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your-talos-is-problematic · 1 year ago

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Thank you so much for the tag! It makes me really happy that you’d like to hear about my OCs. I’m going to do this with both Afonya and Tilia since I’m planning to write the two of them together soon. This is a really good set of questions and I think it’ll come in a ton of use for characterization! Especially #10.

Afonya Maryon

What is your oc's name? Why did you choose it? Were there any other names you considered? Afonya was named when I had no idea how Dunmer naming conventions worked so I just went with what sounded nice. It’s just ‘cranberry’ thrown into Google Translate until one worked. BUT after I published the fic someone commented on it and it turns out it’s a name in Russia meaning immortality/resurrection so it’s perfect for That Word Was Afonya’s concept!

How was your oc raised? What kind of background? Not well, I can tell you. Another thing that sprang from me not knowing how Dunmer worked is that she didn’t originally have a last name. So I decided that she hated her parents, and it sprung from there. I’ve decided her parents were Dunmer bitter at essentially everyone because their ‘family business’ of farming in Morrowind was destroyed after the Argonian invasion. They left her and Elia, who’s three years younger than her, when Afonya was fifteen so they could try to pressure the government into making slavery legal again. She hasn’t heard from them since. She had to do a lot of work as a kid- sustaining what was left of the farm, and eventually raising Elia. To make enough money, she worked as a bard at a tavern in her hometown.

What values do they have? How were they instilled in them? Afonya cares about three main things: survival, family, and piety. The first one she learned from having to provide for herself from such a young age. She’s not a “I must survive above all else” person, but she will bend morals for it if she has to, like killing a hostage for the Dark Brotherhood knowing she couldn’t fight Astrid. As for family, she realized when reaching Skyrim that even though she hates her parents, she cared about Elia more than almost anything. Meeting Brelyna and adopting children helped her understand how having a healthy family makes you want to live so much more. Her religious side does actually come from her parents, namely her Reclamations priest father. She worships them every morning, and considers Azura to be her guiding light. She is deeply ashamed of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill for Boethia.

What does your oc look like? Have they had other designs? How has their look changed? Afonya looks like a Skyrim character in-game, but I’ll add my best representation of what she looks like to the bottom of this section. Importantly, she’s undeniably a Dunmer, but doesn’t fit the usual look: her skin trends more purple than gray and a historical incident in her family has led to her having functional but purely white pupil-less (not accurately represented in image) eyes. Not shown there is the face paint she has in-game that I’ll probably avoid canonizing, and her curly hair (although it has notably flattened since she left Morrowind). At the start of my playthrough, she had much longer hair, but she cut it soon after getting to Skyrim. She’s also evolved from more heavy armor sets to the much lighter royal vampire armor, which helps her cast better and is much more her.

Does your oc have a family? What do they define as family? Being a Dunmer, Afonya has a lot of strong emotions relating to family. She doesn’t associate with her Orel side- her parents’ family, and refuses to make any contact with any of their spirits. However, she’s fiercely loyal to her sister. She considers herself to have two types of family: one that’s defined by her and consists of Elia, Brelyna, and her daughters Lucia and Runa, and one that’s defined by Dunmeri society, made up of Brelyna and the other Maryons. She’s intensely loyal to both.

Does your oc have a mentor or someone they look up to? Why do they look up to them? Afonya has always looked to Azura for guidance. She’s felt a connection for a long time, but it strengthened when she got to Skyrim and became unbreakable when she became Azura’s chosen. She’s the most reliable of the Reclamations in Afonya’s mind: no matter where she is, the sun and the moon will always rise. She also considers Paarthurnax a safe space- his wisdom and force of character comforts her. She also wants desperately to impress and be able to learn from Brelyna’s father. They’re very similar- both married into House Telvanni, both fiercely dedicated to their house, their family, and their wives, and both devoted to magic.

What has been the most significant event in your oc's life? How has this affected them? Afonya’s saved the world, but something about being a fabled Nord hero destined to defeat a Nord dragon makes it ring empty to her. The most emotionally significant thing that’s ever happened to her is becoming Azura’s Chosen. She’s desperate for the approval of the people she cares about, and seeing her Lady’s trust in her being rightly placed has given her the confidence to endure so much struggle and rejection. She doubts her own honor, her own devotion, and her own strength, but she would never doubt Azura, and Azura believes in her.

Who does your oc care about? Is it reciprocal? Brelyna, Lucia, Runa, the Thieves Guild, Azura, The College of Winterhold, and Elia. Always, a tense yes, yes, yes though they don’t like to admit it, as much of a yes as a goddess can give, yes, and of course. She also has a deep care for the Dunmer people, and on a large scale it’s mostly a no. But seeing figures in power like Neloth and the Maryons, as well as the people of Raven Rock, approve of her means a lot. Sometimes she worries about being stretched too thin with her care, and a lot of the time she is, but she knows she can never just stop caring.

What are your oc's hobbies? How do they relax? When Afonya gets time to rest, she likes to play music. She plays a string instrument and the flute, and they’re really important to her. She also uses magic in her daily life constantly, but being able to truly connect with it and examine its purposes outside of the battlefield is a fufilling, almost meditative activity for her. She especially enjoys doing it with Brelyna. Any moment where she can just be herself and not worry about anyone’s approval is relaxing to her too, whether it’s a night at home with her kids, a drink with Teldryn deep in a ruin, or a book read in the hall of the Companions.

What should we understand most about your oc? Afonya is terrified. She’s young, and since she got to Skyrim all she’s wanted to do is survive. Even though she’s in unimaginable power now, in both social status and magical terms, and living very comfortably, she knows that as soon as she dies, her soul’s going to be traded between and fought over by multiple Daedra. And all signs point to the end being Mora. She never had any say in being Dragonborn, which she knows, so all that’s left for her is to try to live as long as she can with Brelyna and her daughters. She’s been projecting confidence for so long it’s second nature, but underneath everything she wants to be a girl nobody expects anything excessive from and who gets to choose what happens with her life and death.

Tilia of Tragedy

What is your oc's name? Why did you choose it? Were there any other names you considered? Tilia is a genus of citrus tree, chosen by me from the National Tree List because I thought a lime tree fit with her whole green-haired green dragon sorcerer thing. The “of tragedy” part was added on because I thought it’d be fun to decide on what it meant as I learned more about her and the world, and it worked! I’ve decided that it’s a reference to how her and her family survived Elturel’s fall- a tragic event, but one that they didn’t let bring them down.

How was your oc raised? What kind of background? Tilia spent ages 0-19 in a middle-class tiefling family in Elturel, getting a good education and being raised by two very supportive parents. Then, she spent ages 20-29 in a still very supportive tiefling family in Elturel, with the addition of Elturel now being in Avernus.

What values do they have? How were they instilled in them? Tilia’s optimism, caring nature, and pride in being a tiefling come from her parents, who made sure she would be able to survive the world’s harsh realities by teaching her to be a good person. She sees the good in everyone, from Astarion to Mizora, and lets everyone know that if they start trying, they’ll become a good force on the world and win her support. Her current tadpole-fueled adventure is also teaching her the value of autonomy. She’s learning what being deprived of it does to a person, and she wants to make sure that happens as infrequently as possible.

What does your oc look like? Have they had other designs? How has their look changed? Technically, Tilia started as a gith. But after creating the entire design, I decided I wanted to play a tiefling, because horns. About an hour of character creation went into her, and her face, body, and hair haven’t changed since. However, her clothing has, significantly. She started the game in the default sorcerer robe- it’s green, which matches her style, but it also makes her look younger, less prepared for battle. Since Act 2, she’s been in a much fancier robe in both green and red, helping to make her look a lot more intentional and respected but still retaining her sorcerous energy. I’ll add a photo of her (from act 1) to this post too.

Does your oc have a family? What do they define as family? Tilia’s an only child, so she views her family as herself and her parents. As close as she is with her companions, she doesn’t need to consider them familial to care about them. She also would define her father’s family as extended family, but not her mother’s, who was cast out after being born a tiefling. She does make jokes about Zariel being her grandmother, which are both inaccurate and sarcastic.

Does your oc have a mentor or someone they look up to? Why do they look up to them? No, at least not yet. Tilia views herself as an equal in optimism and spirit to Karlach. She sees the rest of her companions as people with admirable traits that still need to learn some things about life before anyone should look up to them.

What has been the most significant event in your oc's life? How has this affected them? The one moment that’s tested Tilia’s strength is (BALDUR’S GATE SPOILERS! LOOK AWAY IF YOU HAVEN’T REACHED ACT THREE OR SPENT A LOT OF TIME THERE) being told she was worthless by the Emperor. She feels like she’s walking into a trap with the elder brain situation, a trap that only works because she does care so much. And she’s seen what happens when people’s bodies become not their own, so knowing the Emperor can just take away its protection and force Tilia to undergo cerremorphosis terrifies her.

Who does your oc care about? Is it reciprocal? Tilia cares about everone. In her eyes, nobody is irredeemable. Because of this, a lot of her care isn’t reciprocated, but she’s determined to get people to learn to care. This is in full force with her companions- Karlach, Wyll, Gale, and Minsc have cared about her since they met just because she’s a person. And she’s made sure to always be there for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, and noticed that they’ve both grown to appreciate her. Most difficult is Astarion, but she can tell she’s getting there. She makes sure to offer reassurance and support to him as much as possible. Jaheira and her both know that the other is powerful, but vulnerable. Honestly, though, she feels nothing for (SPOILERS) the Emperor and very little for Halsin. She’s learning she doesn’t have a ton of respect for people she doesn’t feel respect her boundaries.

What are your oc's hobbies? How do they relax? Tilia’s worked in fashion in both Elturel and Baldur’s Gate, and learned that sewing and dying clothes are physical tasks she enjoys doing. Often when she’s worried about something she’ll select some item from her companions that she feels like is the wrong color for their style and re-dye it. She also enjoys reading, and has been delighted to learn that her girlfriend does too. She reads to Karlach at camp often, as a way to be close to her and to help them both clear their heads.

What should we understand most about your oc? Tilia is satisfied, and confident, and sweet. But there’s a part of her that’s hungry. She wants desperately to connect with her dragonblood- searching papers meticulously for any mention of a green dragon, seeking out anyone who has the same powers as her, counting and tracing the growth of every scale on her body. Something stirs inside her when she casts Cloudkill or lets her wings fold out from her back or touches her tongue to someone’s skin, and she’s determined to find out what it is.

OC Infodump tag

Seeing as this post is doing quite well, I figured we could use a tag to info dump on our ocs without the pressure to make anything :)

I'm tagging: EVERYONE if you've got an oc you wanna talk about do this and tag me! Choose any/all ocs and answer whichever ones you'd like :)

Specifically I'm tagging friends @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @thequeenofthewinter @akaviri-dovah @throughtrialbyfire @its-christmas-probby @ladytanithia @blackmetalsnake @sheirukitriesfandom @nerevar-quote-and-star

What is your oc's name? Why did you choose it? Were there any other names you considered?

How was your oc raised? What kind of background?

What values do they have? How were they instilled in them?

What does your oc look like? Have they had other designs? How has their look changed?

Does your oc have a family? What do they define as family?

Does your oc have a mentor or someone they look up to? Why do they look up to them?

What has been the most significant event in your oc's life? How has this affected them?

Who does your oc care about? Is it reciprocal?

What are your oc's hobbies? How do they relax?

What should we understand most about your oc?

#this is really awesome thank you so much this makes me want to write about them so bad #tes #oc afonya #tilia of tragedy

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redorich · 4 years ago

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Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine!

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

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what-even-is-thiss · 4 years ago

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Persephone

Every year she arrives at the start of Autumn with new seeds for the garden and Hades helpfully holds the basket for her as she gets her hands dirty.

He appreciates the kind of filth she brings with her. It's active, proactive, helpful. Not stagnant and rotting. Not the kind of filth that sits and develops with death that needs to be removed for the sake of the still living. A kind of filth with its own merit, but not why she’s here. The kind that comes with her is getting dirt on your pants and dust in your hair. The kind of filth that comes from burning yourself on a pan or mowing the lawn or climbing a tree. Active, alive, dirt that gathers under your nails and nourishes as well as hurts.

Every year as she gets him to put on clothes a bit more practical for gardening and gets to sowing her seeds, and she tells him stories as they work. He is quiet and not one for this particular kind of hard work, but he’s a good listener with a warm laugh, and that’s good enough for her.

Every year they have done this since before humans could write and every year as they do this she tells him what the humans think of them this time, and every year he gets a good laugh.

“Who’s the primary suspect now?” he asks as he puts on his boots.

“You, I think.” she says with a smile. “Mother/daughter relations theory.”

“Again?“ he asked. “Don’t they have anything new?”

“I’m sure they will by the time I get back.” she said, adjusting her sunhat. There is no sunlight in the underworld but she wears a sunhat anyways.

After what needs to be replaced in the garden has been replaced she puts on something a little more formal. Something a little less farm girl, which she is fine with and he likes much more. Hermes, who knows everything and everyone, may or may not come by with a letter from her mother and his sister, addressed to both of them, which they may or may not read right now.

They sleep in separate rooms except for when they don’t, and they talk together late into the night except for when they don’t. Despite being gods they cook together, except for when they don’t, a lot of their time spent with her talking and him talking sometimes and a lot of their time spent in complete silence. Sometimes in the evenings she sits on his lap and they read. Sometimes he sits on her lap and they watch a movie and play with each others’ hair. Sometimes they sit in different rooms thinking about everything they are worried about. Sometimes they speak to other people. Together or apart.

She is content with this. Rarely elated, rarely upset. But the goddess of spring is fine with contentment. Letters from Demeter speak of snow. Persephone rarely sees snow. She never liked it anyways.

In the spring she sees it melting and that is that. She stands on her toes and leaves Hades a kiss on his jaw, getting a facefull of scratchy black hair before putting on her farm girl clothes and running into her mother’s arms.

Every year her mother visits all corners of the northern hemisphere, taking her daughter in tow. They bless fields or lay them bare. In her spare time she leaves her mother and visits corners of the wild to speak with gods that still hate agriculture but love the goddess of spring. They speak with her and tell her to tell her mother that she should do better. She rarely does.

Demeter is organized and opinionated. She’s loud and stubborn. She carries a long scythe that she uses on plants, humans, and animals alike. Around her Persephone is the quiet one. Something that is also fine. Demeter just likes it when her daughter is there. Warm and ready to be a steady hand. She’s gentle with a little wrath. She’s smart and carries the hopes of the dead with her. The sort of hope that turns corpses into good soil and manure into carrot stew. That turns death into life for other things. A sort of complicated darkness that follows her around as tightly as air and gives a deep, refreshing rest.

Some nights they sleep on Olympus, some nights they don’t. Some nights they fight, some nights they don’t. Both kinds of nights have their merits. Both are ones that they go to sleep knowing that they will see each other in the morning.

There isn’t much to say between them. They know everything that the other wants to say. They talk business, mostly. When Hermes comes they gossip about family. Sometimes he brings a letter from Hades. Sometimes he brings business or a gift from Hera that clearly illustrates that she doesn’t know them. Sometimes Hermes just comes to ask how she is doing. She always answers him honestly.

She is content with this. Rarely elated, rarely upset. But the goddess of spring is fine with contentment. Letters from Hades speak of danger and organization and how much he hates his brothers. Persephone understands. She hates them too, whether that is earned or not.

It has been like this for a long time. All sides feeling just fine. Love from all directions, but not love that is full of a passion. It is barely there, but comfortably so.

Demeter used to be disorganized, Hades used to be louder, and Persephone... she wasn’t quite sure yet. She had gotten to the age where she should know what kind of flaw she had but she didn’t. She didn’t love anyone or anything, except for maybe the feeling of living dirt beneath her feet.

She knew very well what was inside the cave. What brought her downwards wasn’t love or curiosity, but a need for change. And change things did. He wouldn’t let her go once he had her. She was a ticket out of questions. Something to keep the rest of the family away. She realized too late the consequences of her impulsivity.

After the initial shock and hunger strike she actually started looking around and got to talking. If not with him, then with the dead and the spirits of the rivers. They said that he was weird and needed someone to teach him patience. She said that was something he had in common with her mother.

He was very clear with her about what would happen if she ate that specific fruit. She ate it, very clear with him what her intentions were.

After a thousand years the plants could no longer survive without the cold and Demeter saw this. Slowly, slowly, she began speaking to her siblings again, and stopped holding her daughter’s hand. Winter still came. She never told them that this time it was for the good of the plants and not out of spite. Only Dionysus seemed to understand why. Thankfully, he could keep a secret.

After centuries passed Persephone transformed the underworld, little by little it became just a little less dark. He let her come to him on her own time. The first time she touched him, she asked, and almost every time after that she asked, until enough time had passed that she just knew from a glance. Once that time had come he began to ask as well and they both had slightly bigger beds placed in their rooms. Who did it first, they don’t remember.

The mortals always wanted to make this simpler than it was. Say that it was his fault or her fault or her mother’s fault. Really though, it had just happened. Then over and over again it just happened, falling into place over a thousand years.

She didn’t know when she started loving her mother again, or her husband, or even how much she loved them, but that part didn’t matter. Neither the earth, nor mount Olympus, nor the underworld was perfect, and neither was she, and neither were they. Sometimes a set of unusual circumstances leads to another set of unusual circumstances and sometimes a young goddess gets caught in the middle of it. And maybe in the beginning the young goddess was confused by it all.

And maybe now she’s just... content.

#roman wrote a thing #mythology nerd time #roman said a thing

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starlessea · 4 years ago

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Here Comes the Sun: XII. Highway To Hell (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7169

Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence.

You held a hand up over your shoulder and crouched down near the door, signalling for Carol to do the same behind you. Your gun was pressed snug between your palms, and your knife hung from your belt in case you needed it. Though, from the looks of the place it seemed pretty secure - if the lock you'd just busted open was anything to go by. The two of you were scavenging and had spotted a small general store, deciding to check it out before heading back to the cabin. The group hadn't eaten anything substantial in days, save for the things Daryl had been hunting. Even then, the harsh winter months made it harder for him to pick up tracks when most animals had better shelter than you all did.

It had been a number of weeks since the farm was overrun, but it almost felt like yesterday. The temperature had dropped to freezing seemingly overnight, making your fortunes that much more cruel. Even now, your breath formed clouds of smoke before your eyes, and the cold felt like it had infiltrated your bones at some point and never left. The tips of your fingers stung as they glowed red, exposed through your fingerless gloves, and you were certain that your nose matched, too. Carol's did, that's for sure.

You gave her a quick nod before kicking in the door harshly with your boot, raising your gun as you entered. The inside was bigger than you were expecting, and it took you a few minutes to clear each aisle for walkers. As you did, you noticed how most supplies were missing from the shelves, having been taken before the place was locked up. Still, Glenn had always drilled into you the first rule of scavenging: 'there's nothing good left in this world that isn't hidden.'

Sending a nod to Carol, you put your gun away in your holster before reminding her to stay alert. The two of you split up as she made her way towards the canned goods sections, hoping to find something there. Ever since you'd been on the road, you and Carol had gotten quite a bit closer. At first, she seemed sceptical of Rick and the whole situation you were forced into, as you all did. Though, after time she seemed to realise that he was the group's best shot. Most days, the two of you made dinner with anything you could find, often supplementing the things you were missing with whatever Daryl had managed to bring home from his hunt. Other times, you went scavenging together, as you did today.

At first, Rick absolutely refused to let anyone split up, and you had to abide by his rule. One time he'd caught you mocking his 'this isn't a democracy' speech to Beth behind his back and you'd had to forfeit your portion of squirrel to the greater good that evening. Daryl sneaked you some of his afterwards, however. Though, Rick quickly began to realise that there was no other choice. Before long, you'd gotten good with a gun; taking down walkers each day had that effect. Soon, you were one of the frontrunners whenever you had a house to clear - often fighting alongside him, Glenn and Daryl.

Now, he was comfortable with you leading a few runs of your own and taking Carol along with you. Glenn and Maggie often went together, too, so that you covered more ground. It wasn't that Rick was comfortable with splitting up the group, you thought; he just didn't have a choice. Lori was nearing her due date and you were all practically living on fresh air, moving from place to place quicker than you had the chance to catch your breath.

You hadn't even had time to settle things with Daryl. You barely saw the man. He'd leave first thing in the morning to look for food, and be back late at night - when most of the group had already fallen asleep. Even then, he often took watch straight after he returned. You could tell how responsible he felt for everyone and you saw the worry in his eyes daily, if the bags under them were anything to go by.

After you had kissed Daryl, back at the farm, you only had one conversation about it. It was a couple of days after you all fled, when you were taking watch with him as the rest of the group were stuck camping under the stars. It was brief, and before that the two of you had already gone back to acting as good friends, like usual. He'd told you that he wasn't good with words, and didn't want to just give you some half-assed response in the midst of struggling to survive the Georgia winter. You agreed, and it was decided then that you'd talk about it later. Yet, later never came.

It had been an unspoken rule between the two of you that everyone's safety was the priority. Though, in truth, you hadn't had a single moment where you felt safe since you left the farm. It seemed almost cruel that immediately after you'd told the man that you wanted to live, rather than just survive, you had been thrust out into the vicious world where that's all you could struggle to do. So, the two of you just existed at the moment.

Some mornings you'd wake up to sound of him leaving, and some evenings he'd be back early enough to share a meal with you. Other than that, you lived for the brief occasions where you'd take watch together, when he'd smoke a cigarette next to you and you'd sit in content silence. Though, sometimes it felt like you were frightened to say anything at all, in case you accidentally blurted out all of your feelings at once. So, the both of you barely talked - waiting for the time when you could actually talk.

You shoved some supplies into your satchel as you scoured the aisles. There wasn't much you could see that hadn't been taken already, but you picked up a few bandaids in case you ever needed them. The only thing you were able to save from the farm was your satchel. Luckily, it already had your polaroids in it and a change of clothes, since you'd been packing to move into the Greenes' farmhouse at the time the horde arrived. Still, there was so much you missed from those days.

You missed the material things, like the comfort you got just from seeing Dale's RV parked by the main camp. You missed the flimsy deck chairs surrounding it, and the big apple trees that gave it shade, and the books you'd borrow from Hershel's library to read when you had lookout duty on top of it. You missed your white dress that smelt like the washing powder that Patricia used - even though you knew it wouldn't have survived long out in these dingy, cold places. You even missed the intangible things, and felt a deep longing of nostalgia for the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze or for the sweetness of the air. Those days felt so far away from you now, like the images of them were slipping out of your grasp - like grains of sand before you could catch them.

The things that remained fresh in your mind, however, were the people that you left behind. You missed Patricia and Jimmy and Andrea, and even Shane. As much as that man rubbed you the wrong way, you didn't want to see him die. You didn't want any of them to die. That night was a mess. These days, you often woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. Except, this time it was the faces of your family replacing the walkers that usually inhabited them. You missed the people you'd lost and you missed the place that you all thought was home. You also missed Daryl Dixon.

A loud clatter sounded from a few rows over from you, immediately making you thumb over your gun as you stilled in place.

"Carol?" You called over, unable to see her from behind the tall shelves. "Everything alright?"

She responded instantly, and you felt relief wash over you as she did.

"I'm fine. I just dropped a tin." She reassured you, her voice carrying as an echo in the empty store.

You let out a small sigh before continuing with your poor haul. It was times like these that you really felt your mind wander when it shouldn't. You knew that you should always be cautious, since you promised Rick that you'd look out for Carol. Though, quite frankly, you thought that he didn't give her enough credit. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, but not many people had realised it yet. Daryl had. The friendship the two of them shared was really admirable. He'd been the one to search for Sofia, and comfort Carol after the loss of her - and Carol was equally as good for him as he was for her. She'd been able to coax him out of his shell where even you struggled to, and you could see how he'd started to accept his new role within the group because of her.

You just wished, very selfishly, that you could be with him. You understood that he had a job to do now, and how not everyone was able to do the things he did. The group had women and children and older people and a pregnant Lori. You were all running on empty, barely hanging on as it was. Yet, those nights when he'd come back empty-handed, cursing himself under his breath when he thought you were all asleep, made you want to hold him close. You never did, knowing how much Daryl Dixon hated pity from anyone, but the longing was so strong that it made your eyes sting with tears.

Although things weren't awkward between the two of you, you didn't joke around nearly as much as you used to. The atmosphere always felt heavy, as nobody knew when the next meal would come, or how long this place would be safe before you had to move again. As the nights got bitterly cold, you huddled next to Beth for warmth, or Carol sometimes. You felt absolutely no shame in it. There were only a few tattered blankets to go around, but they barely did anything for your numb toes and stiff fingers. If you weren't all family before, then you definitely were now - given how close you'd all had to become.

Some nights, the ones which were your favourites, Daryl slept beside you. You didn't think it was intentional at first. Or, maybe it was. In the grand scheme of things, it was barely anything at all. Yet, the first time almost made you cry, as it felt like he was reminding you that he still cared for you. It wasn't like you ever embraced him, or did anything remotely intimate. You hadn't ever been anything more than the brief kiss you shared in his tent. Though, it still felt intimate to you.

He'd come in late, as usual, on a particularly cold night. You'd heard him slug off his boots and throw them aside as he stripped out of his heavy winter gear. The whole time, you'd pretended to be asleep, like you normally did. After a while, he finally laid down on the ground, clambering over the sleeping bodies of the rest of the group. You usually all huddled together in one room for warmth. You'd felt the floorboards creak and shift beneath you as he settled next to you, not that you were touching, but close enough to feel his presence and hear his breathing.

Once you were sure he'd fallen asleep, you scooted backwards slightly, so that your backs were touching. It was hardly anything, but the slight warmth you felt from him was more comfort than you'd had in weeks. You were touch starved and hungry and cold. You needed something. When you'd woken up the next morning, he was already gone. He never said anything about it, but since then you'd found yourself occasionally waking up in the middle of the night to your back pressed against his, or sometimes having a hand intertwined with your own.

As you finished down one aisle, you noticed another that had been left untouched. It was a toy section, quite small given the size of the store. Obviously, the necessities had been taken first, and you thought that whatever children had survived the apocalypse probably didn't have many things left to play with - since they were all still here. You trailed your finger over the dusty shelf, feeling the glossy plastic of the boxes and the soft fur of the stuffed animals piled there.

"Looking for something for the baby?" Carol asked, popping up behind you.

You immediately jumped, and flung a hand over your chest as you shot her a look. It had been your fault for not paying attention, but she didn't need to know that.

You shook your head. "Not intentionally." You admitted, eyes scanning over the selection. "But I suppose we could pick something up."

You chose one of the bears and shoved it into your satchel. Usually, you'd have looked for something for Carl, too, but he'd recently been acting a lot older than his years. He wanted to step up and protect everyone like his father, he confessed to you one day. You had to admit, he was a pretty good shot and certainly didn't seem like a child anymore. You didn't want to undermine his efforts by presenting him with an action figure in the midst of your current situation, telling him to take a break from killing walkers to play with it.

"Did you find anything?" You turned to look at Carol, who held up her bag that didn't seem anywhere near full.

She shrugged her shoulders at you and made a face. "Few expired cans, but nothing much." She frowned. "You?"

You shook your head softly and flipped open the flap of your satchel to show her your haul.

"Some bandaids and a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You confessed, picking it out to show her.

You held up the small figure in front of her face, pulling back its comically large head with your thumb and letting it wobble.

"Cute, right?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol just gave a small chuckle in reply, folding her arms as though about to half-heartedly scold a child. You shrugged your shoulders before stuffing it back into the bag. Just because Carl didn't want to play with toys anymore didn't mean that you couldn't.

Carol glanced over at the entrance of the store, before giving the shelves a final scan. "We should get going soon." She noted, her bag clanking as she readjusted it over her shoulder. "Some walkers might have gathered outside by now."

You hummed in response, distracted by the array of multi-coloured boxes. "It's fine, I'll look after you." You said, shooting her a wink as she sighed.

The woman had become used to your teasing by now, and it was a welcomed change from how tense you all were most of the time. Even though you mostly used humor as a coping mechanism, especially when you felt nervous, it seemed to lighten the atmosphere when it got a bit too heavy.

"Though I don't think you even need me." You continued, eyeing the small pistol she had tucked into her jeans. "You're getting pretty good with a gun."

Carol snorted at that, reminding you of the time she almost shot a bullet through Rick's boot not so long ago. In her defence, Rick had been a lot more on edge that day, and you'd been quite tempted to do the same.

"Speak for yourself." She spoke, after you'd tried to convince her otherwise. "You started learning after me and your aim's already on parr with Rick's."

You remembered those first days, and how hard they were. Everyone had fallen into their roles and you'd felt almost stuck in place. You didn't know how best to contribute. It had taken the neighbourhood you were all staying in to get overrun before you had the chance to test your skills. You hadn't wanted to waste bullets before that, but you'd scarcely had a choice then.

"He's a good teacher." You smiled at Carol, giving Rick praise where it was due. "And there's no better practice than being terrified and having to learn on the job." You admitted with a strained laugh.

You continued walking down the aisle slowly, back in the direction of the entrance.

"But you're right, we should go." You agreed, gesturing to the door.

The two of you took a few steps together before you stopped abruptly as something caught your attention, right in the corner of your eye. You whipped your head around to look at one of the glossy toy boxes, reading its bold letter description.

"Oh my god." You mumbled to yourself, below your breath.

Carol looked over at you, confused. "What is it?" She asked, glancing in the direction where you were staring.

You couldn't hold back the grin that spread over your face as you grabbed the box and held it in your hand. You glanced over your shoulder, at Carol, before running your fingers back over the dusty plastic.

"No fucking way!" You yelled in disbelief. It seemed like your luck was finally changing.

Carol peered over your shoulder before letting out a chuckle at your expression.

"Now that would be perfect for the baby." She smiled, staring down at it in your hands.

You shook your head at her, looking up to meet her eyes. "I actually had someone else in mind." You admitted, still feeling the smile tug at the corners of your mouth as you said it. "It's a bit of an inside joke we have."

Carol hummed in reply, but didn't press for answers.

"But I agree." You went on, making room for the box to fit into your satchel. "It'll probably get handed down to baby Grimes at some point."

The walk back to the cabin was pretty uneventful. The two of you stayed in the cover of the forest, out of sight of the main road. You'd had to dispatch a couple of walkers on the way, but nothing that the two of you couldn't handle. At this point, you just wished for another set of clothes that weren't covered in muck and dried blood. You could hardly remember the last time you'd worn something clean - that hadn't just been dunked in a creek when you came across one.

As you walked, you must have strayed slightly off the path that you usually took, since you came across an unfamiliar, old Toyota truck that had veered off road and crashed into a tree. It was covered in dried leaves and all beat up, but you recognised the model as the same one belonging to Otis, back at the Greene farm. It was always parked outside there. It was a simple, two person pick up truck that was rusty red in colour, and it instantly made you think back on the night that you were forced into driving it.

After Rick had told you and Daryl that Randall had escaped, the whole farm went into an uproar. You stayed in the farmhouse whilst some of the group went to look for him, Daryl included. It wasn't long before you spotted the horde coming your way, and Hershel's barn had started to go up in flames in the distance. After that, you could barely remember what had happened.

You'd been with Daryl at first. He shot the walkers that got too close with his crossbow, before switching to guns. You did the same, trying to give the others an opportunity to pile into the vehicles and escape. At some point, however, you got completely cut off from the rest of the group and had been forced back to the opposite side of the farmhouse.

The chaos was indescribable. It was like you'd been drafted up for war in the span of half an hour. Soon, you had run out of bullets and only had your knife left to defend yourself. So, you ran. Not able to see any of the others anymore, you sprinted for the last vehicle left - Otis' old Toyota truck. You flung the door open and clambered inside, locking it just in time to avoid the hands that smacked up onto the glass windows. You remembered how your chest heaved as your hands fumbled around the dash frantically. You finally found the keys tucked into the sun visor above your head, and almost cried from relief.

When your hands stopped shaking long enough to put it in the ignition, you turned the key only for the engine to rumble once before falling flat. You tried it again, and it gave out a choked sputter and died.

"No, no, no." You whispered, turning the key over and over to try and start the truck. "This can't be happening."

The windows had almost been completely blacked out by the number of hands and faces pressed against them, the walkers snapping their jaws at you as you panicked inside. In the rearview mirror, you could even see some start to clamber into the truck bed, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they completely swarmed you. You slammed your hands onto the steering wheel in frustration and yelled, not caring whether you attracted more.

"I can't die now, I just kissed that stubborn asshole!" You screamed, accidentally hitting the windscreen wiper stick with your elbow. You watched as the blade caught one of the walkers' flesh and smeared it over the glass.

"Fucking great." You sighed, and turned the key again.

This time, you felt it catch slightly between your fingers, and thought that perhaps the starter motor was sticking. The truck hadn't been used since Otis' death, but it still seemed to have some life in it. You jiggled the key and turned it half way, praying to every deity you could think of. You twisted it fully, and the engine roared to life. You held your breath for a few seconds, not entirely trusting it, but as it continued to rumble you realised that it had started properly this time.

Not wanting to sit around any longer, you immediately set off, mowing down the stream of walkers in front of you all while hoping that the car wouldn't flip over. You watched your mirror as the ones clinging onto the truck bed were flung off as you picked up speed, and you almost wanted to yell out in triumph - but felt like you might be sick if you did so.

The truck was hell to drive. You couldn't figure out the stick for a while and your windscreen was covered in blood and smeared guts. You knew you had to head for the highway where the supplies for Sofia were left. You'd gone with Rick one time, when he went to wait for her there at noon. As you pulled out of Hershel's farm, you gave a final glance back in your mirror to see your home burn and become entirely inhabited by the undead - and noticed your little yellow submarine trampled to the ground as you did so.

As you neared the highway, after driving on the wrong side of the road for a while without realising it, you felt a knot start to form in your stomach. You hadn't seen the others get away - you didn't know if they were alive or dead, or even if they would have waited for you if they managed to escape. Your eyes blurred with tears as you drove, still not feeling any sense of relief despite having made it out of the farm. You just prayed that everyone was safe.

When you got closer to the meeting spot, you immediately noticed the familiar vehicles from the farm, and even Daryl's motorbike, all parked up. You stopped the truck once you couldn't go any further, being blocked by the abandoned cars. The group began to approach you quickly as you clambered out and hit the floor with shaky feet. Glenn reached you first, smiling widely when he saw that you were okay.

"Is that you?" He asked, clapping a hand over your trembling shoulders. "I've never seen anyone drive that badly before-"

You didn't let him finish, instead running over to Daryl on unsteady feet. You flung yourself into his arms, which pulled you in close and held you tight. You sobbed louder than you thought you ever had before, crying into his chest as you felt one of his hands stroke softly over your back. You didn't care what anyone thought at this moment. Nothing could describe the feeling of losing your home and thinking your family was dead. You realised how close you had been to being all alone, once again.

"Hey, c'mon look at me." He said softly, trying to pry himself out of your grip.

He lifted your chin up with his finger and you knew that you must've looked quite the state. Your eyes were completely blurred with tears, so much that you could barely make out the man in front of you, and your nose ran as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

"It's a'right." He reassured you, looking into your eyes as if realising that you needed further convincing. "Yer safe."

You looked around at the group, taking in their faces and feeling your hands tremble against Daryl's chest as they clutched the material of his shirt still. Everyone looked relieved, and offered you small smiles of comfort.

You stepped back from the man a little, giving him his space. You still couldn't stop the tears from falling. It was as if your body still hadn't caught up to your mind.

"I was so scared." You admitted quietly, voice quivering as you did so. "I thought you'd all left me."

You didn't drop your hands from his chest, letting yourself feel his heartbeat beneath your palms as a reminder that this was all real.

Daryl shook his head at you. "We'd never leave ya, Teach" He grumbled, as though he couldn't believe you'd even suggest it. "Went back to look for ya on the bike but I couldn't find ya."

Maggie stepped forward, pulling you into a hug as you finally released Daryl's shirt from your grip. She stroked your hair as she brought you into her chest, and you felt tears stream down your cheeks.

"You scared us all half to death." She told you, before gripping onto your shoulders tightly as you stood back from her.

Glenn nodded in agreement, before letting out a small chuckle. "Then we spotted Otis' truck barreling down the highway." He said, pointing over to the vehicle you'd abandoned. "Thought a walker was driving it the way you were swerving all over the place."

You tried to let out a laugh in return, but it came out all watery in between your sobs.

"The gearstick-" you choked out, hiccuping as you spoke. "Had to change gears with the wrong hand." You explained, lifting your arm to give a poor demonstration as you continued to cry.

"You-" you spluttered, letting out a wail mixed with a desperate laugh. "You stupid Americans."

It was a few days before you and Daryl crossed paths in the cabin again. It was late and you'd been trying to sleep for a few hours when the door creaked open. He'd shuffled around for a bit before you heard him take over watch duty from Glenn. At first, you'd wanted to go outside and scold him for never taking the time to rest, but after a few minutes you decided on a different plan. Prying yourself out from underneath the blanket you shared with Beth, you pulled on your boots - not bothering to do up the laces. The icy breeze hit your skin and caused it to prickle instantly, making you wish you had a spare comforter to take with you. You wouldn't be surprised if it snowed soon, given how dry and bitter the air had felt on your cheek earlier that day.

You retrieved your satchel and tip-toed around the sleeping bodies, doing your best not to step on any creaky floorboards and disturb them. You opened the cabin door slowly, and shut it behind you as you stepped out into the night. Daryl was sitting on the stone wall a few feet away, and you could tell that the smoke coming from his lips was from more than just the cold. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and you could make out the familiar lighter that he flicked open and closed in his other hand. You approached with purposefully loud footsteps, not wanting to startle him. He didn't turn around, waiting until you came closer.

"Mind if I join you?" You shot him a smile, pulling your arms to your chest to try and protect yourself against the chill.

He hummed in response, and you noticed how exhausted he looked in the glow of the lighter flame that flickered near his cheeks. His hands were covered in dirt, as were parts of his face, and his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck despite how cold it was. Though, you were sure that you didn't look any better. Your once white vest was now a grubby brown colour and you'd pulled your long hair into a bun on top of your head about a week ago and hadn't looked back since.

Wordlessly, the man shrugged off the poncho he'd found recently, and handed it to you. He had another leather jacket on underneath, but you still felt guilty. You thanked him, pulling it over your head and instantly feeling grateful for the warmth that engulfed you. He then pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering it over to you where he sat. You shook your head and gave him a small smile as he shrugged and stuffed them back into his jacket.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just watching and listening to the night. Nothing was uncomfortable between you. It's just that the two of you were almost like magnets, trying to intentionally stay away from each other. You feared that the two of you might never be able to seperate if you stuck together for good. It wasn't awkward, but there was definitely unspoken tension, like you were both waiting for something that you couldn't let happen yet.

"I miss my tent." You sighed, watching your breath appear as a small puff of air against the black night.

Daryl grumbled at that. "I sure as hell don't." He muttered, taking a final drag from his smoke before snuffing it out on the wall. "Thing was an eyesore."

You chuckled a bit at his response, not really sure what you were expecting. "You loved it, really." You teased, shooting him a wink that he dismissed.

"Whatever, Sunshine." He mumbled back, but his voice sounded a lot lighter than it had for a while.

After a few seconds, you remembered your satchel, now safely tucked away in the warmth of the poncho you wore. You fumbled around beneath it for a bit, which made Daryl give you a look, before pulling out the canvas bag and setting it onto your lap.

"I have something for you." You beamed, feeling the breeze sting your sore, chapped lips.

Daryl sighed at you, finally looking over to meet your eyes.

"Ya need to stop gettin' me shit." He drawled, with no bite behind his words.

You shook your head quickly at the accusation. "It isn't from me!" You almost yelled, before reminding yourself that there were people sleeping a few feet away, and lowering your voice.

You glanced back at the cabin and pointed to it. "This place has no chimney, so he told me to pass it onto you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at you, which you ignored. Instead, you fished around in your satchel until you found what you were looking for. You could barely contain your excitement as you pulled out the box wrapped messily in old newspapers, and handed it to him expectantly.

He took it from you carefully, as though not entirely trusting it. Though, he still held it gently in his hand, in case he was afraid to break it. You watched intently as he flipped it over and squinted his eyes at the writing on it, confusion clear on his face. You'd scribbled on it earlier in the day, having found a sharpie tucked away in one of the drawers. You'd tried to do it secretively, but almost had a heart attack when Glenn asked you what you were doing - dropping the gift and kicking it under the couch until he promised to leave. Luckily, you hadn't found any dents on it afterwards. Yet, you now found it almost comical how carefully Daryl treated the box, considering what you had done to it only a few hours before.

Your eyes scanned over the letters with him as he read them, seeing the words written on top of the newspaper in black, bold print:

'To Young Daryl Dixon,

Merry Christmas!

From, Father Christmas.'

By the time he looked up to question you, you were already watching his eyes - waiting to see his expression. At the moment, his face was still scrunched up in confusion, which made you chuckle. The man looked at you like you'd just handed him a bomb he didn't know how to diffuse.

"Father Christmas?" He asked slowly, like the syllables were foreign on his tongue.

You cocked your head to the side, looking back down at the gift and wondering if you'd made a mistake. Your eyes widened.

"Shit." You muttered below your breath, before looking back up to meet his gaze. "It's Santa Clause to you people, isn't it?" You questioned.

Daryl looked at you in disbelief, as if wondering what the hell you were going on about. You were used to that look from him by now, and continued to ramble.

"I'm sure that's what he meant." You said, nodding. "He probably was in a rush when he wrote it." You looked away from the man, trying not to giggle as you remembered the whole incident between you and Glenn.

He continued to stare at you before shaking his head.

"Yer crazy, woman." He grumbled, picking the wrapped box back up to inspect it closer.

You felt your patience reach its limit, unable to contain your excitement anymore. You shoved his arm.

"Just open it!" You ordered, and he did.

For a man so rough around the edges, you'd never seen someone unwrap a gift so gently before. He didn't rip into the paper like you would have, but spent a few extra seconds pulling the parcel tape off and unfolding it with care. Once it was opened up on his lap, you watched his face as he finally saw the plastic box inside.

You knew it wasn't the exact same one he'd told you about, from all of those years ago, but it must've been close. It was a child's sheriff kit. It had the little hat that looked similar to Rick's, and the pointy metal badge in the shape of a star. When you'd seen it in the store, you just knew you had to get it for him. He might have forgotten telling you about it by now, but you had remembered.

"It didn't come with a gun, I'm afraid." You pointed to the plastic window of the box, explaining it to him. "But we have plenty of those."

You shot him a smile as you saw his expression. It was still confused, as he glanced between you and the box in his palms, but it was a lot more shy and uncertain now. You could almost see the thoughts working overtime in that head of his, as he processed it all, and decided to stop staring at him.

"It was either this or a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You noted, feeling your cheeks hurt at how much you were beaming at the man. "And I wanted the bobblehead."

He sat in silence, just listening to your ramblings as he usually did. His eyes were still fixated on the gift, as if making up for all the years he'd wished for it as a child. You desperately wanted to slip your hand into his, or rest your head on his shoulder - but you refrained. You didn't want to take away from this moment; you just wanted to watch it. That, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to let him go if you did.

"You said how you never got any presents as a kid." You started carefully, trying to navigate your thoughts into words. "It made me sad." You admitted, in more of a whisper this time.

Daryl looked over at you, his expression soft. It was like he was uncertain of his own words, too.

"I know it's stupid." You confessed, voice trailing off as you lost your nerve.

"Nah it aint." He interrupted, shaking his head and trying to get you to look at him. "I love it."

You thought he was being sarcastic until your eyes met his and you saw the sincerity within them, and suddenly your breath caught in your throat. Daryl Dixon gave you a smile so warm that it almost made you forget it was winter. You didn't know he could even make these kinds of expressions, and you weren't able to entirely hide your reaction. Though, his smile went as quickly as it came. He looked away from you, as if noticing he'd let his stubborn, unapproachable wall crumble down. You snorted, wondering if he truly hadn't realised that you knew him better than that by now.

"I thought that baby Grimes could play with it eventually." You suggested, and he hummed in agreement.

"But in the meantime-" you continued, taking the box from his hands and opening it.

He watched you with curious eyes but didn't say anything, just letting you carry on like you had him wrapped around your little finger. You fumbled with the box, pulling out the star shaped badge, before handing the rest back. You turned so that you were facing opposite him, and pulled on his leather jacket so that it opened.

He grumbled at you as you did it, but made no effort to pull away or stop you. Instead, you flipped open one side of his jacket and pinned the badge on the material inside, closing it again before the cold set it.

"It belongs to Deputy Dixon, as promised." You finished with a smile, watching as he thumbed over the metal concealed in his jacket. The look on his face showed just how much he struggled to figure you out.

To your surprise, he didn't remove it straight away. He just bit his lip, as though trying to think of how to respond.

"Yer too much, Teach." He said lowly, after a few seconds.

"How so?" You asked.

He glanced back down into his lap, at the box that was still resting there. "Doin' all this." He mumbled, seeming like he was holding himself back. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You bring back comics for Carl, an' stuff for the baby." He said, looking down as he spoke. "We're all here tryna do our best jus' to survive, an' you come in with that huge beamin' smile on yer face showin' us a bobblehead ya found."

He finally met your eyes, and you could see from his look that he just genuinely couldn't comprehend it. You seemed to completely allude Daryl Dixon, and the thought of him struggling to try to understand you better made you almost giddy.

"I know it's odd." You admitted, pulling the poncho closer to your body as the wind picked up. "But just because our priority is surviving doesn't mean that we should put off living."

You bit your lip. This was the most you had spoken to the man in weeks, and as the seconds went by you found it harder and harder to hold yourself back.

"I thought you could use a reminder of that." You said, offering him a small smile. "You work so hard to try and keep us all fed and safe, I wanted to give you something as a thank you."

The newspaper fluttered in the breeze, and Daryl barely caught hold of it as a gust picked it up. You caught a glimpse of your handwriting, where he held it between his fingers.

"Santa Clause did, I mean." You corrected.

You sat together in silence for a while, but the man didn't light any more cigarettes. You felt yourself growing tired and attempted to convince him to swap his shift with someone else, but he refused. You knew the sun would start to rise in a couple of hours, so you wanted to get some sleep before then. Begrudgingly, you shuffled out of the oversized poncho and offered it back to the man before you left, immediately being reminded of how icy the weather had gotten. He shook his head at your outstretched hand, which you had already expected.

"Nah, you keep it." He said, in a way that left you no room to argue.

You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling nostalgic at the familiar situation. This time, however, you didn't fight with him. Slipping the material back over your head, you huddled it to your chest and whispered a soft 'thanks' to him. The sky was still dark, and kept you wondering whether you would start to see sleet fall in the next couple of days. You looked back over to the dilapidated cabin, with its wooden weathered walls and its roof that looked close to caving in. It was a far cry from Hershel's idyllic farmhouse, but somehow you didn't seem to mind as much on this specific night.

You slipped off the stone wall you'd been sitting on and stood up on your tip-toes to reach the man still sat there. You brushed away the hair over his face with the palm of your hand, and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead before turning to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Daryl." You told him, and returned to the house to watch the first snowflakes fall from the window.

A/N Don't you love it when the plot points you set up 6 chapters ago come back around to be resolved. It's *delicious*. I think I would actually pay to see the Christmas scene play out. There's only so much imagination can do - I want to see Daryl's shy reaction in person, too!

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

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goodnightmemes · 3 years ago

Text

DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART ONE)

Lines taken from 2x01-2x06 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part two.

❛ It's not what I want, for what I want doesn't matter. This is the only way I know how to survive. ❜

❛ I really need... to kill somebody. ❜

❛ You're in control of your urges, not the other way around. ❜

❛ Can we please secure this motherfucking crime scene ? ❜

❛ It's not him that you miss. Because what he had to offer wasn't real. The way he made you feel about yourself...That was real. ❜

❛ I'm just trying to figure out some way to feel alive! ❜

❛ This stuff never gets to you? ❜

❛ I'm more of a crying on the inside kind of guy. ❜

❛ This neighborhood? It's full of crazies. I'd lock my doors. ❜

❛ Tons of options: Everglades, alligators, pig farms, sulfuric acid, wood chipper, incinerator. Hell! Even meat pies. ❜

❛ So this is the man who stands between me and death row. ❜

❛ There is no such thing as the perfect crime. Not in my experience anyway. ❜

❛ If I believed in God, if I believed in sin, this is the place where I'd be sucked straight to hell. If I believed in hell. ❜

❛ I'm not so much doing this to you as I'm doing it for me. ❜

❛ Now, it makes sense. That's where you disappeared to at all hours of the night like Clark fucking Kent. ❜

❛ If the eyes were a window to the soul, then grief is the door. ❜

❛ I've been preparing for this my entire life. ❜

❛ I'm sure someone with a heart could answer that question. ❜

❛ You know those words don't mean anything, right? ❜

❛ Get used to food references because... I like food. ❜

❛ I go to stalk a killer and I end up with a new car. How did that happen? ❜

❛ Nothing stays buried. ❜

❛ Everyone in that room has heard or lived far worse than anything you've ever done. ❜

❛ The worst killers are usually the ones who think their murders were somehow... just. Even deserved. ❜

❛ You just hop from one lie to the next, no shame, no embarrassment, you just don't give a shit. ❜

❛ You're lying to yourself if you think you don't care. ❜

❛ I'm not sure of what I am. I just know there is something dark in me. ❜

❛ Things, people, who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me. ❜

❛ You were right. I'm sorry to wake you up, but I had to let you know that you were right. ❜

❛ In our most paranoid moments, we fear that everyone is talking about us. That's become my reality. ❜

❛ It makes me feel like the whole world could explode at any moment. ❜

❛ I don't have a badge. I have a laminate. ❜

❛ You haven't got the first idea who you are, have you? ❜

❛ You don't kill this many people because it's a chore. You do it 'cause you like it. ❜

❛ I've always been good with parents. The key is to simply think of them as aliens from a distant universe. ❜

❛ The last guy I had sex with tried to kill me. ❜

❛ Okay, this is the first time I regret not being a bigger nerd. ❜

❛ He asks you a question, I want you to think of your answer first and then tell him the exact opposite, okay? ❜

❛ You know, I've been thinking about you breaking up with me, and, well, I don't think it's in your best interest. ❜

❛ There are no absolutes. No one's all good or evil. ❜

❛ You make yourself into a monster so you no longer bear responsibility for what you do. "I can't help it. I'm a monster. "Of course I was gonna do that. I'm a monster." It's sad and it's pathetic... And it breaks my heart. ❜

❛ You don't think there are monsters in this world? You don't believe people are evil? I'll show you evil. ❜

❛ For the first time, I feel the future might hold something different for me. It's possible I'm just fooling myself, but I'm willing to take the risk. ❜

❛ I suddenly find myself weighing the benefits of electrocution versus lethal injection. ❜

❛ Sweet mary, mother of fuck, that's good! ❜

❛ I never expected to get better. ❜

❛ You think you're charming, don't you? ❜

❛ And you're not the least bit pissed off that this man got away with murder? ❜

❛ Healing is all about focusing your rage on the person that's hurt you. ❜

❛ I'm not the person I'm supposed to be. It's like I'm hollow. ❜

❛ I hide in plain sight, unable to reach out to people close to me. I'm afraid I'll hurt them. Like I've hurt so many others. ❜

❛ If you can't be happy for me, then maybe you shouldn't be here. ❜

❛ You made me into what I am! ❜

❛ If you turn back now, you'll go right back to the way you were...hollow, angry, alone. ❜

❛ I will get you through this. I swear. Just come back to me. Okay? ❜

❛ You ran a background check on my boyfriend? ❜

❛ Imagine that... a life with no more secrets. ❜

❛ Everyone has a moment when they realize their value system is different from their parents'. ❜

❛ Rumor has it you have a knack for attracting serial killers. ❜

❛ Sorry if I was short with you this morning. I'm lost without my morning coffee. ❜

❛ I thought you were different than ____, but you're the same. Actually, you're worse. You made me trust you. ❜

❛ I have been patient and understanding, but there's only so much I can take. ❜

❛ What in the name of fuck are you doing up so early? ❜

❛ When I get pissed, I say stuff I don't mean all the time. "I hate you," "I faked it," "You're hung like a grape." ❜

❛ Stop being a douche bag and go fight for her. She's fucking perfect. ❜

❛ I heard what you said. I just don't take orders from you. ❜

❛ You want to hit me? Go for it. I've been waiting for a chance to take your ass out. ❜

❛ Nobody fucking listens to me! ❜

❛ Last time, you came back covered in blood. ❜

❛ Apparently my new life involves a love triangle. ❜

❛ The voices are back. Excellent. ❜

❛ I've spent years looking the enemy in the face, and I'm telling you ____ is dangerous. ❜

❛ Chin up little sister, these things have a way of working themselves out. ❜

❛ You attacked those people because you wanted to. ❜

❛ All my life, I've done what someone else said I should do, been who he said I should be. I followed his rules, I stuck to his plan. I never stopped to think about what I wanted and what I needed. And now I don't know who I'm supposed to be. ❜

❛ I will kill you. I have to. I just don't need to. It's very empowering. ❜

❛ There was a time I would have done anything to protect ____. I would have even lied. But today I told the truth... even though I knew she'd get hurt. ❜

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp meme #ask meme #inbox meme #rp memes #*tv #*dexter #*mine

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squishneedsahero · 4 years ago

Text

Possibilities and Problems

The Lost Padawan Part 2

Word Count: 1842

You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.

It's as the three of you approach the farm that you finally put your lightsaber away. Theres other children, younger than you playing in the fenced area, and you doubt that they'd want to start a fight with them around. When you enter the gate the other people around give you curious looks, but don't seem to question the fact that you had come back with Hunter and Cut for the moment.

A little girl approaches you first, curiosity in her eyes as she asks, "who are you? I'm Omega."

Her friendliness catches you off guard but you answer softly, "y/n."

"It's nice to meet you y/n, we're playing catch," she says gesturing to the other two kids, "would you like to play with us?"

You furrow your brow as she asks this and hesitate a moment before saying, "not at the moment..." you pick at your fingers and look at the adults, before taking a breath and. saying, "I need to talk with them first then maybe."

"Okay, " she says but doesn't run off to play again, instead following you inside with Cut and Hunter.

Inside there are some other clones and a Twi'lek who you had seen through a window but instead of looking at you they just looked to Cut and Hunter for answers. "This is y/n l/n," Cut says, "we met her in town and said we'd help her out."

You wave timidly at them and look around, slowly recognizing the other clones.

"Hey, Omega how about you go play outside with Shaeeah and Jek," Cut suggests, as this was going to be a serious conversation and including Omega but not the other two would just make things a little difficult.

Omega looks to Hunter and he nods her out the door. Once she's out the door he turns to you, "now that we're somewhere safe would you like to explain yourself a bit more?"

His tone causes you a moments pause before you nod, "yeah, I can do that..." you pause as you look at the others in the room before going on to introduce yourself, "I'm y/n l/n, I was the padawan of Master Obiwan Kenobi," as you say this you take out your lightsaber to show them as if they wouldn't believe you otherwise. "I survived the siege on the Jedi temple and all the other clones turning against the Jedi, and I was able to escape to a shuttle off world and made it here." Stoic is the only way to describe the way you're speaking of these events, clearly letting all the training from the Jedi come forward to hide your emotions. You had been taught not to have emotion, and for you that just meant you didn't show any emotions, in truth every part of your body was aching with the pain of loosing everyone you knew.

"I thought the Jedi were the enemy?" Wrecker speaks up.

"No," Tech cuts in, "all we know is that us clones hive chips that caused us to easily turn against the Jedi, we don't know what the Jedi did to deserve being killed-"

You interject, trying to not sound too harsh, "the Jedi didn't do anything. I was at master Kenobi's side for many a meeting throughout the war, Senator Palpatine accuses us of committing war crimes but master Kenobi and the others on the council wanted nothing more than to end the war and keep the galaxy free."

"So you're saying this was all a ploy to execute the Jedi?" Cut asks, able to tell how much emotion you were holding back.

"Yeah, I think that is exactly what I am saying," you take a shaky breath, remembering all of the stuff the masters had taught you and your many grievances with the rules and standards. You decide to be completely honest, at least about everything that wasn't the fact you had only survived from being a dumbass who stole some clone armor. "Look, the Jedi were far from perfect but I know that the only reason they got involved in this conflict was because they wanted to keep people safe. We fought alongside the clones for years, we fought for the Republic, and in a matter of minutes the clones turned against us without question."

You take a breath since you're getting worked up, and Hunter takes the chance to interrupt, "look kid, we know something is off about all of this, we were with Master Billaba when it happened and saw how easily it happened. The only reason we didn't is because we're defective and we're trying to figure out why."

It's his honesty with this that allows you to relax, sensing absolutely no ill will towards you from anyone in the room. It's as you relax that you notice Echo, you hadn't been around him a lot before he had been captured, because he was in the 501st not the 212. "Echo?" you ask gently.

"Yes, that's me, it's good to see you y/n."

You give a gentle smile, "I'm glad that you're alright." From there you take another breath before looking around a bit, "I should get going, I don't want anyone coming after you all on my account."

Suu speaks up at that point, "y/n, my dear, they would already be coming after us if they knew we were here. Technically they are all deserters, and would be executed if found by the empire. You don't have to leave, we are figuring out how to get off world and are welcome to stay and take a break here, I'm sure you're exhausted after being on the run for nearly eight rotations."

You look at the Twi'lek and can feel yourself relax a bit more, realizing how tired you in fact were, "that- are you sure?" you catch yourself before answering.

"Of course I'm sure, my children are outside and I wouldn't put them in danger."

You look at her for another moment, your stomach answering for you by growling, "if you're sure, then that sounds nice."

"I'm sure. Let's get you something to eat," she says and takes your hand to have you find some food.

While you get some food Omega comes back inside, "you're done now?"

Shaeeah and Jek aren't far behind Omega and this leads to Cut stating, "you three were listening at the door weren't you?"

"Yeah," Omega says, sounding almost proud of herself before she looks at you where you were sitting and eating at the table, "so you're really a Jedi? How did you survive the clones attacking because of their programming?"

You finish chewing the bite of your food before saying, "I'm just a padawan, I survived because I was lucky." The only way anyone would learn how you survived is never, you'd take that secret to the grave.

Your vague answer sets Omega off on asking an endless string of questions to you, followed by Shaeeah and Jek listening to the conversation. This gives the adults a chance to move away and quietly discuss the situation with you. Sure sending Omega with Cut and his family would work to keep her out of harms way, but you on the other hand presented an entirely new problem. Cut couldn't easily take a Jedi with him and his family, there is hardly a chance that you'd even want that let alone able to handle a quiet family life after everything that you'd been through in your short life. All of this required more thought and lots of discussion as to how they would solve yet another problem on their long and quickly growing list of problems.

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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No one should of trusted RWBY+ with fucking anything, let alone saving the world (LIKE REN SAID THEY SHOULDN’T BE MAKING DECISIONS ON) and now look. Two cities destroy, millions dead or homeless, and Salem half-way to completing her goal that might get everyone killed. Yeah, Ozpin totally should apologize for not trusting these idiots.

At the very least the story might have pulled some plot strings to "prove" that Ozpin should have trusted them from the start. Like with Oscar succeeding with Hazel. We know that success required him to go OOC and that in a story with more consistent characterization/realistic reactions from its cast, Oscar would have definitely failed... but that doesn't erase the fact that he didn't. No matter how badly executed, the story essentially argues, "Oscar was right to trust Hazel because look, Hazel helped him" and we might have gotten something similar with the group: "Ozpin was wrong to mistrust them because look, when they learned the truth everything got better."

But, uh... things got so much worse.

The group drove Ozpin away rather than proving that they were actually different from everyone else who learned about Salem. Then they nearly lost the Relic at the farm. They tested the fragile trust between the kingdoms by stealing from Atlas and in doing so got a Leviathan to attack a city. Then they lied to Ironwood - the exact thing Ozpin supposedly shouldn't have done to them. They actively divided their allies - you know, the thing Salem wants. Not splitting the group to complete two separate tasks, Ruby - by turning on the Ace Ops and Ironwood. Ruby told everyone about Salem, which realistically should have caused massive grimm attacks across the entire world. They lost the Relic because they never bothered to put it in the vault. They also ended up losing the last question because of that. They lost the Staff because they stupidly took it out of the vault. Their Maiden was killed, again. An entire populace is displaced and currently getting picked off by grimm. They knowingly, willingly, and deliberately destroyed an entire kingdom when they didn't have to.

Oh, and then five out of ten “died.” If there was any part of Ozpin that held back out of worry for their safety, that’s been proven correct too. They weren’t strong enough, or smart enough to survive this war. Within just a few months they were (we’re meant to believe) killed.

Putting aside, for the moment, that a story needs conflict and failure on the part of its protagonists, everything that has happened since Volume 6, to my mind, proves Ozpin right. Not just in terms of "Wow, when I tell people about Salem they hurt and betray me" but also "Wow, somehow I don't think this group of teenagers with one year of training is ready to be the linchpin of this war." Because that's what they wanted by demanding every secret: to be at the very center of the fight, to be making the tough calls, to play at being the world's hero. The problem is, their idea of a hero is still someone who fixes everything with an epic punch to the face. When that fails... they crumble. Cue Ruby sitting around in the mansion half the volume. Should Ozpin have trusted his inner circle? It's debatable. Lionheart ran to Salem the second he learned of her immortality, Qrow sunk deeper into his alcoholism and gave up the fight, but Ironwood took it in a stride and kept pushing forward. Theodore we don't know yet. So it's pretty up in the air whether that would have assisted Ozpin, or just made things worse that much faster, but then that's not really the question here. Should he have told the group? Should he have deliberately made these teens generals in this war? The plot says, "Absolutely not." Because when they made themselves the generals through force - stealing the question, lying to Ironwood, defeating the Ace Ops, hijacking Amity - things have consistently gotten worse. Nothing we've seen on screen the last three volumes says, "See? Look how much better things are once Ozpin was forced to trust love and put his faith in this team."

And what slays me is that the show so desperately tries to backtrack on this with the fight between Ren and Yang:

Ren: Are you kidding?! We don’t know the first thing about being Huntsmen. We clearly weren’t ready.

Yang: Were we not ready when we saved Haven? When we took down a Leviathan? We got the Lamp to Atlas.

Ren: And then we lost it! And after that, when we had to make real decisions, we got every single one wrong.

Yang: I’m not going to pretend like we did everything perfectly, but if we’d done nothing, things would be even worse than they are now.

Ren: How could they possibly be worse? We are stuck out here while Salem has the Lamp and Oscar. We’ve got no plan, no army.

Yang: We’ve got the Maiden!

Yang is forced to omit so much information to make the team look good here and Ren is only allowed to point out one (1) thing she omits: "And then we lost it!" Yang fails to mention that they didn't save Haven, Blake's army did. So yeah, one member of the team, but it's not like they got in there and kicked epic ass. Weiss nearly died. The Relic was only saved because Raven decided she didn't want it anymore. The group barely held their own and then won due to good timing and the bad guys taking each other out/changing their minds. They were going to defeat two Maidens? Lucky them one Maiden took the other out and then decided to hand them the Relic.

Took down a leviathan? Funny how she fails to mention that they drew the leviathan there in the first place and that Cordovin's drill is what did it in. Even Ruby's eyes is a single person ability that only works on grimm, not at all useful for the human-based problems Ren is talking about. They got the Lamp to Atlas? Yeah, and then you lost it. Getting it to Atlas is literally meaningless when the villains still managed to steal it, that victory a direct result of the group's stupid decisions. It's like going, "I successfully got water out of the boat" and failing to mention that the boat still sank. Oh, and also you could have plugged the hole at any point and just... didn't. The boat sinking is absolutely on your hands. When pressed just the tinniest bit, all Yang can come up with is that they've still got the Maiden, someone who will be attacked, hacked, and murdered by the end of the volume. Everything else? "but if we’d done nothing, things would be even worse than they are now."

That's a very big claim from someone ignoring all her failures. And of course, soon after this Ren dares to use Jaune's lack of training as an example of how unprepared they are (valid), he gets mad, the duo later tells him to open up more (he literally just did), and then the story drops his anger for a semblance upgrade instead. RWBY banks on us just believing Yang, carried along by everyone - all the way through to Nora - going on about how Very Very Wrong Ren Is - because if you actually consider these themes of trust and ask whether Ozpin was wrong to hold back... there's not a lot to challenge that decision. The go-to argument would be, "The heroes made things better once they knew the truth, ergo, they should have known the truth from the start" but the group has continually made things worse. It's not even a temporary problem anymore. No matter that they'll inevitably win, Atlas is gone. They've done irreversible harm to the world and yeah, they're trying to do good, they're trying, but this isn't the story of some teenagers forced into a conflict and doing what they can with the hand they've been dealt. This is the story of some teenagers who forced their way in, so when things go wrong... that's on them, no matter their intentions. They are now responsible, just as much as Ozpin was responsible. Except the story refuses to admit that, continually positioning Ruby as an innocent child in need of reassurance, not the licensed huntress who stole control from Ozpin, lied her way into a new inner circle, attacked former allies to avoid the consequences of her own actions, and presented herself as the world's savior... only to then cry because she never had a plan to begin with. We've got a fantastic story here about how Ruby wasn't ready, none of her friends were, and their naïve belief that they were the heroes of this tale - running after the White Fang, then Cinder, then Salem herself - has done incredible harm within a delicate, multi-generation war. We might have started telling that story if the group had actually sat with Ren's accusations and admitted their mistakes. Instead, we're left with this ridiculous claim that no matter how bad things get, it's always better than the alternative of the group not being involved at all. Because they're the heroes, remember. Their goodness they provide is, supposedly, inherent. The only problem is we no longer have a plot that supports this claim.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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ibijau · 3 years ago

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Futures Past pt14 / On AO3

three conversations as Nie Huaisang's time in Gusu comes to an end

Summer had finally come to an end, implacable heat replaced by a more pleasant warmth as the world took on new hues. It also meant that the final few exams of the year were fast approaching, though Nie Huaisang felt unconcerned. He’d been ordered to fail after all, not that he thought he could have succeeded even if he’d tried.

Comforted by that permission to not study, he was currently laying in the grass in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, enjoying the afternoon sun. A history book, chosen for the promise of the many scandals it revealed about a past emperor’s reign, laid forgotten on his chest, Nie Huaisang having realised that the contents were far more serious than he felt like dealing with at the moment. At some other time he might have taken a nap, encouraged by the warmth, but he’d found it difficult to sleep since that visit of his future self a few days earlier.

Just as Nie Huaisang was about to pick up his book again, Su She finished his series of sword forms and came to lay on the grass as well. He was sweaty and looked tired, but appeared quite happy with himself. Su She had confessed that he’d made a real leap forward with his cultivation since teachers and other disciples stopped constantly putting him down, something for which Nie Huaisang felt as proud as if it had been his own progress.

They stayed silent for a while, just basking in the sun, enjoying that beautiful day, until Nie Huaisang found that his recent worries were too heavy on his chest and he had to share them.

“Su-xiong?”

Su She made a noise to signify he’d heard, but couldn’t be bothered to speak. He looked comfortable, and had closed his eyes as if he might succeed with the nap that eluded Nie Huaisang. It was almost a shame to ruin that.

“Do you think people can be so evil that nothing will redeem them?”

The silence changed around them. After a moment Su She sat up to get a look at Nie Huaisang. Finding him looking serious, Su She’s initial puzzlement quickly turned into mild irritation at being dragged into a discussion like that on such a pleasant afternoon.

“Gusu Lan’s principles state that…”

“Not you as a Lan disciple,” Nie Huaisang cut him with an impatient gesture. “You as a person. Do you think people can be so evil that there’s no going back for them, that nothing they could do or say would ever compensate for what they’ve done?”

Some of Su She’s irritation eased away, glad as always to be given a chance to voice an opinion that wasn’t that of his sect, and he laid down on the grass again.

“That’s a pretty intense question,” Su She said after a moment. “I guess there’s got to be a limit to what’s forgivable, yeah. I’m not the best to decide what that’d be though. I’ve been told I have an issue with holding grudges. But I think yeah, in general, there’s got to be a moment where a bad person becomes so bad there’s no going back and they just need to be eliminated.”

It wasn’t the answer Nie Huaisang had been hoping for, but it didn’t exactly surprise him either. He thought the same after all, if only because a person such as Wen Ruohan existed, proving to him that some people had to be beyond redemption.

“Then do you think…”

“What’s wrong with you today? Was this morning’s lecture about ethics again?”

“It was about the proper way to address people depending on family and allegiance links, and I fell asleep. No, this is something else. I’m just thinking about stuff lately.”

“Like good and evil? That must have been a pretty nasty nap you took.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I just wonder what makes a person bad or good. Do you think some people can be bad from birth? Just, they’re born and they’re evil, and there’s no way they’re ever going to be anything but evil.”

It really bothered him, the things his future self had said during his last visit. About Lan Xichen, about Su She, but mostly the way he’d spoken of that Xue Yang boy, as if that child were no better than a cockroach needing to be squashed before it could proliferate.

“I think there’s definitely people who think that about some other people,” Su She said. “I’m pretty sure if you asked some of the other Lan disciples, they’d say I’m like that, just because I have a temper and I don’t hug their knees quite enough and I ask too many questions during some lessons. I guess it’s easier to hate someone if you tell yourself they’re the worst and they deserve it.”

“You’re not evil!” Nie Huaisang cried out, reaching out for his friend’s hand. “You’re not! I’ll fight anyone who says you are!”

Surprised by that outburst, Su She blinked a few times then snorted, pushing away Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I appreciate it, but it didn’t go so well last time you tried to fight for my honour.”

“I’ll still fight all of them!”

Su She laughed, but appeared quite happy to hear that. Even now that other Lans gave him less of a hard time, he still liked being reminded that Nie Huaisang was on his side, just as he made sure Nie Huaisang knew the opposite was true as well.

That was why Nie Huaisang was telling him about his thoughts, rather than going to Lan Qiren or even Lan Xichen who surely might have more elaborate opinions on the matter of good and evil. Su She might not have read quite as much, but he was also less likely to judge Nie Huaisang for asking that kind of thing. Besides, since Su She’s opinions were often less polished, they felt more honest than if he’d quoted great thinkers of the past.

“But really, do you think a person can actually be evil from birth?” Nie Huaisang insisted when Su She had stopped laughing. “Like. Like a child, but they’re evil. Do you think that’s possible?”

Su She grabbed a strand of grass, and started twisting it between his fingers.

“Maybe. But like I said, people will mostly say that about someone they don’t like, or someone that doesn’t play by their rules, or else they’re not from a prestigious family and they’re just doing what they have to survive.”

He paused to pluck some more grass to play with, and started constructing a knot with it.

“I have a great-uncle I’ve never met,” Su She explained. “He owned a farm before he died where he worked hard, until there was a very bad drought and hard work wasn’t enough anymore. My grandfather often said that people called his brother evil because he did some bad things to feed his wife and children, and some of it really was pretty awful I guess. But nobody ever called evil the magistrate that wanted to force him to pay his taxes instead of buying food. My great-uncle was executed for his crimes and everyone said he’d always been evil and vicious even though they used to praise him as a good man before, but the magistrate got a promotion for making sure taxes were still paid and he got called virtuous. And that’s… I don’t know, I feel there’s something not right in that, you know?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, his eyes fixed on the grass knot that Su She wouldn't stop twisting between his fingers.

His older self had said that this Xue Yang he had to kill was an orphan, and a thief of some sort even though he was just ten.

It would be harder to be virtuous and noble for someone who didn’t have anyone to turn to. Nie Huaisang had his whole family behind him, all the education anyone could have, he knew about ethics and rules, and he still found it hard sometimes to make the right choices. He was too lazy and selfish to ever be really good, and apparently he wasn’t going to improve with age. So how could a child on his own, without books or wise elders, learn to be a good person, especially if like Nie Huaisang they’d been given a bad personality?

“Ok, I have another question.”

Su She sighed, and threw away his grass knot.

“Is it a weird one again?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced.

“Yeah, that one is pretty weird,” he admitted. “So, imagine there’s a very evil person. The most evil you can think of, but you don’t actually know them, it’s just that someone told you that person is very evil. And, for some reason, you’re given a chance to go back to when they were a little kid, and that person who told you this other guy is evil also tells you that you should take the chance and kill the evil person while he’s a kid to save other people. Would you do it, or would you try to… I don’t know, maybe try to make that kid grow up around better people so maybe he doesn’t turn out so bad?”

“Those questions are getting really specific.”

“Just answer. Do you think it’d be right to kill that kid?”

Su She fell silent for a moment.

“Do I trust the person who told me the kid will be evil later?”

Nie Huaisang considered that question.

“Yeah. I guess for the sake of the argument, you trust that person,” he said, even though he wasn’t quite sure how much he did trust his older self.

“And has the kid done anything evil yet?”

“No, but he’s done bad things. Maybe he stole some stuff. But also, he’s an orphan, you know?”

Su She sat up and gave his friend a sharp look.

“Really specific again. I guess… I guess it’d be wrong to kill him though. I mean, it’s like you said, why not try to put him in a better place instead? If he’s just a kid, and he hasn’t done anything bad yet… I don’t think it’s really fair to punish someone for something they haven’t even done yet.”

“Right? I think so too. People should get a chance before they’re punished. They’ve got to have a chance to learn!”

Su She nodded, but look more and more suspicious.

“So, is this all about someone in particular, or…”

“I’m just wondering stuff,” Nie Huaisang quickly said. The truth was too weird for anyone to ever believe, even if he tried to tell someone. Su She would just think he was crazy. Maybe he was, anyway. “I’ve got to think about something during boring lessons, right? I mean, don’t you start thinking about weird stuff too?”

“Sometimes I think about leaving the Cloud Recesses and creating my own sect when I’m bored,” Su She replied.

Nie Huaisang sat up, a grin on his face.

“Really? What would it be like?”

“Like Gusu Lan, but better,” Su She retorted with a smug smile. “And I’d get to sleep half a shichen later in the morning. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like, since you know how to play the guqin now. You can be my right hand man.”

Nie Huaisang’s grin only grew larger. It sounded like a delightful idea, and he eagerly dropped all his earlier thoughts about ethics and morality to instead make Su She talk about the sect of his dreams, until it was time for dinner.

That had to have been Lan Qiren’s most boring lecture to date. Quite the accomplishment, Nie Huaisang thought. Another accomplishment, and one far more impressive, was the fact that he’d managed to stay awake through all of it. It was really hard lately to pay attention, especially now that he didn’t need to. His grades during tests had been so consistently low that he couldn’t have passed even if he tried, so he really should have been allowed to skip those last few lessons and go have fun somewhere. He was going to hear all that stuff again in a year, wasn’t he?

If he hadn’t feared the Lans’ punishment methods, Nie Huaisang would have skipped all these stupid classes and ran off to Gusu for some fun.

If he hadn’t feared his brother’s wrath, he would also have stopped bothering with homework. But Lan Xichen had hinted to him, not unwisely, that Nie Mingjue might be a little less angry if he could be shown proof that his brother had really tried to learn. And considering the stunt Nie Huaisang was thinking of pulling with Xue Yang…

So, Nie Huaisang had stayed awake in class, and he’d been handed back some previous homework with a grade so high he’d actually asked Lan Qiren if there hadn’t been a mistake. Lan Qiren had told him that if the grade didn’t please him, it was always possible to lower it, so Nie Huaisang had kept his mouth shut after that.

The rest of the lesson had passed surprisingly fast after that, and soon enough Nie Huaisang was free again, with a whole afternoon ahead of him. He had new homework to deal with, sure, and it was something that would be graded again, but that didn’t feel urgent. Sadly, Su She had already warned that he wouldn’t be free to hang out that day, due to being allowed to go on a Night Hunt with some other Lan juniors, something he’d been very excited about. That meant Nie Huaisang would have to stay on his own, or go bother Lan Xichen.

The second option felt surprisingly compelling, even though they’d already see each other in three days for his music lesson. Lan Xichen was sure to praise him for his good grade after all, and Nie Huaisang quite enjoyed being praised, as he’d discovered. If more people praised him, he might start feeling like doing something to deserve it.

Nie Huaisang had just decided he’d try to see if Lan Xichen had time for him when Jin Zixun grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him away from everyone else.

"How come you had a good grade on that essay?" Jin Zixun asked with unwarranted suspicion.

Nie Huaisang, who had briefly wondered if he was going to get punched again and was getting ready to escape, relaxed and allowed the other boy to drag him away.

"I'm actually very smart, thanks."

"You're only smart on homework and never on quizzes," Jin Zixun retorted. "Is your merchant friend helping you?"

That earned him a light kick to the shin, which he didn’t appear to feel.

"Don’t call him that!” Nie Huaisang warned. “And, no, he's said he doesn't want to think about learning when we hang out."

"Then it's Lan gongzi who does your homework for you."

That hit a little too close. Stung in his pride, Nie Huaisang’s freed himself from Jin Zixun’s grip and stopped walking, arms crossed on his chest.

"He doesn't! He just corrects my drafts! And lately most of what's in my essays is all my own, actually! I only fail in quizzes because I panic and because I don't have enough time."

It was something he’d realised during his music lessons with Lan Xichen, actually. Nie Huaisang needed to do things at his own speed, or else he couldn’t do things at all. It wasn’t a problem with Lan Xichen who allowed him to take breaks and even have a snack if he struggled too much to focus, but Lan Qiren and the other teachers hadn’t taken it too well when he’d tried to eat candies during quizzes, or when he started doodling during an exam because it helped him focus. It also fell into deaf ears when he pleaded to be given a little more time when, by some random chance, he actually did know the answer to a question and had so much to say that the allotted time wasn’t enough.

By comparison, homework was easy. Especially when Lan Xichen allowed him to come into his room and work there while he dealt with his own work. The company of a studious person really helped.

"Fine,” Jin Zixun said, grabbing his arm again. “Then you're going to help me with my essays. I’m just barely passing and if I don't get a good grade on the last set of homework, old man Lan is going to make me come back next year."

Jin Zixun started pulling again, but Nie Huaisang resisted this time.

"Why should I help you?"

"Because your grades are so bad you're sure to be sent back next year, and then we'd be stuck together again."

"I need to think. I don't care that much about being stuck with you. You're not the worst person I know."

"I'm… not?" Jin Zixun asked, sounding so shocked that Nie Huaisang snorted.

"Not even close to it," Nie Huaisang assured him, thinking of his future self. With that point of comparison, a lot of people had become almost agreeable to him.

"Oh. I'm not sure I have another argument in my favour," Jin Zixun admitted. "Usually that one is enough."

Nie Huaisang snorted again. He could imagine that a lot of people would do whatever Jin Zixun asked of them, just so he’d stop talking to them for a little while. He was, after all, a complete prick, without skill or above average good looks to compensate. Still, Nie Huaisang felt a little sorry for him.

Besides, he was convinced that his future self would hate to see him waste time being nice to someone whom he didn’t deem useful, and that really sealed the deal.

"Okay I'll help,” he sighed, as if conceding to something that cost him a lot, when in truth he didn’t mind that much. “But only because I'm sorry for you."

"Hey!"

"And I'm just helping,” Nie Huaisang warned. “You're still doing the actual work.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jin Zixun complained, pulling again on Nie Huaisang’s arm who, this time, willingly started to follow him toward the cabin where the Jin disciples stayed.

“I sure am,” Nie Huaisang agreed with a bright smile. “And I’m also thirsty, so let’s have tea while you work!”

Jin Zixun complained and grumbled and called him spoiled, but still did serve him what had to be the best tea he had on hand as they worked together.

A loud, discordant rang through the otherwise silent room until Nie Huaisang put down his hands on the guqin’s strings to silence it. His eyes prickled with tears yet unspilled. It was a simple enough melody, and he’d worked on it all week, wanting to surprise Lan Xichen with his progress by playing for him something they hadn't worked on together. Even the other Nie disciples, who fluctuated between indifference and annoyance at his new obsession with music, had praised him for playing it so well the night before.

But now he was there, in Lan Xichen’s room, trying to actually play that damn melody, and his fingers just refused to obey him.

“Give me another chance,” he begged, quickly pressing the back of his hand to one eye, just to make sure he hadn’t actually started crying. “I swear I can play it! I worked so hard on it, I’ll show you!”

“If you say you can play it, I believe you,” Lan Xichen replied. “You’ve had a rough day, it’s normal to be affected. Let’s put away the guqin for now and have some tea instead. It’ll do you good.”

When Lan Xichen got up and turned around to go boil water, Nie Huaisang felt a few tears of frustration fall on his cheek which he quickly wiped away. It was stupid, and it wasn’t fair, and he hated that things could impact him life that.

“It’s not like I thought I had any chance of passing anyway,” he hissed, hands clenching into fists. “I knew I was going to fail, it’s stupid that I’m upset about this!”

“Knowing something and actually experiencing it aren’t the same,” Lan Xichen replied. “It’s normal to be upset, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and wiped another tear. What did Lan Xichen know about failing anyway? He was always stupidly perfect, always did everything well, a favourite of every teacher, admired by all their peers, far more handsome than a boy of eighteen had any right to be, with a cultivation level that only Nie Mingjue, a freak of nature, could surpass. It was easy for Lan Xichen to say being upset was normal, when he’d probably never failed anything in his entire life.

By the time Lan Xichen returned to the table with a teapot and two glasses, Nie Huaisang was sulking, though thankfully he was too angry at himself to cry anymore. Lan Xichen took one look at him and went to fetch something else. He carefully put a little wooden box in front of Nie Huaisang, then started pouring tea for both of them.

“Take one,” Lan Xichen encouraged, nodding toward the box. “Take as many as you like, in fact. Just don’t tell anyone about them. I’m not supposed to have those.”

Intrigued, Nie Huaisang opened the box and discovered an array of cheap candies, which made Nie Huaisang grin against his will.

“What happened to the rules about avoiding unhealthy foods?”

“Wangji would have a fit,” Lan Xichen sighed, eyes glancing toward the door, as if just by mentioning his name, Lan Wangji might appear out of thin air to scold them. “But I know I can trust you to keep the secret.”

“No choice, you’ve made me an accomplice,” Nie Huaisang replied, grabbing one piece of candy. It was disgustingly sweet, almost making his jaw ache.

So he reached for another, his fingers briefly brushing against Lan Xichen who’d done the same. Nie Huaisang quickly removed his hand, startled at the sensation of warm skin.

“Lan gongzi, what if you adopted me as your new little brother?” Nie Huaisang suggested to try and pretend he hadn't had such a strong reaction just from an accidental touch. “I promise to be a very good didi. I will never get upset at you for wanting to have a little fun sometimes, and I’ll never denounce you to Lan Qiren either. And you will be my nice Lan-gege… ah ! Better yet, you'll be Xichen-ge! Always kind and patient, and you won’t mind at all that I’m bad at everything because I’m very sweet and funny.”

“A tempting offer,” Lan Xichen replied with an odd smile. “Wangji certainly never calls me ‘ge’ because he finds it too informal, whereas I think I quite like it, so I might adopt you just for that. But alas, Mingjue-xiong would be heartbroken if I stole his beloved brother from him, and so I must decline.”

Nie Huaisang took a sip of tea and sighed deeply.

“I don’t think he’ll mind at all. As it is, he might just disown me himself anyway.”

"Your brother will understand," Lan Xichen replied while taking another candy. "He'll be angry at first, but it won't last. If it worries you so much, I can write to him and tell him how hard you've been working. It's a shame homework doesn't count more toward passing, or I do think you'd be graduating."

Nie Huaisang shrugged. It was always like that: if he was good at something, it was always something which didn't matter. Even being skilled at music… what good was that to anyone, in the end?

"What if he doesn't forgive me though?"

"He will," Lan Xichen replied with confidence. "You are his precious little brother, I don't think he could ever stay mad at you very long."

Nie Huaisang thought of his older self, so convinced that Nie Mingjue despised him, and sighed.

"Maybe someday he'll get tired of forgiving me. Maybe someday I'll… maybe someday I'll do something that's too much," he muttered, thinking of his plan regarding Xue Yang. "I'll go too far, and then he'll hate me. And if he hates me, I'll…"

"Your brother loves you," Lan Xichen said. "He loves you as much as you love him. I don't think there's anything in the world that could change that."

That sounded like a challenge. As it happened, Nie Huaisang had given that topic a lot of thought lately, and he'd reached a conclusion.

"I can think of at least two things I could do that would make him hate me," he announced.

"Is that so?" Lan Xichen asked with a smile, as if he really believed such a thing to be impossible.

That gave Nie Huaisang some comfort. Lan Xichen was Nie Mingjue's best friend in the world, as close to him as he was to Su She. Lan Xichen had to know Nie Mingjue better than anyone else did, even if things were fated to start going bad between them someday.

"I could betray him to Wen Ruohan," Nie Huaisang said. "He'd never forgive that."

Lan Xichen took a sip of tea and nodded.

"Not if you did it on purpose, no. But I also think it isn't in your nature to willingly side with his enemies, and he would forgive you if you were tricked into it."

"Xichen-ge has a very high opinion of me, I feel undeserving."

"I'm only stating the truth. Now, what's the other thing you think Mingjue-xiong wouldn't forgive?"

"Marrying into Lanling Jin."

Lan Xichen chortled.

A real, honest to god, ugly laugh. He tried to hide it under a cough, but it was too late, Nie Huaisang had heard it and it delighted him. So even the ever perfect first jade of Gusu Lan could laugh like that!

"Well? What do you think of that one?"

"I think you're right this time," Lan Xichen agreed, still coughing. "It might be too much for him. In fact, I'll even say you'd deserve it."

"What? Xichen-ge, how cruel!" Nie Huaisang lamented, one hand over his heart. "Maybe I’ve found my one true love, and…”

“So all Jin Zixun had to do was break your nose and now you want to marry him?”

“Oh that’s pushing the joke too far,” Nie Huaisang said with a grimace, quickly bringing one hand to his nose, following the bone with one finger to try and feel the break. “He’s not my type at all, and anyway we’re both brats, it wouldn’t work out at all. Still, in theory, if I were to marry into Lanling Jin…”

Lan Xichen only smiled more widely.

“Would you, though?”

“Why not? There’s got to be a few that are decent. I mean, Zixun is occasionally almost tolerable, he can’t be the only one.”

“Oh, certainly there are some very fine people in that sect. I was talking more about the fact that you’d have to wear yellow for the rest of your life. Is that really something you could put up with?”

Thinking of the way those Jin disciples dressed, Nie Huaisang gasped and pressed both hands to his mouth to silence a cry of horror.

“That’s a good point! It’s not even a nice shade of yellow, either!" he cried out, trying to picture himself wearing it. It would be awful, he quickly decided. "I think it would wash out my complexion and make me look sickly. Maybe if it were a touch closer to brown, or even better a bit greenish, maybe I could consider it, but I really can’t marry into a sect that favours such a dreadful colour. I guess I’ll… why are you smiling?”

Lan Xichen, once more hiding his face behind his sleeve, turned away as if it might help dissimulate his grin.

“Because you are quite funny," he chuckled. "I don’t think anyone else would consider it a deal-breaker for marriage that they don’t like another sect’s colour.”

“Easy for you to say, Xichen-ge, you’d look good in any hue! Some of us have to be careful!”

Lan Xichen lowered his hand, his face suddenly serious once more except for a certain glint in his eyes.

“Huaisang, you really sell yourself short sometimes. I think you’d look quite good in any colour,” he eagerly said, before breaking into a fit of giggles as he added: “Any colour except Jin yellow, that is.”

It wasn’t even that funny, Nie Huaisang thought as he started laughing too. But Lan Xichen’s unexpected hilarity was too contagious to be resisted, and he’d been feeling down all day, so he just went for it and enjoyed the moment. It took them ages to ever calm down.

When they did though, Lan Xichen suggested that perhaps Nie Huaisang might try again to play that song he’d practiced.

This time, he played it perfectly, better even than he’d ever done before.

#nie huaisang #lan xichen #su she #jin zixun #xisang #some very light flirting is starting to happen at long last!#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel

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hellsbellschime · 4 years ago

Note

Why could you rant about the food on GoT?

Le sigh. Well okay, so I actually want to discuss this more in depth at a later time because there are many ways in which I have realized that Daenerys was actually an absolutely terrible queen, but the food situation in Westeros towards the end of the series is actually a perfect example of why Dany lost her quest for the Iron Throne before it even started.

Kay, so the OG’s Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya conquered all of Westeros with three dragons. So Daenerys literally already knows that she can win the Iron Throne with three dragons and absolutely nothing else. And by the time she’s set to invade Westeros, she 100% believes that her dragons are nearly indestructible and infallible, so there’s really no reason for her to bring her whole ass army to Westeros, and yet she does anyway.

It’s hard to say how big her army is at this point, but they make mention a few times that there are 100,000 Dothraki screamers, and that’s JUST the Dothraki. So it’s incredibly likely that Dany is invading Westeros IN WINTER with an army of OVER A HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE. And this isn’t like a Westerosi army that’s made up of random citizens, this is an army of men who ONLY know how to fight. They can’t farm. They can’t build. They have no skills or ways to contribute to society besides making war.

It’s pretty much an accepted and known fact that when winter comes in Westeros, people are going to die no matter what. It’s to the point that it is even a part of the culture of the North for people to voluntarily kill themselves so as to not take up resources. So if her plan had gone off as she had initially envisioned, Daenerys Targaryen would have invaded Westeros with a force that is equal to the population of a city with no long term plans for their actual sustenance.

But it’s Dany, and her game plan is always to take what is hers with fire and blood. So if anyone is going to die when she and her army come to Westeros, it’s not going to be her and her army. So in theory, even if the Dothraki and Unsullied killed ZERO people in Westeros, their very presence means that an extra HUNDRED THOUSAND WESTEROSI are going to starve to death so that Dany’s army doesn’t have to. Dany doesn’t need them and the sudden stress of having another hundred thousand people in any one place would literally lead any city or country into almost immediate infrastructural collapse, but she wants them there and doesn’t even give a second thought to the fact that she’s going to kill a huge number of the people that she’s “liberating” for the sake of her having a massive and completely useless army in her presence at all times.

The show did a horrible job of portraying this at the time because they were just trying to set up Sansa and Dany as foils to one another and they wanted Dany to have a badass retort of “whatever they want” when Sansa questions the food situation, but that quip deadass killed any chance Dany ever had of staying queen of Westeros for long.

She’s literally sitting in the presence of the high lords of the North and the Vale, the two kingdoms hit hardest by any winter, and is straight up saying that she’s just going to take whatever she needs for her people to survive regardless of the fact that it’s a death sentence for thousands of the people there. In her mind she believes she’s here to save the North and she’s pissed that they’re not falling all over themselves to thank her, and at the very first moment that she actually addresses the lords of the North she LITERALLY tells them she does not give a fuck if they or their subjects live or die. The show completely underplayed what an absolutely HERCULEAN effort it must have taken Sansa to actually get enough food to keep the North alive through an entire winter, and not only does Daenerys disrespect Sansa’s effort, she makes it known that she will take whatever she wants regardless of the deadly consequences for the smallfolk.

Everyone saw that the starving people of King’s Landing nearly unseated Cersei from the throne, and the scale of food shortage that they were experiencing in that moment was barely a fraction of what would have happened if Dany had just invaded Westeros and stayed there with her army. Honestly she was a huge asshole for burning the food in the Reach but for real that would have barely made a dent in the damage that she was about to do to the food situation in the Seven Kingdoms, if she had literally just done exactly what she had planned down to the letter then she would have completely decimated the country without having to burn anyone or do anything besides exist with her army in Westeros.

#anti daenerys #anti daenerys targaryen #got #game of thrones #sansa stark #anti daenerys meta #anti daenerys targaryen meta #got meta #game of thrones meta #Anonymous

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pilotcallsigns · 3 years ago

Text

Start Again - Chapter Nine (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: On their trek through the canyon to find their bounty, Din learns more about the girl than he had previously known and contemplates how she managed to survive everything she's been through. Of course, as he's learned from his time with her, they can never have peace in their search for the truth.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Discussion of sterilization, a brief discussion of forced pregnancy, discussion of childbirth, and blood loss mention.

Author’s Note: Wow, long time no see. Life's been busy so I apologize for the severe lack of updates, I've been focusing on getting back into the workforce as well as the school semester starting up. I've also hit a major roadblock with writing and in the meantime, I've taken a step back so I'm not forcing myself or producing lackluster content. However, I'm excited to give you all this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it!

CHAPTER NINE - A STRANGER ARRIVES

Ka’rta. Mando’a for heart. The girl had a lot of heart.

Din hadn’t let it show, but the news of her diagnosis had hit him hard. The Empire had tortured her beyond belief, if her nightmares weren’t evidence enough, the scars he saw when she was sedated had told him enough. They took her son away, wiped her mind in the process, and then left her for dead. If that wasn’t enough, they forcibly sterilized her.

“They sterilized her not long after they discovered she wasn’t the one with force-sensitive capabilities.” Dr. Orn informed him. Underneath his helmet, Din frowned at the doctor’s words. A part of him grew angry, angry at the idea that since the girl was no longer of use to them, they’d toss her away. Din was disgusted.

“What you’re saying is…is that they removed her ability to have any future children because she couldn’t produce a child with abilities?” Din’s mouth tasted like bile.

“It was their belief that the child’s father was the one who passed the traits onto his son, not her.” Dr. Orn frowned at him, possibly having the same thoughts of how vile the Empire was. “Although, had they decided to—” Din held up his hand and stopped Dr. Orn’s words.

It was enough. Basic genetics explained that even if the mother didn’t carry the trait, as long as the father did, there was a chance a child with the Force would be born. Din couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Empire forcibly impregnating her like some breeding farm.

Instead, they remained ignorant of actual genetics and because they couldn’t breed her like a kriffing animal, they removed any ability to ever have her own children. If she couldn’t produce more force-sensitives, then why let her have any more children at all.

Deep down, Din knew of the atrocities committed by the Empire but what they did to her, made him feel physically ill.

He had felt numb hearing the news. How she managed to carry herself afterward Din didn’t know. How she even managed to put up a fight in their training session he didn’t know. It made him question everything he had known about the universe. To endure that pain and continue on, Din had hardly met anyone stronger than that.

The strength she had displayed, wielding the sticks as if they were true weapons, coming at him with all her might, even if it meant she’d meet the ground again. Briefly, he had taken pleasure in sweeping her off her feet, just to see her get annoyed. He wanted to see what her reactions would be. He hadn’t expected much out of her, especially considering the news she had received earlier. After the second time, he could tell she was vibrating with anger, ready to come at him. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Followed by a few successful hits and a near kick and Din found himself almost proud of her. With time, she’d come into fighting naturally.

“I know the view is pretty, Mando, but I think we have a bounty we need to find,” Her voice makes the memories of last night fade and he chuckles.

“Patience,” He murmurs, putting the last of the supplies together in his pack. He knew she was eager to get moving, the motivation to find a possible clue in her past driving her.

An ex-Imperial, trying to lay low in a post-Empire universe. The New Republic had been searching for him but after months with no news or record of him being alive, they presumed he must’ve been killed at the end of the war. The New Republic had bigger things to worry about. Orus, still running off its own government, didn’t believe any Imperial to be dead. The droid had made it clear that no Imperial was believed to be dead unless you killed them yourself.

Opseg law enforcement pushed out the supposed ‘dead’ bounties like clockwork, and apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find them. Din had seen the holoprojectors displaying successful hunts, it was safe to say that the Opseg agency expected the same from him and the girl. It seemed clear from the data that plenty of ex-Imperials or sympathizers found themselves on Orus, hoping that the planets bustling city life would offer a decent cover to start a new life.

Din pulled a vibroblade out of his boot, testing the weight in his fingers before he hands it to the girl. Her eyes widen in shock but she carefully takes it into her hands. The blade was one of Din’s firsts when he had first started with the Guild. Before he had found himself more comfortable with blasters and pulse rifles, Din had been more into close combat and the use of knives. After their brief training session last night, it was clearer that while he was a long-distance fighter, the girl was suited for close combat.

“You trust me?” She asks, glancing at it as she studies the hilt and the blade itself. Din had managed to keep it in decent condition even throughout these years, maintaining it despite its lack of use.

“I do,” Din says, watching as her eyes light up. “I think you’ll be able to handle yourself out there and if not, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, admiring the build of the vibroblade. Holding the hilt in the palm of her hand, she takes a few practice swings with it, moving with precision. The rays from the suns beam onto the blade, glittering off her face.

“It’s also dangerous, so be careful.” Din reminds her and she nods, tucking the blade away.

“So,” she sighs, “What’s so special about this bounty other than being an ex-Imp? Seems to me that everyone was working for the Empire at some point in their life.”

“He’s an ex-Imperial officer. Higher up, not indoctrinated like Stormtroopers, so he was well aware of what the Empire was doing.” Din responds, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

“And you said he might know about what happened to me?” She asks, her voice tilting towards a hopeful tone. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the research he had done on the bounty told him enough.

No identifying information on the ship he worked on, but with the blanks in his information, it was safe to say that whatever he did work on, the Empire didn’t want it getting out. After the war, most of it had been erased and all that was left was bits and pieces. An officer, overseeing prisoners of the war. Din had concluded that he had to at least know about what happened to the girl. She wasn’t just someone captured to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She had some importance to them; they stole her son from her and wiped her memories. All the more reasons to find out the truth from this bounty.

“It’s a possibility. He oversaw a lot of the prisoners. There’s a chance he knew about you. Or your case, at the very least.” He replies, watching as she takes in the information.

“How soon do we have to bring him in once we find him?” She says. She’s quiet now, looking to the horizon of Opseg.

“A day or so, maybe. They incentivize you to bring the bounty in early for more credits.” He answers and she merely hums. A conflict of emotions washes over her face. There’s a question she’s too afraid to ask, unsure if she would receive the answer she was seeking.

“Will he give us information?” Right on target. Din’s not sure what to give her. Could they torture him for information? Sure, maybe the Opseg law enforcement wouldn’t question it. Would he even have any information? Again, Din did not know for sure. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands a little dirtier for the sake of information the bounty may have on the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, watching as she frowns. Not exactly the answer she was looking for then.

Displaying the map of the canyons on Orus, Din pinpoints the bounty’s last known location. He had hidden in the deepest parts of the canyon. It was likely that he had a camp set up and an array of weapons to protect himself. Din wouldn’t be surprised if he and the girl came across a couple of dead bounty hunters in various stages of decay. An Imperial was already a formidable opponent, but an Imperial officer who held a lot of information on the Empire was not a force to reckon with.

Veteran bounty hunters knew better and had expectations. If a bounty were on edge, they’d do anything to protect themselves and their assets. An amateur hunter gets too cocky and the bounty quickly puts them down and moves elsewhere, losing the trail. It was all a matter of survival.

“It’s a bit of a hike,” Din informs the girl, watching her eyes as she scans the projected image. “The droid says he’s been hiding out here for the past few weeks. He moves around after a new set of hunters come after him.”

A blinking dot displays the bounty’s last known position. The girl hums, her mouth set in a hard line as she scans the map once more, seeming to put it to memory.

“He’s getting comfortable. No new bounty hunters in a good month, maybe he thinks they’ve forgotten him,” The girl says, looking to him for confirmation.

“That, or he’s expecting a full force, so we need to be prepared for both. He’s already managed to figure out the schedule of bounty hunter arrivals. Supposedly barricades himself by the time they arrive at his camp. Takes them out and moves locations before a new round of hunters come along.” Din states, clicking through the projector to detail the number of hunters this bounty has killed off.

It’s numbers he hasn’t seen since he had taken the bounty of Fennec Shand with that hotshot bounty hunter, Toro Calican. With Shand “dead” and Calican kidnapping Grogu in the hopes of making a name for himself, Din never wanted to experience anything similar again. This bounty he and the girl had taken up would not come easily.

“He would be smarter if he moved during the downtime of hunters. That way we wouldn’t know his last whereabouts.” The girl says. The light of the holoprojector flickers off her face as Din shuts it off.

“His ignorance will play to our advantage,” Din says, placing the holoprojector in his bag, “it wouldn’t be any easier if he did decide to move during the downtime.”

Din’s not expecting much, the ex-Imperial has most likely grown comfortable living out in the canyon. Their arrival might come as a surprise, but deep down, Din knows that the bounty will be prepared for a fight. Even if it means toeing with a Mandalorian.

Beginning their trek through the canyon, Din takes the lead for the first hour into the journey. The canyons on Orus are difficult terrain. The course he had set for them was not smooth at all, it was rocky and there were several instances of Din having to pull himself up over a ledge, then pulling the girl up as well.

The faint cry of animals keeps them close to one another, not trusting that the creatures will be welcoming of their presence. Din had already learned the hard way of a welcoming presence. He should’ve expected as much, given that the planet shared a system with Nevarro. The girl, however, keeps the mood light by humming songs native to Puvo. The soft thrum of her voice keeps the hike from being filled with a painful silence, which Din is grateful for.

The hike is peaceful and with the soft hum of the girl, Din relaxes through their trek, allowing himself to admire the planet and the way the vegetation grows despite the lack of sunlight. He still scans his surroundings, keeping an eye out for any potential danger. He studies the shade of the canyon walls that cut off the sunlight even as the planets still grow, fruits hanging off the branches of trees and the leaves of planets greener than he had ever seen before.

The sounds of a running creek pause them in their journey, the girl’s humming coming to a stop as they gather at the edge of the bank. This time the girl’s singing doesn’t fill the silence, just them filling their canteens with the water. Din even watches as the girl leans over and washes the sweat from her face, running her hands down her neck in order to cool herself.

“I think it’s deep enough to swim.” The girl says, leaning back into the sand after her last drink of the water.

“You think?” Din asks her, watching her as she nods.

“Maybe,” she says, “The creeks on Puvo were shallow, meant for work. Finding an actual source of water that wasn’t meant for work or consumption was difficult, but when I did find one, I managed to get Valara to go with me.” She smiles as she seems to look back on the memories.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been swimming,” Din tells her and she chuckles.

“Not even when you were a boy?” She turns, looking at him. In truth, he can’t remember a time when he was that young, not since before he swore the Creed. When he finds himself trying to look back, the only thing he finds himself remembering is the destruction of his home and the death of his parents.

“No,” he finally says, pulling himself out of his head.

“Castin loved to swim. He wanted to swim before he could even walk. The village thought I was crazy to give him that chance, but he proved them wrong.” She smiles, but he can see the pain in her eyes as she struggles to look back at that particular memory. He knows it’s a painful reminder of what was stolen from her.

“Do you remember them? Your village,” Din supplies. The girl blinks, slowly nodding.

“Parts of them. Faces are a blur but their voices are clear to me. We were a small but tight-knit community. Everyone helped everyone.” The girl glances up at him and smiles. “I can’t remember exact details like friends or family, just Castin and maybe the midwife who helped deliver him.”

“But you don’t remember if you ever had a husband?”

“All children were loved regardless of if their parents were married or not. But, no, I don’t remember him if he were to exist at all.”

Din feels peace when she answers that she doesn’t remember. A part of him hopes that there wasn’t any partner involved, that way she could only focus her attention on Castin. She didn’t need another heartbreak if she were to ever find out the truth of what may have happened to her village. If there had been a husband, would he have been killed off by the Empire? Was he still alive?

“I do remember the pain of bringing him into the world. It was a difficult birth.” The girl interrupts his thoughts. “The healer had monitored me throughout the entire pregnancy, I knew going in it was high-risk.”

“High-risk…” Din pauses, “Like, dying?”

“Yes,” she sounds calm when she answers. He supposes that the discussion is no longer painful since she survived the ordeal and is here now. “I was in labor for several hours. I nearly died. The midwife said there had been a lot of blood…they couldn’t stop it. I remember telling her his name, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he had died. It was chaos.”

Din watches her as she examines the flow of the water, tracing her fingertips above the surface. In the time they had spent together, he found himself learning more about the number of times she had faced death even before the Empire had its grasp on her. Even before her son had been born, it seemed fated that one of them would die.

“State your business.”

Dank farrik. Din was tired of being snuck upon.

He and the girl turn, facing the source of the voice. A masked man with a rifle stands in front of them. The upper half of his face remains covered, only the lower half displaying his displeasure with seeing them here. He’s also wearing armor, but it’s not like beskar. The barrel of the man’s weapon points at the girl and at this close of range, she would not survive the shot.

“The public is not barred from traveling within the canyons.” Din responds, watching as the man shifts his stance, the barrel of the rifle moving to point at his chest plate.

“The public population knows not to travel these canyons. Only outsiders take that chance, so I’ll say again, state your business.” The man snarls, the barrel of his rifle swiveling to focus on him. The blast wouldn’t pierce the beskar, but Din wasn’t about to take that chance.

It’s not a blaster rifle, the closer Din studies it. It’s a stun gun, meant to temporarily incapacitate rather than go for the kill. Why this rifleman, clearly upset, didn’t have his rifle set to kill, Din didn’t know.

“Bounty work. Sent by the Opseg law enforcement.” Din states, his hand settling on his hip just above the blaster in his hip holster.

The sky is a soft shade of blue with light cloud coverage. Din doesn’t remember looking up at the sky but as he struggles to move his limbs, he understands why. The rifleman had shot him. Someone’s screaming. It’s the girl.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not dead.” He can hear voices, muffled as his vision blurs.

#start again #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #Din Djarin/Reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian/you

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robinsarm · 4 years ago

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So, what if the killer realms offered more than just a home for killers and trial space?? What would they hold? Some DBD headcanons that I haven’t really seen before. Do tag me if this has been done but I just wanted to make my own list.

(For reference, I’m not replacing the canon bloodweb, I just thought, “what if the survivors/killers weren’t getting enough from their bloodwebs?”)

Macmillan Estates: Bog Laurels and Sweet Williams (Objective and Boldness offerings) At first, Trapper was very protective of the plants. He didn’t want the survivors to get more bloodpoints for being annoying. It used to be a whole separate trial endeavor to get even one sachet before Trapper noticed they were there. However, as time has gone on and more killers have gotten on Trapper’s bad side, he’s been more open to handing over the boldness offerings. The survivors know that if he offers them up personally, he wants them to act as shitty as possible to a specific killer (It’s usually aimed at Legion or Freddy)

Autohaven Wreckers: Toolboxes and add-ons galore Much like Trapper, Wraith didn’t really like his stuff stolen at first. Generators were hard enough to counter as it was, he didn’t need to give them a boost. For a long time, Wraith would stay cloaked amongst a decent pile of toolboxes and wait for the survivors to show up, then run them off. It was only when Jake showed up one time, with a burlap bag of bloodpoints, and offered it for a few items did Wraith finally begin to loosen up. Now, it’s a tradition to show new survivors Autohaven first so they can meet Wraith and learn that they can buy toolbox stuff from him.

Coldwind Farms: Primrose Blossoms (Altruism offerings) The fact that Hillbilly, the killer having endured the worst abuse of the killers, guards the empathy offering is a sick, cruel irony from the Entity itself. Hillbilly doesn’t notice the flowers very often, but when he does it’s usually because a survivor is in the process of taking them. Hillbilly is Wraith’s feelings about stealing x1000. There is no convincing him. The only way to get the offerings from the killer is to take them when he’s in a trial. The survivors have tried the bloodpoint trick with Hillbilly too, but he’s never gone for the offer.

Crotus Prenn Asylum: Shrouds Each shroud offering has its own distinct color that doesn’t blend with the gray land of the burnt asylum or decrepit chapel at all. They take some searching to find, but always manage to be in places that none of the survivors expect. One such shroud, Vigo’s, was in a burning barrel, completely unharmed. David can’t say the same for his hand since he was the one who retrieved it. Nurse doesn’t care if survivors show up to collect a few of the fabric pieces. She doesn’t believe it makes a difference in the long run. Clown would probably care if he wasn’t constantly passed out, drunk or otherwise, in between each trial.

Haddonfield: Crispleaf Amaranth (Survival offerings) Good luck getting one of these past Michael. Good luck living long enough to find one. Another bit of irony from the Entity, trying to survive long enough to get this offering is near impossible. In order to have a chance, the survivors need to bring 4+ of their teammates to distract Michael long enough to look. Michael’s not dumb though. The killer will usually find all the offerings first and defends them like a silent snake.

Léry’s Memorial Institute: Batteries That’s not a joke. The survivors haven’t been able to find anything other than batteries. In hindsight, it makes a bit of sense being how electricity-dependent the realm is. But, that doesn’t mean the survivors don’t hope for a medkit or anything else like they’d expect. Feng is really the only one that goes to get more of the flashlight addon. Not once has she come back with anything less than an armful of batteries.

Backwater Swamp: The Wards (Black/White/Sacrificial) Backwater was the first realm to have both survivors and killers actively trying to retrieve the offerings. There’s a catch though. Unlike other realms, where multiple of the add-on or offering appear at a time, only one of the three wards appear per Entity day. If it’s a black ward, the killers are actively fighting to get it before the survivors can. If the survivors get the black ward, they’ll just destroy it later. It’s vice versa when dealing with white wards. If it’s a sacrificial ward, one of two things happens: either both parties are too disappointed to even go for it, or it’s a complete bloodbath - neither side is safe if that’s the case.

Red Forest: Medkits and their add-ons Another bit of Entity’s humorous irony, medkits are surprisingly abundant on these maps. However, the Huntress and Plague both guard them like hawks. Huntress will actually plant medkits and alluring add-ons in high enough spots to make the survivors struggle reaching for them. It gives her ample time to ready a hatchet and practice throwing. Plague doesn’t like the styptic bottles, so those are the things that don’t usually leave her realm. Survivors can get away with a bandage here and there, but usually end up using it on the way back to the fire.

Springwood: Reagents No one really cares enough to go to Badham to retrieve reagents. No one wants to deal with Freddy; survivor and killer alike. The only memorable time that someone went of their own free will was when Julie and Susie wanted to. They actually approached the survivor camp asking for help because they didn’t want to go up against the burnt pedo being just the two of them. Some agreements were shared and David, Jeff, and Quentin ended up helping the girls. Julie and Susie got enough clear reagents to last them for months and the boys got a few good punches in; Quentin actually managing to break the killer’s jaw in the process.

Gideon Meat Plant: Blueprints The Game used to offer nothing, so nobody went. It was only when the blueprint offerings were introduced, and Pig seemed to be offering them quite a bit, did the survivors begin to get suspicious. Felix was the one to recognize the offering first when he was searching with a group. Much like the wards, only one blueprint appears per Entity day; it’s not as much of a fight for them, however.

Yamaoka Estate: The Oaks (Putrid/Rotten/Moldy/Petrified) This offering is prevalent and has to be snapped off the surrounding trees. Killers frequent this realm more than the survivors do. There was one time when Adam and Yui both went to retrieve some Petrified Oak for the group and found not 3, not 4, but 5 killers on Family Residence, not including the Spirit and Oni. Those two have never run faster in their life and refuse to this day to go back without at least a full group.

Ormond: ??? There’s no specific item that can be found on Ormond. Spin a wheel of anything that can be used in a trial and the survivors will probably find it. Steve and Nancy both came back with event items that they hadn’t been around in ages. Everyone believes that the Legion just steals from other realms and hoards their prize around their resort, but no one’s been able to prove it.

Hawkins National Laboratory: Mori’s The first Killer offering exclusive realm, and again, like the wards and blueprints, only one spawns per Entity day. The Demogorgon doesn’t care about the offerings usually; it’s always having too much fun chasing after the killers who trespass. In order to find the offerings, the killers have to search around the dead bodies strewn across the realm. Once, multiple days had gone by and there were no mori’s to be found. Some thought Demo had taken them, but the Nurse had a different idea and checked the room only she could access. She left that realm with eight Ebony Memento Mori’s that day and checks back frequently.

Grave of Glenvale: Alcohol The first realm to not offer a trial item. Each Entity day, Deathslinger’s bar refills every bottle present. If there are no bottles, the Entity will take one day to replace the bottles and then the next to refill them. Deathslinger doesn’t like company, so, get a drink depends on his mood. If you show up he’ll either hand you a bottle and make you leave, or shoot you dead on the spot. Zarina is the only one allowed to stay regardless of his mood. Zarina has shown up to trials plastered many many times.

Silent Hill: Other realm offerings Hung on many of the walls or tucked away on the shelves, both survivors and killers can find any other realm’s offerings. Mary’s Letter has never been found but the rest of the realm's offerings are free game. Some can be found in the same spot each time. Ormond’s damaged photo is usually hung on a second story bulletin board while Glenvale’s dusty noose is usually found hanging from a tree in the courtyard. Pyramid Head patrols his realm constantly, so if the survivors are wanting a realm offering that doesn’t have a specific spot, they better be quick and lucky. Ace is convinced he’d be the best one for the job, but Cheryl’s proven herself to be the one to grab the most and leave unharmed.

#dbd #dbd killers #dbd survivors #dbd headcanons #realm headcanons #I really just wanted to write about Slinger's saloon

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buglife · 3 years ago

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In Which it is SIBLING DAY

More for Days of our (Bug) Lives!

Have you all a Hornet chapter, as she spends a day with her best siblings, Ghost and Hollow :3

---

Hornet awoke to the smell of sweets and the sound of kitchen supplies banging together.

For a moment, she was confused. She could feel that she was on something soft, something she deemed unnecessary in an effort to stay awake – so she would not succumb to the blinding light. She did not need blankets or silks for the rare times she found a crevice to rest and patch her wounds in. It was strange.

She blinked her many eyes as they adjusted to the dim lighting of the den. She was momentarily shocked to find herself here until memories caught up to her. Yes...her mother was awake and alive. She was home. The Radiance is dead. Things were stable now and no longer did she have to worry about one of the reanimated infected husks stumbling upon her in her sleep.

She wasn’t quite sure that she would ever quite get used to the feeling of safety again. The life of a princess wasn’t one any other bug would consider ‘safe’...but compared to when she guarded the kingdom? After all, most of her life was lived during the infection. She spent a better portion of her life fighting for survival...and now here she was. Safe. She had to admit that It was vastly less stressful in general.

She yawned, stretching out her limbs before climbing down from her silken hammock. She used a spare hand to rub her eyes in an effort to make them feel less tired and dry, taking the time to let her brain catch up to the rest of her body. She squinted at her calendar where she wrote down her many appointments, frowning at how full it was. Except for today, which only had two words scribbled upon the silk. ‘Sibling Day’, it read, written in stark red ink and underlined thrice to make it stand out from her many duties.

Sibling day! Of course! Her mood quickly improved from grumpy to slightly less so, it was one of the few days she could have now where she was not expected to worry about duties or talk to yet another overinflated self important bug. She imagined her sibling, Ghost, felt the same way. No duties, it would be like how it was before when it was just them in a little house in Dirthmouth, freshly freed from the infection and learning how to heal together. She missed the closeness...but sadly they all had responsibilities to clean up the mess their shared father left behind.

She grabbed her plain cloak for today, forgoing all symbols of her station, and strapping her needle to her side. Today she was just Hornet, sister to two strange but loving creatures of void, whom she still felt a protective streak too.

If she was correct, the smell and noise in the kitchen was her mother making her famous honey cookies. She maneuvered around the bridges of silk, politely waving to passing weavers as she climbed her way up to her mother’s chambers. She often found Hallownest structure to be oddly cold and ridged. She felt more at home in the sprawling tunnels of white as she leapt from string to string, before she finally arrived at some of the few structures made of stone in the village. It was her mother’s den, which had a kitchen, and the last thing they needed was a fire in the weave-ways. She arrived just in time to spot her mother, oven mitts on her many hands, pulling trays of cookies from the oven.

“Hello, my little sling,” Herrah greeted her as she placed the trays down on stone slabs to cool faster. Like Hornet, Herrah didn’t need a lot of finery to reflect her station. Instead, she seemed to exude an aura of power which made most bugs listen when she talked. “It seems that you are just in time.”

“It seems that I have, mother.” Hornet drew close to inspect the cookies. “They smell amazing.”

“I’m sure Hollow and Ghost will love them like they always do.” Herrah sounded pleased with herself. She tested the cookies and plucked up the ones that have cooled to stack into a box. “Don’t let Hollow eat too much and get sick again.”

“I won’t.”, She promised. “Will you be okay today by yourself?”

“Yes dear, I’ll have Midwife with me. You just enjoy your day with your siblings. And do tell them to visit more often! I especially love Ghost’s little husband, he sure has a lot of grit when he needs to.” Herrah laughed and a few lingering weavers laughed with her.

“Well mother, your cookies are worth the price of combat to acquire.” Hornet could tell her mother wasn’t being malicious, she was just being chaotic just like Monomon and Lurien. Why her sire decided to have all three of them in one place she would never quite understand. It’s also why she thanked the gods that their visits were rare these days and meetups they DO schedule, she can be sure it’s in a fire, explosion, and acid proof location.

“I should hope so, I did get this recipe right from Vespa after all.” Herrah smiled fondly as she finished boxing the cookies. A few silken strands was all it took to tie up the box securely before she handed it off to her daughter. “There you go, run along and have fun, okay?”

“I will Mother, thank you.” Hornet gave her mother a quick embrace before rushing out of the den. With her precious cargo tucked under one of her arms, she made her way to the tram station. Just for today, she’ll put up with having to be stuck in a small space with other bugs. Hopefully the cookies will still be warm by the time she arrived at the palace.

-----

“Do you have everything you need?” Ghost looked over the newly replaced kitchen counter, eyeing the piles of ingredients and spices that took up much of the space. They had gotten a list from their sibling, and the local farms were more than happy to provide. They honestly didn’t know what Hollow was going to do with all that zucchini. They received three baskets of the vegetable when they only asked for a single bag! They ended up having to borrow a cart to bring all the produce back to the palace.

Hollow nodded, eye curled in amusement. “Yes, I do. You though, are not to touch anything in this kitchen. I wish to keep these unburnt, thank you.” They relished in every opportunity to tease their sibling just to see how flustered they got.

“You are going to hold that fire over my head forever, aren’t you? It was only the second time it happened!” Ghost threw up their hands dramatically. Burn down a kitchen twice and suddenly you aren’t allowed to cook in it anymore. They already got the polite, but firm lecture from the palace staff to just let their husband cook. If their Majesty did wish to learn to properly cook, they urged them to avoid using live fires for now.

“Cry me a river, Ghost.” Hollow stuck out their tongue at said sibling.

“I can’t BELIEVE my beloved twin is committing treason against me!?! How dare?!?” Ghost pretended to swoon, earning them a boop to the snoot with a wooden spoon. “Oooooo you dare strike your King? Horrible!” They grabbed a spatula, fully intending to strike back.

“Dear, what are you doing?” Quirrel peeked in from behind the door way, watching the two vessels bicker and gently assault each other with kitchen appliances.

“Just getting ready for Hornet.” Ghost forgot all about the booping to slide up to their favorite pillbug, giving him a smooch. “Hollow is just being a brat.”

Hollow flipped them off with a shining, pale ore finger, a gesture which Ghost returned.

“Well, you both have fun. I will be taking over your duties today, so don’t expect me back until later.” Quirrel snorted “Have fun with Hornet, and tell her I said hi and to please not attack me in the middle of court again. I appreciate and understand that she wants to keep me ‘in practice’ in case of another assassination attempt, but it does end up causing a mess.”

Ghost remembered with a shudder. They ended up having to replace all the floors in the audience room and remodel most of the walls the last time Hornet ‘tested’ their husband. It was a very expensive ‘practice’ session.

“I’ll let her know.” Ghost nuzzled their husband again, hoping that Hornet wasn’t already down in the audience room waiting for him. “Have a good day!”

“I’ll try!” He waved and left the suite, down to do the infuriating task of listening to bugs whine all day. They’ll have to save a few cookies for him, he’d appreciate those for sure.

They turned to look back at Hollow, who was arranging things around to their liking. They hummed, pulling out pans, examining them, and placing them here and there in preparation of being filled. They had also taken time to wash all the produce, moving them around until they were nice and straight. They had always had an attention to detail, something their father sadly forced on them when they were but a hatchling. Still, it helped them In matters such as cooking.

Everyone loved Hollow’s cooking. As soon as Hollow could stand on their own again, they were learning to cook. Even with one arm, they could make the tastiest things using the dried or canned goods hidden deep in the abandoned houses. Hornet and Quirrel were quite good too, and under their tutelage it was easy to see that Hollow surpassed them both. Once Sheo and Smith made their new arm, Hollow was unstoppable in the culinary department.

If life were different, Ghost could see Hollow being a chef, but they knew their sibling loved the nail and animals more. Still, it was quite a treat when Hollow decided to cook.

“Do you need help, Hollow?” Ghost felt a little useless at the moment, just standing around and watching. They weren’t willing to catch something on fire and getting yelled at this early in the day.

Hollow shook their head. “No, go ahead and wait for Hornet so she doesn’t try to stab Tiso again.”

“Will do.” Ghost nodded and headed to the door, eager to see their sister and tease her. That is, if she was where she said she’d be and not about to jump their dear little pill bug. Ghost dissolved into void and made haste to the palace entrance...just in case.

While the two siblings had their conversation, Hornet had arrived at the Palace tram line. She got off as quickly as she could, not wanting to be boxed in with other bugs for longer than she had to. To give them credit, they did behave, but she wasn’t sure that it was due to early morning tiredness or the fact they simply got used to her. Thankful for that, she zipped away with her silk and needle to avoid the crowded station. A few flight capable bugs had the same idea, but gave her a wide berth to avoid her needle.

As she traveled she began to wonder a little. Who would be at the palace doors today? She did like Cloth, from one warrior to another. She was always eager to schedule a spar or ask how her own kingdom was doing. Tiso, she could barely stand. He annoyed her to no end, but somehow he gained enough respect from her to not just kill him. Plus it would make Ghost cry, and nobody was allowed to do that. Xena rarely was there to guard the door, so Hornet didn’t have much of a time to interact with her. She seemed to be a loner type, something she understood deeply. Ogrim of course, she dearly loved. He had taught her the basics of being a knight when she was just a little Sling. When the kingdom fell and he took up residence in the waterways, she made sure to visit. Flukes may be nasty looking, but they would do for food in a pinch, something Hornet was forced to partake in more than once.

She knew for sure that Hollow wouldn’t be there, it was their day off after-all.

Still, she expected everyone but Ghost to be there waiting for her.

She cut her thread and landed gracefully before them, standing up to assess them.

‘Hello, G-”

She gasped a squeak, as her sibling swept her up in a hug. The void around her purred and vibrated with barely contained excitement and happiness.

“Sister!” They boomed, perhaps a little louder than they meant too, as a few other bugs in the area turned to see what the commotion was. They saw her glare and quickly went to mind their own business again.

“My dear Spooder Sibling has returned, at last!” They nuzzled her forehead and she couldn’t find it in her heart to be annoyed about it.

She clutched the box of cookies in one set of arms, and unfolded the other two to return the hug. It was Sibling Day, she could afford to let her guard down for a little while. She can just enjoy the fact that she had family without some horrible plague or world ending catastrophic befalling them all. Especially since it was family she liked. She didn’t know what she’d do if the Pale King was still alive, most likely something not nice at all.

“Then let us not keep them waiting. I am sure they would like some help.” Ghost was slightly surprised by the willing touch, but recovered and begun to lead her up the winding stairs of the palace. She was getting used to casual touch again, and it felt pleasantly warm despite the cold of the void that made up their hands. She figured it was a family thing and left it at that.

Eventually, they released her. “Hollow is already upstairs. They are getting ready to start cooking.” They bounced a little on their feet, unable to contain their excitement. Hornet could barely contain her either and took one of their hands.

“I can watch, but I am not allowed to do much more than that.”

“Well, you did nearly burn down your suite...again.” She teased gently. “I can see why, as your Knight, that they would forbid you from putting yourself in danger.”

Ghost just humphed in response. “Quirrel kindly asks you to not attack him in the middle of court today. I wondered if you’d be down there waiting for him.”

“Well, it is Sibling Day. As if I would have the time to assess his combative ability.” She scoffed. “Your silly little Pillbug is safe for today.”

The statement seemed to put a little more pep in their step. As much as they joke around, Hornet really did like their husband. She just wanted to be sure that they would be ready in case of another scare. It wasn’t like she beat him up too badly. It was getting to the point where they would end in draws, something she was quite proud of. They barely arrived at the door to the Royal Suite when Hollow poked their head out of said door. They chirped and just like Ghost, ran over to pull her into a hug.

Hollow’s hugs were a little different from Ghost’s. Hollow was hyper aware of the places she did not want touched, and never hugged so tightly that she felt trapped. Gentle Hollow, with a heart bigger than most in the Kingdom, knew how to give the safest feeling hugs. Ghost was more excitable and eager, but Hollow was more careful and soft.

They gave her a nuzzle, and for a little moment, it was like when she was a sling, stealing hugs and nuzzles from Hollow when the Wyrm’s back was turned. She had called them ‘Holly’, because she couldn’t pronounce the harsh ‘ollo’ sound. Of course when caught, she always said that she ordered them to do so, but she knew the truth. It was Hollow who hugged and comforted her when she learned that her mother was going to sleep and never wake up again. Hollow wiped her tears after particularly harsh training sessions. Hollow was always there...even more than her mother or sire, though it wasn’t so much the fault of her mother.

She had despaired during the infection, her beloved Holly, suffering a fate worse than death. She had thought when Ghost returned, that finally their pain could be put to an end, but somehow clever little Ghost found a way to save them and everyone else.

She was more grateful than she could ever express.

Hollow pulled away from the hug and began to sign. “<It is good to see you, sister. Are you ready for a good day?”>

“Of course I am, because you are cooking.” She laughed as everyone piled into the room. “What’s the menu for today?”

<“Breakfast rolls, zucchini bread, TikTik and noodle soup, and roast Boolfy with garden vegetables and spices.”> They looked proud of themselves as they stepped into the kitchen and gestured around them. <“The roast I will make and put in now as it will take all day to cook and then I’ll make the bread and rolls.”>

“You are going to let me help you, right?”

Hollow nodded and handed her an apron. <”I am sure Ghost told you that they are not allowed to help?”>

“They did.” She she looked over the apron [No Bitchin’ in my Kitchen’] and tied it on.

Ghost just sat on a stool and looked like a kicked frog.

<“It’s okay, sibling. You can be the official taste tester.”> Hollow did their best to soothe Ghost’s bruised ego. All the power in the world, a god of gods, but couldn’t keep a kitchen from burning down to save their life. They seemed to be pleased with the suggestion and was content to lean over and watch.

Hornet and Hollow made quick work of dicing veggies and meats, occasionally slapping Ghost on the hand when they tried to steal little pieces. She nearly drooled when Hollow unwrapped the big chunk of boofly to douse in spices. She had gotten used to just snatching animals from the ground and eating them raw, fires were a luxury that would draw too much attention to her hiding spots. It still astonished her how plentiful food was now, she had started becoming concerned as prey started to vanish, them too being caught in the infection. But wildlife has recovered, and it brought her comfort that in case of another emergency, there would be food at least.

Hollow got the roast ready, sticking in the bottom part of the oven to slowly roast through the day while she busied herself with getting the wraps ready. She had to admit that she was a little hungry, the sight of fresh meat stirred up the want to scarf it down in case another meal was days away.

Then she saw the size of the wraps Hollow started making and realized she wasn’t going to stay hungry for long.

Hollow plated everything with all the mastery of a five star chef, only to see their creations vanish in a gnash of teeth and void the second it was set down. They weren’t offended but wished their siblings would slow down a little.

After inhaling breakfast, Ghost led them all to their private hot spring. Hornet was curious, she had never been in there, but she knew they had one. It was the only thing of luxury they requested and nobody was going to say no to that. Even then, it just looked like a regular hot spring, rocks and all, just enclosed in a room attached to the royal suite.

“Rather simple, isn’t it?” She remarked, looking over the walls where soul infused water fell down in a gentle waterfall, steaming as it filled up the pool. It looked big enough for someone to sit under it and she approved. She knew then where she was going to be.

“Less is more.” Ghost replied, bending over to check the water.

“Why is there a bench there?” She pointed, noticing the metal glinting in the low light.

“Don’t all hot springs have benches?”

She stared at them, and then looked to Hollow, who shrugged.

<“Siblings, you both need to get out more.”>

They probably spend the better part of three hours just lounging in the springs. Hornet appreciated the heat that worked its way through the joints of her chitin and eased her aches. She relaxed and let the little waterfall flow down her back and shoulders. She would definitely need to bring this up to mother. They would both probably deal with bugs a lot better if they had something like this waiting for them at the end of the day.

None of them spoke at all, they didn’t need to. It was cozy and quiet, the sounds of running water was enough to soothe her mind. She was used to quiet. More times than not, the sound of bugs everywhere, as happy as it made it, also aggravated her. It was so quiet and still then, the noise was still so new. She needed quiet moments and her siblings understood that.

The only sound came from Hollow as they rose out of the water halfway through their little spa moment.

<”I need to put the soup on”> was all they signed, and they left for but a moment, returning shortly. They had a bunch of freshly cut lavender flowers under their arms, which they threw into the spring. It just made it so much better.

Hornet must have dozed off, because she jerked to awareness she felt flicks of water being thrown on her face. Her first instinct was to grab her nail, only for her hand to meet water when she grasped to it.

“Sister,” Ghost was leaning close, eyes turned upwards in a smile. “If we stay any longer, we’re going to end up as bug soup.”

“You mean a bug and god soup.” She snorted. She raised her arms out and stretched, feeling rejuvenated.

“That and if we don’t get out, the soup Hollow made will get cold and then they’ll be sad.”

Hornet quickly stood and threw on their cloak. “Well, we can’t make them cry, that’s illegal.”

She wouldn’t admit it, but she was hungry again, and soup sounded very nice after a long dip in the springs.

How nice it was to have food when she wanted it.

-----

After soup (that was delicious of course), the siblings prepared for another part of their Sibling Day ritual.

Hornet held three paper lanterns under her arms as they took a hidden path away from the palace grounds. The Ancient basin might have been derelict and dead before, but life had returned to rim the path in glowing flowers and fungi. It once was a tunnel the Pale King would take to head to his lab down in the abyss, but Ghost had repurposed it for another reason.

They had told her that sometimes they felt the need to go down to ‘stretch’, spending time in their true form among the darkness. Too long squished in mortal sized form tended to make them feel jittery and cramped. She imagined it must feel like a molt that can’t progress and sympathized.

But it was also where the three could go to pay their respects and reflect.

The long dead siblings in the birthplace have since rejoined the void and thus, became a part of Ghost. But the individual potential they all had was now gone. Every single one of the hundreds of masks that still litter the bottom of the abyss was a thinking, feeling being, now gone forever.

Hornet was glad that at the end, they no longer had to suffer, and moved on by becoming one with her living sibling turned god. She however, wished that she could have known them. How would life be if she didn’t have two siblings, but hundreds? Before she was ignorant, and fought a few, and even separated a few shades from their shells. She forever felt regret over that even if Ghost told her that they all forgave her.

They eventually reached the dock that stretched out over the abyss and sat, legs dangling over the edge. They each took a lantern and lit the candles inside. Hornet put as much love as she could into the lantern, even if she felt a little foolish doing so, and let the lantern drift over the edge. There was nobody left to mourn in the abyss but...the ritual made her feel a little better.

Together they watched the lanterns drift slowly down, each light growing dimmer and dimmer before being consumed by the darkness. Time passed as they leaned on each other, until their legs grew numb and they headed back to the palace.

Sibling day was as much about the dead as much the living, and Hornet didn’t think she would ever forget that.

-----

Roast was served and eaten and the three found themselves lying around on the many pillows contained in the suite and looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you remember the forts we used to make in Dirthmouth?” Hornet mused. “We had more pillows and blankets than the rest of the citizens in that town combined."

<”Yes, they were the best. Very Cozy.”> Hollow’s head was next to her on the right, so she could see them sign. <”Dad was good at making them.”>

“Dad was the best at making them!” Ghost replied, to Hornet’s left. “Remember how he’d catch lumaflies to let them loose in the fort?”

“It was because they are Hollow’s favorite.” Hornet sighed, resting her hands on her belly where the roast currently resided (but not for long).

“It kinda makes me wish were were little again, before we had to do...all of this.”

There was a note of sadness in Ghost when they said that, and Hornet couldn’t help but feel the same. They managed to scrape together a few good years to be kids before responsibilities became too much to ignore. Hollow especially, since they were never even allowed to be a child. Ghost tried to remain as they were until molted a few times and could no longer get away from things by being small and cute. She would always cherish those years in Dirtmouth where she was allowed to be the child she was.

<”I know, but it’s not like we can’t do the things we like anymore. I have lumaflies, and you have the blankets and pillows.”> Hollow was quick to point out, gesturing at the room around them.

“And I can make sure you both aren’t going to build something that will collapse on your fool heads.” Hornet caught on fast, sitting up to pick up a pillow and drop it on Ghost’s face.

When Ghost didn’t respond right away, she piled more pillows on them before until they tried to escape. She laughed and sat on top of the pillow pile to trap them. “Go get your lumaflies, Holly. I think was can make something resembling the grandness of Mato’s pillow forts.”

Hollow rolled over to do just that while Hornet busied herself throwing things on top of Ghost as they tried to burrow out of the pillow pile. They were laughing too, so she didn’t feel too terrible tormenting them so. It was only when they gasped out a ‘I Yield!’ that she allowed them to escape.

The next half hour was spent with the three working together to build a passable cozy fort. Hornet was happy to see that her silk could make the structure much more sound and used it liberally. Hollow raided Ghost’s nest and took the mattress off of it to make the base, and after some trial and error, they made something quite comfortable. Hornet was especially pleased, spider eyes do not do well in bright lights, and the comforting dim haze in the fort was quite nice. Hollow released the lumaflies and the small bugs brought a lovely soft glow of colors to break up the monotony of the darkness. Ghost grabbed snacks and drinks and all three retreated inside.

As an after thought, Hornet grabbed a spare sheet of silk and wrote ‘No Wyrms Allowed’ and stuck it to the side of the fort. Somehow, it made her feel a little more secure.

The three lounged together talking about the past, some about the present, and a little bit about the future. She didn’t know how long they stayed up talking, but eventually she found herself to be the only one awake in a cuddle pile.

She was happy. Lying there in the dark of the fort, eating tiktik chips and gossiping, it brought back the time in her life when she was allowed to do nothing but be herself. It was short, but she was grateful all the same. She mused a little on a concept of a ‘family day’, but wasn’t so sure what would happen if Monomon, Mato, and her mother were in the same space for a prolonged period of time. Perhaps something chaotic, but she could perhaps plan for that.

Before she could keep up her thoughts, Hollow and Ghost snuggled up with their purring and Hornet could not stay awake with such an onslaught.

Hornet drifted off, feeling truly safe for once.

-----

Quirrel staggered up the stairs, half tempted to dig out the bottle of whiskey he kept in the dresser and downing the entire thing in one go. Today...was something else. A bunch of kids were caught letting wild stink beetles loose in a high class noble block and were now starting to multiply at an astonishing rate. A gang of mothers showed up with a petition to ban books with ‘suggestible themes’. Quirrel saw ‘The Famished Famished Firefly’ as first on the list and had to escort them all out of the courtroom after a stern talking to. He had to convince the Capital Board to just raise taxes on luxury goods to pay for a new tram station instead of cutting funding for education. To top it all off, the sandwich he was going to eat for lunch got snatched away by a vengefly. Truly, the worst.

What a day...er….next day. It was very late and no doubt his spouse would be wondering where he was. He hoped they had a good day with their siblings and was looking forward to a snuggle.

However, opening the door to his room showed that the day with their siblings had turned into a sleepover.

He stood for a moment, looking at the scene, unsure as what to do. He didn’t want to bother anyone, and surely Sibling Day was just that. A Day for siblings. He wasn’t about to be the selfish one and barge in on something so important, especially since Ghost rarely got to see Hornet and Hollow in one place. He figured he could go sleep in his office. The couch there was quite comfortable, after all.

He was about to close the door again when he heard a quiet voice in the darkness, sharp and feminine.

“Quirrel.”

“Oh!” He jumped. “Sorry Hornet, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m so-”

“Shut up and get in here.”

He paused for a moment, the gears turning in his head at the request. He was...being invited?

“Shut the damn door and get in the cuddle pile before I make you.” She hissed.

He gulped and shut the door behind him and approached the pillow fort. When she stared hissing, it meant she means business and he did not want to test her at this time of night. He could see Hornet softly illuminated by the drifting lumaflies as she held open the blanket door. She gestured for him to climb inside, a finger held to her mouth as an indication to be quiet.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, bending down to crawl in.

“You married my sibling,” She whispered back, sounding a little exasperated. “What makes you think I don’t consider you a sibling too?”

“Because you beat the shit out of me.” He climbed inside with a grunt. Ghost must have sensed that he was there, because he was quickly grabbed with a squeak and held tightly to his spouse’s chest, like a plush toy.

“I beat up Ghost and Hollow. Your point is…?” She watched and offered no assistance whatsoever, her fangs curled up in a grin when Ghost squeezed him harder.

“Do you only beat up the people you like?” He made himself comfortable, quite happy on the inside to finally get a cuddle after such a day.

“You should know me by now Quirrel, that the people I choose to train and spar with are those I consider worthy of my time and respect. And who do I train just as hard as Ghost and Hollow?”

“Oh.” he whispered.

“Yes, ‘oh’. Now you know, dear brother.” She sounded amused through her fatigue. “We tried to invite you, but you were quite adamant about assuming duties for today. And how did that go?”

“I hated every second of it.” Quirrel sighed. He was surrounded by warmth and softness, and wasn’t too sure how long he’d be able to stay awake now that he was comfy.

“There you go, sleep well. Extra training sessions start tomorrow.”

Quirrel snapped out of his mental fuzz. “Wait, what ?!?”

He was only met with snores.

25 notes · View notes

idahofallshq · 3 years ago

Photo

rik is almost the perfect survivor, blessed with the skills to make it through these dark days, unburdened by the weight of responsibility. his way of life has served him well, not everyone is lucky enough to make it to their 40s. but it's rik's apathy that really catches our eye, that conflicts with a desire for love. will rik let himself he swallowed by that apathy in order to survive another day? or will he finally pick a side in the upcoming conflicts, and fight for someone or something more than just his own survival?

welcome to idaho falls, henrik larsen! please make sure to complete the accepted checklist so we can invite you to our servers. we can’t wait to start writing with you!

OOC.

name: erin age: 30 pronouns: she/her timezone: est previous roleplay blog: redacted triggers: redacted wanted connection?: Yes, Quino’s ex

IC.

name: Henrik ‘Rik’ Larsen gender & pronouns: man, he/him faceclaim: alexander skarsgard age & birthdate: 45, 16th september 1998. occupation: solider immunity: not immune

skills.

Bow and arrow proficiency: Stumbling upon a bow and set of arrows early on in the outbreak of the infection, his father spent time learning and then training his son to wield the weapon. It was quiet, and over time he honed his ability to aim and shoot from long distances - as well as create his own supply of arrows for a somewhat endless supply of ammo in a pinch.

Scientific knowledge: As a child, science had been one of the topics that most intrigued him. His parents continued to teach him, until they passed, whatever they could to sate his hunger for knowledge and his constant need to ask why. Besides, they had always hoped things might return to normal one day...

Survival knowledge: Most of his time had been spent as surviving off the land and making whatever he happened to have on hand work to keep on living. He learned general means of farming, cooking, foraging, hunting, and trapping - and while he doesn’t necessarily excel in any particular area, putting them all together has proven to keep him alive to this day.

positive traits.

Efficient: There isn’t any room for waste anymore; Food, water, travel, time, communication - he finds a way to make the most of everything and anything he can.

Observant: From years learning from and facing the infected, he has had little choice but to learn to navigate the world with a soft touch and a keen eye. He’s gotten good at keeping an eye out for the infected as well as for others; often in an effort to keep away from both.

Adaptable: In a constantly shifting world where thinking on your feet is the only way to keep living, making decisions on the fly and adapting to whatever gets thrown at him is a necessity. He doesn’t always like it, but he’s definitely not a creature of his ways - he’s simply learned how to make things work.

negative traits.

Apathetic: Having been through hell and back, losing the only family he’d ever had and spending so much time on his own in a world where humanity was unlikely to be found around any corner, he has lost the ability or willingness to feel much of anything anymore. He opened his heart to the possibility years ago and hasn’t done so again since.

Cynical: When the world descended so rapidly into me versus you, he knows that most would choose me. He has had to make the choice himself time and time again. It’s made him cold and distrusting of others, even when a hand is extended in offering of help. That hand can just as quickly turn into a slap across the face.

Aloof: As efficient as he is with most things, words are no exception. It results in him having an indifferent demeanor that isn’t very inviting.

biography.

He remembers before as if like a blissful dream, one in which he oft escapes into from the horrors of current day reality. It is a childhood filled with love and laughter, budding friendships; a life merely just getting started. It’s true that the memories are likely rose colored after all this time, but they are good. That of a mother who always wanted children but struggled conceiving, so when the gift of giving life to another was bestowed upon her, she spoiled him so. A father who worked hard and wanted only the best for his family, passing on pieces of knowledge whenever possible to a son he saw emulating him from birth.

School is where the shy and studious boy begins to break out of his shell, fast at making friends. He’s smart, excelling particularly in the sciences and math; it becomes clear that he has a passion for finding solutions and solving problems, always in search of an answer to all of the questions life seems to have.

It feels like the beginning of the end when word of the infection spreads. At first it seems like nothing much to talk about, the news channels on the television spewing information about an unknown infection afflicting people and filling hospitals with the ill. He thinks little of it, much like the flu; it is simply how the world works. But soon enough it proves to be so much more than that.

When the dead begin to walk again, the infection turning them into husks of their former selves, the family has no idea what to do. He remembers bits and pieces of those nights - a hand clasps firmly around his as the family flees to their car, of running from the screams and pandemonium of the city. Humanity breaks down before his eyes as genuine fear for their livelihoods puts everything in jeopardy.

The days blur into weeks, into months, into years, as the family tries to pick up the pieces. There is little more than living day to day in survival mode, where the only goal is to make it to the next, alive. Occasionally there are nuggets of hope, reminders of what the world had once been and maybe could return to once again. His father teaches him to fish, to hunt, how to use different weapons - all skills he realizes later that the elder man learned as he went along, given no other choice. His mother advises on how to cook, to clean and patch small wounds, to nurture the Earth into bringing forth both food and beauty. These are all indications to him that maybe they can live through this as a family, that this new shelter that they’ve built around them will be enough.

Until it isn’t. Until they’re gone. Until his ears are filled with the screams of the only ones he had left in the world and through tears streaming down his cheeks he has no choice but to leave it all behind, to quite literally run for his life.

He wonders what it means to keep living now that there isn’t anything left. He becomes a shell of his former self, no longer the boy who blossomed under his parents’ affections and had hope for happiness and future, but instead a hardened man who lives only to survive, only because the alternative does not bring much peace.

The San Jose quarantine zone is something like a breath of fresh air when he finally reaches it. After spending so much time without protective walls around him as a shield, he formed his own. Opening up to those around him, fellow survivors who had have the pleasure of living within these walls for far longer than he has, proves difficult. Where was this place when his parents needed it? When instead of putting themselves between him and the infection, it could’ve been walls and guards while their lives continued happily behind them?

Finding something more to live for isn’t expected, nor does it come in a way he pictured. Quino is soft, lively, social - all in stark contrast to his own withdrawn and quiet nature. But there is something about the man that chisels away at his hardened exterior to find that sweet and loving little boy he’d once been. It’s fast and furious, how quickly his heart leaps for the man, how protective he becomes over him. It becomes his new purpose, watching over Quino and keeping him close, trying to offer him any and every happiness that the world had left to keep up that optimistic smile of his.

Even when the zone falls, he’s not overly worried. He had found a new family with Quino and his younger brother, Nino. The trio fall into step together, begin a nomadic life that is so very familiar to him but not the other two. He’s protective, maybe overtly so, of both of the men. Especially so when it becomes clear that this world, this lifestyle, is not one that Quino thrives in. But you’re determined. Determined to keep his spirits up and his face bright because without it, what did he have to look forward to?

That day is burned into his memory, how quickly things go from right to wrong. One minute when Nino is strolling ahead of them without a worry and the next an alarm is blaring and the infected appear in a moment, tearing into him. It’s instinct that propels him to grab onto Quino, to close a hand over the man’s mouth to prevent attracting attention and drag him away from the scene of the younger brother that could not be saved. If he could’ve, if it were possible, he would have. If there had been any other choice, he would have made it. But he couldn’t, there was no other answer to this question. Nino was dead as soon as he took that final step. Keeping Quino alive had been the only option, less he lose them both.

The wrath and grief that follows is expected once they are a safe distance from the scene. He does his best not to take it personally, knowing they are words fueled by emotion rather than truth. But when the sun rises the next morning and he wakes without his love anywhere to be found...he questions everything. Was it his fault? Had it been possible to save them all? Did he deserve the hateful words flung at him?

They replayed in his head day after day as he searched, attempting but failing to find the man that had stormed away without a parting kindness. And soon enough he accepts the mantra, a reminder that he doesn’t deserve anyone else, that he failed the only one who had mattered since before. He’s best off on his own, keeping to himself, trusting no one else. For their own safety, if not his. All he causes is destruction in his wake.

Idaho Falls is a necessity more than a desire. He’d become aware of the zone long ago, but chose to stay away, making something of a life out on his own rather than trust others - both for their sake and his own. But when he crosses the wrong group and receives a bullet in the shoulder for the trouble, he has no choice but to seek out the safety of the zone for recuperation.

arcs.

I. Obviously, exploring his relationship (or maybe lack there of) with Quino is going to be very interesting! They are essentially opposites of one another and being away from him has slammed down his walls further than they ever have been before. If there is anyone out there that will break them down again, it’s likely Quino - it’ll be interesting to see if he can weasel his way in again - or if he’ll even want to.

II. He isn’t the type to align himself with any particular faction; for the most part, he’s only out for himself and believes the same of others. FEDRA, Alexei, the fireflies, the other factions - he doesn’t really give a shit one way or another about any of them. As long as they stay out of his way, then it’s all good with him. But there is definite potential for conflict, especially if toes get stepped on.

III. Having so much experience being on his own out in the hellish world beyond the walls of a safe zone, seeing him being sought for his survival knowledge and navigation skills to benefit the QZ would make sense, though getting him to actively help/benefit the QZ without any clear benefit to himself might prove complex.

extras.

#accepted.

2 notes · View notes