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pedrospatch · 1 year

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Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

#to hell and back #to hell and back fic #joel miller #joel miller comfort #soft joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller series #Joel miller story #joel miller fic #Joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #Spotify

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polarisbibliotheque · 5 months

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Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #devil may halloween #SO MUCH HAPPENING ON THIS #but for some reason I remembered when I was playing DMC4 with Vergil for the first time #having the hero music blasting on the back with Vergil saving the day #I found myself almost crying thinking 'this man hasn't had a DAY of rest in his life and probably was NEVER seen as good or as a hero'#and made me think how MUCH Vergil needs that #he needs to hear he's an angel sometimes #that would DESTROY this man #being tortured? fine #dragging his dying body out of hell? been there done that #having his lover tell him he's good? man is a crying mess on the floor not knowing what to do with this thing inside his chest #(it's called heart silly)

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senkusphone · 9 months

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Happy Stone Day, everyone!

On this day, when celebrating the onion man is what most people indulge on, let's also turn our eyes to the fascinating civilization that is Ishigami village, in this mini post (compared to what I usually do anyway).

Starting with the reason I am doing this in the first place, Stone Day. It is a celebration from Ishigami Village that takes place in January 4th, which happens to be Senku's birthday, likely an easter egg left by Byakuya in the hundred tales. Unfortunately we weren't shown anything regarding what this celebration involves.

As the manga itself points out, Stone day is significant in several ways, for one, 1/4 is i-shi in japanese, which also means Stone. It is Senku's birthday (and if you've been following me you'll know that the day Senku was born in, January 4th 2004, was the day that Nasa's Spirit rover landed on Mars).

Another tradition is of course the grand bout, which there isn't much left to say about since it was explained in detail in the series, even down to its specific rules

Rule 6 is the only one that wasn't relevant in the series as far as I can tell.

It's been also vaguely implied that there are other fighting tournaments that take place in the village, which makes sense, since why would you keep an open arena just to use it once very 20 years or so?

(Sideways to save vertical space, Suika will pray for your neck)

However it's never explained how this tradition started to begin with; did it exist in treasure island and disappeared after the Ishigami branched off, or did it start with them in the mainland?

The society structure of contemporary treasure island is substantially different, with a number of small villages that are all (at least in theory) managed by a centralized government composed of the master (or "head" much to our amusement) and the prime minister, where most power is held by the master, who also serves as the main religious figure, being the one who largely keeps the hundred tales, which are passed from generation to generation along his lineage.

In Ishigami village things kinda flipped and thus spawned a system that is at least half matriarchal so to speak. Now political power is split between the chief and the priestess, where the chief holds most executive authority while the priestess holds most of the religious power, and it is the lineage of the priestess that keeps the tales and that power in-family, with the chief being some allegedly suited rando from the village.

Even though it's the obligation of the priestess to marry the chief, she is rarely if ever shown as a subordinate to him and both can be seen directing the village, which I think it's very interesting. The anime went as far as expanding on this, by implying that it was Ruri who told Kokuyo to abdicate his position to Senku.

Sneakily she gets to keep being the priestess without having to be engaged, and we see her taking leading roles from then on.

Now I've talked about religious figures but what is their religion to begin with? Hard to tell, we know that they believe in multiple gods who control the forces of nature such as lightning. Similarly it's also been shown that prior to Senku's arrival, they believed themselves to be the only humans on earth, at least some of them believed the earth was flat, and most bizarrely, they believed the moon was something akin to a floating lake, owning to its small apparent size, however that works.

Perhaps they took note of how water tends to form spheres due to surface tension? This reminds me of how some scientist a few centuries ago (but idr who at this moment) believed the moon to be a solid mass of congealed air.

The last thing I want to bring up is the Ishigami village rope, reportedly made with a special technique that's unique to them.

It is also said that the rope reflects rank and profession somehow, but this is not reflected in any noticeable way on the series itself. Boichi probably hadn't been told about this when he designed all 40 known villagers in the span of one week.

The rope is worn somewhere around the body, and it contains a single red thread spun into it, serving as a symbol of kinship among them.

For now I'll leave it at that, as it's getting pretty late in the day, and pretty much all of this is written on the wiki article to begin with. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll see you all some other day.

#dr. stone trivia #dcst stone day #dr stone #dr. stone #dcst #dcst senku #drstone #dcst kohaku #kohaku dr stone #dr stone kohaku #senku ishigami #dcst ruri #dr stone ruri #ruri dr stone #dcst suika #dr stone suika #suika dr stone

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l-norris · 2 months

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This is it - the last race before the summer break (thank fuck, God knows we all need it) is underway, and I have once again decided to bless your feed with my random yapping about what happens in the race :)

Have fun!

DISCLAIMER: Remember that this is just for shits and giggles, I'm not trying to actually hate on any of the drivers cuz all (most) of them are very dear to me!

As always: Numbers in brackets = lap number

- I stopped building my Lego Mercedes for this

- Formation lap starts

- Almost everyone is on Mediums

- it's not raining for once btw

- Sunny day in Belgium, what a shocker.

- Yuki 60 place grid penalty

- Mans is starting from Hungary

- Max 10 place grid penalty

- It's lights out and away we go!

- Lando bottled the start pt. idk (boy pls😭)

- George and Alex go wide

- I think Hungary damaged McLaren as a whole😔

- Went from a top contender team to a middle field team in a matter of days😨

- Charles is still first

- Max is already in 8th

- Behind Lando

- I am in despair

- Alex noted for leaving the track and gaining an advantage (2)

- Lewis overtakes Charles (3)

- Now leads the race

- Guanyu has no power (3)

- "He is destined for another race of misery" BROTHER😭

- Calling it now Max will win the race.

- "This might be a strategic masterplan of Ferrari" Crofty please don't lie to yourself

- Guanyu got the car running again

- "Something is moving down by my legs"

- Okay Lewis

- sounds familiar

- Guanyu retires (7)

- Hulk pits (8)

- Alex, Danny and Logan pit (9)

- Lewis is told to lift and coast

- Pierre pits (10)

- DRS train without Fernando... how weird

- Max and George pit (11)

- Mum pick me up I'm scared

- So many people pit (12)

- Including Lewis, Oscar, Valtteri and Checo

- Ferrari strategists bottling it once again

- Lewis almost crashes into Oscar in the pitlane omg (13)

- Oscar fastest lap (14)

- "Straight line speed is a fucking joke"

- Duh Lance, you're driving a fucking Aston Martin. The hell do you expect?

- Lando pits (15)

- Carlos in the gravel

- French civil war reenactment (Esteban overtakes Pierre)

- "Don't worry about it, Lando."

- War flashbacks

- He did, in fact, need to worry about it.

- Oh btw Carlos leads the race (19)

- I keep mixing up Alpines special liveries with Haas

- Anyone else? No? Just me? Okay.

- Checo parks the bus to keep George in front of Max LOL

- Carlos FINALLY pits (20)

- Alpines are faster than Aston Martin🫣

- Ferrari try a 1-stop...?? What the hell??

- George finally passes Checo (21)

- Max now behind his teammate

- Checo pits...? (22)

- indirect teamorders mayhaps?

- Lando in Max' DRS window

- "We are very slow on the straights"

- No Checo that's just you🙏🏻

- Lando is NOT catching up to Max (24)

- I'm praying for another Miami atp

- Ferrari fuck Charles' pitstop (25)

- Lewis pits (26)

- What was that camera angle on Lewis' pitstop😵‍💫

- Oscar leads for now (27)

- "Beware the quiet man" So true Crofty

- Carlos pits again (29)

- Do you reckon Oscar can bring it home in a one-stop?

- Lando pits (29)

- teamorders @ redbull

- Oscar pits (30)

- and hits the jackman🫣

- Lando overtakes Checo easily (31)

- George is really doing a one-stop

- Madman

- It's getting spicy between Max and Lando

- Nevermind, Max started pushing

- The fact he wasn't even pushing... yikes

- Oscar fights Charles for P3

- AND HE DOES IT! (35)

- Amazing move from Oscar here

- Danny Ric is in the points! I repeat! Danny Ric is in the points!

- Carlos overtakes Checo (39)

- That's embarrassing🫣

- Lewis in DRS window of George (41)

- it's getting exciting towards the end

- Checo pits?? (43)

- Final lap!

- OSCAR IN DRS WINDOW

- That mf really did it - he won on a one stop

- MERCEDES 1-2

- OSCAR P3

- WOWOWOWOW

- Also on a side note Checo finished P8

- So who's in the second Red Bull after summer break?

- Place your bets here!

- Anyways

- This was so fucking stressful

- but so exciting all the same.

- Onto the summer break (thank fuck)

- After the race, George's car was found to be a few kgs lighter than regulations state it needs to be.

🚨POST RACE BREAKING NEWS🚨

- 7pm local time: it has been confirmed - George Russell has been disqualified from the Belgian GP.

- George is facing a possible DSQ due to this.

- All of this came about at approx. 6:30 pm local time and is being investigated.

- This is the worst day of my life

- Well... after all that happened we sure as fuck need a break. A long one.

... Holy moly. That one was an emotional rollercoaster. And just after I said we need the summer break desperately. I really enjoyed the race (except for the whole George DSQ thing) but at the same I can't be more happy about summer break after these last two races😵‍💫

Have a nice summer break everyone, hope to see you even in the off-time occasionally!

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mask131 · 1 year

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The other Olympians: Eris

After Eros, I just HAD to do Eris. Everybody keeps speaking of “Eros and Thanatos”, the pulsion of life and the pulsion of death – but what about Eris and Eros? Hate and love. One causes division, the other unification. One destroys the world, the other creates it. Heck, they are even just one letter away from each other!

“But…” I heard some of you say. “Eris isn’t an Olympian!”. Well yes and no. Sometimes she is, sometimes she isn’t. Let us explore that.

Who is Eris? The word “eris” means “strife” in Greek, and this is exactly what Eris is. She is the goddess of strife and the embodiment of discord (in fact, her Roman name was Discordia). She is the eternal enemy of peace and order, always searching to break harmony and cause troubles everywhere she goes.

Now before going further, I want to insist on something. Eris is not an actual goddess, in the sense we can understand it. Yes Eris is presented as a goddess in Ancient Greek literature and in the various epics forming Greek mythology. However here’s the thing… Eris was not part of Greek religion. Or if she was, she had no temples, no sanctuaries, she received no cult and no worship, nobody prayed or sacrificed to her. Eris only seems to exist in literature and philosophy – she was not an actual religious figure of Ancient Greece, even though she was a key character of Greek mythology.

I) The Hesiodic Eris

The Eris most people are familiar with today is the one I would call the “non-Olympian Eris”. It is the Eris described in Hesiod’s Theogony, as well as in his “Works and Days”.

Hesiod describes Eris as the daughter of Nyx, the embodiment of night and one of the primordial goddesses who manifested at the very beginning of the universe. According to Hesiod, Nyx was a quite negative figure, since all the children she gave birth to were actually the personifications of ills and disasters: beyond Eris, Nyx also gave birth to Thanatos, the god of death, to the Keres, the spirits causing violent and painful deaths on the battlefield, Oizys, the personification of misery, Apate, the embodiment of deceit and treachery, Geras, the god of old age and aging, and many many more… Interestingly, in turn Eris also became the mother of a large brood of personifications, each embodiments of even more evils that plagued and tormented humanity. No father is mentioned for these children – but given Nyx seemingly used her powers as a primordial goddess to have her children on her own, without the participation of any male entity, it is very likely that Eris inherited or used the same abilities. Remember, from our talk of Eros in previous posts, the beginning of the world in Hesiod’s universe was not defined by gender, and the primordial Eros was a creature of cosmic, abstract procreation that went beyond mere sexes.

Hesiod gives us an exact list of the numerous children of Eris. On one side you have “singular” children acting as specific personifications: Ponos (toil, hard work), Lethe (forgetfulness, oblivion), Limos (hunger, starvation), Ate ( mistakes, delusions, folly, recklessness, all things that bring ruin) and Dysnomia (lawlessness, absence of civil order). On the other side, Hesiod lists groups of entities, representing “swarms” of concepts: the Algea (the pains and sufferings), the Hysminai (fights and feuds), the Makhai (battles and conflicts), the Phonoi (murders), the Androktasiai (literaly the man-slaughters), the Neikea (the quarrels), the Pseudo-Logoi (the lies), the Amphilogai (the disputes)… Remember what I said previously, Eris was not an actual religious figure but a literary one – and the same way, all of her children are here mere metaphors and allegories. Hesiod is merely listing here all the effects that strife and discord have within human society. Hesiod adds to this list of children a final son of Eris, Horkos, the god of oaths. Why would “oaths” be a bad thing you ask? Because Horkos is more specifically the deity in charge of punishing oath-breakers, the spirit that all those that make false oaths fear. Hesiod even says that Horkos will make more damage to anyone breaking an oath than all of his siblings – and he later mentions, in his “Works and Days”, that the ERYNIES themselves acted as midwives when Eris gave birth to him.

Hesiod describes Eris as a hateful and harsh being, only concerned with causing slaughters and “evil wars” on Earth (remember the Athena/Ares divide, there was for the Greeks a good way of making war, and a bad way of making war). He mentions that no mortal being loves Eris, but that human still “promote” her – but only due to either compulsions (the natural drive of humanity to fight with each other) or by the “will of immortals” (when the gods purposefully send Eris among mankind). When Hesiod describes the legendary shield of Herakles, he mentions that Eris is depicted upon it among the many terrifying entities meant to frighten his adversary – he adds there that Eris is without pity or mercy, and that her mere sight will break the mind of anyone trying to attack the hero.

However, mind you, despite this very negative portrayal of Eris, in his “Works and Days”, Hesiod allows himself a philosophical or social myth about Eris, where he divides her into two identities, one good and one bad. If you recall my Eros posts, there is yet again a parallel with how there are two Eroses. According to Hesiod two Eris are at work among humans: the one he keeps describing above is the “evil” Eris ; but there is a “kinder” and older Eris, who is the one born of Nyx at the beginning of time, and who is even… likeable! Because this Eris is a positive form of strife, a productive form of discord that isn’t about having people slaughter each other, but prompts each human to excel and outdo each other in talents and arts. Specifically sent by Zeus among humans for this very purpose, the elder Eris will for example make a poor man envy his rich neighbor, prompting him to work even harder to become rich himself – and thus she can turn even the laziest man into a hard worker. This Eris isn’t so much about discord, as about a sort of mutual envy between humans that creates a competitive society, indeed, but one that prompts each human to try their best at becoming better than others.

II) The Homeric Eris

Hesiod mentions that of the two Eris, only the “elder” is the daughter of Nyx. Then, where does the “evil” Eris comes from? Well, Hesiod might have been evoking here another cosmogony… I am of course speaking of Homer’s own works, The Iliad and the Odyssey. For you see, the Homeric tradition and the Hesiodic tradition diverge strongly when it comes to the figure of Eris, and it is in the Homeric cosmogony that Eris is presented as an Olympian goddess.

Homer depicts Eris just as negatively as Hesiod. He describes her as a goddess with “relentless wrath”, as the “lady of sorrow”, as a “destroyer of cities”, and even depicts her during a battlefield scene as working in a triad alongside Ker (the spirit of violent death) and Cydoimos (the personification of confusion). But where he changes the story (or rather where Hesiod changes the story, since it is agreed that the Homeric tradition is older than the Hesiodic one, and reflects a more primitive form of the Greek pantheon), is when it comes to Eris’ parenthood. Homer explicitly presents Eris as working in a duo with Ares, the Olympian god of war, the two being “companions”. But more than companions… Siblings. Homer insists heavily on the fact that Eris is Ares’ sister, and given Ares is in the Homeric tradition the son of Zeus and Hera, it is very clear that Eris is also the daughter of the king and queen of the gods.

No need to tell you that Eris’ strongest presence in the Homeric tradition is within The Iliad, aka the epic describing the greatest mythological conflict of all times, the Trojan War. Eris is there usually paired with another deity: sometimes she forms a duo with Athena, and helps her in her role as a “war goddess” to encourage men to fight by her side ; other times she is alongside her brother Ares, as the spirit of hatred that complements the god of murder and bloodlust. This depicts Eris as a very ambiguous deity, that can serve and help as much the senseless, brutal, “wrong” war of Ares as the “good”, ordered, intelligent and civilized war of Athena. An even more interesting detail however shows that this ambiguity does not actually exist: Ares fought on the side of the Trojans during the war, while Athena fought with the Achaeans. This is a detail Homer himself notes and explains in his poem: Eris purposefully played both sides, and found herself on each line of the battlefront, since all she cared about was spreading bitterness and pain, so as to make the slaughter of the Trojan War even greater. Sometimes she does this to further the gods’ desires and plans: Zeus at one point, wishing for the Achaeans to keep on fighting and not just give up, send Eris among them so that she would bellow a great war-cry, so “terrible and so loud” it made every man who heart it want to battle again. But other times, she disobeys even the orders of the king of the gods out of pure perversion: most notably, when Zeus at one point gave the order to all the gods to stop interfering with the war and remain far away from humans, without causing interferences, Eris is the only goddess that remains upon the earth and among humans – merely because she takes a “great pleasure” in seeing them “battle like wolves”, and wouldn’t miss it for the world.

In short: while it seems from the outside that she is actually more of a neutral power that can serve both sides, good and bad, in truth she is a selfish, neutral psychopath only existing for chaos and destruction, and who only accepts to play by the rules when it furthers her own goals.

One last interesting fact: Homer, in his poems, keeps using another name for Eris, a name that many later mistook as being a different goddesses – however, at least in the Homeric tradition, they are just two identities of a same deity. “Enyo”, that is to say the female spirit and embodiment of war, the female counterpart of Ares. Beyond Homer, Aeschylus, in his tragedy about the Seven against Thebes, describes the Seven as making an oath upon the dreadful trinity of war formed by Ares, Enyo and Phobos – in a similar way, Eris was already described by Homer as part of a trinity involving Ares and Phobos (who also stood for his brother Deimos). The idea of Enyo and Eris being different deities seems to come from quite late sources, such as Quintus Smyrnaeus’ epic “The Fall of Troy”, from the fourth century CE, which did a very clear split between Eris (the deadly strife, which causes the battles by causing an “unbalance in the scales of war”, and then watches and gloat as humans fight) and Enyo (a ghastly and wrathful deity who fights inside the battles, and ends up gore-covered and all bloody and sweaty from her constant massacre of mortal beings). In fact, from the third to the fifth century, it became common to attribute to Enyo a “gore-fetish”, as she was described as delighting in piles of corpses left on the battlefield, or getting drunk on the flow of blood ; as well as the power to drive completely mad whoever she “touched”. Mad with war-lust and battle-fever, of course. But originally, for Homer and other early authors, Enyo and Eris were clearly just one and the same, two names for a same goddess.

What is quite fascinating with Enyo is that, unlike Eris which is purely literary, Enyo has some ground for actually having been a religious figure. Now, this is to be taken with a grain of salt, as the Greeks gave the name “Enyo” to several non-Greek deities of the countries east of Ancient Greece – but we have records of a statue of Enyo appearing in the Athenian temple of Ares, and it seems that the deities honored during the Homolôïa festival (in Thebes and Orchomenos) included Enyo. But beyond those two little facts, we don’t have more information about a potential cult of Enyo, who truly seems to be more of a female counterpart or extension of Ares. A last interesting point with Enyo is the presence of a name: Enyalios. Enyalios is the male form of Enyo, and is the name of a deity associated with her – but how? That is the question. Very, very late commenters of the Iliad (we are talking Byzantine commenters) made Enyalios a minor spirit of war, son of Enyo and possibly fathered by Ares. However, a more careful study of the use of Enyalios reveals that it is not the name of a distinct deity as many like to believe. Homer uses it as an epithet for various characters, but most notably for Ares. Other Ancient Greek authors also used Enyalios as an alternate name for Ares: Aristophanes in his play “Peace” (people claim it is used as two different deities, but I do not read it that way, I do think Aristophanes used the name as a nickname of Ares), for example, and Ares is also called “Enyalios” in the Argonautica. Plutarch did mention the existence of a temple of “Ares Enyalios” too, and the late myth collector Pausanias did mention the habit by Lacedaemonians of chaining up the deity Enyalios to prevent him from leaving the city – a custom identical to the habit of chaining up statues of Ares in Sparta. Overall, when you actually look carefully at things, it is extremely clear that Enyalios is just Ares.

And this confirms the true bond and link between Ares and Enyo: Ares is called by the male version of Enyo’s name, or rather Enyo is named after the female version of Ares’ nickname. This reinforces the idea of her being equivalent to Eris, presented by Homer as the sister-companion of Ares, and this feeds into this topic of the “duo of slaughter gods”. Ares/Enyalios, the male god of war, and Eris/Enyo, the female goddess of discord.

III) The golden apple

“But… What about the golden apple?” I hear you cry. “You talked about the Trojan War, but not about the golden apple!”

It is true that the most famous myth of Eris today is the one centered around the start of the Trojan War. It is the story of how Eris, upon not being invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, despite all of the other gods being there, decided to take her revenge. It is the legend of how Eris threw among the feast of the gods a golden apple with on it written “For the most beautiful”, and how this random gift caused a deep feud between Athena, Hera and Aphrodite who all believed the apple was for them. It is the myth of how to settle the feud, the goddesses demanded the opinion of a Trojan prince by the name of Paris, who gave the apple to Aphrodite, resulting in her rewarding him as a gift with Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world… Who also happened to be the wife of Agamemnon, the Achaean king who promptly declared war upon Troy since their prince had kidnapped his wife – a war where the scorned Hera and Athena supported the enemies of Troy, while Aphrodite defended Paris’ city, leading into the legendary decades-old conflict we know today.

Well, you might be surprised to learn that this story does not come from Homer. Nowhere in the Iliad is a golden apple mentioned, or the involvement of Eris in causing the war. It comes from other sources. It does not mean the story isn’t ancient: on the contrary we have records of very ancient epics, probably created around the same time as The Iliad, who described and explained this legend. “The Cypria” for example is the oldest record we have of the story of the “Judgement of Paris”, caused by Eris’ apple of discord. However these ancient epics were all lost, so all we have are secondary testimonies about them, and much later and modern retellings of the story – such as the “Bibliotheca” of Pseudo-Apollodorus, where this old myth was collected in an abbreviate and concise form, or the fifth-sixth century CE poem the “Rape of Helen”, which like Nonnus Dionysiaca, was an attempt at reconstructing the ancient myths of the now-gone Ancient Greeks. While this is not an exact source and has to be taken with a handful of salt, this poem is quite fascinating because it adds all sorts of details about the situation: including how the decision of not inviting Eris came from both Peleus and Chiron (the latter sent out the invitations), and how, before imagining her devious golden apple plan, the furious, fulminating, jealous Eris conjured up plans ranging from stealing Zeus’ thunderbolt and use it as a weapon against the gods… to freeing the imprisoned Titans so they would overthrow Zeus. (Yes, Disney’s Hades does exist in old – but not ancient – Greek literature, and her name is Eris). There is also the additional detail that the golden apple used by Eris is one of those that the Hesperides grow in their orchard, the same golden apples Herakles had to collect during his labors.

Speaking of Herakles, all the way back to the sixth century BCE, Aesop wrote a fable about Eris. Yes, THIS Aesop of the Fables. And he wrote one with Eris and Herakles – one that also involves an apple, and thus furthers proves that the story of Eris using apple to cause discord was an ancient part of Greek mythology. In Aesop’s fable, Heracles was going through a narrow pass when he saw an apple on the ground before him. He tried to smash it with his club, only for the apple to swell to twice its size. Heracles hit it again and again, but every time he tried to destroy the obstacle, it grew bigger. In the end, the whole pass was blocked by the giant apple (slip a Roald Dahl joke here), and as Heracles stood amazed and confused, Athena appeared by his side and explained the situation: this apple is actually the product of two personifications, Aporia (impasse, puzzlement, lack of passage) and Eris. By trying to fight it, Heracles made it larger and bigger – if he had just left the thing on the ground untouched, and ignored it, it would have stayed its size. In short, the moral is that strife and discord will always be there somewhere, but that it only becomes a true obstacle or something serious if you let violence take over you or decide to enter the fight instead of just passing over it.

This conception of Eris as something “growing in size” is not actually a pure invention of Aesop: it was already present, way back in the Homeric tradition. Indeed, when Homer first introduces Eris in The Iliad, he describes her as such: she always appears first as a “small thing”, as a little force, a miniature goddess, but as chaos and battles and discord grow around her, she too grows, and gains in size and largeness, until in the end she becomes a giantess who feet are on earth while her head is in heaven.

#greek mythology #greek gods #greek goddesses #eris #the other olympians #olympians #enyo #ares

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jasontoddiefor · 2 years

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okay so, i realize that's probably not your current fandom, but i'm (once again) in a pjo content binge and i when i checked your pjo tags (Trading Tomorrow fan here) the first post was "no mist au". Which sounds really, really awesome. would you be willing to share some ideas about it or something?

I am always willing to talk about my AUs!!! And I'm glad you like Trading Tomorrow! That fic is still very dear to me!

Right, as the name says, the "no mist AU" is essentially an AU where the mist ceases existing when Percy is still like toddler age and the world is thrown into chaos. We end in some sorta post apocalyptic state where we see the return of the old worship mixed with new ways because demigods are still pretty much the only ones who can kill monsters. But now, well, normal people are praying to the gods as well again.

Some plot points include

Sally taking Percy and running and establishing herself as a person who knows what's up, and more than that, has a kid. She ends running a city alongside the coast as Poseidon's priestess.

The Roman Empire makes a return. Ne Rome adapts quickly to these new circumstances and they do it really well, expanding territory. Thalia and Jason both grow up in New Rome!

On that note, there is kind of a constant power struggle going on between various territories and gods and Kronos is also Awake And Having Some Thoughts

Camp Halfblood is the other big player. I'm not sure which name it'll get but it'll definitely will be renamed. I like New Alexandria (as opposed to New Athen as I've seen in a couple fics) because of Alexander the Great kicking off the Hellenism (just bear with this phrasing I know that's not how history works) and PJO seeming to rely more on late stages of ancient greek history.

But here are plenty of other bigger settlements with their own leader, goals and protections. Though being a demigod guarantees having kind of a higher status in society and people that are/would have been born clear-sighted have a sort of sense for when monsters are near, opposed to normal people.

But yeah, mostly this is post apocalypse meets ancient greek civilization?

And Sally doing everything she can to keep her kid safe and being very badass in turn.

Uuuh take a snippet?

Sally had devoured entire volumes about Greek mythology and the gods’ worship during her pregnancy. She’d never breathed a word of it to Percy, choosing ignorance as protection, but in their changed world, her knowledge needn’t be summoned. It was already there.

“Does anyone have sweets on them or alcohol?” Sally asked.

The people in her group only stared at her in confusion, some even in mistrust.

“It’s important.”

“What are you doing?”

“Prayer,” Sally said. She hadn’t ever been religious, meeting Poseidon hadn’t changed that. But could this really still be religion if she knew it to be truth?

Sally tossed the chocolate bar and the vodka from the flask into the fire.

“To our Lord Poseidon, for protection and safety of this commune.”

Actually take two snippets:

Leo does not like to admit that they might be in trouble, but he’s so nervous he can’t think of a weapon to aid him, never mind focus on making any fire. He glances to the right where Bryce’s body was already cooling, and nearly threw up. The scorpion’s sting had ripped right through his stomach, leaving behind an ugly, revolting wound. Luke is still holding onto his sword, but he can’t even stand properly, never mind fight.

The realization that they are utterly fucked hits like a brick to the face.

He’s survived the end of the world, myth becoming reality and this is what kills him: a regular patrol in an area that should be free of monsters. Leo hadn’t even been scheduled to go on this patrol, only volunteered at the last minute. He’d hoped to impress Luke, maybe see if he could secure permission to move outside the safe perimeters to get more parts to work with.

How stupid, not even their base is truly safe.

With an ugly roar, the scorpion turns around, aiming straight for Leo. Behind it, Luke struggles to get on his feet.

That’s it, Leo’s done for.

He tries to smile so Luke won’t blame himself and maybe do the smart thing and get away. Optimistic last thoughts so that Leo can rest peacefully in the underworld, having died a hero’s death. Phrased like this, dying doesn’t even sound that horrible.

The thought does not make the scorpion look any less terrifying and just when Leo decided to scream, he is cut off.

“Hold this for me.”

Instinctually, Leo holds out his arms and a bag gets dropped into them. The bag is warm and soft and has bright green eyes and oh, gods, that’s a baby.

Leo looks up and there’s a blur of black and blue standing in front of him. His brain is a bit slow on the upkeep, still reeling with the realization that he is holding a baby, and in the seconds it takes him to realize a stranger had come to their aid, the man has already drawn his blade. It’s made from pure celestial bronze, which is enough to make Leo’s jaw go slack. He’s only seen pure celestial bronze or imperial gold only a handful of times. The metals are incredibly scarce and Leo wants to touch that sword right now.

But he can’t.

Because he’s holding a baby and the sword is in its wielder’s hand, who is using it to systematically decimate the scorpion without ever breaking a sweat.

The monster surges up on more time, and the man simply adjust his hold on the sword and drops low, piercing the beast from below.

And just like that, it’s over and the clearing is silent.

#percy jackson #leo valdez #sally jackson #luke castellan #pjo #no mist au #fanfic #ask #anon

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bardicious · 1 year

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Star Trek TOS' wrongs

So I said I'd do it so I'm doing it. This is just a handful of, honestly, insulting details of the original trek. Now, TOS is still my favorite trek, but it is outdated. You, frankly need to remove significant parts of canon to cope with this in a modern day mindset. Which is why I find it so hilarious that people are so precious about star trek canon. This, like comic books, is the last thing you should be taking literally.

A brief list of outdated trek:

Established in Turnabout Intruder, Woman are not permitted to be Starfleet Captains

Takes place in Elaan of Troyius, in Kirk's attempt to coach Elaan into being more "womanly" he threatens to spank her. (Also possibly Kirk is raped with Elaan's magical pheromone tears?? Which is not acknowledged as rape. I have to fact check this one.)

Takes place in The Enemy Within, Janice Rand is presumably raped and then interrogated by her rapist. The rapist is Kirk (the barbic side)

Established in Amok Time, T'Pring is considered property to either Spock, Stonn, or Kirk, going to the winner to a battle to the death.

Takes place in Bread and Circuses, showing a civilization influenced by ancient Rome. The episode ends with a group of people worshiping the son of god… alluding to Christianity.

Takes place in Omega Glory, Enterprise encounters a planet where the "Kohms" and the "Yangs" are in conflict. We learn these terms actually refer to "Communist", and "Yankee", respectively. The episode ends with Kirk reading straight out of the Pledge of Allegiance that is identical to Earth's. Somehow this planet has developed… exactly to earth to a point...

The countless amount of planets that developed parallel to earth, ie: the Nazi planet, the gangster planet, the cold war planet, native american planet, SO many greek gods, jesus fucking christ (literally), cowboy planet??, space hippies, Halloween planet... sigh, the one with goddamn Lincoln...

TOS' general treatment of women, especially seen in: Mudd's Women, Metamorphosis, Wolf in the Fold. And sprinkled in all the rest TOS.

And many more… I'll possibly add more to this post later since I'm planning a full rewatch. But if anyone has some glaring additions, feel free to add! (Ideally with the episode in question)

In conclusion, forget your canon! For the love of god! If you don't like SNW, don't watch it! It didn't happen! If you don't like a particular episode, banish it from your mind! What? Are you writing character metas or something? Pray tell, how? And good luck.

And yes, stop bothering people who enjoy a series with your criticisms. Fans and writers do not have to adhere to your particular perception of a character. We are given only glimpses into how these characters work. They're tools for self expression, not real people.

At some point, you'll want to choose what you're going to be. A person who creates and uplifts? Or someone who can only destroy, and rage at the unfairness of the world. And for that, I say good luck as well.

#Where No Man Has Gone Before and Then Some #star trek #star trek tos #strange new worlds #star trek snw #reminder that I love this show #doesn't mean it doesn't have countless flaws #With it's own ooc moments #like season 2 is actually super tos!#I hope it stays this way for however long they make them

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ankahi-unsaid · 8 months

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(Long Post)

Hopefully all of you had a wonderful year 2023 - successful, joyous, and healthy. While we wish each other 'HNY' on January 1st, a few of us while responding to the wishes, also reflect and think of the year gone by and, in the hindsight, pray that they don’t go through the bumpy patches again.

Thirteen days down the line while a cold wave sweeps the city and a grey sky adds to the gloom, I suppose it is time to look back at the year 2023 while tucked in a warm duvet with a cup of hot coffee or a glass of rum in hand.

But then going back is not easy unless one has maintained a meticulous account, a diary of sorts. It is difficult to recall all events - so before I began writing this I put down a broad selection of month wise events after which it was easier to sum it up.

The year 2023 was tiring and tough, though equally rewarding. At times trying and testing, at the others back breaking and on a few occasions frustrating to downright unpassable. Yet, the time-hardened bones, the stubbornness not to back down, to take it all upfront - not just face it but challenge it too - sailed me through. I can now say with a grin that both the clock and the time looked back and smiled. That reward was bigger than the financial one.

Till about the second week of March 2023 things were sailing smooth at work and home. Towards the last week we went to Bhopal to mount the exhibition ‘Hum Sab Sahmat: Resisting a Nation without Citizens’ (‘We All Agree’ - a testament to resisting a nation being shaped without its citizens). That’s where we got the news that two of our friends had been hospitalised. We rushed back only to see both of them pass away in a matter of three days. Comrade Suneet Chopra was first one to leave us and dear dear friend Vivan Sundaram followed on 29 March 2023. It was a huge setback.

Back at work picking up the threads I was debating the existential crisis that the death of a dear one leaves one with. Though a little hard to push, yet the wheel of life carries on gently patting the past.

Somehow I have always found that the Financial Year has a kind of continuity with the calendar year. As one settles in the comfort zone of a benign April suddenly challenges pounce on you from a hidden corner. Till then I was pretty much enjoying whatever came my way and what I was doing, professionally or on a personal level. I was more than happy with last years' financials and with the healthy number of projects in our hand. Come May, the first unseasonal rain and a burst of seepage from the second floor terrace of our home brought with it an unending spate of problems at home which was also doubling up as part-office. Lo and behold, a civil works contractor and a melee of labour took over our place in an army-like operation disrupting everything for the next three months.

Between the work supervision and rounds to the market I could barely attend to work. On the professional front work suffered, deadlines overshot, clients screamed, and expenses piled. How can one even pretend to be creative and churn out campaigns or designs that satisfy the soul while one is tumbling over sacks of cement and slipping over stone dust, how? Most unhappy with myself and the team I was losing my shirt on everyone around which made matters worse. Fortunately, I got a grip on myself in time and calmed down before things went out of hand. The pressure of office work was increasing so did the delays at home caused by absentee workmen.

On June 1st bad news came from Dubai. My life-time mentor and guide Zamir Ansari passed away after a massive heart attack. I was devastated. We had a long association of nearly 35 years. He was the most gentle, the kindest and a god-like being who helped anyone with everything he had. While his loss jolted me no end, at a memorial meeting for Mr Ansari something good came up. I shook hands with two people with whom a misunderstanding had cropped up a few years back. In my heart I felt much lighter having cleansed my heart and having made-up with them. There is so much good in the world to see, feel, share, and give. Life trudged.

Home renovation is an unending pain. Once you start fixing seepage, masonry creeps in together with water-proofing; plumbing replacement brings down functional bathrooms which need to be redone from the scratch. Electricals and woodwork soon follow which necessitates paint work and floor polishing, if not entire floor replacement. The whole house was in a mess. It was physically and mentally draining running up and down the three levels at the peak of summers. With the dust and noise all around us Ma fell ill and then all of us followed one after another, flu, sore throats, congestion and the viral fever kept us down. A nagging threat of corona persisted with unmasked labour sauntering around the house for ten hours each day. With tea and snacks to be served twice a day to a team of thirty odd workers, the household help and the kitchen was operating more like a free-canteen about to collapse any day.

In between the saving grace was a decent exhibition design and execution project that came our way. Normally of short duration but hectic, exhibition projects are well paying, we made a packet for a week of sleepless nights.

While all this was happening I managed to hurt my knee and limped my way through latching on to stair railings and walls. Over weeks it came to a point that I couldn't attend to work or even go for my morning walks. The orthopaedic said that I had a bone abrasion and had torn knee-joint ligaments. A busy work season had begun. With September came the festival rush of north India. Visits to the doctor and the physiotherapist were added to the hectic work schedule. Work pressure continued without respite (good it did).

We hadn't had a break for over seven months. Not even a decent and calm Sunday. Catching a drink in peace seemed luxury. No friends, no party, no outings. Life was dull and boring only dealing with masons, plumbers, carpenters, painters, welders, electricians and floor polishers. Finally, and somehow having pushed everyone out, we managed to get the house back in shape and sing with us sometime in October. It was such a relief.

While we were enjoying our wine and cheese and the music played in the background a hearty duet joined the chorus. My brother and his wife, from pardes, joined us in the freshly redone space. Warmth filled the place. From then onwards it was a party each morning, noon, and night. Evenings were only for drinks which drowned us. World Cup Cricket was here - the fever gripped us too. Succumbing to the loot by the black marketeers we headed to the Private Gallery view of matches in Chennai and Ahmedabad. The on-ground cricket entertainment is a different game. It is heady when you know that the rest of the universe is watching the game 17 seconds after you.

Bad news somehow smells of the relative peace and joy one is enjoying. This time it came from Palestine. Innocent Gazans have had to suffer unending brutalities at the hands of Israeli forces for over three months now.

Clients were kind during the next two months. No one was dying or flying. No one asked for a brochure at the last minute. No press conference wanted a PR push, no Annual Reports were delayed. All in all work sailed smoothly. There were more holiday breaks and parties than work during this time. Festivals, together with a spate of birthdays, meant celebrations. Fun and frolic carried on with heritage walks, concerts, visits to monuments and museums, excesses of street food topped with heady overdose of drinks.

Finally, as all good things end, so do parties and celebrations. Work pressure increased together with the knee pain. Brother and bhabhi went back home. Life was coming back to the drudgery of a routine when the happy bells rang.

A new, prestigious, and fairly large exhibition project came our way. This one was to happen in Shahjahanabad - inside the great monument built by Emperor Shah Jahan. I fell in love with the Red Fort all over again as we had the special permission to drive our car straight inside the Fort through the historical Delhi Darwaza with its life-size elephant statues guarding the magnificent edifice and its age-old secrets. Despite the limp and the pain it was a joy to work inside the 17th Century fort. Even in the peace and quiet of Diwan-i-khas I could hear the nautch girls sing and dance.

The commute from Gurgaon to purani Delhi was a dampener but it also had the bait of 'Delhi 6 ka khaana'. The near 5,000 sq feet of our exhibition space finally turned out as a stunning art gallery overlooking the Mughal grandeur spread around us. Decked with priceless artworks from across the country the hall looked like a haseen dulhan. The design and the display was appreciated and applauded. In our hearts we were more than happy for having done a bloody-good job.

The successful completion of a project has to be celebrated, so, leaving the foggy and cold Delhi behind, off we went to the balmy and sunny coastal Kerala. The year was coming to an end and we knew that one has to reward oneself for the accompanishment/s and all the hard work. Driving along the south-western coast we rode further down south from historic Kochi to the backwaters of Alleppey to Trivandrum and to the blue-water and white-sand beaches of Kovalam enjoying fish fillets and toddy - all the way through watching Bharatanatyam and Mohiniyattam performances while admiring the pollution free sparkling blue skies. While in Kovalam as I watched the sun set behind the Arabian sea two clients called to say that their "Calendar designs" were delayed. What???? Didn’t you get an auto reply saying I am out of town? Ugghhhh!!!

I wondered, could I complain to the sun why was it setting, could I? A fishing boat crossed the pale orange sphere as it dipped in blue waters. A flock of birds were circling the boat waiting for the catch. A few stars peeped out from the dark northern sky. I poured a drink.

Designers and artists can't complain even when their dreams are broken.

To sum up, the year 2023 indeed was tough yet it was rewarding in more ways than one. Hoping that 2024 will be kind and joyous for all of us, personally I look forward to more vacations, explorations, more journeys and more laid back weeks over work, work and work. Cheers to all of you. Stay safe and stay in love.

#art exhibition #designer #year end #december 2023 #memories

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musette22 · 19 days

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Minnie! I've been having all these "Mattfleck" content on my TikTok fyp, moments between Ben Afleck and Matt Damon going viral (most of the viral videos are by one or two accounts too, if not all of them) and everyone's going crazy with all the new information and people are shipping them hard (I do not blame them, lol), and I saw one comment on one of these post saying "you guys need to check out Milex" and naturally, I thought of you, and then naturally, I thought about Evanstan, and I was like god, there are so many moments of Chris and Seb (and of Milex too, I'm sure) that no one pays attention to, and we just need one or two heroes getting them out there. Like the intimate hugs, the whole Civil War press tour thing, etc. Make a fucking catalog, thread, picture album, I don't care.

I don't even know why I want general public to just fucking pay attention to them too, nothing more, just see these two together, please! Like actually see all these moments and the rest is up to you. It's so silly lol but sometimes it's so lonely outside of here 😂 this is not to be taken much seriously, by the way, I know they were much more popular a few years ago -but I'm sure there are plenty who have no clue about them and would probably lose their shit, but then again, maybe this is for the best -,but I just needed to ramble. So yeah, thank you, I'll be praying.

Ohh honey!! I totally missed this ask until just now, somehow! I'm so sorry, not sure when you sent this but I didn't mean to ignore you 🤦🏻‍♀️

But aaahhh I think it's so sweet of you that you thought of me when you saw people mentioning Milex! 🥰 And ngl, I'm pretty chuffed someone mentioned them because they DO deserve to be on that list for sure! It's some of the wildest rpf stuff you can imagine, honestly.

However, Chris and Seb definitely deserve a solid mention too, you're absolutely right! I've always said it, but the way they always light up when they see each other or even when the other is mentioned, and especially the way they interacted during all those press tours... there was something there. Whether they ever acted on it or not, I absolutely believe they've got a big old soft spot for each other and it wouldn't surprise me at all if anything did happen between them tbh. But yeah, some of those civil war press tour moments especially were SO telling, and I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who would be blown away by seeing a compilation of all those kinds of moments, just like I was when I first stumbled upon them ❤️ There are some GREAT and pretty comprehensive videos on YouTube, lemme tell you....

Anyway, they're both happily settled right now of course and that's wonderful for them, but just as I think they'll always have a special place in each other's hearts, their connection and that wonderful, soft and warm sort of tension that exists between them will always have a special place in mine 💘 Sending you hugs, lovely!

#evanstan #rpf #milex #minnie answers

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melishade · 2 years

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OKAY! Now that I’ve gotten all my fangirling out the way, let’s begin with my thoughts on Wakanda Forever. Definitely not going to fit everything on this post. There will be separate posts, and there will be spoilers.

So, first things first: I adore how the movie starts and ends with silence.

So this movie, mainly focuses on Shuri’s ascension to becoming Black Panther. To become worthy of such a title. It also focuses on her grieving process after losing her brother.

In the beginning of the movie, it’s quiet. The credits don’t role just yet, and you just her Shuri praying to Bast: the goddess of Wakanda to give her the strength to save her brother. If she could do that, then she would never question her wisdom again. And then it opens to the pandemonium of her desperately trying to save T’Challa, only to not be there during his final breath. She had failed to save him, and she wasn’t there by his side.

In Civil War, T’Challa had told Natasha that he had doubted the existence of the ancestral plane. He doubted the existence of their goddess Bast. To be proven wrong, must’ve been a relief to him. But Shuri must’ve had further doubt since she’s a woman of science, creating all of these advancements for Wakanda. So for her to pray to a goddess that might not exist...damn.

And I felt that. It...it hurt. Because I knew what that grief was. Back in 2020, I lost my cousin. 17 years old. Didn’t graduate high school. He died from a rare heart illness no one knew he had until they did the autopsy. I prayed that it was a joke. That it was a lie. I prayed to any god really to bring him back, or that this was all a dream. That my last goodbye to him wasn’t at Thanksgiving thinking I would see him again on Christmas Eve for White Elephant. But...there was nothing I could do. The world stopped spinning for a month. We buried him, we continued on.

But the powerlessness Shuri felt, causing her to drown herself in her work. To control everything that she possibly could to keep everyone safe, to hull herself in her lab and begin to ignore everyone. Her grief became her drive. Ramonda advises her to burn T’Challa’s clothing to help with the grieving process, and tells Shuri that she feels T’Challa’s presence there. But Shuri denies it and says it’s just a construct of the mind. And before she can begin to start the grieving process again with her mother, Namor shows up, they have to save Riri who unfortunately got roped into this, Nakia kills to help both her and Riri, Namor attacks Wakanda, and she loses her mother.

And her grief has become anger, and even as she perfects the synthetic heart-shaped herb and goes to the ancestral plane and gets her powers and makes herself a new suite, the anger is there. She’s the only family member left. The only one left of her bloodline. She is alone. She is in pain, and she wants Namor dead.

And yet, after all the chaos, the battle, the pain, she chooses mercy. Not because she has forgiven Namor. Forgiving Namor would requite a lot more for her to do, even if she wanted to. No, she shows mercy because of all the people: both from Wakanda and Talokan, would be negatively affected by her decision. Peace would never come, war would be eternal, and innocent lives who have never known what war was like, would most likely die. Reflecting the words of T’Challa in Civil War, she ends up making Namor yield, and both nations end up forming an alliance.

And by the end of the movie, she sits in silence by the ocean. She burns the clothes of her family. She remembers T’Challa: the person she grew up with, the one she was never going to get back, and she finally releases. Maybe she got over the construct of the mind and felt T’Challa’s presence as she remembered him. But she finally cries, and she finally starts to move on.

(Tomorrow, I’m going to talk about Namor and how it was very clever of Ryan Coogler to make Namor’s decisions in the film more of a reaction.)

#black panther spoilers #black panther #black panther: wakanda forever #wakanda forever #wakanda forever spoilers #bpwf spoilers #shuri #t'challa #queen ramonda #namor #ryan coogler #spoiler talk #black panther wakanda forever spoilers

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hetalian456 · 11 months

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I don't post often. I live my life as peacefully and quietly as I can. And when I do post, it is mostly just reposts of tiktok videos because I am mostly a lurker on this and all other socials I have. But I am so incredibly angry and saddened. I know this post will not reach many people or anyone at all, but I just need to scream into the void and hope it will satiate the ever-growing anger, pain, sorrow, and complete and utter hopelessness I feel waking up everyday in a world that I fear has lost its mind. I wake up and wonder who it is today. Who is waking up to see their home gone. Who is waking up to a world where they are all alone because the people they love have already died. Who is waking up and finding their whole family eradicated because of air raids. Who is not waking up at all. How many lives have been lost while I shower. While I sleep. While I read and write and laugh and cry. How many times am I going to mourn people I have not met. People whose names I don't know. People whose names will be lost forever. And how can I do anything but mourn. Mourn for the mothers who have lost their babies. Mourn for the babies who have lost their parents. Mourn for the brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins who saw their loved ones die in front of them and where helpless to stop it. How can I not mourn the people who look at their TV or phone screens and see what is happening and wonder. Are they OK. Did they make it out. Are they hurt or dead hidden under the rubble they once called home. Will I ever see them again. How can I not mourn for those who have no one to mourn them. Mourn for the people who saw everyone they loved die and have mourned a thousand times. Mourn for people whose names I will never know. For people, I will never meet. Mourn for the mother who has lost her title. Mourn for the father who has failed in his duty though no fault of his own. Mourn for the grandparents who have lost everything they had and everyone they helped create and raise. Mourn for the children who no longer children. Whose bodies have remained the same, but their minds and souls have aged decades. Mourn for the children who will forever be children because their bodies have stopped growing and gone cold.

Mourn for the over 7 thousand in Ukraine

Mourn for the over 9 thousand in Palestine

Mourn for the 9 thousand in Sudan

Mourn for the over 5 MILLION killed in Congo due to ongoing on again off again civil wars over the last few decades

Mourn for the estimated eight hundred thousand to two million Uyghurs in China who have been put in camps and the untold number killed.

And these are just the atrocities I know about. Who knows how many I am unaware of. But I will mourn them all the same because any loss of innocent life is unacceptable.

So I will sit here in my quiet home on my peaceful street in my sleepy little town and sob. I will do what I can, but I am afraid that is not much. I feel as if nothing I do will ever be enough. Not for them. Not for the people crying and screaming and praying and dying.

I hope that the Gods, whichever one one you worship, forgive us as they stare down at us and watch as we kill each other in the name of money and power and greed. Some of us hiding behind their names.

#democrats #republicans #politics #palestine #ukraine #sudan #congo #israel #russia

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baronaliswritingcorner · 1 month

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Tales of Symphonia Stray Thoughts #12: Mizuho/Ozette/Toize Valley Mine

-Orochi: “Sheena! How could you bring outsiders into the village!”

We learn Orochi is a pretty swell individual, but this is the first inkling we get that not everyone's warm to Sheena in Mizuho, which...I have feelings about. We'll get back to that in the Temple of Lightning post.

-I often credit Tales of Symphonia for many things -- be it my first foray into fanfiction or setting firm my progressive politics -- but I hail Lloyd as a personal hero of mine and almost nothing exemplifies that better here than his mission statement to Tiga here. From the very moment everything was turned upside down at the Tower of Salvation -- or perhaps even during Colette's angel transformation -- Lloyd's endured nothing but sacrifice, caste systems, racism, and bigotry. Tethe'alla's flourishing world was hailed as a promised land of abundant mana, yet beneath the glitz and glamour existed the very same societal ills that plagued Sylvarant -- and it was only a matter time before the scales were turned. And he's finally had enough.

Really, there's so much I could elaborate on this one scene alone. The gentle ocarina of Lloyd's theme, an assuring promise ensuring that every one of his dreams will come true. The first of many parallels between Lloyd and Mithos -- a tragic parallel that, despite Lloyd's protests here, he'll have to face by the end of his journey. Lloyd echoing the humble desire etched at the heart of every civil rights movement in history -- "I want a world where everyone can have a normal life." What's spoken (Sheena’s “yes, sir!” is as infectious as every word of Lloyd's speeches -- she's caught up in his vision too!) and unspoken (It's here Regal first learns of Lloyd’s compassion for others and undoubtedly motivates his compliancy with the group. I'd also like to imagine it seeps through Presea's heartless state as well -- perhaps the seeds of her humanity begin budding back here?)

It's all so, so good -- enough that I could write a whole essay about everything I just wrote here. I'm a starry-eyed kid when it comes to Lloyd's infectious idealism and I'm a sucker for that theme alone. Wading through the wretched history of real-world politics has undoubtedly proven a difficult journey, but I forge ahead in the values he instilled at a young age. If he can prove the impossible, so can I.

-Zelos: “Is he for real?”

...who’s he referring to here?

-OH MAN FINALLY REGAL’S PERSONAL. I've been reserving most of my equipment for customization purposes, so this'll be a big help.

-Aight Regal got his chef costume on. Look at my line-up:

Lloyd: Beach Boy

Colette: Maid

Genis: Katz Katz Katz

Raine: Glamorous Beauty

Sheena: WOW!

Zelos: Pickup Artist

Presea: Dream Traveler

Regal: God of the Kitchen

It's seriously goofy -- if I have time, I'll capture a group shot.

-"Reasons for the Shackles" has gotta be one of my favorites -- just the hypothetical visual of Regal running around clamping shackles on people always has me giggle. lol

-Ever notice how Lloyd acts all distracted when Presea runs off in Ozette? "Huh? Yeah..." What’s up with that?

-Man, Ozette checks all the boxes for my ideal high fantasy village. Houses embedded in a towering majestic tree, winding branches serving as natural staircases, nestled amidst an enchanted forest isolated in the idyllic countryside. Mmm! Talk about coooooooozy.

And how, pray tell, do they ruin it? Good ol' fashioned racism.

Like look at this fucker at the entrance – “THERE’D BE NOT BE ANY HALF-ELVES MIXED IN WITH YOUR GROUP…” like yeah okay creeper way to ruin my dream home

-“I wonder what went wrong in this village…”

me too buddy

-“It seems this village is the birthplace of the Pope”

what a shocker

-“Just so you know, I won’t sell any to half-elves”

jesus. Indoctrinating the kids when they're young. "Tranquility", my ass.

-Rodyle: “Only Presea can retrieve the Sacred Wood.”

...is there a particular reason for that? Hmm.

-Zelos roasting Rodyle, while funny, is random as all hell, lol. Love the banter between him and Genis, though.

-The presea house scene holy shit. Imagine her sleeping in the bed with her father’s skull staring at her

Anyone ever make a fic of this? Prime for horror material.

And the way the music just fades out…

-Colette tripping for no reason lol

-Tabatha: “I DO NOT KNOW IF THAT IS IN HER BEST INTEREST”

but why tho

(No, really, why?)

-“Perhaps it is because she does not engage in respiration.”

regal jesus christ what did you witness in those meltokio prisons

-In the "Use Your Head" skit, Sheena briefly mentions a "tunnel to Moria -- another Tales of Phantasia reference much as it is an obvious Lord of the Rings one.

Y'know, some may've wished for more intimate/elaborated connections to Phantasia, but after two decades I rather prefer Symphonia standing alone as its own thing.

-“Exsphere mines”, how do they work?

No, really, how? I went over some of this before in the Asgard Ranch post, but the whole Exsphere process isn't explained that well. I think we're supposed to understand it as Exspheres being mined in Toize, then shifting hands somehow from Lezareno to...Vharley? The Desians? Cruxis? Whatever the case, it's all over the place, although we can presume the chain of custody goes wrong somewhere -- leading to their interdimensional usage for Desian ranches. (And that's not even getting into the whole "sucking the lifeforce from humans" deal, which...well, let's wait until a certain sidequest before diving into that.)

We're told that human usage of Exspheres isn't common in Tethe'alla, yet we witness its applications to machinery such as the Grand Tethe'alla Bridge -- undoubtedly the work of Lezareno and whatever other megacorps deal in the Exsphere biz. So that makes sense, at least. Maybe. I dunno. If there's ever a remake, this is one of those things they gotta clear up.

-Regal: “The door’s guard system is out of control. Someone must have destroyed it when trying to force their way through.”

Bruh, it’s totally still.

-Lloyd’s Shiden is soooooo cool. Look at that lightning crackle. Shame its usefulness doesn't long.

-Oh god I hate those basilisks ugh look at how they petrify you. Nothing worse than getting caught up in button-mashing only to realize half your party's been turned to stone. Bugger off!

-Y'know, despite sticking out like a sore thumb, it took me forever to realize you can't get past that big metal door. Another Phantasia reference, I'm told.

(Actually, I think I heard you *can* get past that door in DOTNW but, well, who cares about that game)

-AW GODDAMIT I FORGOT TO BUY THE POTION FOR THE GNOME. WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN AUGHHHHHHHH

-“oh yeah sorry I forgot about the Indiana Jones trap lol whoopsie!”

a little much don't you think

-The Bacura from Xevious! I love whenever Tales draws from Namco's history and this is a fun example -- that SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP whenever your poor avatar walks into its patrol zone is some great comedy.

Unlike Xevious, however, it's not indestructable -- cleverly maneuvering around the boulder trap dispatches of it easily, unveiling Colette's Devil Arm in Evil Eye. Interesting implications connotations there!

While we're at it, I always assumed the "Professor Naploosa" was a fun Xevious reference, although apparently that's a name Symphonia made up. Did Raine hear of Professor Naploosa (what a name lol) from her youth? Despite her background, sometimes it feels like she knows a little too much about Tethe'alla's history -- in the aforementioned case of Summon Spirits, that's definitely an oversight -- but it's fun to imagine.

-Zelos: “Oh, please, I’m not going to go through all those boxes! Let’s just blow them all up!”

but then you’d destroy the inhibitor ore tho

-God, that Regal murderer reveal is terrible. Everything wrong with the silent dialogue scenes and then some. - The amateurish overuse of dramatic ellipses. Lloyd's "if you're suffering, it's alright to at least say so" falling completely flat in drawing parallels to Regal. Colette's awkward stammering being exactly that. Aaaaauugh!

It's not just Symphonia's bad habit of conveying vital story beats in complete silence (at least that has the excuse of Gamecube disc limitations) but while the voiced cutscenes have their own fair share of goofiness, the innate production values means they can't get lax with the scriptwriting -- in contrast, a not-so-insignificant number of these unvoiced scenes feel profoundly lazy in everything from unnatural dialogue to weird animation to just...auuuuuguhhhhhghhghghgh. It's a lot.

-On the bright side, "You and I are..." does a much better job in contrasting Genis's struggles and awkwardness with Regal -- an individual he doesn't care much for. I enjoy Regal respecting his boundaries with "I see."

-That snitch in the hat. I hope he died in the fire. Probably deserved it.

-"Loooooong liiiiiive the poooooooooope"

lol what's with that delivery

-Listen to the sound effect when the dragons fly away lol geez

-Ever notice how despite the obvious clues Presea's age isn't what it seems, the cast aren't...exactly consistent with this knowledge? The Wells scene (not to mention some of the other Ozette villagers) explicitly spell this out to the cast and yet barring Regal, they still treat her like she's actually 12.

-Another fun headcanon of mine is imagining Kratos watching over Presea/Regal joining the group and smiling to himself. The band's getting together for his boy!

-Raine: “Internal strife? How pathetic.”

Kratos: “Say what you will"

(Internally: fuck)

-Zelos: "My cute little Presea.”

See what I mean??? Like, he "knows" she's a kid and yet??? Really??? I dunno...

-The Tranquility kid that goes “you’ll play with me, won’t you, Presea!”.😭😭😭😭

Presea, do it now! Or you'll regret it foreverrrrrrrrr!

-Oh hey Presea’s costume just reset to her default. Yeah, it’s a glitch! It was still on the title when she left. Weird.

#tales of symphonia #tales of symphonia stray thoughts #tales of symphonia replay #lloyd irving #god I love lloyd #regal bryant #presea combatir #ozette #mizuho

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lacroxton · 11 months

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Automatic Autonomic Automated Vending Machine

One of my favorite fics I wrote and also the first translation I tried. Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Death Stranding and Atomic Heart, it's a story about freedom, promises and the post apocalypse Terra with Vending Machine Exusiai & Messenger Texas.

Warning: Blood and Gore

Once there was a flood; A surge that gave birth to all life. Once there was a flood; A surge that selected our civilization to survive. And then there was another flood.

The flood that left nothing behind.

Later that night, Texas opened her eyes and saw two men staring at her bed, clutching a hoe and a harpoon respectively. The harpoon's tines touched both sides of her neck, and the soon-to-be murderer was tense and shaky. Texas wasn't sure whether the corners of his compressed lips were laced with excitement because the moonlight was too faint to cast a shadow.

She and Exusiai originally came to this church to escape the sandstorm. The journey to Laterano passes through vast wastelands—places that had never been favoured by Mother Nature, and would never be transformed into mobile cities. The whole world had forgotten them, but God still allowed them to survive, so the people were left with nothing but faith. They gathered together, lingering in groups of three or five, praying. No one knew what they were praying for, but they were confident that a miracle would happen one day.

It was at this time Texas and Exusiai pushed the door in. As luck would have it, this small self-rescue community had just vacated a few beds. Last week, a man had died of a hyena's sharp teeth; a mother and her daughter had died from picking poisonous sandfruits. If the food in the warehouse didn't replenish soon, everyone here would starve to death. Exusiai hence made a proposal: to exchange three nights of safe and sound sleep with hot, yummy meals.

At first, people questioned whether this was some kind of originium arts or tricks unleashed by Texas. They had never seen anyone travel with a vending machine, let alone a talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine. The flashing pixels would form an image of a redhead Sankta on the machine's square screen, with up to 24 combinations of facial expressions and an excellent sense of humour beyond the human level. Of course, these extra "add-ons" were shenanigans Exusiai came up with just to sound a little bit cooler. Based on her polymeric converting system, her most crucial core function was actually INSTANT COOKING : you can put any raw materials into the ingredient slot, select the recipe and wait for a few seconds; gourmet foods full of umami will instantly drop out and ready to serve. Wilted rice cobs become hearty rice balls, and expired tuna cans become creamy bowls of tuna soup. If you put in a few shrivelled berries, even the melt-in-your-mouth desserts will no longer be a luxury. Exusiai fulfilled everybody's wishes with a big smile: the first day, and the second day, until eventually, no one questioned her or their own stomach. They praised: these are the best food we have ever eaten in our lives; these are the evidence that God has come to save us.

And that was also why they would never allow the precious happy hour to come to an end. Selfishness let greed swell and fester in their hearts, finally, on the last night, they decided to take possession of Exusiai for themselves and leave Texas to Death.

Luckily, Texas had been acquainted with Death for so many years. The harpoon that choked her could've bounced off the bed, projected back the way it came, and quickly pierced the murderer's heart whenever she wanted. The guy holding a hoe beside him was even skinnier, and wielding an unfamiliar weapon in panic could only backfire. Inertia would cause that weak body to trip over the bricks behind him, inadvertently knocking over a bright oil lamp on the way, until drowning the entire church into a roaring fire.

But before all this could happen, Exusiai's voice drilled into Texas' ears. Texas tilted her head and saw the screen of Exusiai still showing a smiling face; her voice still sounded warm and joyful. She asked those two guys, and everyone in the room who pretended to be asleep: Even if you've taken me for yourselves, how do you know they won't eradicate you the same way they eradicate Texas? How can you be so sure that the fairness everyone promises will indeed be fair?

......We can get through anything as long as the Lord stays with us! Nobody could tell who shouted first in the darkness.

Is that so? Another voice came up, however, retorted, you don't think putting on this face will help you cover the fact that YOU are the thief who steals from the warehouse every chance you get, do you?

As it turns out, people's beliefs are often more vulnerable to suspicion than they could ever imagine, just as fragile as their relationships with each other.

Like something important had suddenly dawned on him, the harpoon was removed from Texas' neck and then dragged slowly toward the tall man guarding the warehouse. The hoe guy also clenched his teeth, turned to aim at the old man lying under the window who always got pardoned from labour duties due to health conditions. Their movements ceased to tremble, so the stone effigies around the church were soon stained with blood. In the midst of yelling, cursing, and killing each other, no one bothered to care that this was a place blessed by God anymore, leaving only dead bodies and pieces of flesh twisted ugly on the floor.

Then, Exusiai selected a few freshly slaughtered tenderloin, had Texas put them in her ingredient slot, removed the bones, and grilled them on both sides to make black pepper patties: crispy outside, juicy inside. Her body wasn't equipped with a gustatory system, therefore couldn't taste anything, but she hoped Texas would like it.

Such a shame it ended so soon. Exusiai's vocal compartment created a series of chewing noises. I was kinda looking forward to watching Texas fight over me.

There was no need for that. Texas divided the patties into equally small pieces with her originium sword, then sealed and packed them into a leather pouch—which would be her sole food supply for the next two days. If you're willing to go with them, she said, I won't interfere much.

What if I'm NOT willing?

The pixels that make up Exusiai's pupils had narrowed, so that her eyes could scan every frame of Texas' movements, watching her light a cigarette by the remaining flame of the oil lamp.

The cigarette seemed to have damped too badly. Texas lowered her eyebrows in silence for a long time before finally exhaling the first puff of mist.

She thought for a moment and said to Exusiai, then I will guarantee your freedom.

For a long time, Texas couldn't be sure whether adding the word "freedom" to her vocabulary would be a change for the better. But, she must admit that ever since she met Exusiai, "freedom" had always been intertwining with her life.

When she thought back to that day, Texas' memory was already a little fuzzy. She hadn't eaten a full meal for probably five or six days straight, so hungry that she couldn't even spell out a word, and every breath of air she took only made her stomach emptier. Her car crashed far away, and her package was destroyed in a cave even further. At the end of the day, only half piece of hardtack was left in her pocket. But that was the last straw Texas could grasp. She couldn't eat it yet, not in such a rush. She just needed to find a roof in the ruins of this nameless city to rest for a while; so that when she woke up, the illusion sleep brings to her brain would allow her to hold on for another day.

Texas leaned against a broken wall covered in mud and dust. She knew no one would come to save her. No one would rescue a messenger who failed her mission. Not before��The Silence , and sure not for fifty years after it. The only hope was the golden sunset shining on her cheeks; Texas exhaustedly shut her eyelids, wishing it would bring her a sweet dream.

Then it brought back a terrible chunk of brownie. And a very talkative vending machine.

Exusiai had so many things to say, as if she was trying to list out all the details that did and did not happen to her life in a single sentence. She said she hadn't met a living human for fifty years—spent thirty years drifting in the sea, and twenty years drying out on the land after the flood receded. The good thing for her was that Sankta's ancestors, Aggeloi, were a kind of inorganic swarming construct floating in space, which led the modern technology of Laterano to be waterproof, and not even have to rely on electricity. By solely absorbing cosmic radiation, Laterano machines could function perfectly under almost every circumstance; some newer models could also disassemble, reorganize, polymerize, and activate any substance on the molecular level.

By conducting hundreds of millions of calculations for armageddon, Sankta's God, the supercomputer under The Basilica, had ultimately decided that the Digital Life Project was the best option with higher success rates. Even if their paradise got annihilated by the Seaborns, and their primary network connection got cut forcibly—as long as a certain number of angels' consciousness was successfully uploaded, one day, the Sanktas would return to their homeland and continue the Laterano civilization.

Exusiai was one of them.

Her consciousness was uploaded to a vending machine, which had no mobility whatsoever, nothing but to lie on her back in the ocean currents, looking up at the sky. Therefore, Exusiai had only been to places where the wind took her. The seawater licked her metal surface and plated it white with infinite waves of salt. Time has never been slower than the years stuck between gears. The wait was too long for the Sanktas to maintain their sober soul; so far, Exusiai had received 1099 neural signals from the other machines shutting themselves down—signals of solid, mutual emotions constructed by the shared memories of Sankta, which is also the confirmation of the very faith of being alive.

Every time these signals dissipated, it felt like some dull, gloomy, lifeless light spots distantly fell across the horizon. But Exusiai was looking up at the sky still. Waiting, expecting, humming while counting the seconds, and fifty years passed just like that.

Until Texas' elbow accidentally touched her button.

Exusiai said she had nothing else to give Texas as a courtesy for their first meeting, and her ingredients, the residue of fruits and dirt dropped inside her slot during all these years, were barely enough to make a brownie. It's probably gonna taste bad as hell, Exusiai added, but at least you wouldn't die from eating that.

Texas wolfed it down almost immediately. She was so, so hungry that her tastebuds no longer distinguish between good and bad, mistaking the sweetness of blood in her saliva for a chocolate flavour. She even ripped off a couple pieces of skin on her mouth as she rolled down the grassy crumbs with her teeth.

Then she licked the corners of her dry, cracked lips and asked Exusiai why would you save me, using a voice as hoarse as broken bellows.

Simple. Said Exusiai, scrutinizing the employee name tag on Texas' chest. The plastic seal was severely scratched, and so did Texas' entire body, as it was tattered and torn, revealing scabbed wounds on her shoulders and tail. I need a messenger to get me to Laterano.

But verbal promise never equals trustworthiness, Exusiai. Texas could feel the thirst now; taking carbohydrates all of a sudden with a flimsy stomach wall apparently triggered some acid reflux up to her throat. For example, I might promise you first, then drop you in the middle of nowhere halfway through.

It's your freedom to do what you want, Texas. Just like it's my freedom to trust a starving ghost lying next to Death. Exusiai didn't tell Texas what she really trusted was a pair of eyes that couldn't lie.

Then what? Texas asked. Those eyes lit up for a rare second. After I get you to Laterano?

Then a REAL piece of strawberry shortcake, of course. Said Exusiai. But if I'm in a good mood, I might also be merciful and share half of it with you.

The Lupo without a home and the Sankta without a human body had been on a long journey together ever since.

The vending machine's weight was lighter than expected. Texas quickly scavenged some iron parts and fabrics from the wreckage of the surrounding buildings; Exusiai's polymeric converting system then polished them into a brand new cart with four wheels and two strong straps. Using the rest of the materials, she even tailored a new set of well-fitting clothes for Texas. It was still a long, long way from Laterano, so they spent the daytime walking in sunlight and nighttime under the tarp by a campfire. When Texas fell asleep, Exusiai would dim her screen and lay on the ground, counting the stars.

Exusiai also cooked many, many meals for Texas. From burger and soda combo to fettuccine alfredo, from apple cheese tart to creamy mushroom soup, the chef's recommendation never repeats itself. Although the truth was, these were the foods that Exusiai wanted to eat the most, and yet she couldn't, so sending Texas to collect different ingredients and cook them was the only effective placebo for her cravings. After Texas finished a dish, Exusiai would also force her to comment on it, as if she were some kind of a regular cast on a cooking show.

Texas remembered she had watched something just like this on an old VCR when she used to eat earthworm burritos and cricket jerky back at the shelters in Columbia. That show must be about 60 to 70 years old, even older than The Silence , and the person in front of the camera with a microphone, known as the host, would use a crazy amount of fancy words to describe whatever dish served to her. In the same way that "a steak without wine isn't a good steak," all of the diners captured on screen must also demonstrate an exaggerated nodding, smiling face as if the deliciousness has blown their mind away. Nobody ever found out if those foods were indeed that delicious.

However, Exusiai's 24 pixel combinations didn't allow for such precise facial expressions. Her screen would only display a progress bar below her complacent grin—accompanied by a short piece of electric punk music that runs way off-key at the end of the bar. She was clearly neither a good host nor a good singer.

Texas, on the other hand, was neither a critic nor a liar. So she simply rated every single dish Exusiai cooked her as "tasty".

Time flew by, and they met many other people along the way, leaving new stories with new encounters. Although the flood had receded for twenty years, it was still hard for people's hearts to sprout again from the barrenness. At first, they were tormented by the never-ending hunger and fear. Then, they spent countless days and nights tearing down the fortress besieged. Finally, they returned to the surface, only to find out they must work even harder to keep themselves alive. Everything else was torturous, only the stories were glamorous, so people immediately embraced a new faith. These stories then spread further and further through the winds of the wilderness.

When the neural signal of the last Sankta's death had reached Exusiai, people started praising again: a newborn God had come to this world. God is among the machinery, with a grey wolf guarding her side. Wherever they go, there will be no worries or troubles; Wherever they stay, that place shall be the home of all joy.

People voluntarily elected the talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine to wield the sceptre of salvation for all mankind.

The only remaining Sankta therefore walked on earth, stretched her wings and halo, as she had become the living Laterano.

Sadly, the results of being at the center of attention were often mixed between good and bad, Texas was well aware of that. As many people accept their existence, there will only be more people coming after them, and that's how every story ends. Whenever God seems to tilt the scale to one side, those who desire to be favoured but have not been granted will automatically gather on the other side. The center of the scale is engraved with war. No one ever realized that wars have always arisen from people themselves, and have nothing to do with God, nor with Exusiai.

But Texas was not the type to guess at people's hearts. Whatever side people showed her, she would believe it until they betrayed her. That's why Texas was always covered in blood. Mostly from other people, occasionally from her own, with the crimson slicing her forehead open, drenching her hair and burying her heavy eyelids. Exusiai stood just behind her, acting as a solid wall, letting crimson handprints blend into her crimson metal. That wall was uncomfortable to lean on, and it was even colder to the touch than stone bricks, but the key selling point was that the wall could tell a lot of corny jokes. Exusiai's excellent sense of humour put Texas at ease.

While waiting for Exusiai to prepare dinner, Texas unprecedentedly had a sweet dream.

The dream was of a certain cafe recommended by another cooking show. Texas had never been to a cafe, only seen it on videotape, so the whole place was covered with an old film-like filter. But Texas did drink coffee. She remembered the coffee at the shelter as a liquid very bitter, very sour, and very astringent with no aroma at all. Not sure why it was so popular other than it keeps people awake. Thinking that maybe real coffee wasn't like this, Texas ordered another cup of brew in her dream, but it still tasted the same. She frowned, and her tail froze briefly, only to be watched by her tablemate, stifling a laugh while letting out a long gulp of air.

Texas lifted her head up. The girl on the other side of the table looked like a Sankta, with a halo, wings, striking red hair, a cheeky face and beautiful eyes. Texas didn't think she had ever met this girl before. But the subconscious reaction of the brain soon let Lupo know that the angel in front of her was indeed Exusiai. Perhaps it was because she had a delicate piece of strawberry shortcake in her hand.

Then, Exusiai took Texas's coffee cup, tore open a few small paper sacks and plastic wrappings, poured sugar and milk into it, tasted it first, and stirred it evenly with a wooden stick. This time, Texas couldn't taste the bitterness anymore. It wasn't sour, wasn't astringent, and the coffee became nutty and sweet for the first time. A sweetness that Texas could understand.

Humans are supposed to eat together. Using a mysterious tone, Exusiai in the dream scooped off the corner tip of the cake and handed it to Texas. With a voice no longer being mechanically compressed, every expression and movement of hers was so smooth. Curious about this Exusiai's touch, Texas then reached one hand out to her and realized that Exusiai's skin was much softer than her own.

If there's no one joining the table, Exusiai stopped for a while, even the best food could be unappetizing.

Texas had to admit that Exusiai was right. She realized with hindsight that her tastes had sweetened over the time being with Exusiai—she even seemed to have become a little bit like Exusiai, with a pleasant glimmer of expectation for tomorrow.

She hoped, when they arrived at Laterano, that half piece of strawberry shortcake would be just as good as the one in her dream.

Texas woke up, only to find herself lingering in that same dream once again. The light of dusk stung her eyes. She tried to stand up, but the sharp pain and exhaustion coming from all parts of her body kept tugging her down, making her realize that struggling was nothing more than a futile waste of time.

So she had to strain to roll her eyeballs and hold open her blood-slicked vision, looking around.

She was surrounded by broken statues and marble columns. Collapsed church steeples in her far distance; scarred stained glass windows and stone arches in her near distance. The building's unusual solid structure caused one-third of it to survive the devastating crash from The Silence , whereas the other ruined two-thirds had the setting sun spilling in, wrapped around by gravel.

Texas leaned against a pure, white forest. Her memories were finally starting to flow again, which was a good thing, but what wasn't so good was the large amount of viscous blood gushing out along with it. She looked down, and the bleeding holes in her body then followed suit, loosened and gurgled like a dying crimson brook, one bubble after another. Texas's clothes were tattered and torn again. Only this time, the murderers were more skillful than ever. They had waited with more cunning and purpose, laying an early ambush around Laterano, armed at military grade enough to suggest that the still-functioning secret government had sent them on this mission. Texas couldn't quite understand why a force of this size had still yet to be used on rebuilding mobile cities.

And of course, none of that mattered anymore. The crushed arm, the thigh impaled from the crook of the knee, the ripped-open liver and intestines brushed by the warm wind, none of those things mattered anymore. Texas moved her tongue laboriously, letting the blood slide across her tastebuds with her weak breath. What mattered was that she couldn't taste anything any longer.

She lost her mobility, lost her sense of taste, lying on her back, looking up at the sky, and became just as wretched as Exusiai. Texas apologized for the half piece of cake. She poked out a few fingers, broken but barely retaining the sensation, and started touching the ground, searching for the metallic surface that made her feel at peace. Her colour had long been redder than the paint on the vending machine. But Exusiai didn't say a word. She stood quietly beside Texas; as if she was just a solid wall.

Their story was never supposed to end like this.

The Sankta had sung all the songs she could, told all the corny jokes she had, and made all the food she was able to, but the Lupo right in front of her wasn't getting any better because of it. Even though Exusiai's screen clearly possessed 24 different combinations of expressions—no matter how often she switched these pixel arrangements, none of them could accurately convey the absurdly huge sense of powerlessness that had descended upon her. She judged that her internal programming had made an unfixable error, or how else would she have only learned by now, that waiting for someone to die had turned out to be so hard.

Let's just......go with the joyful face then. Texas said softly, sounding like a dimming bonfire.

Then the joy returned to Exusiai's screen. She saw the corners of Texas' mouth lift gently upward as well—Texas looked so pretty when she smiled. Exusiai thought to herself, that if her happiness could make Texas happy too, she wouldn't mind being happy forever. She just felt confused at the same time. If Texas actually died, but there was no empathy link between Lupo and Sankta, hence no light spot belonging to Texas falling across the horizon—then how exactly should Exusiai mourn her?

But Texas had made her choice long ago.

She held onto the vending machine's shell, fingers sluggishly climbing upwards, bit by bit until she reached Exusiai's ingredient slot. Having the ability to polymerize and reorganize any substance meant that, even without the supercomputer's core connected, Exusiai could recreate her original body anytime, free of mechanical constraints, if she just used a living human of comparable mass as blueprints and raw materials. Texas had known that from the beginning. She also knew that the fact Exusiai had never brought this up, was because they promised to go to Laterano together. For the cake, apparently.

A pair of eyes that couldn't lie and a mouth telling only the truth. The same goes for both Exusiai and Texas. So, Texas chose to honour the other promise she made to the Sankta.

......Eat me up, Exusiai. One of Texas' arms stuck into the vending machine, and the other encircled the shell. She finally managed to straighten her neck, then pressed her groggy head against the conversion button, shivering, face turning sideways. As the soft Lupo ears snugly against Exusiai's hot metal surface, all she could hear was the creaking sound of mechanical parts and the off-key music singing "now processing" to the air.

I WILL GUARANTEE YOUR FREEDOM.

The human in the story closed her eyes in relief and chose to give God a hug.

Exusiai's gears mashed through Texas' young body at full speed. Hair, flesh, organs, and all different kinds of bones. In the iteration of death and rebirth, the piercing roar flew over Texas's lightly scratched ulna, half-healed ribs, worn-out cartilages and spiderweb-cracked femur......But without any exception, every bone of her was holy white, the same colour as those sun-bathed stone tiles on the dome of the Memorial Hall. They were reduced to pieces in unison with a short notification tone, becoming sustenance for Exusiai, light and airy, just like the last bit of frosting sprinkled on a dessert.

As the remnants of the secret operation squad scoured the ruins, the bloodied Lupo with two originium swords had already disappeared. Instead, a true Sankta with wings and halo pointed a pitch-black rifle at their nose.

Sankta's hair was striking red.

Sankta's eyes were beautifully shined.

Yet in this golden sunset, no one could truly see Sankta's face.

Exusiai could never figure out, why they had such a look of fear on their faces when she simply just returned all the arrows, bullets and originium arts back to where they belonged?

Unfortunately, the only Texas who knew the answer to that question could no longer answer her. It was as if Texas had never been born on this earth—and no one, no one except Exusiai, knew about her name, her past, or her future. The last thing left to prove that she had existed, was the tattered and torn clothes on Exusiai. The gift that Texas had worn for a long, long time, and now it had finally been gifted back to the owner.

The sunset had come to an end.

In the long night, Exusiai tucked her hands into her pockets, dragging her narrow shadow forward, alone.

Ahead of her, was The Basilica of Laterano that buried the supercomputer's core; And behind her, was nothing but a silent, barren, white and lonely land.

Strawberry shortcake didn't seem so delicious all of a sudden, Exusiai said to herself, thoughts interrupted by a small, firm chunk hidden deep in her pockets.

—Exusiai found the half piece of hardtack in Texas' jacket.

Doing her best to mimic the movements of Texas, Exusiai peeled off the outer wrapping and took a bite, chewing very, very slowly. Tens of thousands of taste signals on her tongue fed back to her brain, that it was "salty with a hint of sweetness". Perhaps sesame was also on the ingredient list, but time and the poor assembly line had far grounded away its aroma. It tasted hard and certainly dry, with crumbs flying everywhere in her mouth. Definitely didn't look good enough for an appealing advertisement.

But the flavour was so familiar. Exusiai thought, fingers rubbing against the fabric.

Till she eventually realized it was the flavour of being alive.

It was the flavour of Texas.

Exusiai then shed her first tear, declaring that hardtack was the most delicious food on earth.

END.

Lacroxton

#texusiai #ektk #Texas #Exusiai #arknights #arknights texas #arknights exusiai #post apocalypse

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mischief-lies-and-stories · 1 year

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My Nearly 7-Hour-Long Loki Playlist

I have over 100 songs on a playlist for Loki. I use Apple Music, and I would recreate and link a Spotify playlist, but the account is linked to my Facebook and I don’t want to reveal my full name so I’m not going to do that. All of these songs should probably be able to be found on Spotify, though. I pulled inspiration for this playlist from many versions of Loki from the comics, movies, show, and my fanfic characterizations, as well as the various ships I include him in (post on these forthcoming). This post will be quite long given how many songs I have on this playlist, but I will try to restrict my explanation for including the song to a few words about the pairing or version of Loki the song calls to mind or some specific lyrics that made me think of him. Also some brief spoilers for some of my fics.

“Next to Me”, Imagine Dragons: How Loki views his relationship (brotherly or romantic, you choose) with Thor.

“Two Hands,” Passenger: Post-Infinity War Loki to Thor (again, you can decide type of relationship), includes the line “Our sun is all but set,” which I titled one of my Infinity War fix-it fics as a callback to Loki’s words, “The sun will shine on us again.”

“Timber and Coal,” Passenger: soft FrostIron

“Thunder,” Imagine Dragons: Thor

“Immigrant Song,” Led Zeppelin: essentially the Thor: Ragnarok theme song

“Thunder,” Passenger: Thor

“I’ll Keep You Safe,” Sleeping at Last: Thor and Loki (The line, “Your darkness will be rewritten/Into a work of fiction” feels very Thor reassuring Loki that he can change.)

“All Through the Night,” Sleeping at Last: title of part one of my FrostIron series, Nights on the Roof

“Saturn,” Sleeping at Last: Canonically, Loki mourning Frigga. Or Loki mourning Thor in part 2 of my Visions Made of Flesh and Light series, written just after the first trailer for Infinity War, before we knew Loki dies but saw Thor floating unconscious in space.

“Pompeii,” Bastille: This is mostly from the repeated line “How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” Either my point of view, because I added this right after Endgame, when Loki bit it in Infinity War and didn’t come back. Or the series finale of Loki, after everything goes to shit.

“Icarus,” Bastille: Loki: Agent of Asgard angst of Loki burning. (They talk about this a lot and I put that into fics a lot because it’s such angsty imagery.)

“Devil’s Backbone,” The Civil Wars: Some of these songs are my opinion on Loki.

“Glory and Gore,” Lorde: I think I found this on a different Loki playlist. It just fits him.

“Poison and Wine,” The Civil Wars: Thorki

“The Last of the Real Ones,” Fall Out Boy: FrostIron

“I’ll Be Good,” Jaymes Young: Loki: Agent of Asgard (and also Journey into Mystery)

“After the Storm,” Mumford and Sons: More Loki: Agent of Asgard angst. Just this Sisyphian struggle he constantly has of trying to be good and do the right thing and rewrite who he is, and then either self-sabotaging or falling back into the box other people have made for him.

“Thistle and Weeds,” Mumford and Sons: More angst. Sometimes when I hear angst, I just think Loki.

“Gale Song,” The Lumineers: “It’s a lonely road for the tired man.” My AoA boi again.

“Long Way Home,” The Lumineers: My guess is this was also inspired by the Visions Made of Flesh and Light series.

“Gun Song,” The Lumineers: Mostly for the line “One day I pray I’ll be more than my father’s son.”

“White Lie,” The Lumineers: God of Lies

“Nobody Knows,” The Lumineers: Every year at the camp I go to, we hold a memorial for those that passed away that year, and every year on the slideshow of their pictures they play this song. So this song is just forever seared into my brain as a mourning song. At this point in playlist creation, Endgame is out but Loki is not, so Loki is still super dead and I’m mad about it.

“Second Child, Restless Child,” The Oh Hellos: Loki to a goddamn T.

“Like the Dawn,” The Oh Hellos: Thorki, hence my fic Like the Dawn.

“Her Sweet Kiss,” from The Witcher: Either Mobius about Sylvie and Loki or Theo about Amora and Loki, it could go either way.

“In Case You Don’t Live Forever,” Ben Platt: Thorki or FrostIron

“Kiss Quick,” Matt Nathanson: FrostIron, if I remember correctly.

“Ghost Town,” First Aid Kit: Thorki (“But I’ll come back to you someday.”)

“Golden Leaves,” Passenger: Thorki (“Do you remember how this first begun?/ Teeth were white and our skin was young.”)

“I Was Wrong,” The Oh Hellos: Loki showing remorse and trying to be a better person.

“Temporary Love,” Ben Platt: FrostIron (Specifically Nights on the Roof FrostIron)

“Cedar Lane,” First Aid Kit: Thorki

“If I Walk Away,” Josh Groban: Thorki

“Wait For Me,” from Hadestown: I think this was either Phantom Limb, which is my Theo/Loki fanfiction that links Where Mischief Lies to the rest of the MCU. Or I also had a FrostIron idea that didn’t go anywhere that I was temporarily calling Valhalla Heist, where Loki and Tony break out of Valhalla and fall in love along the way, so like kind of Orpheus and Eurydice a little bit. And then also the similarities between this song and “Where you go, I go,” which is the recurring vow FrostIron makes in the Nights on the Roof series.

“My Fault,” Imagine Dragons: Loki’s guilt and angst

“Bitter Water,” The Oh Hellos: “I know I shouldn’t love you, but I do.” Thorki, because incest.

“Before You Go,” Lewis Capaldi: “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself.” Enemies-to-Lovers. And more specifically, Thorki during Loki’s death in Infinity War, “Before you go,/ Was there something I could have said to make it all stop hurting?”

“River,” Sam Smith: Angst

“Keeping Your Head Up,” Birdy: FrostIron (Specifically Nights on the Roof, as usual)

“King of the World,” First Aid Kit: Loki’s motivation through most of his history.

“Scars,” James Bay: That point in Ragnarok when Thor and Loki part ways on Sakaar, but then Loki follows him to Asgard because they love each other (again, brotherly or romantic, doesn’t matter, it fits for either).

“Heirloom,” Sleeping at Last: The angst of having to deal with a dad like Odin, who’s a frickin’ dick. “You are so much more than your father’s son/You are so much more than what I’ve become.”

“Sandstorm,” Passenger: “Lover, oh my lover/I know I’m not easy to understand/Cover, darling take cover/For I am the sandstorm/And you are the sand.” Angsty FrostIron

“Bad Habit,” Ben Platt: Thorki

“C’est La Mort,” The Civil Wars: “Say your good-byes, but darling if you please/don’t go without me.” This is some Thor crying over Loki’s body as the ship explodes around him type of angst.

“I’m With You,” Vance Joy: FrostIron

“How Long Will I Love You,” Ellie Golding: Thorki

“I Won’t Give Up,” Jason Mraz: FrostIron

“I Never Told You,” Colbie Caillat: Thorki

“North,” Sleeping at Last: I feel like this relates to all of my ships, always, ever. It’s one of my favorite songs. But this is where the title for my FrostIron wedding fic comes from, Give Us Bread, Give Us Salt, Give Us Wine. It just has wedding vibes.

“Achilles Come Down,” Gang of Youths: Icarus-like burning vibes. Avengers-era MCU Loki or AoA Loki

“Chemicals,” Dean Lewis: Thorki

“Remember When It Rained,” Josh Groban: Thorki angst, especially with the rain imagery and Thor being the god of thunder.

“Left Behind,” from Spring Awakening: Thor mourning Loki. (And also sometimes I play around with killing off Tony. It’s never going to be canon in my FrostIron series, but I play around with hurting Loki sometimes.)

“Very Full,” Tom Hiddleston: I love this song. It’s the song he sings in Asgardian (Norwegian) on Lamentis in Loki. I wish we had the rest of the song; it’s so good.

“Everything,” Michael Buble: Thorki

“Eavesdrop,” The Civil Wars: Either FrostIron in the most recent part of my series (part 6), or Lokius once they reunite after the events that happened in the season finale. Because it starts, “I don’t want to talk right now/I just want your arms wrapped around me in this moment.”

“Hold My Girl,” George Ezra: Don’t mind me, just pretending to serenade Sylvie.

“Jump For My Love” and “Fire,” The Pointer Sisters; and “Jupiter”, from The Planets, by Gustav Holst: A while back, Tom Hiddleston did like an AMA or whatever with Tumblr. I didn’t watch it, I don’t know how you watch them, and I don’t care. But Tumblr is Tumblr, so they do “ads” where they make you see some of it. And one of the things he was asked was, “What is some music you think Loki would listen to?” And he said that Loki would either listen to something classical with like a redemptive arc, like “Jupiter” from The Planets, or he would listen to disco dance music like The Pointer Sisters (of which I grabbed “Jump For My Love” and “Fire” because I didn’t feel like listening to their entire discography). And he was right! I don’t know how he was right; it seems very unlikely that these songs fit, but he’s 100% right, and it’s insane how right he was. And “Jupiter” makes me cry every time. There’s no words, it’s completely classical, and I cry every time. Because he’s right, it’s Loki’s arc in music form, and it makes me cry.

“All I’ve Ever Known,” from Hadestown: “I was alone so long/I didn’t even know that I was lonely.” Lokius

“Hymn for N,” The Cottars: Sylvie

“Lokius,” Natalie Holt: The score from Loki.

“She Used to Be Mine,” from Waitress: Oh my God, this song is so Sylvie, it’s crazy. This song also makes me cry, because I love Sylvie and she’s perfect and this song breaks my fucking heart.

“A Long Time Ago,” First Aid Kit: Thorki

“Shotgun,” George Ezra: This song has nothing to do with anything, EXCEPT for two lyrics that make me think of my friends in the Void. And they are: “Home-grown alligator” and “time flies in the yellow and green.”

“Send Me a River,” The Cottars: Sylvie

“RAIN,” Ben Platt: Lokius

“For the Dancing and the Dreaming,” from How to Train Your Dragon 2: I’ve decided that this is a song they sing on Asgard. I wrote a ficlet (that I haven’t posted anywhere yet) of Loki from my FrostIron series singing this in Asgardian (Norwegian) to Tony.

“Vargsangen,” Johanna Grussner: This is a Scandinavian lullaby (I think) about wolves (if I remember correctly). I was trying to find a song for Loki to sing and this is one of the songs I found that I liked, but ultimately went with the above song for the ficlet instead.

“Light,” Sleeping at Last: Thorki (“May these words be the first to find your ears/The world is brighter than the sun, now that you’re here.” The sun will shine on us again, essentially.)

“The One,” Kodaline: Lokius, namely from Choose Me.

“Dark Moon,” Bonnie Guitar and “If You Love Me (Really Love Me),” Brenda Lee: two songs played in Loki.

“Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart,” from Ella Enchanted (I know this is a cover, but this is the one on the playlist): FrostIron

“Paradise,” George Ezra: Lokius

“So Will I,” Ben Platt: FrostIron, namely Nights on the Roof

“Love Will Find a Way,” from Lion King 2: Either FrostIron during part 6 of Nights on the Roof or Lokius after the season finale of Loki.

“I’m Still Here,” from Treasure Planet: AoA Loki and Loki (“And how can the world want me to change?/ They’re the ones that stay the same.” “They can’t tell me who to be/ ‘Cause I’m not what they see.”)

“Won’t Look Back,” Josh Groban: Nights on the Roof FrostIron

“Where Do I Go From Here?” from Pocahontas 2: AoA Loki and Loki

“If I Say I Love You,” Mumford and Sons: Lokius

“Ten Thousand Miles,” Altan: Thorki, especially Loki trying to get back to Thor after being killed by Thanos

“You Are Enough,” Sleeping At Last: Lokius, a la “You can be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. Just in case anyone ever told you any different.” Could also be me, slapping the shit out of Loki, being like “Get your head out of your ass. You are worthy.”

“Carry You,” The Native Sibling: Lokius

“Half a Man,” Dean Lewis: angst

“Overcome,” from Cyrano: Thorki, probably

“Break My Heart Again,” Finneas: Anything angsty is Loki related

“All These Things That I’ve Done,” The Killers: “Last call for sin/While everyone’s lost, the battle is won/With all these things that I’ve done.” More angst, honestly.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses: He’s not even in this movie, and I’m so mad about it, but the theme song for Thor: Love and Thunder.

“Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked,” Cage the Elephant: Again, another song I found on another Loki playlist, but very Loki.

“True Love,” P!nk: Okay, listen. This is exactly how I feel about Loki. “Sometimes I hate every stupid word you say/ Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face/ There’s no one quite like you/ You push all my buttons down/ I know life would suck without you./ At the same time I wanna hug you/ I wanna wrap my hands around your neck/ You’re an asshole, but I love you/ You make me so mad I ask myself/ Why I’m still here, oh, where could I go/ You’re the only love I’ve ever known/ But I hate you, I really hate you/ So much I think it must be true love.” All of the lyrics are relevant. Loki is a dick and I love him.

“Come What May,” from Moulin Rouge: “Never knew I could feel like this/ Like I’ve never seen the sky before/ I want to vanish inside your kiss/ Everyday I love you more and more.” Is it thorki? Yes. Is it FrostIron? Yes. Is it lokius? Yes. Is it Cloudki? Probably. (If you don’t recognize that one, stay tuned; I’m planning a ships post soon.)

“Rat A Tat,” Fall Out Boy: Just Loki vibes. Also, “If my love is a weapon.” Love is a dagger, anyone?

“Victorious,” Panic! At the Disco: Vibes again, I think, sorry.

“After the Gold Rush,” k.d. lang: I think the last verse was giving me Ragnarok and beginning of Infinity War vibes.

“I Was an Island,” John-Allison Weiss: Lokius or FrostIron

“Allies or Enemies,” The Crane Wives: Thorki

“Easier,” The Crane Wives: Loki at the end of Defenders: Beyond (It’s a very long explanation, I would just say to read Al Ewing’s Loki arc, AoA and DB and then you’ll get why this fits at the end.)

“October,” The Crane Wives: Lokius

“Let Me Fall,” Josh Groban: End of AoA Loki in his moment of Ego-Death (“Someone I am is waiting for courage/The one I want, the one I will become will catch me.” “Though the phoenix may or may not rise.”)

“Caleb Trask,” The Crane Wives: “So you’ve got bad in your blood/ Brother, you’re one of us/ So you’ve got bad in your blood/ How long you gonna wait for those azaleas to bud?” Just Loki.

“I Am My Own Muse,” Fall Out Boy: Loki vibes, and also the line, “Let’s twist the knife again.” Love is a dagger.

“Beloved,” Mumford and Sons: Lokius

“All Things Shall Be Peace,” from Were the World Mine: “Take comfort, he no more shall see my face/Whom I do love and will do till my death.” Lokius from Loki’s perspective in the finale (though I think we’re going to get the original Mobius back very soon).

“Unwritten,” Natasha Beddingfield: Sylvie just killed He Who Remains, and the Sacred Timeline has gone up to a point. And now what happens beyond it is anyone’s guess. “The rest is still unwritten.”

#loki #loki playlist #loki songs #fan playlist #loki tv show #sylvie laufeydottir #lokius #thorki #frostiron

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