more powerful spell than many give it credit for because so much of its power relies on interpretation and the DM working with the fact you can see danger coming at least six seconds before it happens. See? Me being ridiculously careful about interpretations of wording worked out in everyone’s favor for once!

You can read more about Narri here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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sweetlangdon · 6 years ago

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From Eden: Chapter 1

Notes: Evil Power Couple fic. It’s difficult to write a summary for this one, because I don’t want to give away the twists. (It’ll also include canon rewrite/divergence for the later half of the season.) It has plenty of angst and fluff, and a bit of character study.

Warnings: swearing, lots of murder, blood...

The rest of this fic can be found on my masterlist and AO3. It’s currently in progress.

She was in the library, alone, when she heard his footsteps.

She knew it was him. It couldn’t be anyone else but him. He’d been here for little more than a day, but the hypnotic, precise cadence of his boots against the polished floors was unmistakable. Eighteen months of relative solitude, never knowing whether it was day or night—not that it mattered much anymore now that the Earth had become a ruined wasteland—had given her plenty of time to parse the sounds of Outpost 3. The whisper of the Grays, floating along balconies and down the narrow, sleek corridors like apparitions. The insistent tap of Ms. Venable’s cane as if it were a ticking clock, a warning, a threat. Ms. Mead’s practiced rhythm, heavy and quick, past their doors like some nocturnal predator on the hunt for a kill.

The other Purples were shuffling steps and clinking glasses, a crescendo of voices that echoed across the labyrinth of their underground shelter. They were all energy and rage with nowhere to run, so it slipped out into the quiet halls and rooms, an explosion of frayed nerves and short tempers.

Eighteen months had been a lifetime. It didn’t feel like surviving. It felt like a prison sentence, a slow and endless march on cracked glass wondering when it would break and where they would fall. That same restless anger had burned in her veins, too. Those nights where she lay awake listening to the crackle of the fire until it finally lulled her to sleep. Days when she couldn’t summon enough willpower to do anything but lock the door to her suite and cry until her chest ached. She found that it was easier to keep quiet, to bury the pain somewhere else when she wasn’t alone. Obey the rules, however ridiculous they were. Remain invisible and non-threatening.

She’d been used to not drawing attention. She could’ve been a Gray, she thought, if fate were different. But she didn’t really know a damn thing about fate; nothing seemed to make sense anymore, so did it matter? Her parents had immediately pooled their funds, no questions asked. One hundred million dollars, she’d find out after the fact. She didn’t even know they’d had that much. And she didn’t have time to consider what it all meant, didn’t particularly give a fuck about being a part of the elite—she felt more like an imposter. Some outsider with enough luck to be born to parents who built their wealth, however meager it had been compared to the others, from the ground up.

The bare minimum of social interaction had gotten her this far at least. Amiable conversations traded across the table while they choked down their tasteless meal. A hushed exchange of words in a shadowed corridor with a passing Gray. Obligatory grumbling over the songs that broke through the static on relentless, agonizing loops, a ghostly thread to the world before all of this. Just enough to play whatever game they were trapped in and survive one more day, one more week, one more month.

Nothing was permanent here, and the last thing she wanted was to become entangled in their drama and end up on the outside. Left to the ravaged Earth as the radiation poisoned her body and the toxic air squeezed the breath from her lungs. Put down like some dying animal, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head. Her parents didn’t sacrifice every last cent they’d owned for her to just fuck up her chances because of some dumbass mistake.

It was easier to be alone. The library wasn’t empty that often, but when the occasion arose, she took it. There was a shred of peace here. The faint scent of smoke mingled with the clean aroma of linen and beeswax from the candles. The spines of the books crammed in the shelves flickered back at her as golden light wavered over them. She’d tucked herself into a corner of one of the black leather couches, her knees drawn up under her gown. It was some kind of eighteenth century-inspired monstrosity in a deep shade of violet; she thought it might have been prettier if there weren’t so many ruffles. Lace dripped from the satin sleeves at her elbows. Her wardrobe was full of it—lace and voluminous layers of fabric, pleated and gathered into elegant styles from another time. She gave them credit for committing to the aesthetic. After a year and some months, it was beginning to grow on her.

Her mind had stayed occupied with help from the Outpost’s library. She had discovered early on that the shelves held an extensive collection of essential literary works. She’d almost expected them to be nothing but a decoration, an illusion of comfort. She read them slowly, savoring each page, each word, not knowing how long they would need to last. Before the world went straight to hell she’d been a year shy of graduation. Hunkering down in a room full of books felt familiar, as though she was back in the library on her manicured university campus studying for finals. As if this was normal for just a little while. As if their sequestered world wasn’t the only fucking thing left.

She turned a page, partially aware that she didn’t remember what she’d read in the past few minutes. Her focus was gone, the words turning into incomprehensible smudges of ink across the paper. His footsteps matched her pulse until all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears. And then suddenly he was there in the threshold—she caught him on the edge of her periphery, a silent shadow. She stared at the book in her lap but the words still didn’t make sense and the awareness of him prickled along her spine.

Langdon terrified and fascinated her in equal measure. He was an abyss—dark, cold, offering nothing but vague notions of an imagined paradise. A safe haven they would have to compete for. Who was he, exactly, to determine whether they were worthy? It made her uneasy to know that he was the deciding factor, that he could leave her here to whatever horrors awaited them outside without knowing why. What deemed a person useful to The Cooperative? Was what he’d said about this sanctuary true, or just a load of bullshit?

“Loneliness is a comfort to you, not a burden.” Langdon’s voice filled the room, smooth and rich as dark honey.

It hadn’t been a question, but of course he was well aware of the truth already. She had seen a couple of the other Purples walk away from their encounters with him shell-shocked and trembling, hysterical about how he’d rifled through the parts of them they wanted to keep hidden. Their private thoughts and shameful secrets were little more than pawns in a game to him. He appeared to relish pulling them apart and leaving them shattered. She’d never seen Coco so quiet, her eyes wide and red-rimmed before she excused herself to her room for the rest of the evening.

Truthfully, she didn’t know whether to be horrified or in awe of him.

The book snapped shut. “I’m used to it,” she said, looking up at last. He moved with a preternatural grace, hands clasped behind his back as he rounded the couch opposite in a few long strides. “Aside from the Armageddon raging outside, this is just…more of the same. More minimalist, maybe, but…I’m used to being on my own.”

She figured it would be best to strive for honesty. She just hoped that she could keep the fear out of her voice.

He seemed to draw the shadows to him, and she couldn’t tell whether there’d been the barest hint of a smirk somewhere on his lips. The light from the fireplace made the lines of his cheekbones sharper, the color of his eyes darker. But she knew they weren’t dark at all—they were the brightest, clearest shade of blue she’d ever seen. Like ice from the glaciers that no longer existed.

Langdon’s lithe form melted into the arm of the couch opposite in such a fluid motion that she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He perched on the edge, cat-like, and crossed one leg over the other. Almost instinctively, she pushed the book aside, unfurling swathes of fabric as she inched closer to the edge of the leather cushion.

“Not so impressed with the other residents, then, I take it.”

She lifted one shoulder. “A bunch of entitled assholes don’t really strike me as the best candidates to keep humanity from dying out. If they’re all that’s left…” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I don’t. Aside from whatever…visionaries you’ve got at The Cooperative, and maybe those kids, humanity’s kinda screwed.” She sighed. “It’s unfair, I guess, that we bought our survival. We didn’t really survive at all, we just had the means to escape. And these people…they don’t know how to do much for themselves. How can the world depend on them?”

“Without them, the outposts wouldn’t exist. Their money—your money—”

“My parents’ money,” she corrected.

“None of you would be here if it weren’t for their wealth.” Langdon’s head titled to the side, amused. “You don’t consider yourself one of them?”

“My parents could afford my place here, I can’t deny that,” she said. “But I…” She couldn’t look at his demanding gaze, instead averting her eyes to where his hands rested on top of his knee. Slender, well-manicured fingers drummed absently on his kneecap, the opaque rings and jewels glinting in the light. “I know a thing or two about hardship, Mr. Langdon. I remember what it was like before.”

She didn’t mean the end of the world. No, it had been long before that, and Langdon knew it—she could see it in his face, those micro expressions that were gone the moment they appeared.

He leaned forward slightly. The light changed his face in remarkable ways, she realized; where before there had been something almost imperceptibly sinister about his features, now the candlelight had softened the harsh lines of shadow.

“Of course. There was a time when your family had to worry about money. It disappeared faster than you could earn it,” he answered. She didn’t dare to ask how he knew. Then again, it wasn’t altogether unreasonable to expect that The Cooperative might’ve done ridiculously detailed background checks. “Does that make you envious of them? That they were born into wealth? That they’ve…enjoyed it longer?”

“No.”

His lips curved into a delicate smirk. “You sound so sure of yourself,” Langdon said. “Why?”

“You think I’m lying.”

“Oh, I’d know if you were, and believe me, I’d tell you,” Langdon replied, his tone light and almost teasing. “No…I want to know why. It’s a simple question.”

“It gives me an advantage,” she answered. “These people are used to their cushy lives and it made them complacent. I never knew mine long enough to get to that point. I don’t envy them for one second.”

“Ruthless.” His smirk broadened into a grin, and her stomach did a somersault in response. “I admire that.”

“Don’t know if I’d call it that,” she countered.

“I would.” He narrowed those clear blue eyes, a look so piercing that she shifted in her seat, rearranging her skirts to try and avoid it.

“It’s just surviving. Figuring out who you’re up against.”

“You see them as opponents?”

“Sometimes.” She gathered the book from where it had fallen between the cushions and stood, tucking it against her chest, very aware of his gaze following her every movement. “People don’t last long here with the way Mead and Venable run things. All we can do is try to keep up. I’ve stayed quiet…done everything I can to mitigate the risk of being a problem for them.”

“And you’d do anything to make sure you’re not abandoned. Not again.” The way he said it, drawing out every syllable, made a knot form in the pit of her stomach. How could he have known something so personal? “No matter what it might cost you. Even if the price was your soul.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

Langdon tipped his head to the side again, his strawberry blond hair falling across one shoulder. “On the contrary, I think you know exactly what I mean.” He pushed off the arm of the couch to stand, lacing his fingers together in front of him.

“You have that spark of callousness within you—I can see it. It’s an ugly thing, but it’s there, because it’s a part of you. It’s always been a part of you. And you’d do whatever you need to with it, if it meant your salvation. Even if it left blood on your hands.”

The lilting, pleasant timbre of his voice suddenly turned to ice, that air of superiority and omnipotent power returning to lace his words. A storm gathered in his eyes and beneath his skin, something malicious that she’d suspected lurked in his veins, down to every fiber of his being. She didn’t know what it was about him. Part of her didn’t want to know, really, but a stubborn thread of curiosity still lingered.

She found herself gaping at him, mouth open, a coherent reply lost to the void. “I…I don’t know.”

Langdon closed his eyes, just for a moment. “Yes, you do.”

When he opened them again, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, dropping his arms to his sides. She watched the mesmerizing fluidity of his hands, the rigid way he carried himself. The same sense of amusement came crawling back as if there hadn’t ever been something terribly malicious in him in the first place. As if her trampling over the corpses of Outpost 3’s elite to garner her place at The Sanctuary was a topic of casual conversation.

Langdon continued to speak with his hands. “You can deny that part of you if that’s what you want, but it will find you eventually. Once chaos has taken over, you really can’t be sure what you’d be capable of, can you?”

“…I guess not.”

She turned away from him, the admission uncoiling something dark within her, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Her fingertips dug into the cover of the book until her knuckles blanched. This time, it was her footsteps that ricocheted off the walls, the staccato notes far too loud in her ears.

She felt the weight of his gaze down her back, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was already gone.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @your-king-cody-fern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @langdonfern @holylangdon @ritualmichael @softlangdvn @thelangdoncooperative @weareallevilmotherfuckers

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #ahs fic #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs apocalypse #fic: from eden

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wherethestoryhasimagination · 6 years ago

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As a Pallet cleanser...

I’ve posted a bit to much Meat. And so before I dive on in to Candy, which, from the impressions I’ve gathered, contains terrors greater than those found in meat, I’ll be providing some ‘Candy’ of my own, hopefully in a form reminiscent of thin mint cookies.

I’ll be making as wholesome, happy, and generally carefree a post as I can possibly make.

I’m going to be BluHing out my thoughts and ideas for things I would Hope for, dream of, and expect to possibly see in various percentages of those three of-

Animal Crossing.

As Animal Crossing has progressed through the Years, more and more chances for Player agency to influence the world have come to be. even going so far as to give you an official government job where you help to plan/fund Public infrastructure & The Arts. An update was even added at one point that would let you have more control over what Villagers were in your town; something practically impossible in past games, & in the pre-update New-Leaf.

I expect this trend to continue, though how it continues may vary; my Hopes for the hypothetically possible, & Dreams for the incredibly unlikely as follows.

Furniture Creation; it can be tricky getting that last piece of a set that just never seems to be in stock. but if you had a way to get furniture pieces that are not in your catalog, such randomness would be relieved… There’s even already ways to change some pre-existing pieces of furniture by bringing it and a set of gems to an npc in retail… severely limited in that form, but… a definite precursor to being able to get the furniture you want by using resources you have. and while it is a spin off I know little about, I believe Pocket Camp actually Does have a more tangible form of ‘crafting’. it even has an official Quarry to dig in.

extensions on the new ‘burst collection’ mechanic introduced in Pocket Camp; Pocket camp introduced items such as fishing nets and honey for gathering fish and bugs faster than one could with a rod or bug net. in a new game without micro transactions, a number of things could be done to balance the effectiveness, cost, and availability of items that help make it easier to get things; like rotted turnips & candy attracting ants, but elaborated upon.

improved mail system; just a little thing here. maybe a Villager you had been best friends with, but who had to move away, could send you a postcard inviting you to visit, should you ever wish to do so, with a Picture of their new town on it.

Food options; even if they are as useless as eating has always been, more options would be nice. like actually getting to partake in the displays that appear on some holidays, or being able to actually eat some pudding, like what some Villagers claim to have accidentally eaten 23 servings of from time to time… And hey, if some villagers have favorite foods, getting it for them could be a nice thing to do. maybe going to Brewsters could serve a purpose other than buying coffee till you’re given access to Gyroid storage, or working a small, part-time job.

semi-open world feel; even if it’s just an illusion, it would be groundbreaking for The Flanking Cliffs to finally give way to nature. even if the Cliffs are just sometimes replaced by massive clusters of impassible, unchopable trees that serve the same purpose. a tiny bit of variety in world wall could help. but full, low restriction openness is the dream… maybe have rivers a little bit wider than most, that you could eventually make crossable with foot-Bridges…(trains and such have their own bridges already of course, so you can still take the train to new places) … you know what? yea… Building Bridges… uniting the World… I like that. from now on, my hypothetical Animal Crossing game will be called ‘Animal Crossing Bridge Builders’.

Wood?/new tree mechanics?; the Ax is one of the least used tools. and once you’ve got the trees you want exactly where you want them, it begins to feel like Time slows down… The World only changing when you or villagers make it change, or with the seasons. a bit more of a purpose to trees could be an incentive to experiment, or to pay more attention to The World, as you watch new saplings grow far more frequently than you ever did when planting new trees was a one-off aesthetic setup. Plus, if furniture crafting does become a thing, you got to get materials somewhere.

‘More’; exactly as it says on the tin. More fruit types, more tree types, more Villagers… a simple expectation, but one worth note.

extend on the mining thing from pocket camp?; I’m mostly thinking of this for the sake of a single gag… The mining place underground is randomly generated once a week or so… And poor Mr. Resetti… Another job change has resulted in them being tasked with helping facilitate the process that… Resets, the underground so that you’ll always have fresh access to the resources you need.

(huh… food, crafting, fishing, foraging, mining… this is starting to become more and more like Stardew Valley, only without an official farmland)

Balloon Presents; you ever wonder where those balloons come from? maybe you could give something back. Perhaps you could release things up into the air, where someone, somewhere will eventually get it.

‘Island Search’; an excuse for the ability to Design, shape and all, your very own island. after all, the Ocean is so big, that of course you’ll end up finding an island that matches what you want. The ultimate in Player agency over control over their environment; such as also being able to send invitations, or approve applications for Villagers so that they can come and live on your island. and, depending on how ‘north or south’ your island is, the seasons may pass normally, seem to always be summer, or so on.

non-real-time option; this is likely a dream that would be divisive. Real-time has always been a staple of the series. a mechanic that always has been. Well, like what was done with Breath of The Wild, even the most fundamental core aspects of the series should be open to revision and review, to see if it really is the best possible option. What if sleeping in your Bed could actually pass time? what if you didn’t have to be caught in a cycle of only being able play for however long it takes you to find the ore & money rocks, the new buried objects, and such, before the majority of everything new in the world that day has been expended, leaving the chance for you to stale the remaining time you play by running through pre-treaded ground, or for you to simply skip time anyway and change the date to, for example, see if what you want in the store or such shows up. (the ability for the gameplay loop to avoid turning stale could also be avoided with any other number of changes that could be implemented) this is just a possibility worth keeping in mind. also, next, as a possible middle ground that could help branch the two different time options…

Live events; like how Splatoon has Splatfests, and Smash has select Spirit events, there could be special happenings that follow a Real-realtime structure. like, ‘all furniture you’ll find by shaking trees will match your favorite Color this week!’ or, ‘manta-ray migration! the Villagers are going to be celebrating this event as they would a holiday sometime this week’(perhaps on the first available in-game day you play that week, so that it isn’t restricted to only a 24 hour window that some people would be more likely to miss)

more Amiibo Villagers; this might fall under ‘more’, but wouldn’t it be amazing if a majority of the amiibo released had villagers associated with them? I for one, would love to have an Octopus Guardian Villager Friend.

better character creation; the game has partially approached this, with things like beak accessories, but, what if you could be an animal like the other Villagers? And, perhaps, if you opt-in to this, The game could eventually Generate an Npc version of your Animal based on various actions and interactions the game slowly gathers as you play. An Npc that could then be found by other Players in their Worlds. so that there is always a new face to meet… there is a lot of variables here, and naturally, it would need to be monitored to prevent those with unkind intent from tainting the world, but if the game could Generate new Villagers, rather than being limited to a set of pre-made Villagers that would seem to be a drop in the bucket by comparison… and for you to know that the character you’ve met, who is kind and friendly to some degree, was created based off of a Person in the real World who is not all that different from you? To have a Worldwide Community of People able to see that no matter who you are, or where you come from, that you can be kind? That we can learn to love eachother, both despite and because of our differences? …

I’m not going to say it could lead to World Peace, but I won’t say that it won’t lead to World Peace.

Sable; ‘oh Hello! How are you doing today? My sisters can help you if you wanted to buy something, but if you wanted to make something yourself, I could help you figure it out’

Years of countless Players sharing their Love and support for Sable has grown into a warm feeling she will always have with her in her Heart… She will Never doubt herself or her value as a person ever again… And if you still choose to talk to her every day, She will still want to be your Friend.

Permanence vs drifting; It is nice to work hard, and make something of the town you live in… Developing bonds with your Villagers… Till you know every bump, crack, and turn in it… till it becomes Home… But, more and more traveler elements have been introduced… Campers, and mobile homes. even the towns of other players accessed through your dreams. Perhaps you could explore the world, like the Villagers who visit your town are, ready to see who you might meet, and what you might see… and who knows… maybe one day, you’ll stop. You’ll look around. You’ll feel the cool air against your skin. You’ll see the sun start to set beyond the mountaintop. You’ll sit by the campfire, and see smiles on faces… and just maybe… After how long it has taken you to reach this moment… You might decide…

That you are, right now, exactly where you want to be…

That you’ve finally made it Home.

#homestuck #nintendo #animal crossing #longpost #animal crossing bridge builders

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bonnergrady7-blog · 6 years ago

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The Easter Gym Rabbit Exercise.

Greater than 200 females went into the inner sanctum of Mumbai's historical Haji Ali Dargah mosque on Tuesday after trustees at the site lifted a restriction on women site visitors. The last time I wound up viewing a Martial Art motion picture from Thailand I suffered through the abysmal rubbish of Ong Bak 3. Now while Power youngsters is extra watchable than Ong Bak 3, it's absolutely nothing from just what you would certainly anticipate from the normal Thailand Fighting style motion picture. Each of us has a greater or higher power watching over us. As I mentioned previously, there are numerous summaries for this entity we the better power. It wants to turn out the innovation onshore as well as at sea, building systems with the capacity to produce hundreds of megawatts" of power within the years. Movie critic Consensus: Power struggles with excessive plotting as well as using overly acquainted by-the-numbers tale elements. Many of the gyms require their participants to adhere to the guidelines to be able to enter as well as use the facilities. No, in spite of popular concepts and also the normal urban legends, Pfeffer contends that the path to power is considerably different compared to the preferred ideas we were elevated to think. If you see that you are getting squeezed in order to pay for your health club Sydney subscription then you are bound to pull out after a couple of days. It is just a partial payment to realise that the mystery likewise suggests that political hopefuls such as Donald Trump - angry, manipulative harasses - are less most likely to acquire power to start with. When the power enters a solar power inverter, you can obtain 120 volt of rotating current (Air Conditioning), the exact same electrical energy required to power most residences. Depending upon the company, you may likewise have the alternative of choosing between an electrical (AC) and a battery powered (DC) stairway lift. Meanwhile, on the surface of the Moon, Lord Zedd as well as his spouse Rita Repulsa saw the Power Rangers. The majority of them think that the only method to accomplish those is by burning cash at the fitness center and exercising on all gym equipment. Exercises such as chain bench presses, where you loop a heavy chain over either end of the barbell when bench pressing, or banded deadlifts, performed by linking a band over bench, basing on completions and deadlifting can boost power. There are local authority as well as office gyms which are often more affordable as well as have easier charging structures. The power clean is a three-part power lift that includes a dive, decrease and also catch with a crammed weights. The PS20 becomes part of a EUR1.2 bn series of solar power plants based upon CSP technologies consisting of tower plants and trough-style enthusiasts - where water is come on tubes directly before parabolic mirrors that accumulate sunshine - and also a few PV panels prepared by Abengoa. It needs to be kept in mind that one-rep maximums could be computed using submaximal loads, based upon weight raised and also the number of repeatings executed. Also, when the youngsters were more youthful they couldn't constantly have buddies over after college due to the fact that I needed to be offered to own Aly to the health club.. At studiosante.de of their situation the Clean Power Plan's oppositions have actually paintinged a massive fiction: A picture of a steady, healthy and balanced coal-based power industry happily supplying everybody with affordable electricity, till the big negative EPA came as well as interfered with every little thing, compeling the sector into turbulent change, and ruining the American power economy. Like sprints, there are few workouts much better for lower/full-body power compared to jumping. It was crucial that health clubs inquired from local disabled people on how to enhance accessibility, he added. Additionally in the bundle are ten different laptop power tips, making the most of the possibilities that will fit your computer. If you are already speaking with somebody, as well as you get in the lift with each other, it is just about appropriate to continue chatting. And that didn't even take into account all the times a person close to the Rangers had been put in danger. It takes 5-6 years to construct a nuclear power plant, yet identifying the future of power generation, Vivint developed a virtual/future power plant in 2 years. Exactly how this man had been captured after a long pursuit, after the moor, how he had actually stood unrepentant as well as strong prior to the man that had power of life and death over him, how he chose not to take the oath of commitment to the king, just how he had been fired dead before his cottage, as well as just how his spouse had been viewer of her husband's fatality. If you're considering signing up with a fitness center - or possibly you just joined one - you're on the right track! I will think that no one analysis this is impressive enough to strike up a discussion with a stranger in a lift (such people are no question too busy - drawing the avoid kittycats, sending news release about the number of shopping days left until Xmas - to check out useful write-ups on modern rules). Which is a far better concept for your children' health and wellness - Remaining at residence as well as enjoying TV while chewing their favored snacks, or playing around a sporting activities health club playing evade ball as well as having a get on the playground. The Anderton Boat Lift is just one of just two working canal boat raises in the nation, the other being the 15-year old Falkirk Wheel in main Scotland. On the heels of last season's new lift and also 997-acre surface growth, British Columbia's Red Hill goes to it once again in 2014/15. Various other no-frills chains you could attempt consist of Fitspace, Pure Health club and Klick Fitness, which is had by Health and fitness First. Gold's Fitness center offers different physical fitness classes that are shown by certified instructors. Professor Utonium discovers that the girls have exceptional powers and super-human strength, as well as he wishes they'll be able to improve life in the crime-infected City of Townsville. After that before you return it see to it to have it in the same problem that you received it in. The rental of lift tools can be a cash saver however not if you return it late or in a broken condition. Un nouveau centre qui à la power plate vient d'ouvrir sur bourgoin jallieu: SUNLIGHT PRESQU'ILE. You might be certain you remained in a Greek city if you saw a theatre, a seminar, a political debate-- and a health club. Cardio devices (especially ones with those foam-rubber seats), weights and devices are crawling with germs and also microorganisms," claims Brown. Something that'll sure obtain parents mad is that these children are actually hit as well as shot at in this motion picture, while it makes the film a lot more exciting parents on the other hand will not be appreciating it. Power Children is not a poor look for a Martial Art flick from Thailand, while the Mauy Thai does not look as impressive as it in did in the original Ong Bak and it's virtually the exact same thing here. Lift it enables you to do some other tasks in the video game, such as playing the guitar with Rosario or Larry.

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ejm513 · 7 years ago

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UNTIL YOU’RE IN MY ARMS AGIAN

Hello my lovely @iwoulddieforhector! Here is your gift for the @cocofanexchange :D Enjoy!

UNTIL YOU’RE IN MY ARMS AGAIN

A COCO ONE SHOT FANFICTION INSPIRED BY “HOW DOES A MOMENT LAST FOREVER”

BY EJM513

To Iwoulddieforhector- the first Coco blog I followed back in December. I hope you enjoy! Please forgive my Spanish-I’m very rusty even though I’ve spoken Spanish/Spanglish my whole life I’ve studied two other languages since so I’m not up to snuff. So please forgive my probably awful effort. Happy belated Valentines Day! Love, Emma (aka EJM513)

It all started as a normal morning for the Rivera’s home and shoe shop. They had all risen with the sun and began their day early. Everyone had their space and task to complete-creating a special music of its. Imelda sat firmly in front of her trusty sewing machine, her fingers expertly running the rough leather through the aging green machine. Julio quietly hammered away, creating the study base of the shoes. His eyes, normally soft and wide, were narrow in concentration. Near by the twins were mummering, pens scratching on paper as they came up with the wildest designs. Rosita sat next to her brother, humming softly to herself as she gingerly embroidered boots. Victoria sat nearby at the phone, her eyes glued to a book as she waited for the shrill ring to pull her back to reality. It all blended together into a simply melody of its own-though no one would dare compare it to music.

Especially since there was finally real music filling the open room. Nestled in a corner of the work shop-far away from the hustle of bustle of everyday business, sat Hector. It was him who brought the music back. As he sat with his eyes closed, his fingers expertly plucked the strings of his beloved guitar. This had become his daily ritual since he was welcomed back into the embrace of his family. The moment it became clear he had no real talent for making shoes-and that it would be the end of Imelda and Hector’s fragile relationship- Hector happily found a corner and played. Just as it was on that warm summer morning, his melodies were already gentle and sweet and always in sync with the rhythm around him. It always created a calming atmosphere in the working shop, allowing most of the Rivera’s to work in peace.

And work in peace they did. Despite the severe expression of focus on their faces, the family seemed completely relaxed as they worked away. Even the ever stoic Victoria and Imelda had little smiles on their faces as they listened to the gentle music.

Hector opened his eyes and felt himself smile when he noticed this. He felt a strange yet welcomed surge of warmth in his chest, near where his heart would have been. In terms of business he might only be useful for deliveries, but he had a strange way of making everyone feel at ease. Watching them work with such a quiet calmness, and knowing he helped create such an environment brought him nothing but pride. He closed his eyes once again and leaned back against the wall, letting the music and warmth fill his old bones. He let out a contented sigh, feeling a sense of peace washing over him.

Yes, after all those years alone, life was finally beautiful once more.

A loud, shrill ring broke through the tranquil atmosphere, making Hector jump and causing the guitar to fumble in his hands. There were certain things Hector was convinced he would never understand-one of them being the telephone. Everyone else seemed entirely unphased by the sound, not turning their focus on their work and ignoring the sound of Victoria’s voice. Only Imelda glanced away from her sewing, taking a second to smirk at her husband before returning back to her work. Hector rolled his eyes began to lean back, ready to begin playing. Just as he back touched the wall Hector glanced towards his granddaughter. She had gone completely silent. Her hand held on the phone as if her life depended on it. Her jaw was dropped and her eyes were wide, staring at nothing in particular. Hector gave the room a quick glance, and no one seemed aware of the state Victoria was in.

This would not do.

Hector immediately put down his guitar down and walked to Victoria, weaving carefully through the different stations and task. He watched with careful eyes as she gave a stiff nod, her hand somehow gripping the phone even tighter.

“Si… Si..” Victoria said, her voice far less biting and commanding than it usually was. She lapsed into silence once more, listening closely to the person on the other end. A moment later she nodded and in the same stunned voice said,

“Si… si. Okay we’ll be there. Muchas gracias.”

“Everything okay angelita?” Hector asked the moment Victoria took the phone away from her ear, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Victoria kept her eyes trained on the counter, completely silent and seemingly unaware of Hector’s presence. Hector gave her shoulder a tender squeeze, hoping to pull her out of whatever trance she was in. She refused to look up at him, but much to his shock she slowly raised her hand and placed it on top of his. She wrapped her fingers around his and gripped his hand. Hector felt his own eyes grow large as she looked up at him, a large smile on her face. Hector thought his eyes were playing a trick on him, but he could have sworn if it had been possible, her cheeks would have been wet with tears.

“Mija?” Without saying another word Victoria threw her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder. Hector held her close, his mind swarming with confusion. Victoria had long since accepted him as his grandfather and part of the family, but she was never one to be so openly affectionate. Though he had no stomach, he could still feel the sensation of it growing tighter with worry.

“Mama…” Hector’s face twisted with incredulity, his head tilting ever so slightly. His thoughts were bouncing around, desperately trying to decipher who she was talking about. It only took a moment for him to realize who she was talking about.

Coco… his Coco.

It hit him like a bolt of lightning, making his bones become rigid. He held on tightly to Victoria’s shoulder and pushed her away so he could look at her.

“What about your Mama?” Hector asked, his words slow and his voice low. His words were enough to truly halt the flow of business. The once calm atmosphere was replaced by anticipation and tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. All eyes were one them as Victoria beamed up at her grandfather, trying to find to find her voice. Despite having long been dead she felt the all too familiar sensation of her heart pounding with joy, compromising her habitually aloof demeanor. She relished that feeling and deciding her family could no longer be kept in the dark by her silence, she finally spoke.

“She’s here, Mama’s here!!”

Those simple words hit like a speeding train. Everyone in the room seemed frozen where they stood, their eyes never moving from Victoria and Hector. For a long moment it seems time has stopped as Victoria’s proclamation bounced around in their heads, trying to settle. Hector continues to hold on to Victoria’s shoulders, looking more and more like a stunned statue with each passing second. For him the world had come to a complete stand still, his thoughts drowning in a raging sea of emotions crashing over him. There was a surge of unbridled joy, making his old bones strain from the urge to leap for joy and his nonexistent throat burn with the desire to cry out in elation. His eyes began to sting, though he knew no tears would come. He was so lost in himself that he was only partially aware that Victoria had skirted her away around him to hug her father. Hector staid motionless by the counter, his back turned to the rest of the family. He couldn’t seem Victoria and Julio embracing, couldn’t see Oscar and Felipe bouncing with excitement. He was oblivious to Rosita chittering away, rushing to pull her brother and niece into a massive hug. He was unaware of the joyous smile on his wife’s face.

At that moment, all Hector could focus on was the simple fact that after 96 years he would see his daughter.

And despite his sheer joy at the thought, he couldn’t ignore that cold sensation of fear that grabbed hold of him. He became painfully aware of the number of years they had spent apart, of how much he had missed. He never saw her blossom into adulthood. He wasn’t there to walk her down the isle on her wedding day. He wasn’t there when she became a mother. He had inkling of what kind of person she had become. There was no simple way of getting around those painful facts-he had missed her entire life-and there was no way to know how she would react when seeing him.

After all… she never put his photo on the ofrenda…

He could hear a voice-most likely Imelda- call over the excited clatter.

“What are we waiting for? We need to get our Coco!” She exclaimed, her voice wavering ever so slightly when she said her daughter’s name. The room suddenly came alive once more. Everyone began buzzing around the room, clearing the room of any signs of a their own work.

Only the guitar sat in the open. Only Hector seemed unwilling or unable to move. He was lost in a sea of his own terror and guilt that kept him stuck to ground. The same ugly thoughts raced through his over and over again, taunting and mocking taunt and causing him to spiral further and further into himself.

You missed everything.

It wasn’t my fault!

True but you shouldn’t have left in the first place!

Well….

She’s never going to want to see you-and if she does she’s just going to tell you how much she despises you.

¡Cállate! ¡Eso no es verdad!

Si eso es verdad.

Suddenly Hector felt an arm loop around his and felt himself moving. The vicious circle looping around in his head came to a screeching halt. Without warning Hector found himself outside the sanctuary of his new homeHe looked towards his left and sure enough there was Imelda. Not only was her arm looped around his, but she stood as close to him as she possibly could. Her head was resting against her shoulder. Without thinking he rested his head on top of her poof of dark hair, following her adoring gaze. The rest of his family were trailing a head of them, full of joyous chatter and laugher. They were indulging in all the happy memories of Coco, thrilled she had lived she a long life, wondering what she would be like. Though no one said it out loud-they silently pondered whether she would have regain his memory. If Imelda was worried about such things Hector didn’t know. She just beamed at her family, seemingly lost in a world of her own happiness.

Hector wished he could be so lucky. Though his thoughts had ceased their venomous taunting his still felt a strange tightness and fluttering senesation where his stomach would have been. His bones were still stiff and unable to escape from the icy grip of fear. The world suddenly seemed uncertain for the first time in months. It was a sensation that he prayed he would never have to feel again. He felt as if he was walking on egg shells when he had first eased his way back into the family, unaware of how they would react to his presences. The idea of feeling this way about seeing his daughter only added to his torment.

Why couldn’t he escape the guilt?

Why couldn’t he accept that his after life had changed? That he had been forgiven of his youthful mistake?

Out of the blue he noticed Imelda look up at him, her dark eyes swimming with gentle concern. She stopped walking for a spilt second and stood on her toes, placing a kiss on his cheek. She then planted her feet firmly on the ground and continued her walking, once again pulling a surprised Hector along.

“It’ll be okay Hector. She’s been waiting for this day for as long as you have.” Imelda whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder once more. Though Hector had no possessed a beating heart in almost a century, he could still feel the sensation of it skipping a beat, could feel it burning with excitement and adoration. It was something he was still not used to-the feeling of being alive when he was nothing but bones. At that moment though he thanked God for that sensation. For the first time since Victoria had given the wonderful news Hector truly felt grounded. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile, his eyes laughing at his own madness. He unhooked his arm from Imelda’s and pulled her in close, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

“Los siento mi amor. I guess I’m just being… un poco loco.” He chuckled, earning an exaggerated eye roll from his smirking wife. Hector let out another chuckle and kissed her cheek, nestling his face in her thick hair. He was finally content enough to ignore whatever demons had been plaguing him.

Whatever the day brought at least he could get to see his girl, and that was all that mattered.

Though she had only been dead for an hour, Socorro Rivera, better known as Coco, had decided that being dead was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to her.

For so many years Coco had found herself rendered useless. First her hands had started ache and creak, making her unable to continue the family trade. Then her legs started to go, rendering her in an uncomfortable wicker wheel chair and completely dependent on others. Though she despised being so dependent on others, she could swallow her pride and manage the she had been given-just had she done her entire life.

That is until her mind started to slip.

It happened slowly. Coco would forget a name or sometimes be a little confused. It was nothing to blink an eye at and indeed her family did not think of her momentary lapse of memory. With each passing year she remained on Earth she could feel her memory fading faster and faster. She began to forget faces she had seen for decades and even more terrifying, forgot the name of her own daughter. Coco could remember the day she realized what was happening, how she had been frozen to her wheelchair in terror. The last thing on Earth she wanted to do was forget…. She couldn’t forget. She held on to her memory until she no longer had the strength to. Those last months of her life had passed in a hazy blur, never entirely aware of her surroundings or who she was with.

Until her sweet boy Miguel saved her…. at least for a little while. All the beautiful songs in the world couldn’t prevent the inevitable. No matter how many times he played her Papa’s song, it couldn’t stop the hands of time or the damage that had already been done to brain. At least it made her smile, helped bring back long forgotten memories and bring her peace in her final days.

And now…

Now the issues that plagued her had, for the most part, faded away. As Coco sat in a private office at the Department of Family Reunions, she felt lighter than she had in years. Sure the agent sitting before her had explained it might take a few days her for to walk without any weakness, but she could kick her short legs freely and wiggle her toes. She was no longer haunted by a constant ache that had riddled her body for a long time. The best part though-the part she relished most of all was how clear her mind was. Of cores some memories and thoughts were blurred, and once again the kind women before her had said her mind would return to normal in a matter of days. However as she sat there, half listening to the agent, Coco knew the fog that had overtaken her mind was finally disappearing.

Oh yes… Socorro Rivera had never felt more alive. Though she knew the agent was telling her important information, Coco found it impossible to listen. Her warm dark eyes were glued on her feet, watching her toes wiggle and her legs kick back and forth. She was entranced by these simple motions she hadn’t been able to do in such a long time.

“Senora Rivera?” A delicate voice asked. Coco looked away from her swinging legs and wriggling toes. She was greeted with a warm smile from the agent. She returned the gesture with a gentle smile of her own, trying to subtilty look down towards her name tag. But of cores there was nothing subtle in Coco’s actions-subtle was not a term you could use to describe any of the Riveras. She managed to catch a flash of a name starting with M before the agent caught her, letting out an airy laugh.

“Oh Senora if you don’t remember my name you could have asked-I wouldn’t have been upset.” Coco shook her head and felt her smile turn into a smirk.

“Si of cores. Forgive this old woman-like you said my memory will take some time to come back”

“Only a few days! You already seem to be much better!”

“Si, but it would be lovely if you could tell me your name.” The agent nodded happily, resting her elbows on her wooden desk and somehow managed to sit even straighter than she already was.

“My name Maria Luciero.” Coco’s smile softened at the sound of the name, her smile and eyes softening.

“What a lovely name.” She sighed, earning a delighted giggle from Maria.

“It’s such an honor to hear you say that-to be in your presences and to help you with this process.” She exclaimed, her voice growing higher and higher throughout the sentence. Coco willed her smile to stay in place, only fully aware that if she were alive her face would be flushed red and burning hot. For a moment she could have sworn she felt the all too familiar sensation, but wrote it off as a trick of her old mind. An awkward silence fell over them as Coco didn’t respond to her excitement, and the woman turned around to obtain something. Coco welcomed the silence, it gave her time to sift through her thoughts-the loudest of them wondering why it was such an honor to be in her presence-why she was so special period. From the moment she came into this world, she was whisked away. It had not been quick enough. She was only too aware of the eyes staring at her, could clearly hear the hushed words people were trying to hide from her. Too add to the strangeness of it all she was taken a private office-which she had the sense to know this was not always common practice.

Oh yes something strange was going on.

Coco opened her mouth to voice her concerns, but before she made a sound a loud plop on the desk caused her to close her mouth. In between herself and Maria was an intimidatingly large stack of gleaming white paper. Maria crossed her arms on top of the pile, a pen held in her fingers. She gave Coco an apologetic smile before putting her elbows back on the desk and pushed the pile of paper towards her. Coco’s eyes budged and her jaw dropped at the sight. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a feeble squeak.

“I know… I’m sorry Senora. Unfortunately, death is a nasty business in more way than one. But the sooner you get this done, the sooner you can go to your family.” Maria said, handing the pen over to Coco. She took the pen, her eyes, still too stunned to speak. She sat as tall as she could, stretching her neck to see the top of the pile. With a sigh and huff she reached up and placed the first paper and front of her and began diligently filling it out.

Coco had no way of knowing how much time had passed since she had begun to fill out the seemingly insurmountable amount of paper work. The rational part of her knew it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. On the other hand she was convinced that the papers didn’t just somehow multiply each time she completed one. Those she was hopefully her eyes wouldn’t strain anymore she was almost certain her head was beginning to spin the longer she kept writing.

“Is this normal?” She asked, her voice weak with exasperation.

“Si.” Maria replied, her eyes glued on to the elderly woman. Coco sighed and looked away, feeling incredibly uncomfortable by Maria’s contently gaze. With a dash of a pen she completed another form, letting out a huff of annoyance. She looked up, hopefully it was the end, only to see yet another form staring her in the face.

As she for the next form, she sent a silent prayer for some relief-anything to stop the endless stream of paper work and Maria’s constant staring.

Just as if God was listening Coco could hear muffled voices trickling through the closed door. She couldn’t make out the individual voices, but she knew perfectly well who they were. Her hand grasped the pen tightly, her other hand crimpling the form she was filling out. The voices grew louder and louder, making it far easier to pick out individual voices. She could hear the familiar nasal tones of her tios as they chattered in their unusual way. She could her the high twitter of Rosita’s voice and the raspy, gentle timbre of her Julio’s speech. Coco dropped the pen at the sound of her husbands voice, her chest filling with a beautiful warmth that as far as Coco was concerned shouldn’t have been there. It only grew stronger when she heard the door knob rattling. Before it swung open she dropped the pen and turned around to face the door, her eyes wide with anticipation.

After what seemed an eternity, the door finally opened.

“COCO!!” A chorous of voices cried, rushing into the room as fast they good. Coco’s mouth spilt into a massive smile, and with no regards to her legs she freed herself from that chair and walked towards her family with open arms. It was hard to tell who would reach her first, and she didn’t care. As along as she was able to hold on to one of them, she would be happy. Much to her delight she felt a rather short person collide into her and pull her into a tight hug. She would know those arms anywhere, even if they lacked any flesh and muscle. She’d know her Julio anywhere. Coco could feel her eyes burning as if she wanted to sob-but of cores she didn’t. She held him as tightly as she could, placing little kisses all over his face. He kissed her cheeks and then her lips, making her giggle like a little school girl. She rested her forehead against his, placing a little peck on his cheek.

“Oh mi amor.. I’ve missed you so, so much.” She sighed, finally opening her eyes and taking in every detail of his skeletal face. She traced her fingers around his marking, relishing the sound of his chuckle.

“I’ve missed you to mi vida…so much.” He replied, leaning into her gingerly touch. They both could have stayed like that forever, wrapped in each other arms and staring into each other eyes, as if nothing else mattered in the world. For a few blissful moments they did stay that way, completely unaware of the all the eyes staring at them. After those few moments Julio reluctantly pulled away, resting his hand on her cheek. Coco reached up and held his wrist, not ready to look away.

“We’ll have all the time in the world to catch up amor. But in the meantime, I think there are some other people who want to see you.” Julio said, letting go of Coco’s face. She looked over his shoulder to see the group of people standing behind him.

Had she possessed a heart she swore it would have exploded from joy. Right before her eyes were people she hadn’t seen in decades-people she had longed to speak to and hold for so long. They were right there, smiling her and just in reach. She walked around Julio, slowly making her way to her family. Everyone began to surround her, wanting to pull her into a tight hug.

Everyone of cores, except Hector. He staid by the door as still and as frozen as a statue. Only this time he was not paralyzed with the same self-doubt and terror that had plagued him before. From the moment he stepped into that office, he found himself so overwhelmed he was unable to move. As everyone else rushed to gather around Coco, he could only stare. Of cores he was highly aware that Coco was far older than the three-year-old he had left. The reality of it was much different. She was short, not a great deal taller than her tiny husband. Her back was slightly hunched, covered in a delicate orange shawl. Her hair, which had once been thick and dark was now a tuff of long white braids trailing down to her chest. Nothing else could have put it into clear focus how much he had missed. The very sight of he daughter as a small, snowy haired woman should have sent him down the same slippery slope back into his demons.

Yet as he stood there, watching Coco embrace her family, Hector saw what he could have only dreamed of-a glimpse of all he had missed. As he watched Coco and Julio hold each other close, he could see just how happy and in love they were. Though he already knew what kind of a man Julio was, it filled the empty space between his ribs with elation to see just how gentle and loving Julio truly was with her. Hector saw what kind of sister and friend she was when Coco threw her arms around Rosita as both women fell into laughter. He saw how close she had been with her tios, happily letting them dote on her just as they had in life. He saw what kind of mother she had been when Coco laid eyes on Victoria and glowed with elation. Hector thought he would break as he watched his normally stoic granddaughter melt into her mother’s arms, to hear Coco whisper sweet nothings as she kissed every inch of Victoria’s face. He could have watched them all day, only imaging what they must have gone through when Victoria meant her untimely death.

However, if watching Coco embracing her child came close to taking him over the edge, he had no idea what would happen to his emotions the moment Imelda and Coco held on to each other. Coco was short enough to easily rest her head on her mother’s shoulder. She smiled happily as Imelda stroked her hair, whispering how much she loved her.

Suddenly the scene before Hector was replaced with another, a beautiful memory that Hector had kept keep within himself. The small office had vanished and was replaced by an open, sunlight kitchen. Imelda was standing by pot, slowly stirring the contents inside as she held Coco close. She swayed back and forth, humming a simple tune. The tune would cease momentarily when Imelda would kiss Coco’s cheeks, making the little girl giggle. They were both smiling, their heads resting against each other. Coco lifted her head up and stared her mother right in the eyes, grabbing Imelda’s face and said,

“Love you Mama!” Imelda had ceased her stirring and let the spoon rest against the pot. She held Coco close, kissing her chubby little face. She pressed her face against Coco’s dark hair and whispered in return,

“I love you to cariño… I love you so much.”

The memory vanished just as quickly as the memory came it vanished, and Hector was once again in the little office. Imelda was still holding Coco, unaware of him watching. Hector just smiled, soaking in the sweet picture before him. It was better than a memory-this whole day was far better than any sort’ of distant memory, and he was unable to see how the day could have gotten any better.

Until Coco and Imelda finally let go of each other. Coco’s brown eyes scanned the room, desperately searching for something-or someone.

“Where’s Pa…” She began, slowly spinning around until she faced the door. Her voice came to a halt, unable to finish her question. Hector lowered his hand from his mouth, letting it fall to his side. Hector once again felt the sensation of time slowing, of everything around him fading away. His sole focus was the small skeleton before him. Her astonished expression mirrored is own, as if she also couldn’t believe who was she was staring at. Her job dropped into a slight O shape, her the corners of her mouth turning up into a wide smile.

“Papa!!” She cried, her voice cracking ever so slightly. She held out her arms and began to take a slow step towards her. Hector watched her carefully, his chest feeling tight at the sight of her glacial, weak walking. She kept walking closer and closer towards him, despite the fact her legs were clearly tired from standing as long as she had. Being the stubborn woman she was, Coco kept moving forward despite obviously struggling. She didn’t make it too close before her legs finally began to buckle. Every Rivera let out a gasp as Coco began to wobble and fall, but no one had a chance to react. Fueled by some powerful, long dormant instinct Hector bolted to her side, catching her before she had a chance to crash on the floor. Instead both of them fell to the knees, holding each other as close as possible.

Hector closed his eyes and buried his face into her hair, swaying back and forth. Even after all those years she seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, the only difference being she could pull him into an equally tight embrace. It was truly a marvelous thing to feel her arms so strong and steady around him. He could feel his eyes burning more fiercely than they had all day despite them being closed. Despite having no throat he could feel a cry bubbling up, until it had nowhere else to go but out his mouth. He began to sob in spite of the lack of tears pouring down his face. Though he wasn’t sure how Coco managed to hold him tighter at the sound of his cries. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye, her skeletal face painted with unbridled joy. Hector couldn’t help him at that point. He began to kiss her face over and over again.

“Mi amor.” He whispered in between each kiss, and didn’t stop until he had showered every inch of her face in kisses. The whole time Coco held perfectly still, keeping her eyes closed and melting into his chest. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could have sworn his arms felt warm, just as they had in life. She loved that warmth-she had missed that warmth for over 90 years. A sense of peace washed over her, even as her Papa sobbed into her hair. She knew they were tears of joy-and she knew if she dared to speak there would be no words but a joyful sob. But she didn’t. Somehow Coco managed to stay silent, listening to Hector call her “mija” and “mi amor” over and over again. She could had no idea how long they staid like this, holding tightly to each other as Hector whispered sweet nothings, but eventually Hector pulled away, still keeping his hands resting on her shoulders. He soaked in every detail of her face, from her warm chocolate eyes to her high cheek bones and purple markings that were so much like his own. He lifted his hands off her shoulders and placed them on her cheeks, stroking them with thumbs.

“Look at you mija… you have lived such an amazing life.”

“Si.. I did.” Coco began, her smiling oddly fading as she thought of every important moment in her life, how there was always one important person missing from it all. She willed her smile to stay, but she knew it was growing sadder and sadder with each passing second. Her glanced drifted down to the floor, giving her a moment to steal herself before she spoke.

“Pero… it would have been better if you were there.” Hectors massive smile faltered the instant she finished her sentence, his joyful eyes becoming clouded with a million negative emotions-anger, grief and above all regret. His back hunched over , his hands fell away from her cheek bones and for the first time since entering the office he looked away from her. Coco immediately lamented her words. It didn’t matter that what she said was sad reality of her life, but she loathed what they had done to her father. She went to reach for his chin so she could tilt his head up and look him in the eye while she apologized, but Hector looked up before she had a chance to. He forced a smile, but his eyes were still hazy with the same toxic blend of emotions.

“ I’m so sorry mija…. I’m so so sorry I ever left you and Mama. I’m so sorry mi amor….” He said, stroking her soft snowy hair. Coco had enough of this. She raised her eyes and brought them to his face and pulled it close to her, just as she had done so many times as a child. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his forehead, feeling her mouth curl into a bigger smile than she had before. It felt like the most natural thing in world.

“I know Papa, you would have come home if you were able to.” She said tenderly. Hector shook his head, screwing his head, as if her words didn’t reach him.

“I was coming home when… I tried so hard to come home.” He explained, desperate for her to know that he had always meant to come home, that he had never meant to leave her. Coco kissed his cheeks, letting out a sweet chuckle.

“None of that matters anymore. We have all the time in the world now.”

Hector’s smile returned in full force at the sound of those words, his chest swelling with pride. His sweet little girl had turned into such a wise woman. It made him all the more excited to spend an eternity getting to know this wonderful daughter of his, to make up for all the time that was stolen from them. He wrapped his arms around once more, finally feeling at peace for the first time in over ninety years.

Hours later the Rivera family found themselves back in their hacienda, all huddled in the sitting room. Hector and Imelda sat arm and arm, watching on with contented and peaceful expressions as their daughter regaled tale after tale and story after story. Hector particularly enjoyed watching Coco interact with everyone else; seeing her sitting contently in Julio’s arms, watching her dote on her daughter and joining in on her tios jokes. It was fuel to that all-encompassing feeling of peace he had felt back in the office. He was convinced that there would be no greater joy than sitting in the arms of his love and just watching their Coco.

That is… until she mentioned Miguel. Hector’s spine stiffened at the sound of his name, his eyes growing wide. His arms tightened around Imelda, causing her to glare at him.

“Vendejo don’t hold me so tight!” She hissed. Hector didn’t seem to notice. He continued to hold her tightly as leaned closer towards his daughter.

“How is he?” Hector asked. Coco turned her gaze to him, her gentle smiling morphing into an expression of incredulity.

“He’s good-how do you know about him? I thought you weren’t able to cross over until now?” Everyone in the room went dead silent, glancing at each other. It had never occurred to them to wonder whether Miguel had told his family about his ordeal in the Land of the Dead-at the very least they had all assumed that Coco had been told since Hector was still with them. As Coco eyed them suspiciously, it became obvious that she knew nothing. Always the parent, Hector cleared his throat and smiled brightly, knowing full well it would not fool her as it had done when she as a toddler.

“It’s uh… a long story amor that we’ll talk about later but… I know all about Miguel.” Coco narrowed her eyes, burrowing them in to her father as she decided whether or not to push him further. It was nowhere near as terror inducing as Imelda’s, but it was still formidable none the less. He stayed still, trying to hide his shock at seeing such an expression on his little girl, and hoping she didn’t question him. Thankfully for Hector she her face softened and a small smile appeared once more.

“All right then. Miguel is still the same sweet heart-you should see him with his baby sister, it’s so beautiful. He’s always been so good to me. Do you know he always gave me orange slices every day?” Imelda’s face became painted with confusion, her mind filling with memories of Coco chucking orange slices across the kitchen the moment she laid eyes on them.

“You hate orange silences.” Imelda stated, her smile mingling with confusion.

“I guess I got used to them because of Miguel. I always wondered why he did that.” Coco pondered. Victoria fixed her glasses, her face growing stoic with concentration.

“I think it’s because oranges are supposed to help memory. At least that’s’ what I read somewhere.” Coco turned to her daughter, beaming with pride.

“Look at my girl-so smart!” Victoria’s faced soften into a pleasant smile, her eyes glancing down as if he was embraced by her mother’s praise.

“That would explain a lot-especially why he gave so many, especially after.”

A loud rapping knock interrupted Coco, causing all heads to turn towards the door. Imelda groaned in displeasure as she untangled herself from Hector’s arms. She marched towards the door with her hands on her hips, muttering vicious words about delusion fans and people interrupting them. She swung open the door, a slew of fiery words at the ready, only to be foiled by a sudden pair of arms being thrown around her neck.

“Ay Imelda mi hermosa amiga!”

“Fr…Frida! What are you…” Imelda asked, completely stunned by the sudden appearance of the famous artist, Frida Kahlo and her ever present monkey alebrje .Frida kissed both of her cheeks, giving her once last squeeze before letting her go.

“Oh chica think about who you’re talking to-I know everything. Besides you know how quickly news travels around here, especially since you’re”

“Finish that sentence and I swear…”

“Oh calm Imelda darling I mean no harm and you know it.” She skirted around Imelda before the matriarch had a chance to stop her, gliding right into the living room as if she owned the place. She walked right up to Coco, who sat slack jawed and frozen at the sight.

Frida was everything she had expected her to be. She was no particularly tall-maybe only a few inches taller than Imelda. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant up due, and she was dressed in the most colorful clothes had seen. A small, green monkey sat contently on the top of her shoulders. It eyed her with as much curiosity and awe as its owner did. Coco felt her bones tighten, and her jaw dropped even more, threatening to detach.

“You… You…” She stuttered, earning a chuckle from the renowned artist. She bent down to hug Coco, completely ignoring how rigid the woman was in her arms.

“Si I am Frida Kahlo, and YOU are the illustrious Coco!” Frida exclaimed, releasing Coco and hold her by the shoulders. Coco fell silent for a moment, trying to process what had just happened and what she had just heard. Her stunned expressed twisted into one of extreme confusion and horror.

“I… I wouldn’t call myself illustrious.” Coco muttered, her face growing hot as if she should be turning as red as a tomato. She gripped her white dress in a desperate attempt to keep her hands from fiddling with each other. Frida laughed, bending down to give Coco’s cheek a pat. Coco stiffened under the touch, feeling her nonexistent heart beating rapidly.

“Ay dios mios, you really have no idea how special you really are” Frida claimed, her joyful expression softening into a thoughtful one. Coco felt as if she could crawl out of her skin had she had any. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into herself and forget this moment had ever happened. It was almost impossible to wrap her mind around-one of Mexico’s most famous artist was standing before her, a simple old shoe maker, telling her she was special. Not knowing well else to do Coco shook her head, her braids swinging around her face. She opened her mouth to protest such a claim, but never had the chance to utter a word.

“Si Frida, our Coco is quiet special.” Hector said, flashing a loving smile at his daughter. Despite her embarrassment Coco felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile. The burning feeling in her cheeks only grew when she heard the rest of her family agree with Hector and Frida. Though she didn’t look at anyone, preferring to just glance around the room, her small smile grew bigger with each complement. After a moment she finally felt comfortable enough to look at Frida, who had moved over to Hector.

“I’m so happy for you amigo-this must be such a special day for you.” She said, gently patting his shoulder. Hector stiffened, looking up at Frida with a kind smile.

“Si it is.” Frida nodded in agreement, lifting her hand of his shoulder and smooth her skirt. She turned on the balls of her feet, declaring;

“I can tell I overstayed my welcome so I’ll just leave you all alone.” She looked over her shoulder back at Coco, flashing a brilliant smile.

“I’m very you’re here chica. I can’t wait to get to know you-that is if your mama’s alebreje will let me.” She said, her voice turning bitter at the mention of the infamous multicolored winged jaguar. As if right on cue Pepita let out a low rumbling row, making the room tremble. Imelda scowled as Frida walked back, her eyes full of irritation and anger. Frida gave Imelda a warm smile, holding out her arms to pull her into a hug. Imelda crossed her arms and stood firm as she found herself in an unwanted hug, even more rigid than Coco had been. The little monkey patted her head, only irritating the shoe maker even more. Imelda shoved Frida away, placed her hands on her hips.

“All right you had your fun now go!” The famous artist shrugged, seemingly unphased by Imelda’s hostility. She simply floated out the door as effortless as she had come in. Imelda slammed the door shut. She let out a loud huff and crossed her arms over her chest, marching back to her family.

“I swear! I’m sorry Hector I know she’s your friend and has done so much for us but she has no right to come into our home and insult my Pepita!” She chided, sitting on the couch with a unlady like plop.

“And that monkey in a nuisance!” She added, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression tight with frustration. Hector went to put his arm around her shoulder, prepared to try and calm her down.

“Frida Kahlo is your friend?!” Coco asked, causing Hector to freeze and hover his arm just over Imelda’s shoulder. He placed it back to his side, staring at Coco with an emotionless expression, his thoughts running a million miles a minute. Coco continued to stare at him with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for the answer she seeked. The other Riveras refused to talk or even look at them, knowing full well it wasn’t their story to tell. Memories came flooding back, of sneaking into Ceci’s costume studio to “borrow” a Frida costume, -and the painful reminder it wasn’t the first time he had tried such a thing. The memory of Frida catching him in costume still haunted him to this day. He could hear how she cackled and doubled over from laughing so hard-even the monkey was snickering at him.

No. Hector decided if he had any say in it his daughter would no idea of him dressing up as Frida Kahlo-or anymore for that matter.

“Uh I don’t want to talk about it mija.” He said, looking down at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, silently hoping it would be enough. He knew it wasn’t. If there was one thing he knew about his daughter that seemed to have not changed, was how frustratingly persistent she could be. Sure enough Coco’s once shocked expression and twisted into pure irritation.

She wanted to hear the story and she would hear it-even if she had to restore to certain measures she had not resorted to since childhood.

“But how..”

“I said I’m not talking about it!” Hector stated, standing up and walking away from the group. Despite still getting used to her legs Coco immediately stood up and began to trail behind him as he walked through the house.

“How do you know Frida Kahlo?” She demanded.

“I’m not talking about Coco.”

“How do you know Frida Kahlo?”

“I said no mija.”

“How do you-“

“SOCORRO RIVERA DROP IT!”

The family watched the scene with amused expression and laughter, unused to seeing Coco act in such a manner. Everyone that is except Imelda. She watched the scene unfolding with a soft smile and a thoughtful expression. Her chest glowing with a kind of adoration she hadn’t felt in a long time. As she heard them squabbling, Imelda found herself falling deep into the recesses of her mind, just as Hector had done before. Right before her eyes her hacienda suddenly became much smaller. Hector was no longer a skeleton but flesh and bone. Coco was a little toddler once more, having gained use of her leg and a small amount of words. For whatever reason Coco was following Hector around the house, pleading with him for something or to do something.

“Please Papa!” She begged, her choice high and childish.

“No mi amor.”

“Please Papa.” She tried again, batting her chocolate eyes and trying not to stumble as she kept up with him.

“Coco I said no.” Hector repeated, his voice growing every more agitated with each childish plea.

“PLEASE Papa?!” Coco cried, throwing herself at Hector’s leg. She wrapped both her arms and ankles around the unsuspecting leg, causing Hector to drag her along as he went through the house.

“Socorro Rivera you need to let me go!” Hector ordered, desperately trying to conceal his frustration.

“No!” She cried, holding Hector’s leg even tighter. Hector’s annoying grimace turned into a loving smile, letting go of whatever annoyance he had. He bent down and pried her from his leg, scooping her in his arm and spinning her around.

Imelda felt her breath being sucked away at how vivid the memory was, how even though she had returned into reality she could have so easily been back in her little home, watching Hector slowly make his way around the house as Coco clung to his leg. She knew it was only a memory, and she could tell by the way Coco kept harping at her poor Papa that it would not end the same way. Their voices carried on for a few more minutes until Hector finally caved.

“All right all right you win mija! I’ll tell you later okay?” Coco’s lips curled into a proud smirk as she let out a low chuckle, instinctively wrapping her arms around her nonexistent stomach. Hector stared at her wide eyed, his face colored in disbelief.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?! Remind me again how old you are?!” He demanded, looking completely offended as Coco’s chuckle turned into full blown laughter. He gawked at her in disbelief, his jaw dropped in a slightly O. He wanted to stay annoyed at her childish antics-after all she had almost lived a century. However, her soft, feather like laughter melted away frustration he felt. His exasperated expression turned back into a smile, and he began to laugh along with her. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed the top of her snowy head, thankful to have his miracle back in his arms.

“Te amo mucho mi amor.” He said, rubbing gentle shoulders on her shoulder blade. Coco wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could and looked up into his large, loving eyes.

“Te amo tambien Papa.”

Imelda’s small smile grew until it reached the tips of both cheeks as she watched them. She was so full of joy she felt like she was glowing. For the first time in ages, Imelda could finally let herself fall back into the couch and relax.

Life was good.

#coco #coco fan exchange #coco fan work exchange #Hector Rivera #Coco Rivera #imelda rivera

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droneseco · 4 years ago

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